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curiouser--and--curiouser · 2 years

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Staring into the Flames

Ashton Greymoore x Reader

Summary: Ashton loses his shit when you get injured.

Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, gender-neutral pronouns, raging Ashton, injured!reader.

Warnings: swearing, violence, descriptions of injuries.

Word Count: 3.8k words

A/N: Time for some Critical Role content, because I'm a raging nerd. And I'm in love with Taliesin Jaffe. God, all his characters give me such gender envy! Also, for context, this is written in the wake of c3e33, so I need comfort from the trauma 😭 Anyway, enjoy my beautiful punk rock babe <3

Watching Ashton Greymoore have emotions was one of your favourite things to do.

Sounds strange, I know – borderline creepy maybe – but you just found him so fascinating. Everything Ashton would ever do was based entirely off impulse. He wanted to steal some random arcane item he knew he would never use? Done. Rile up that complete stranger just because they didn’t like their hat? Did it last Tuesday. Take you off on a completely random unplanned date right to the top of the Lantern spire just because they wanted to? Absolutely.

All these impulse actions were based off impulse thoughts and impulse emotions; emotions that he feels so fucking strongly. I mean, just look at the destructive power his anger and rage can bring upon his foes in a fight (you do look, you look very hard…). Their feelings swirl like the kaleidoscope shining from their head, and you found it simply hypnotising to watch those feelings spread across his body. You could watch the cogs turn in Ashton’s brain for hours, seeing each new emotion spread across his body like lava.

One of your favourites was the slow realisation that you had stolen permanently borrowed something of theirs: a certain red and black jacket, perhaps. They would be rummaging around their room, thinking they’ve gone mad because they could swear they left it right here. Evidently they were too dead asleep that morning to notice you slipping out of the bedroom, the jacket claimed for yourself. Eventually, he would come bounding into the main room of the Crook House, finding Milo tinkering away at their latest project, and you lounging in a chair wearing his most prized item of clothing. It would take a minute for him to even notice what you were wearing. “Y/N, where in the fuck is my j-“. There we go. You got to sit back and enjoy as the realisation of your thievery spread through his body like a wave on the shore, every one of his stance and posture and facial expressions each slowly changing down throughout him. It was captivating. Although not for too long as soon a smirk rose to Ashton’s face before they were barrelling at you, you both tumbling onto the floor in a mock fight to win the grand prize of the jacket, as Milo looked on with a smile and a shake of their head at these idiots in love.

Oh yeah, in love. So in love. Which thankfully was reciprocated on both ends. It had, in fact, been your staring that had helped get you together. Subtly wasn’t your strong suit - sure you could sneak into Ashton’s room silent and assassin-like without him noticing, but you weren’t as skilled at hiding how much you just stared at him, getting lost in every single part of the earth genasi. And… they noticed. Luckily, Ashton had also been pretty enraptured by you over the past couple of weeks, meeting pretty frequently on jobs as both colleagues and rivals. So, Ashton’s impulses being Ashton’s impulses, they walked right up to you after one of said jobs and asked you out right on the spot.

“Angel, I could feel your eyes on me for the last three hours, wanna go get a drink so I can return the favour?”

Of course, you said yes, and from then on you have been pretty much inseparable. You now lived at the Crook House and could now stare all you liked. And so could he. He really did. God he’d do anything for you. You were the best thing to have come into his life and he was not about to let you go any time soon.

Definitely not today.

Today, you two, for once, weren’t together; you had some things to buy in the market and Ashton had to go for one of their many strange meetings with Jiana Hexum. So, you walked through Elder’s Post, pushing through the hordes of tradespeople and customers alike, keeping your coin purse close to your side away from any thieves lurking. You had already picked up some food for the household plus some bits and pieces of metal Milo wanted for Fresh Cut Grass’s repairs, and then you moved onto the trickier task: healing potions. They were pretty essential, especially given how much you two got hurt on jobs, particularly Ashton - gods, he got beaten up a lot - and, sure, you could ask FCG for help, but you didn’t want to overwork them. Sadly, your group weren’t exactly rolling in cash so, shall we say, less reputable vendors of potions had to be your main source.

This included one particularly awful man, Rackoth. He was a leering, lecherous man, spindly and towering over most people. He was also a swindler with prices way too high for substandard potions at best. Both you and Ashton had had run-ins with him in the past and nearly none of them ended well. Unfortunately, all your other sellers were out and you were in a bind - FCG was undergoing some internal repairs with Milo at the moment, and so was largely out of action. Hence, you had to grit your teeth and bare Rackoth and his usual ways. His sunken, hollow eyes bore into your soul as he offered up some wildly off-colour “healing potions” at some astronomical price. Usually, you would try to keep your cool and try in earnest to haggle him down, but after one too many not at all innocent placements of his bony hands on your waist, you had had enough. You smacked his hand out the way hard and snapped back at him, calling him out on his extortionate business (and maybe also insulting his mother in Deep Speech - honestly, you can’t quite remember, it was all a blur). Suddenly, you felt a burn across your cheek as Rackoth punched you with a force you never expected from the scrawny man. You stumbled back in shock, but he launched forward to meet you, gripping you by the neck. You could feel his jagged nails biting at your skin as he roared at you to never return to his shop again, throwing you down onto the ground after he was done. The customers around you all gave strange looks as you picked yourself and your belongings up, no healing potions in hand, and carried your hurt pride home with you to the Crook House.

Mercifully, you found the house to be still and silent when you arrived. You were safe in your own home at last. The adrenaline of the altercation wore off and a few tears fell from your eyes. As you wiped them away, you noticed blood smeared across your fingers, from your injuries presumably, so you trudged your way with a sigh into your and Ashton’s room to clean yourself up. You passed a mirror as you walked down the hall, finally seeing the extent of your injuries with a groan: thick red blood dripped down the side of your face, matting your hair, and purple was starting to bloom around your eye from the punch. You winced as you lifted your chin seeing more purple marks at the top of your neck along with five punctures to your skin from Rackoth’s nails leaking a small trail of blood. With a turn, you saw the muddied and scuffed back of your jacket from your fall and emitted a groan in pain as you turned slightly too far. Your back would be black and blue in the morning thanks to your impact onto the cold stone ground. Honestly, you’ve looked better.

Gritting your teeth, you collected your strength and pushed on into your bedroom, but almost screamed as you were met by the sight of your partner sprawled on the bed counting coins from a leather pouch. He wasn’t meant to be back yet.

“Hey, Angel, you’ll never guess the fucking bonus we got from Jiana for that extra information. She was fucking thrilled-“. Ashton stopped as his eyes fell on you.

In any other circumstances, this would’ve been a beautiful show.

The swirling colours in the glass in Ashton’s head seemed to almost speed up and spark out as their mind processed your injured form before them. He blinked slowly as his piercing eyes scanned over you, searching for the answer… there. His beaming smile dropped into one of concern as his eyes widened to the size of saucers. He breathed out a quiet “what the fuck?” in disbelief, before he suddenly took off, scrambling off the bed with zero coordination, but zero care for anything except you. Ashton stood on (and probably broke) most of their belongings as they ran over to you, immediately bringing his firm, calloused hands to your body as he checked you over. His eyes burnt a hole through your clothes with their intensity as he examined every single part of your body for more injuries - worry was the only emotion in him now. Ashton’s searing gaze on your body was usually a very good feeling, but you could see the bubbling anger low in him.

“Hey, Ash, I’m not dying!” You said with a pitiful attempt at a chuckle, trying to laugh off your injuries and put your boyfriend at ease. “I’m okay, really.” He clearly didn’t believe you as his roaming stare continued, logging in his mind everything he saw. His finger and thumb gripped your chin as he brought it up, inspecting the bruising to your neck, breathing out in disbelief. Rising their gaze to your face, Ashton gently prodded the bloody wound on your head with shaking hands. You pulled back slightly with a hiss of pain and that anger in him rose. Someone had hurt you. Red leaked into his eyes like a poison as they narrowed and focused on your own, still brimming with unshed tears. Already impossibly close, he took a step forward, towering over you, noses almost touching and hands coming back to your face. The delicate way he cradled your face in his large hands almost shocked you, the softness of his movements contrasting his hard, rocky palms. One thumb gently brushed away a stray tear on your cheek, both hands trembling as they grasped onto you.

“Who did this to you?” Ashton spoke so softly so that no one but you could here, but with so much menace for whoever the fuck thought they could touch you. Any attempt at him concealing his anger failed as it seeped through every pore in his body, every cell almost vibrating independently, ready for a fight.

“Ashton, really, it’s ok,” you counter again, trying to calm that fury in them that made you love them so much.

“No, it’s fucking not, who was it?”

“Ashton, it’s really not important-“

“Y/N.” He was firm. Final. You sighed before looking down slightly in defeat.

“Rackoth,” you breathed out.

“What. The Fuck. Did he do?” Ashton enunciated every single word, so slowly, so precise.

You stumbled over your words for a minute as you felt his gaze on you. He did deserve to know. That and the tiredness in your soul made all the words come tumbling out.

“I was getting healing potions because you’ve got that big job for Hexum coming up, and Milo is working on FCG and - shit! Letters needs a break sometimes! – but all our usual guys were out so I had to go to Rackoth. But that bastard stuck his prices up again. And they barely looked like healing potions - fuck me, Ashton, our bath water has more healing properties than that shit! And I was just so pissed off and. And... h-h-he had his hand on my waist and I just wanted to rip my skin off so I pushed him off and shouted at him and his potions and maybe his mother in Deep Speech? So he punched me. And grabbed my neck. And through me down. So yeah…” You stood in silence for a few seconds, taking a breath after your outburst, before you raised your head again to watch Ashton…

Now, here came the rage.

Ashton’s back straightened to an even higher height than before; every bone in their body tensed into a sharp point with their fists, now by their side, clenching, nearly popping joints. Their teeth clacked together in a bite, bared and ready to rip the throat out of the culprit of this heinous crime. The mesmerising colours beneath the glass in his skull seemed to swirl faster, getting brighter and brighter, threatening to violently burst free into chaos. The anger was white hot now, bleeding from his eyes and dripping down every tort muscle to a pool at his feet. A deep snarl sounded at the back of their throat, animalistic and ready to hunt.

“That piece of shit,” Ashton yelled out incredulously. “Fuck! That lanky piece of shit! That fucker’s going down!“ They had never sounded so serious in all their life. And so you needed to take action.

“Ashton. Babe! It’s okay, just leave him he’s not worth it.” Yet, it was not okay, and he was not paying attention. Like a flash, Ashton was at the bedroom door and screaming out.

“Oi, Grass! Grass! Where the shit are you?”

“They’re powered down. Ashton, don’t worry-“

“Argh, fuck!” they shouted, now moving at pace throughout your shared room. Trinkets and knickknacks alike were tossed around - no, thrown around - as Ashton scrambled from place to place at lightning speed, searching for something unknown. He grunted as he rummaged even further; you simply stood in the centre of the room, slightly startled by your partner’s sudden burst of movement. Eventually, with a cheer of triumph, from under a pile of multicoloured fabric he pulled out a slightly dusty red vial. Despite the slight discolouration, it was clearly a healing potion long forgotten and Ashton was soon back in front of you, pulling the cork out.

“Wait, no, I don’t need that,” you protested, “Ashton, you need these a lot more than I-“. You were cut off by Ashton shoving the neck of the bottle right into your mouth mid-sentence. The glass clinked against your teeth at the force as Ashton tipped the bottom of the bottle up, pouring the entire potion down your neck. You gagged as the bitter liquid hit the back of your throat. For all the difficulty of drinking the healing potion, it did thankfully begin to help you, like water refreshing you after wandering the dessert for a month. A dull ache passed through each of your injuries as the skin started to knit back together, eventually leaving no trace of ever tarnishing you but the now drying blood. You spent maybe five seconds checking over your body and by the time you looked up again, Ashton already had his trusty glass hammer clutched tightly in his hand. You had one last chance to stop him.

“Ashton, please, just stay here with me. You kill him and you’ll get caught and then gods know what will happen to you!” You pleaded to them, grabbing their arm, not wanting any more trouble for the day.

“Angel, I regret to inform you that I honestly don’t give a fuck,” Ashton growled lowly. “If that bitch thinks he can touch you and get away with it, he’s got another fucking thing coming.” He grasped the side of your head softly again, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered and rose to place an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on your forehead, before sprinting out of the room, one mission on his mind.

And there you were left, alone, staring off at the space your sparking barbarian once stood.

Even in times like this, he was beautiful to watch.

A singular tear rose in your eyes and fell as your exhaustion battled with new anxiety for Ashton’s safety. Of course you enjoyed your mountain of a boyfriend sweeping in to beat down those who had wronged you – I mean, who wouldn’t? – but your dear Ashton also had a tendency of not being the subtlest creature in the world. Sure his mystic colourful powers could occasionally let him pass through like a ghost, but not always. Frequently, they could be found in a fight, on the run from a fight, or on their arse thrown out for being in a fight. But they were just silly bar fights; this was personal. You just didn’t want him in trouble and it would bite away at you until he was back in your arms, safe.

However, predictably, exhaustion won out and you soon fought yourself flat out on the bed, still caked in your own blood, but no energy in your waking spirit to clean yourself up.

The next – how long had it been? – was spent in a daze, maybe sleeping, maybe just staring off, disassociating from the stresses of the day. Until Ashton emerged back through your door with a slam, sprayed slightly with blood that did not look like his own. You didn’t raise your head from the pillow, still waking from your haze, but you watched through glassy eyes as Ashton quietly placed down his trusty hammer in the corner of the room, slipped off his boots and padded over to you. He gently perched on the side of the bed and reached a calloused hand down to stroke your hair. His fingers were so tender and threaded through, caressing your scalp, almost sending you back to sleep. Gazing up at them, you saw the same intensity as before flooding their eyes, but this time the rage was gone, now replaced with so much love. Everything Ashton did carried that fire, that passion, but it always moulded itself into new shapes and forms, sometimes surprising even you. That’s probably what drew you too him, that fire, always burning bright out of every pore on his tough skin; no matter what he did or felt, it was always with such ferocious and intensity that you couldn’t look away, only stare further into the flames. But they never burnt you. They caressed you, held you, protected you at all costs. Not always in the safest of ways, but the intention was good and pure.

Ashton softly smiled at you and, without looking, reached back to find a (vaguely) clean cloth and started to dab at the dried blood along the side of your face. You stayed perfectly still, letting him work, enjoying this rarely seen quiet Ashton. They cleaned you up surprisingly well despite this not being their forte, moving from your face down to the marks on your neck, doing their slightly clumsy best, trying to remember the kinds of actions FCG would perform when in cleric-mode.

When all the dark red streaks had gone from upon your skin, Ashton placed down the cloth, but kept their hand cupped around your face. You threaded your own fingers with his and looked up.

“You get him?” you whispered.

“Yeah, I got him,” Ashton replied, just as softly.

A rush of emotions took over you all of a sudden: the relief that that fucking man who touched you so horribly had been dealt with, the pain of your whole bloody ordeal, the adoration you felt for your soft punk rock who cared for you so well, even in the ways he was not as accustomed to. You choked, more hot tears running down your cheeks. Ashton immediately bundled you up into their strong arms and held you in a tight hug against his chest.

“Aww fuck, Angel. Okay, okay, come here,” they cooed into your ear as your cries muffled into the leather of their jacket. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” And you believed every word of it. You grasped onto them like a lifeline with heavy and shaking breaths as you slowly pulled yourself back from the brink with his help.

“You okay now?” Ashton asked after a while and you nodded looking up through your eyelashes from your place on his lap.

“Shit, I’m sorry did that, Y/N. Fuck, I was just so fucking angry! I don’t care about a lot of things, but, goddamn, I care a lot about you. And I never wanna to see you like that again. I’ll do anything to make sure you don’t.” Ashton poured his heart out to you, his brutal honestly always hitting you right in the heart. You sat up and pressed your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed as you gripped onto each other like you were the last things left in Exandria. The kiss deepened as your tongues slid across each other, tracing the other’s lips and swallowing their sighs. You pulled away for breath, but remained trapped in Ashton’s warm grasp, as he continued his assault of kisses over your cheeks. They came to rest soon, forehead pressed together with yours, soft eyes staring into yours in peace.

“Fuck, I love you, Angel,” Ashton murmured, his love and devotion towards you on display for all the world to see.

“I love you too, Ash,” you whispered back with a beaming smile. Ashton gave you one more quick peck before he shifted his position, lying down on the bed with you remaining on top of him, still encased in his arms. You both laid there in silence, listening to the other’s heartbeat, until Ashton spoke, brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“What was that you said before about Deep Speech?” they asked and you giggled at his curiosity.

“I may or may not have insulted Rackoth’s mother… in Deep Speech,” you admitted shyly as Ashton’s eyes widened.

“That’s so cool. Wait, how do you know Deep Speech? Who are you?” they marvelled at your admission as you sniggered. “What did you say? Like in Deep Speech.” You repeated the deep grinding growls you had shouted at Rackoth and your partner’s jaw dropped.

“Okay, that’s hot, please talk to me more in Deep Speech,” you laughed out loud at Ashton’s antics (and remembered that information for later…). “I wish I’d brought you with me now. It was fucking great seeing him scared. Shit, I robbed you of your revenge quest, didn’t I?” Ashton carried on rambling, clearly having enjoyed being your knight in shining armour. Note to self: ask them later what they actually did to Rackoth…

“I swear to the gods if you said ‘Smiley fuckin’ day!’ just before knocking him out, I’m breaking up with you,” you joked. Ashton held a hand to his heart in mock hurt and tickled you away from your non-injured body parts as you cackled.

Your old friend exhaustion soon popped back up again as you let out a yawn, burrowing yourself further into Ashton’s body, nuzzling into his neck. His arms hugged you closer.

“Get some rest, love, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You took their advice, letting your dreams overtake you, staring at the one you loved most until your eyes eventually closed.

Ashton would protect you. They always will. Come what may.

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angel-anoetic · 3 years

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Hey! 🌿 here, I've been having Jack Manifold brain rot recently. He's so pretty and genuine and has such a nice singing voice. And then I was struck with this idea of Jack and Reader being reincarnated souls of dryads who waltz to save the world when the egg takes over and reset the timeline minus the corruption that happened and only Foolish remembers (because he's a god) even if you don't write it, thank you for writing all of my requests, it means a lot to me! ❤️

hey hey 🌿! i too have had jack manifold brain rot or it might be the gender envy but anyways- his voice is so pretty. Anon, you always give me the best writing prompts to and i always love writing your requests! i hope you enjoy !!

Don't forget to like to save, and reblog to share

c!JackManifold x gn!Reader - Saving Souls

genre: /rom, soulmates almost (?), fantasy, Dreamsmp au

warnings: none! (let me know if i missed anything)

masterlist <3

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The first time you had noticed any kind of power, you were maybe 5 years old. It wasn't too obvious at first, things that could be passed off as mere coincidence Leaves seemingly following you, flowers turning to face you.

But you couldn't ignore the big signs, the bigger things. Vines growing around you, the flowers you picked immediately sprouting a few more in their place.

It scared you, but over time you got used to it. It gave you something to do on the hot summer days and cold winter nights. Spring gave you the most power and let them flourish, literally and metaphorically.

It had been some years ago when you met a young man who went by the name Jack Manifold. It was a nice day and you decided to cross the river that surrounded your home when you came upon a field of flowers after walking for a few minutes.

There were so many that you could feel their energy fill your veins. But there was something else. Someone. An energy that matched your own, too powerful to be a plant or a part of the Earth. Then he appeared, seemingly from nowhere. A tree a few yards away suddenly a boy.

From there had blossomed, no pun intended a friendship and relationship that held so much power. You two had grown and helped each other through work through the cons of your powers. Learned how to control them before they controlled you.

So one day when you received a message from an old friend regarding a certain evil that had taken over his friends and one of his homes, you couldn't ignore his call.

You and Jack showed up a few days later, and after a brief meeting with Foolish, you considered your options as you and Jack walked to the Egg's resting place.

"Maybe we could find if its core, and if we're lucky it'll be plant-based. Or Foolish did say that there are lots of vines and other plants surrounding it. We can just bury it so deep it won't be a problem ever again."

"No, Foolish wants it gone, and I think we should exhaust all of our options, whether we destroy the Egg or not."

As you two made your way to the Egg, people began to stop and consider the new visitors. Some looked tired, others just seemed angry or upset.

Then you two found it. The entrance to its resting place. Its red color illuminating what otherwise would have been a darkroom underneath the SMP. Vines and some other plants that you weren't sure you had ever seen.

"Oh my god." You looked at Jack, his eyes glowing against the room's tainted glow.

"What is it?"

"This is worse than what I would have expected, Y/N. These plants...I've only seen them once before in a very bad place. But it could work to our advantage."

You both made your way down the stairs, the sight of the Egg pushing beyond what you could have ever imagined. It stood tall, and the pure energy and heat that it gave off were almost enough to make anyone tired.

You began to feel a sense of panic rising in you, your hands slightly shaking at the sight of the object.

You felt the energy rushing out, towards the palm of your hands as a small flutter of energy found its way to the ground. As soon as the small seeds touched the ground, they grew into enormous green and white flowers.

A terrible scream suddenly emitted from the room, one that neither of you could hardly understand.

"Y/N, do that again."

"W-What?"

"The flowers, help them grow, just like those."

You focused on the type of flower, seeing it in your mind, then three more sprouted out of the original one.

Another scream filled the room.

"Alright, I have a plan. I'm not sure it will work but I do know it's worth a chance."

You couldn't look away from the Egg. It was like a monster staring you down, one that you were seconds away from fighting.

Jack turned to you, grabbing your face gently, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

"Hey," he whispered, "It's alright. We are gonna take care of this in no time and help so many people. And we're gonna come out of it together. Okay?"

You nodded, grabbing his hands with your own, leaning into his energy.

"Alright, the plan is simple. I am going to try and manipulate these plants and grow the ones you just did. The Egg, it doesn't like the sight or the addition of plants that aren't connected to it. So while I'm carrying that out you need to start making something to protect us. I don't care what it is, how big it is, as long as it's strong enough to get us through a really bad thing. Can you do that for me?"

"I can do that."

You both smiled until Jack spoke. "Then let's do this."

Jack picked one of the flowers and one of the crimson plants that encased the room. He placed them gently together in front of the Egg and began to focus on transforming them into whatever he could.

You on the other hand began to pull together whatever plant matter you could find. Some pieces of wood and plants you had never even seen in your life still seemed to bend your will with just a little resistance. A small burrow was slowly being formed around you. When you looked up you could already see Jack had formed a large hybrid of the red and white plant which was now surrounding the Egg in a spiral.

The screams returned, nearly knocking Jack off his feet. He was a mess, the focus combined with the pure power that he needed to do what he needed was taking its toll slowly but surely.

Eventually, the Egg's screams, while still loud, became weaker, and a sudden rumbling came from the ground around you both.

"Jack! Jack get in here!" You screamed from your makeshift plant and wood bunker.

"Just a minute!" He continued his work, the vines and leaves already infiltrating the Egg's core.

You looked up, the ceiling above you caving in slowly. Right above Jack.

All he felt was the large vine wrap around his waist, then a harsh pull as he fell next to you within the bunker, moments away from the boulder that nearly crushed him.

"Keep going! It's not over yet."

You turned your attention away from the bunker and began to help Jack. The screams had to be the worst part. Your ears were basically going numb. You weren't even sure if Jack could hear your encouragements or if you were even talking.

All you know is that both of you were trying, the shaking of the ground was strong, and a sudden bright light was exploding from the Egg.

Then silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were the first to wake up. The ringing was still in your ears, but less powerful and daunting. Jack was situated against you, sleeping peacefully.

You leaned back against your arms and tried to shake him awake. Eventually, he stirred up, and you were able to clear away your shared 'bunker'.

After you made your way back up you saw the change immediately. The skies seemed happier. People were less scared to move about town.

You and Jack walked around, people greeting you as you did. You spotted Foolish atop a hill.

When you finally met him up there he smiled.

"Y/N, thank you so much. It happened. Whatever you two did...it worked." The tears filled his eyes as he engulfed both you and Jack in a hug.

"I don't know what you did, but no one here even seems to know what happened. It's like they went to bed and woke up new people. A fresh start."

You laughed. "That's great Foolish. I'm happy we could help. It was all Jack in the end."

You both turned to each other, the light in both of your eyes new.

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#c!Jack Manifold x reader #c!Jack Manifold x y/n #jack manifold x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #🌿#🌿 anon

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downtonabbeyrevisited · 3 years

Text

Season Two Episode Three

Conversion of the Abbey into a convalescent home for Officers is underway, ushering in a territorial battle that at times makes what is going on on the other side of the channel look like a mere scuffle. With the chain of command yet to be set, the floor is open for some of the best Isobel v. Cora v. Violet action that Downton has to offer. However, Isobel’s hostile takeover is slowed by a combination of O’Brien’s Machiavellian urges and Robert’s love of hierarchy. O’Brien tees up Thomas to take charge of Downton and coaxes him into the fray as he leans on an archway smoking his way into a wide variety of lung problems in later life. In an almost implausible about face (the key word for King Julian here is almost), Robert, Major Clarkson and Carson agree that Corpral Barrow is now trustworthy(ish), should be bumped up to the rank of Acting Sargent and be allowed to use the front door (although Carson remains unsure about the last bit). With Thomas in place and Major Clarkson at the hospital, Robert is on the hunt for another “tier” having looked at this microcosm of society and decided that there was not enough division. Evelyn Napier’s request to stay at Downton prompts Major Clarkson to enact border controls that would make Priti Patel look on in envy and neatly demonstrates the bind in which the Crawleys now find themselves. It is perhaps fitting, if predicable, that by the end of the episode Isobel and Cora are to share responsibility for Downton in what will remain the worst coalition of all time until 2015 when Cadbury will get together with Vegemite. Look it up. Trust me, it was rank.

Having an equally tense episode is Lavina who, fresh from behind manhandled behind the laurels, is now under Rosamund’s microscope with Violet declaring her to be an object to be removed which is a bit harsh even for her. It is rumoured that Lavinia stole secrets from her Uncle for Richard Carlisle to publish as part of his uncovering of the Marconi Scandal, a historical event whose name is said loudly and clearly at least three times so that we can all Google it in the ad-break. Sensing a potential weakness, the Crawley women (who I am resisting the urge to call Robert’s Angels) dig deeper as Mary hunts out Lavinia to give her the third degree. Lavinia admits that she did start the uncovering of the scandal but not in the pursuit of a transparent and accountable government. Instead it was to save her father from financial ruin. And all of her sudden, in exposing corruption and hypocrisy just to save her own skin she has gone from being a Department of Health and Social Care security guard to Dominic Cummings.

Violet’s concerns about the potential carnage that mixing ranks could let loose are not unfounded as Major Bryant confuses the Abbey with the Villa and Ethel takes one look at him and thinks “He’s a little bit of me”. Sadly/fortunately Ethel’s tucking in of Major Bryant’s blankets is halted by Mrs Hughes before Laura Whitmore can ask everyone to gather around the fire pit.

Apparently more romantically reticent than Bryant is Bates, who has taken to hiding behind a tree in the Village on Wednesdays just to catch a glimpse of Anna, demonstrating a behaviour pattern that does not throw up any red flags at all. Richard Carlises’ network of spies find him in a pub in Kirkbymoorside which Anna describes as “odd” despite the fact that of all the things he has done (or is about to do) in this episode, let alone the Downton Abbey canon as a whole, this is definitely the most sensible decision he has made. It means he does not have to navigate the staircases that formed a fair amount of his plot in the previous season for a start. Rather than leave him be, Anna takes an alarmingly shiny bus to an almost forensically clean pub where she orders what turns out to be a very horrific looking glass of cider from an eternally conflicted Bates. Bates tells Anna his plan to divorce Vera and declares that he does not care about gender discrimination in the law. In return Anna shows off her attempt at using this week’s bit of new technology, the curling iron. Asked for his opinion, Bates replies that he would love Anna “however, whatever, wherever”, cleverly avoiding the question in a way that simultaneously shows the depth of his amour but also indicates that he thinks it’s hideous.

Edith finds herself lacking purpose and direction like most people in their mid-twenties. Sybil, the annoying over-achieving younger sibling, tells her to work out what she is good at which turns out to be being a scribe, and getting books and carcinogenic substances for Officers. Edith’s quiet industry enables her to gain a good working knowledge of all the key protagonists on General Strutt’s tour which earns her a toast at Lunch. For Edith, this is the equivalent of getting an M.B.E.

Another character looking to take advantage of General Strutt’s sojourn is Branson whose plans to be a conscientious objector are scuppered by a heart murmur. His flair for the dramatic takes him to the courtyard of deceit (a location looking to form an alliance with the tree of emotional conflict and the platform of romantic uncertainty) where he polishes headlamps and gathers intel about the impending visit. The lack of footmen leaves an opening for Branson to cause if not the downfall, certainly the minor humiliation, of the British Army. A cryptic “forgive me” note prompts some some Blair Witch style camera work to underline the sense of urgency as Anna pelts it downstairs. The costume department breathe a sigh of relief as Branson manhandled out of the dining room before he can upend a rather creative concoction which invites the question, how did he get so much ink?

As William shows off his uniform, Daisy, coached by Mrs Patmore, continues to lead him up the garden path. William admits he is nervous about the prospect of facing the brutal reality of World War One and Mrs Patmore gently weeps across the table bringing her episode:crying ratio up pretty high even for something on a Sunday evening on ITV. Luckily, there is an opening for William to become Matthew’s solider servant which is good news for William and the budget as the exact same section of trench can continue to be used for both characters. Before he leaves, William proposes to Daisy and, naturally, Mrs Patmore accepts. Daisy’s “go on then” is hardly the most ringing of endorsements and her face resembling that of a rabbit who has taken a wrong turn and finds themselves on the fringes of the M4 cannot be reasonably described as elated. Daisy does manage to gather herself to delay the now inevitable wedding and so becomes possibly the only person in Britain who was not hoping for it to be all over by Christmas.

Lang and his ever present mournful violin accompaniment continue to have a rough time of it. He repays Mrs Patmore’s kindness by outing Archie to the rest of the servants, causing her to leave the room in abject misery. But this reaction could also have been caused by the prospect of a mistimed crumble. It’s difficult to tell. Lang’s nightmare enables the women to bust through the hitherto impenetrable divide between the male and female staff quarters and it is clear that his days at Downton are numbered. Lang collapses as the General and his entourage retreat and his use as a plot device in this very much smoothed over view of the past is at its end. He is dismissed with a decent wage package and a good reference and is never to be spoken of again.

Romantic declaration of the moment

William and Daisy do not get this one as this is a coercion free zone. Instead Mary and Matthew get it. Matthew being back at Downton gives Mary the chance to stare at him longingly across a room but it is her decision not to rat out Lavinia as a reluctant whistleblower that earns their spot here. Only an almost unfathomable amount of love would make Mary place Matthew’s happiness above her own.

Expressive eyebrow of the week

Regular winner Carson claims the prize again this week. His blind fury at Branson’s then presumed to be assassination attempt is glorious.

Wait, what?

“Marmaduke was not a rough diamond” No-one called Marmaduke can be called rough anything. Sort of reminds me of a picture my brother showed me of his then partner’s friends when they were younger spelling out the name of their public school boarding house in gangster sign language. Zero self-awareness.

“Acting Sargent I believe” Aloe standing by.

“The bastard had it coming” I think I need to revise my previous curse word estimate.

No particular quote for this bit but Branson delivering news from Russia made him seem like a man who had read the headline and maybe the first paragraph (at a push) of an article and is now holding forth on the topic, ready to take on anyone with a P.h.D in the matter. I do like Branson but increasingly it’s when he shuts up.

The least believable bit of this whole episode was Isis being completely unbothered by an incoming pingpong ball. I once stayed in a friend’s house where an absolute catastrophe was disguising itself as a dog. She would eye up the limes on the sideboard expecting them to vault across the room. When any even vaguely spherical object did achieve airspeed velocity, she would lose it. And I mean lose it.

General Strutt’s tour of Downton has an air of a politician doing a ward round. Should you yourself fear an encounter with our current premiere, you can pick up one of these cards from the News From Nowhere bookshop in Liverpool (other retailers may be available but this is the only place I have seen them).

#Downton #downton abbey #downton rewatch #Mary Crawley #Matthew Crawley #tom branson #sybil branson #edith crawley #thomas barrow #john bates #anna bates #Charles Carson #elsie hughes #Isobel Crawley

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blossom-hwa · 4 years

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Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS.

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones.

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face.

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,” he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight.

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

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sevenkittensinatrenchcoat · 3 years

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Bullshit I Made Up With Little to No Justification

So, I wrote a bunch of random paragraphs about various characters, either as headcanons or very short stories.

Tumblebrutus:

Tumblebrutus is the son of Asparagus and an unknown queen. He actually knows his father, because he doesn’t know his mother. Jellylorum’s human assumes he’s part of her litter because of how much he resembles Pouncival. They’re actually cousins. Tumble was born almost a full month before his cousins. He sometimes uses that as an excuse to boss them around. This never ends well for him or anybody.

Plato:

Seven cats are considered kittens, young enough to be attending their first Jellicle Ball. Plato is the oldest of that group and training to be a protector of the tribe. He’s big for his age, and Jellicle cats are usually supposed to be small. He does not appreciate Tumblebrutus pointing this out.

I guess the theme of these two is that Tumblebrutus is a little shit.

Etcetera:

Etcetera hero worships Bombalurina. She might have a bit of a crush on her, but she’s not consciously aware of it. This once led to a bit of an argument with Jemima. When Bustopher Jones was visiting for the Jellicle Ball, all the queens, for some reason, had to stay in one corner while he told everyone about his clubs. Every female kitten had to sit with a chaperone. Electra sat with Jenny, her mother. Etcetera didn’t want to be stuck sitting with Jellylorum, her mother. She convinced Victoria, her sister via adoption, to stay with Jelly while she tried to sit with Bombalurina. Jemima, who may or may not be Bomba’s daughter, claimed the spot Etcetera wanted and she was placed with Tantomile, who didn’t really care either way. But, later that evening, Etcetera stole a spot in Bomba’s dance section and counts that as hanging out with her.

Jemima:

Jemima inherited powers from Macavity, but their personalities are so far apart that no one would ever guess. She’s not entirely aware of the powers that she has. Someday, she’ll probably be similar to Coricopat and Tantomile, though they’re not related to her. As a kitten, she’s somewhat sensitive to telepathic messages, as Old Deuteronomy managed to figure out, and she can receive visions from the Jellicle Moon. She can’t make much sense of anything she learns from her powers yet, so they’re usually not very useful.

Mistoffelees:

No one knows where Mistoffelees got his magic from. He was delivered to Munkustrap’s human family’s doorstep one night and that was that. Most of the tribe, himself included, believe that Bustopher Jones is his father. He’s the only other tuxedo cat known to the tribe. The theory has recently been called into question, because the white patches of Misto’s fur are shrinking. He might become a black cat at some point in the near future. Nobody really questions this because they’re used to Mistoffelees being confusing. Until recently, the tribe wasn’t even entirely sure of his gender. The humans believed him to be a tom and he seemed to agree with them, but then he had those seven kittens. The humans never found out about this. Tugger, after some inspection, which Mistoffelees allowed just to shut him up and definitely not because he enjoyed the attention, found no anatomy that kittens could be birthed from and took to calling him Mr. Mistoffelees whenever he brought him up, so the tribe would remember that he was a tom. Mistoffelees agreed with Tugger’s conclusion, but refuses to admit that Tugger calling him “Mister” is really sweet.

Bombalurina:

Bombalurina idolized Grizabella growing up and never got over how much her hero let her down. When she went off with Macavity, Bomba had at first hoped to find Grizabella and convince her to come back to the tribe. All she found of Grizabella were rumors, most of them false. Bombalurina believed all of them.

Demeter:

Demeter wasn’t raised among the Jellicles. She knew of them and had met some of them, but that wasn’t until she became an adult. She was a purely indoor cat until something happened and she became a stray. She didn’t know much about the world and Macavity found it easy to manipulate her. It was Bombalurina, Macavity’s other mistress, who really taught her how to survive. After escaping Macavity, Bombalurina brought her to her human family, who already had three other cats, but they accepted her anyway. There are five humans in the family and they liked the idea of having a cat for each of them. She is now considered the cat of the adult female of the house. The last one had died, but now there was a new one, and a new cat to go with her.

Pouncival:

Pouncival has a habit of following bad influences. Jellylorum has begun to wonder if he might actually want to be a bad boy. All the tom kittens look up to Tugger, but Pouncival also looks up to Mungojerrie, who enjoys teaching him things that he’s not supposed to know, including several swear words. He taught said words to Tumblebrutus and Etcetera. Jerrie also told him a bunch of stories about his adventures in the criminal underworld, so he now knows how to get away with various petty crimes, a bunch of tips when it comes to mating with queens, and how it’s possible to mate with other toms, along with some tips about that as well. This information was also spread to Tumblebrutus and Etcetera, who naturally wanted to know every single detail. Mungojerrie is not allowed in Jellylorum’s den.

Victoria:

Victoria is adopted. She lives in Jellylorum’s den and was raised with Pouncival, Tumblebrutus, and Etcetera. Her human family is very wealthy and their last cat was some kind of show cat. Jellylorum seems to believe that this makes Victoria some kind of feline royalty and she was raised like a princess. Munkustrap has also taken to treating her like she might be in the Deuteronomy family, though if she was, he wouldn’t know. Victoria, though naturally graceful and ladylike, doesn’t really care about any of this. She’s kept under more supervision than Etcetera and Jellylorum says that that’s because she’s different, but Victoria has no idea how or why. The other kittens don’t treat her as different. She has a pretty collar and she’s a good dancer, so the other girls sometimes envy her a little, but, at the end of the day, she’s a fairly ordinary young queen.

Jellylorum:

Jellylorum’s human is a man who lives alone with his cats. He considers Jelly to be his best friend. Despite this, there’s a lot about her life that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that she has a den in the garden where her stray father and brother live. When she brought four kittens into the house, he didn’t know that only two of them were biologically hers. He adopted and named them all. He thought Victoria looked regal and named her after Queen Victoria. He also had no idea that Victoria already had an owner somewhere else. He named the two toms Percival and Brutus. Their mother sort of renamed them after their habits of pouncing and tumbling. Etcetera was the fourth one and the human didn’t seem as interested in her, so he named her Etcetera to mean the end of the list. Jellylorum didn’t challenge this, because she thought the name sounded pretty. She sometimes wonders if Etcetera’s troublemaking is the result of a sense of inferiority from being named like that. Then she remembers that Pouncival is just as much of a troublemaker as his sister. If it’s not clear by now, Jelly’s life pretty much revolves around her family. She prefers it that way.

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cowboy-canoodler · 3 years

Text

Paying back what you owe (Adachi Koichi x GN! Reader) 18+ SMUT

Tags: Giving Oral, Giving Blowjob, Age difference, Walk into a bar, Alcohol, Reader, Reader-Insert, Gender Neutral Reader, Chance Meetings, Reunion, Praise Kink, Dominant Reader

—

Walking the streets of Ijincho at night was always a toss of the coin. One night it’ll be quiet, no thugs, perverts, or any distractions, but other nights? All of the above. You were walking home from work, a regular day job of typing in numbers that somehow made a difference to how the company operated. Not like you cared about your job as long as you got paid right and on time but today you were in a good mood, Fridays were always your favourite day of the week as you always walked to a bar to cap off your week of working with a pricey drink.

Perhaps a whiskey today.

You realised you had been walking around deep in thought for a while and had ended up by Fukutoku park, a spot known for perverts who exposed themselves to passers by with nary a bashful look in their eye. A chill ran down your spine and you looked around, expecting to see a man in a big brown coat run up to you but there was nothing there, just the far off noise of cars driving by mixed in with the nearby river.

“Sheesh-“ you sighed and began walking towards the Bar district, “I need to calm down.” Your usual haunt, Bar Rodriguez, was still standing but had become stale and small, meagre ambient music and even worse company so, without even thinking about it, you walked past and came up to Survive Bar, one you hadn’t drank at recently but you remember they had the most divine drinks.

“I think I’m sold” you whispered to yourself as a spring jumped into your step along with the excitement of trying out a new drink.

The bar was empty, a piano against the wall by the door, a couple of seats by the bar and low seats by another wall, and a karaoke stage in the corner of the room. The bartender raised his gaze from the glass he was polishing as you walked over and sat down at the far side of the bar, placing your belongings on the floor beside you.

“Whiskey please” you replied to the bartender's silent question, he nodded and turned to grab a bottle, “not that one, the ¥4000 one please” he placed the bottle down and reached for the one you had requested, still silent which was actually rather comforting as it gave you the opportunity to take in the ambience. The music was soft and inviting, perfect to accompany the soothing atmosphere you were about to create around yourself. Maybe this would be your new go to bar.

As he placed the drink in front of you the door opened and a ragtag team of four walked in laughing and joking, shattering what you were hoping to accomplish. You slyly looked over and was greeted with, what seemed like, a familiar sight. A man with fuzzy brown hair, a bright red suit, and a smile to rival the sun. A classy woman who held herself in high regard while also staying loose and carefree with her friends. Another man with fuzzy hair except he had glasses and a large, green overcoat. Then finally another man, tall and built well, you were pretty sure nothing could knock him down should it try, he had greying hair and lines on his forehead from years of frowning, but also a gutterly laugh that seemed to be infectious.

And what did you have?

Jealousy.

You had never had friends with whom you could act this way around, and a pit of envy formed within your stomach as you turned back and sipped your liquid gold. You heard them talk and laugh as they walked past the bartender waving and collecting a few bentos on the way, the only one of them that stayed was the older gentleman who sat down at the bar, an audible groan escaping him which caused your pit of envy to turn to a breathless thought of arousal. It had been a while since you had gotten any but hearing a man groan because his back aches shouldn’t have been the thing to let you know about it. He glanced over at you and caught you staring, but you didn’t shy away and look back at your drink like others would, instead you chose to look him up and down with half lidded eyes and a small smirk before gracefully returning your gaze to your own drink.

That was sure to catch his attention.

A gravelly voice coughed to clear his throat and then rang out as he ordered a drink of “somethin’ cheap” a stark contrast to the slightly expensive whiskey you were sipping. Once more the bartender silently agreed and turned around to pour out a cheap sake but you interrupted that with a request.

“Order something with a little kick and I’ll pay for it, my treat” you glanced over at his reaction as you took another sip of your drink. He who had taken your interest pointed at himself accompanied with a smile and a half-hearted chuckle.

“Guess I’m having what they’re having then” he stood up and walked over to you, gesturing to the seat next to yours which you agreed to let him take. The bartender agreed and placed the drink down, a soft “here” as your newfound interest smiled and took it.

“Thanks for that, real nice of you” he raised his glass and you raised yours, clinking them together and smiling. “I’m Adachi”

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you Adachi-san”

“Likewise, say” he took a sip of his drink and turned towards you, “you buy people drinks at bars often?”

You chuckled and looked over at your drink, “no, I actually don’t, I prefer buying my own drinks” you raised the glass to your lips and took another sip.

“So, why me?” Adachi did the same and you smiled down at the glass as you set it down on the bar.

“You and your- uhh- friends?” You pointed upstairs and Adachi chuckled knowing whom you were talking about, “you guys saved me one time, y’know, on part time hero?.” Adachi’s eyes widened as he slightly choked on his sip.

“Shit- really?” He lightly banged his chest and coughed.

You chuckled with a slight heat coming to your face, “I know right? I was actually getting mugged on my way home from work, it all happened so fast I couldn’t thank you guys properly” you turned and gave Adachi a sincere, perhaps slightly drunk, smile, “but now I can”

Adachi laughed and raised his glass, “then I’m glad we could help someone as gorgeous as you then, means we could meet again”

“Gorgeous, huh?” You raised an eyebrow and smirked, lightly biting down on the tip of your tongue between your teeth.

He smiled back at you with an equally playful stare, “I’m not one to lie, especially when I’m bought a drink”

You both took a sip and a soft silence fell over you, the sound of laughs echoing from upstairs. “Say, why aren’t you with them?” You nodded upwards and Adachi followed, looking toward the ceiling and the source of noise.

“I wasn’t feeling it, plus there’s only one futon up there-“ Adachi gestured with his free hand and chuckled, “-you do the math”

“Four to one futon doesn’t sound comfortable at all,” you drank the last of your drink and placed the glass down, the previous light warmth of alcohol now replaced with a deepening heat of bad decisions and arousal, “how would you like to have just two in a futon tonight?” You stood up and smoothed down your clothes before grabbing your belongings and turning to Adachi who looked lost. “I live nearby, if you wanna join me that is?”

“Oh y-yeah!” Adachi perked up and drank the rest of his drink before standing up and walking over to the door, a small spring in his step. You smiled and reached for your money, sliding ¥20,000 towards the bartender who looked puzzled.

“That’s for our drinks, and use what’s left for their tab” you nodded to the upstairs once more and turned to leave, walking through the door Adachi was holding open for you.

Both of you walked along the river towards your apartment, the cool night air keeping you company as the silence became awkward. You coughed and playfully bumped your shoulder into your company, “I know I just did it but I- uhh- I don’t usually do this”

“Do what?”

“Pick people up in bars, buying them drinks and sweet talking them. This is actually my first time meeting someone in a while” you shyly itched the back of your neck and looked up at your companion, who had a genuine look of surprise on his face.

“If it’s any consolation, it’s been a while for me too” a noise mimicking a ‘huh?’ came from you and Adachi smiled, “probably around three years? Sheesh could even be more-“

“Three years?!” You stopped in your tracks as Adachi laughed.

“Yeah, haha, all clogged up and a guy can only do so much, y’know? Uhh- wait I probably shouldn’t say things like that-“

You giggled and started walking again, linking your arm through his and pulling him, “it’s fine, to be honest with you,” you stopped and turned him towards you, leaning onto your tiptoes and putting your lips against his ear, “I’m kind of hoping you’ll let me unclog you, if you get what I mean” you heard a light gasp escape Adachi as he struggled for words, you leaned back and spotted his cheeks heating up with a hot blush. “Hmm? Would you be interested in that, Adachi-san? It’s not like I wasn’t hinting at it before, at the bar?”

“Yeah no I- I did get it then, but I kind of assumed maybe you just wanted me to walk you home or something and then we’d get there and you’d say somethin’ like ‘well thanks for walking me home!’ and I’d be left in the col-” Adachi realised he was rambling and coughed nervously, you smiled at him as he noticed your faces were mere inches apart, whiskey soaked breath intermingling as you admired his handsome features.

“Of course I wanted you to walk me home,” you kissed his cheek and slid your hand around Adachi’s waist, pulling him closer, “so you could join me tonight, would you like to?”

Adachi cleared his throat and nodded with an affirmative hum, you smiled and leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft within the scratching of his beard, your bodies pressed together as you pushed him towards a nearby wall, of which Adachi willingly complied. He allowed you to push him back as his hands rested on your hips, his own rolling into you and you both kissed within the moonlight. Gentle gasps and sloppy sighs resonated between the both of you as your hands explored each other, Adachi’s fuller frame a welcome feeling amongst the cool night air.

His hands manoeuvred you just the same, worn out leather sliding under your untucked work shirt, his other hand cupping the back of your head, keeping your lips locked against his as you both tongued and bit at each other. Breathless gasps interrupted the Ijincho sounds, the far off talk of passers by mixed with cars and the rolling of the river as you and Adachi ravaged each other, months and years of pent up sexual energy bursting out in the dingy alley.

“Wait-“ you pulled away but Adachi followed, his lips kissing your neck as you stood back, attempting to regain your composure within his grip was futile. Just having his beard scratch up your neck was driving you wild, not to mention the exploring hands and soft moans that threatened to put you onto your knees and worship him right now. “Adachi-san, wait-”

His voice was a hoarse whisper against your ear, “Hm? What is it?”

You breathed for a few seconds so you could at least try to sound composed, “I live nearby- hah- we should at least try to get to my apartment before- y’know.” Adachi agreed but not before planting another deep kiss on your lips and smirking, keeping that sexual energy brimming within you both.

While the walk was short, it was arduous. Your hand played around with his, kisses on the cheek were snuck in as well as playful pokes and jabs. Both of you desperately trying to ignore what was ignited within you, with no success, more than a few times you’d snuck in a look to Adachi’s half-chubbed tent within his trousers in the passing lights, each time reminding you, and your body, what you had to look forward to. A couple of minutes passed and you came up to your apartment complex, casually opening the door for Adachi, who thanked you, before following, taking the both of you to your living space.

Usually your apartment was cold and empty, but not tonight. Adachi complimented your clean living space and looked around happily taking it all in, the things you had thought as simple were stars within his eyes. “This is a real nice place, Y/N-kun!” Adachi turned to face you with a smile on his lips as you placed your things down and took off your shoes, a little more sober than you had been before.

“Is it?” You looked around confused as to what was standing out, “it’s a pretty normal place to my standards”

“I sleep in a room with 3 other people ninety percent of the time, this is some good shit” you laughed along with his wry chuckle and walked over to him offering a seat on your couch, which he gladly took.

You sat next to him, crossing your legs and placing your head on your hand, your other hand came to his jacket, fingers lightly playing around with his zipper “I suppose next to those standards I live in a palace” you chuckled and met his soft gaze, “kind of a lonely one though”

“Oh?” Adachi’s gloved hand came to your thigh, fingers resting lightly upon the fabric of your trousers, “is there something you’d like to do about that, Y/N-kun?” Adachi’s tone was playful, his hand caressed along your thigh which sent shocks through your legs into your spine, your body heating up at the physical contact and the promise of a sexual endeavour.

“Trust the ex-cop to read me like a book.”

He raised a curious eyebrow, “I didn’t tell you I was a cop.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth as a hushed tone left you, “you didn’t need to.” In one swift move you lifted your leg over him and straddled his thighs, wrapping your arms around Adachi’s neck and kissing his startled lips through his heavy grunt of surprise. Your hands clasped and gripped at his hair, tugging and pulling as your hips rolled along his pelvis. You could feel him getting hard underneath you and it only served to make you want him more, your own body heating up the cold confines of your lonely living space.

Both of you moaned against each other’s lips, gasps and sighs filling the air as Adachi’s hands, once again, roamed your body. Sliding within your shirt like you hadn’t even left the dank alleyway, leather caressing along your back as his bitten to the bone nails attempted a light scratch. Your hands continued to tug at his hair, dominating the man below you and controlling just how he was allowed to kiss you, yanking on his scalp to drag his head back, with a horny gasp, so you could bite his neck, pulling him to the side just to kiss down on his jawline, but Adachi didn’t resist. In fact, he willingly let himself be controlled by you and he was enjoying every moment.

“I think,” you mumbled into Adachi’s neck before pecking kisses along his jaw, “-It’s time I cleared those pipes, hmm?”

“I think so too” Adachi pushed his dick against your ass and you got a slight feel for how big he was underneath those trousers of his. Just at the feeling of his dick on you your mouth was salivating, this newfound desire to have his flesh fill it to the brim before cumming down your throat. You wanted him moaning your name like a dog whining while waiting outside of the store for their owner to come back, you wanted his knees to twitch and his toes to curl, you wanted sweat to pool on his brow as he let go of the last 3 years.

One last deep kiss on his lips before you slid down his legs, getting onto your knees in front of him. He was out of breath already, face red and lips parted with sheen of saliva dripping into his scruff. You revelled in it, watching the burly man unhinged and shivering with anticipation of your mouth around his dick was a beautiful sight to behold, and the desperate feeling for you to satisfy him was only growing. Your hands worked quickly to unbutton his trousers and shuffle them down along with his underwear. Adachi lifted his hips to help and his cock sprang free, hitting the base of his jacket with a soft tap.

He was big. Bigger than you had anticipated, not long but god he had girth. At least 7 inches with a wide base and thick veins pulsating with his heartbeat. Your jaw was aching just looking at it but the saliva pooling under your tongue was telling a different story. You bit your bottom lip before licking them for lubrication and kissing the tip. Adachi let out a soft sigh and let his head roll back as you began to massage his dick, your hand gripping tightly as you licked and kissed at the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue, a small appetiser before the main meal.

With innocent eyes you looked up, making eye contact with a bashful Adachi, before wrapping your mouth around his dick and taking him in as far as you could go. By the shriek of his gasp you had taken him by surprise, his hand gripped a fistful of your hair before he realised and let go, instead choosing to rest his hand on the crook of your neck, ready to push you down at a moment's notice should he feel the need to. You hoped he would feel the need to.

Each bob of your head threatened your gag reflex, his tip lightly grazing your gullet as a choke rose within your throat. His girth stretched your lips as wide as they could go as your hand massaged that which you weren’t able to reach. Saliva dripped down your chin as yours and Adachi’s grunts filled the room, yours being sloppy and wet, and Adachi’s full of pleasure and relief. You lifted your mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’ of your lips off of his tip and proceeded to lick up the shaft, your hand continuing to massage what your mouth had abandoned.

Adachi was already twitching, his heavy sighs and restless grip a clear indicator that he wasn’t going to last long. “You look so cute, Adachi-san,” you commented before returning to licking his dick, a surprised ‘huh?’ escaped him but not before it was replaced by a low moan, his hand slowly entwining into your hair ready to push you down when you returned to wrapping your lips around his sweet sweet dick, “-if I were a nastier person I’d tease your orgasm for hours just to see you squirm like this some more but-“ you licked up his shaft, tongue pressed firmly against his cock, and smiled “I’m a very nice person who wants to see you lose your fucking mind as you cum down my throat.”

“Hah- it’s gonna be real soon Y/N-kun” his voice was wavering with each word, sweat clearly beading along his brow as the heat radiated off of his body and the dick within your grip twitched, getting quicker and quicker as his heartbeat rose with the incoming orgasm. By now you had stars in your eyes, living vicariously through Adachi’s pleasure to relieve some of your own pent up horniness. He looked down at you once more and you met his desperate stare before pushing your mouth and throat to their breaking points by taking all of his cock in at once, gag reflex coming up slightly as you choked but you couldn’t leave. Adachi’s grip was keeping you thoroughly pressed against him and his hips began to roll into you, fuckinf your throat as he climbed and climbed to his climax.

No longer was he holding back moans, swears were mixed in with gasps, sighs, and whimpers of your name. You were almost choking, tears built up within your eyes but you held strong knowing that he was going to cum at any time now.

And he did.

Semen painted your throat as Adachi howled in relief, your neighbours surely hearing his rapturous sighs of pleasure, knowing it was you giving it to this mystery man by the tell tale sign of him almost screaming your fucking name. It was salty and unpleasant but you weren’t one to refuse a meal, he was cumming so hard you barely even had to swallow, instead choosing to let it drip down as you attempted to encourage it with his dick still inside of you. Adachi’s hand fell down and you were free to lift yourself off, a wistful sigh leaving you as you pulled your aching lips from around his milked dick.

You sat back on your ass, resting your knees for a moment, and wiped the mixture of cum and saliva from your chin. Adachi, on the other hand, was tucking himself away, a shy look of embarrassment on his face which worried you.

“Is something wrong Adachi-san?”

He looked sheepish, “I- uhm- I came really quickly and…” he sighed and leaned forward, placing his elbows onto his knees, “I don’t think I can go again, at least not tonight and-“

“I know” Adachi raised his eyebrows in surprise and you chuckled, “I came into this knowing that Adachi-san and, to be honest, just getting to blow you and see you cum has done wonders for me.”

“Oh… but now I feel bad cause-“ he gestured up and down with his hand, “-Y’know”

Another wry chuckle before you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll be alright, consider this paying you back for saving me. Just you though, I’m not about to blow your entire friend group”

“After that display I wouldn’t let you, I’d prefer to keep you to myself”

“Well… maybe you can.”

#Adachi Koichi x reader #Adachi Koichi #Yakuza 7 #Yakuza: LAD #Bal writes #Smut #Gender neutral reader #Adachi Koichi/Reader #Iciban Kasuga #Nanba Yu #saeko mukoda

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gingersnap-propaganda · 4 years

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Top 10 Moshlings That Are gnc af

#10: Mr. Snoodle

While Mr. Snoodle is very subtle with his gender noncomformity, look at him rocking that purple eyeliner and pink blush!! Unfortunately, Mr. Snoodle is also cishet, which automatically makes him lose points, plus the lack of effort he puts into his genderconformity is quite clear if you've seen him next to his wife Mrs. Snoodle (who by the way, is a stylish girlboss icon). Because of this, Mr. Snoodle stands at the bottom of the list at #10.

#9: King Brian

We👏Stan👏A👏GNC👏King👏!!!💅 I mostly just put him on this list because I wanted to say that, but he is rocking that mascara! His gncness is far from over the top, however he is canonically bisexual (x), which automatically gives him the advantage over Mr. Snoodle, thus earning him a spot at #9.

#8: Hocus

Hocus legally had to be on this list, because all wizards are inherently gnc af. The robes, the staff, the fun hat, all hella gnc. However by wizard standards, Hocus is pretty mild with his gncocity, so when I consider the conversion factors, Hocus is technically only kinda gnc, even if he looks hella gnc by most standards. Because of this, our homie Hocus ranks in at #8.

#7: YaYa

Yaya is on here for a few reasons. For one, they are nonbinary (Mr. Mind Candy himself told me), and it's impossible to conform to a gender identity that has no real expecations to conform to. Plus have you seen their mane? Their lashes? Their fabulous pink cape? Yeah, this is one gnc zonkey! However YaYa has many tough competators that they're up against, so they still only earn a spot at #7.

#6: Furnando

Look at this fancy magic man! Honestly, I get gender envy from this funky lil guy. The top hat with the feathers on it, the mask, and the cape are a killer combo! Furnando also looks like someone whom one of my irl friends would kin, and that guy is also hella gnc, so he gets bonus points for that. "But tumblr user gingersnap-propaganda,"⁠—you might be saying⁠—"Furnando is so overwhelmingly gnc! How is he only at #6!?" Well my dear comrades, all I can say is that there are so many hella gnc moshlings! Even though Furnando ranks highly above average on the gnc-scale, even that is not enough to place him any higher than at #6.

#5: Weegul

Weegul encompasses a form of gender nonconformity that few people tend to truely appreciate: cutesy androgeny. They have no gender, just a a cute little smile, a round huggable form, a dazzling golden horn, a profound desire for incredible violence, and a cute lil heart tummy! Awwwww. Even though this little pal's gncness is off the charts, he still only ranks in at #5.

#4: Oddie

I know what you're thinking: that's one hella gnc donut!! In fact, his gender nonconformity is so obvious that I'm not even going to waste my time explaining what is already clear to you. One thing I know you're all thinking is "Wait, there's moshlings that are even more gnc that Oddie!??" and yes there is! Even though Oddie is pretty high up on this list, his gender nonconformity is surpassed by three other moshlings, putting him at #4.

#3: First Officer Ooze

Now that is a gnc snail! If you thought the snails here on Earth were enough as is, then your mind is probably being absolutley blown away right now by the sheer amount of gender nonconformity that this dude oozes (pun intended). Not only is xe purple (my favorite colour :3), but xe's also covered in polka dots, which gives xim gnc bonus points. But again, competition is tough! First Officer Ooze still only earns a spot at #3.

#2: Threddie

Shit dude, this sock has so much gender in all of the places you wouldn't expect it. The gender nonconformity that this sock contains is so unreal... if I could, I would leech away Threddie's gender for the taking like some sort of gender vampire, but I can't because gender vampires can't leech away other gender vampire's genders (that's how Threddie got all of that gender). What's so special about Threddie is that they took each and every one of their genders and expressed them in a completely different way than you'd expect. Yet still, there is yet another moshling that surpasses Threddie in gender nonconformity, which is why they are only in at #2.

#1: Glob

This blob's gender nonconformity is absolutely fucking buckwild. Every person, binary or nonbinary, trans or cis, can look at this blob and immediately feel gender envy. Tell me I'm wrong! Glob's form, Glob's colour, everything about Glob radiates chaotic gender energy. This blob has so much gender, prolonged exposure can and has killed people (haters will say it's the neurotoxins 🙄). If you don't believe that Glob is the absolute pinacle of gncocity, you can unfollow me right now (but actually don't ily <3). I think that I can say with absolute confidence that no other moshling deserves the #1 spot.

Thank you for reading this top 10 list!! Remember to like, reblog, and follow for more quality moshi monsters content <3

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springsaladgaming · 3 years

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500 Follower Gift!

Hey, I just passed the 500 followers mark! That means it’s time for a short story.

I’m glad that there are so many people interested in my writing, and the support means so much to me! Welcome to all the new followers. I hope you have a lovely stay, and enjoy yourselves a canonical Ninelives short story.

The following short story does not contain any direct spoilers for the main story, but it may have some very minor, loose foreshadowing. Read at your own discretion.

Questions

For twenty minutes now Sungjae had been complaining about his homework for his calculus class. Not that Quinn minded. On the contrary, Quinn usually liked listening to Sungjae talk, even if it sometimes felt like he was only talking to fill the silence. There was something naturally soothing about his voice. Such a small detail, but it factored in to why they were friends in the first place. Would Quinn have let Sungjae past his walls otherwise? He doubted it.

But Sungjae’s complaints weren’t why Quinn was so annoyed. Quinn was annoyed because Minerva was all over Sungjae as they sat on his bed together while she tutored him through his homework.

Was Quinn jealous? He had considered that, and it wasn’t necessarily wrong. But it wasn’t right either. It was because Minerva wasn’t really interested in Sungjae. At least, Quinn was pretty sure she wasn’t. She liked feeling in control, he guessed. Quinn was pretty sure that Sungjae wasn’t interested in her either, but poor Sungjae was either too kind to reject her advances or too malleable to notice he was being manipulated.

Quinn felt like he was watching two people play a game of chess when one of them didn’t even know the rules.

He tried to focus on something else, and inevitably he couldn’t stop thinking about how uncomfortable his clothes felt, how they seemed just to never fit right. His eyes fell over Minerva’s hair, long and silky and black, and he couldn’t help but think of his own long hair and whether or not he should cut it short. Some people would kill for hair like yours, his mother used to say every time he would ask if he could cut it. She always said no.

Minerva giggled and congratulated Sungjae at the realization that he’d gotten a problem right. She caught eyes with Quinn at that moment, and Quinn knew that she thought he was staring. He was, but not for the reason she probably thought. She scrunched her nose playfully at him and grinned, a challenge to get him to say what was on his mind. Alright. You want to play? Let’s play.

“Perhaps next you can teach him to tie his shoes,” Quinn said with a smirk. Sungjae usually wore loafers, so it would sound like as much of a dig to him as it would to Minerva. Let Sungjae be none the wiser to the tension between Quinn and Minerva.

And it worked too. Sungjae leaned back, just enough to slide away from Minerva’s friendly arm, and looked at his shoes where they were sitting by the closed door to his bedroom. “Hey,” he said with a laugh, “I just prefer shoes without laces. I own laced shoes. You know that I owned laced shoes.”

Quinn smiled wider. “I also know that you have two eyes and two hands and a brain,” he said. He locked eyes with Minerva as he spoke, and she narrowed her own.

Sungjae blushed and said, “I’m just not great at studying. And I choke during exams.” Once again, he must have thought Quinn’s comments were meant to ridicule him. That was fine. It was clear from the look on Minerva’s face that she knew the comments were for her. Minerva and Quinn never liked one another, and Sungjae was the only one who seemed not to notice that.

“If you think you’re so much better, why don’t you finish high school?” Minerva said, pursing her lips mockingly.

“Minerva!” Sungjae said, his voice almost loud enough to be a shout.

The three of them tensed and watched Sungjae’s door for a moment. When they heard no sound from the other side, they all sighed and relaxed, and Sungjae saw fit to finish his thought.

“Don’t be an ass, Minerva. You know why Quinn isn’t in school,” Sungjae said.

Minerva scooted away from Sungjae and shrugged. “So you had a shitty home life,” she said. “My brother is sick all the time and he’s still in school. Maybe you should be jealous of him instead of me.”

“What?” Sungjae’s words, Quinn’s thoughts, only one of them was surprised while the other was mortified.

Fine, maybe she did know why Quinn had been staring.

“Speaking of which,” Minerva said before the other two could get another word out, “I need to go home and help him. Have fun doing the rest of your work without me. I’m sure Quinn will be loads of help.” With that, Minerva grabbed her bag and made her way to Sungjae’s window where she climbed out and down the side of the house, Sungjae’s parents none the wiser that she was ever here.

Sungjae and Quinn watched as she left, both stunned still and wide-eyed. Sungjae eventually moved to close the window behind her, and time started moving again. There was a moment there where neither of them could look each other in the eyes. Sungjae spoke first.

“Why are you jealous of Minerva?” he said.

Quinn didn’t want to have this conversation. Not here, not now, maybe not ever. From his spot on the floor, he turned so that he was angled away from Sungjae and said, “Do you think I should cut my hair?”

Quinn still didn’t look at Sungjae, but he could see the way that his eyes furrowed from his periphery. “I don’t know,” Sungjae said. “Do you want to cut it?”

“Maybe I would look good with a crew cut. Or some kind of undercut.” Quinn played with his hair a little, pulling the strands back every which way to mimic the haircuts as best he could.

“Why are you avoiding the question?” Sungjae said. Always to the heart of the matter. Quinn didn’t know whether to love or hate that about Sungjae.

“Come on,” Quinn said. “You don’t have a preference?” Quinn turned his head, flipped his hair over to one side, and posed for Sungjae. “Does it look more… me?”

Sungjae frowned. “Are you jealous of Minerva because she flirts with me? Or because she’s not afraid to be whoever she wants to be?”

Quinn could only sigh in annoyance. His attempts to steer the conversation in a different direction had failed. Sungjae could be irritatingly perceptive when he wanted to be, and apparently now was one of those times. “You’re not going to answer my question, are you?” Quinn mumbled.

Sungjae closed his school textbook and pushed his homework aside. A few of the papers caught and folded together as he did so, but he didn’t seem to care. Those big brown eyes of his were fixed on Quinn and looking more intense than usual. “Are you going to answer mine?” Sungjae replied.

Quinn rolled his eyes and turned completely around so that he was facing the wall and his back was to Sungjae. “I don’t want to talk about this,” he said.

Sungjae sighed. “Quinn, if this is about your gender presentation,” he started.

“It’s not,” Quinn said quickly as he crossed his arms.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then we don’t have to,” Sungjae said, his voice taking on that soft and understanding tone that drew Quinn to him in the first place. “Just let me know if you ever do want to talk about it.”

Quinn could hear the sound of Sungjae gathering his homework back up, flipping back to the proper page in his textbook, and he didn’t know whether to be thankful or annoyed that Sungjae wasn’t pushing the subject. Maybe he was both. “Do you always have to do that,” Quinn said through a sigh.

“Do what?”

“Be so damn understanding,” Quinn said.

“Quinn,” Sungjae said, “you either want to talk about this or you don’t. You’ll talk to me when you want to. I’m not going to let the fact that Minerva is an asshole make me a bad friend.”

Quinn almost laughed at that. Perhaps Sungjae wasn’t as oblivious to Minerva’s manipulations as he thought.

“You’re too damn nice,” Quinn said, but he couldn’t help the grin on his face. He let out a frustrated sigh and turned back around to find Sungjae still facing him with that intense gaze. “You’re also right.”

Sungjae’s serious facade cracked and he smiled. “Oh, am I?” he said.

“Yes, yes, you should be very proud,” Quinn said. He turned to look at the window, as if Minerva would climb back through if he mentioned her name out loud. “She’s so sure of herself. And so unapologetic about it.”

“And is that a bad thing?” Sungjae said.

“No,” Quinn said with a sigh. “No, it’s not. So I guess she was right too. I envy the way she can just be the person she knows she is. And that she knows people see her the way she wants them to.”

“So you’re not jealous that she was flirting with me?” Sungjae said. It wasn’t until Quinn looked back at him that he realized Sungjae was joking.

“Yeah, well, if you ask her to the prom, I think she’s going to say no,” Quinn joked back.

“I know,” Sungjae said with a laugh. “Good thing I wasn’t planning on asking her.”

“So there’s hope for me?” More friendly ribbing.

But Sungjae’s face grew more serious again. “Do you actually want to go to a prom?” Sungjae said. “Because I can buy you a ticket to mine if you want. And if you want to borrow clothes, I might have something that will fit you. Or we can go buy some.”

Quinn’s smile grew wider as Sungjae babbled on. It was very like Sungjae, thinking of all the ways he could make other people happy. “It’s fine, Sungjae. It’s really not for me,” Quinn said. “Besides, you’d have an even harder time staying out of trouble with me there.”

“Okay,” Sungjae said, and he even looked a little disappointed to hear it. “Quinn?”

“Yes?”

“If you like your hair long, then keep it long. If you think you’ll be more comfortable with it short, then cut it. The only thing that matters at the end of the day is how you feel about it, not anyone else.”

“I know,” Quinn said with a thankful smile. “Want to help me cut it?”

Sungjae couldn’t hide the surprise on his face at that. “What? Really?”

Quinn nodded. “Sure. I’d like to try it. I can always grow it back if I don’t like it, right?”

“Yeah,” Sungjae said with a nod. “Do you want to do it right now?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

Sungjae put his homework to the side once again, neatly this time, and stood up. “I’ll go get what we need.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. “And Sungjae?”

Sungjae paused before leaving the room and looked back at Quinn. “Yeah?”

“I was a little jealous that she was flirting with you,” Quinn said with a smile.

Sungjae laughed and shook his head fondly. “I know.”

#ninelives #ninelives if #ninelives shorts #follower gift

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

its been months since you got the pastel punk prompts but I had an idea so. what about pastel punk steve going "oh shit im nonbinary" nd them talking to billy about it. or just. punk boys cuddling 👉👈 ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO i hope you're feeling better hun nd hope you feel happy nd get the best vibes 💝 lov u

This picks up the day after this one

Billy had invited Steve back to his place after the show and late night dinner the night before.

He lived in a tiny studio apartment with chipped paint and no heat, but it was a cozy little place, and all his, which was something Steve envied, sharing a three bedroom apartment with four other people.

Billy had let Steve borrow some shorts and a shirt to sleep in, so Steve decided to return the favor, make him some eggs and coffee to wake up to.

But of course Billy was up and at ‘em at six in the morning, listening to music in big headphones as he worked out quietly, lifting weights.

Steve’s mouth went dry, waking up to see that, Billy’s muscles bulging, his golden skin slick with sweat.

He set down the barbell, startling when he saw Steve watching him.

“Like what you see?” He smirked as he flexed, Steve’s eyes going wide. Billy laughed, moving to the small kitchen.

He stuck his face under the faucet and drank loudly.

He and Steve had spent hours in the twenty-four hour diner after the kid had been picked up, talking about the punk scene, their experiences with assholes and shitty parents. Billy had invited Steve up for a drink, had winked and said nothing implied, unless you want something.

But they ended up sitting smooshed together on Billy’s little couch, talking about music, and punk philosophy, and religion, and everything under the fucking sun.

“You wanna grab breakfast or something? There’s a good spot down the block.” He let Steve raise his closet before getting dressed himself.

They slid into a table together at the little cafe. Steve tossed his jacket in the empty chair next to Billy.

“I like that you wear this pink jacket. Makes you stand out.” Steve smiled softly.

“I got it at a charity shop, like years ago. It just felt really good. It’s a bit of a security blanket now. I almost never leave the house without it.”

“People think being punk is about being hard, and rough. But its’ really not. Soft colors have their place in punk too.”

“That’s what I think, too! I’ve always really loved pastels, and the color pink, but my dad would be a dick about it, call me names and say Steven, men don’t wear pink. Jokes on him, ‘cause I’m not a fucking man.”

“What do you mean?” Billy sipped at his coffee.

“I don’t think of myself as a man, or as a woman. I’m somewhere in between all that.” Billy nodded sagely.

“I know a few folks like you. Pick and choose their gender types.”

“I mean, it’s less pick and choose, and more I don’t understand what a man is supposed to feel like, but I’m pretty sure it’s not this.”

“Oh, I never really understood the nuance of it.”

“I mean, why would you? A doctor looked at your dick when you were born, said you were a boy, and you were just like, cool. I don’t mean it as a bad thing, but unless you’ve felt it, you don’t completely get it.”

“No, I understand. I mean, I’m really open minded, and I’m never gonna negate someone’s identity, but I know that I’ll never get it.” Steve smiled at him.

“My friends all use they to refer to me, by the way. I mean, I don’t really mind whatever anyone uses, like if people call me she, or he, I don’t really care. I feel like part of me is a woman, and part is a man, and part is nothing at all.” They shrugged. “But they is the easiest for me.”

“I mean, whatever makes you feel best. I don’t mind.” Steve beamed at him.

#Billy is SO THIRSTY #he was working out all like 🥵😈👅#i got another request for fluffy stuff with pastel punk steve #so that's gonna be some cuddly babes #yikes writes #pastel punk steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #nonbinary steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #nonbinary!steve #nonbinary!steve harrington #nb steve harrington #nb steve #non binary steve harrington #private post

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 14: For Better Or Worse

(from the Flatmate Trilogy: Two Hearts, One Home)

…in which Harry and Niall have a guys night, Y/N starts showing, and Layla loves her wedding dress.

Word count: 4k

Chapter 13: Prenatal Visit - Y/N and Harry run into her ex at the doctor’s office.

Wattpad link

ANNOUNCEMENT: I have a college project coming up so I will not update next week. The next chapter (the Halloween special) will be posted on Tuesday, October 8. If nothing changes from now until the last chapter, there will be 17 chapters in total. for this last book. Now, enjoy this chapter and leave your comments! - Allie.

Harry hadn't been this excited since the night before his wedding. He was normally the type of person who would just go with the flow, but ever since his wife got pregnant, he had been counting each day and marking his calendar to keep track of her pregnancy. Today was the first day circled in red on the calendar, and the satisfaction of crossing it off first thing in the morning got him feeling elated.

Today, they would get to see their baby for the first time.

Y/N was already twelve weeks pregnant and started showing. Every night, he would rub her tummy and talk to it even after she had reminded him that their baby hadn't even got ears. He knew that. But the thought of Asteria or Jasper growing inside of her filled him with so much joy. He had to let his baby know how much he loved them.

It was the night before the first scan. While his wife was sleeping right next to him, he stayed up to watch ultrasound videos on YouTube. He didn't expect to get so emotional just from watching someone else's child moving for the first time. That was how he knew, when he finally got to see his own child, he surely wouldn't be able to hold back his tears.

Harry ended up falling asleep while watching those videos, and Y/N woke up to find him snoring softly with his phone on his face. She had to wake him up and drag him out of bed so they wouldn't be late for the scan appointment.

Thank God, it wasn't a busy day in the hospital. The atmosphere in the waiting room was different from the last time they'd been there for her pregnancy test. It was soothing, with perfumed scent air and unhurried nurses moving with a serene purposefulness from room to room. Nevertheless, Harry's mind was racing a mile a minute, and Y/N could feel it when he squeezed her hand.

"Relax, honey. I'm not giving birth right away," she joked, making him chuckle.

"I am relaxed though. What are you talking about?" he told her. But even himself was aware that 'relaxed' was an overstatement. Taking a seat by the examining table, he watched his wife lie down on her back and tilt her head to give him another smile. He gave her one in return to pretend that he was fine, but his knee was popping rapidly like he'd consumed a ton of caffeine before he got there.

The sonographer spread a gel over her tummy and then rolled a small scanning device around the area where the gel was. All three of them turned to the computer screen. As soon as the first images were shown, the shakiness in Harry's limbs immediately vanished. His entire body stiffened as he held his breath, peering at the screen. That was his baby. And they were moving. He had seen too many videos last night, so why was he still in shock?

"Although you won't be feeling your baby move just yet, they're dancing around inside you," said the sonographer.

Y/N had already teared up when she turned to Harry, wanting to see his reaction. But he was just sitting there with his mouth and eyes wide open. He couldn't even move a muscle let alone look away from the screen.

His emotions were like slow effects. It was only until they were sitting in the car in the hospital parking lot, and he was looking at the first photos of their baby, did he begin to cry. He turned to her, smiling tearfully and saying, "this is our baby, Y/N. This is Asteria or Jasper."

Even though Y/N's eyes were just beginning to dry, it didn't take more than a few seconds for her to tear up again. She leaned in, kissing him deeply and pulling away to rub his shoulder, eyes on the photos he was holding.

"Would you mind if I replace your photo in my wallet with this one?" He chuckled slightly and wiped the tears on his cheeks as Y/N tossed her head back and laughed.

"Of course not," she said, beaming. "I would do that, too."

"So...Is this Ria or Jas?" Niall questioned as he squinted his eyes at the ultrasound photo in his hand. Harry tried to focus on driving, still he kept glancing back and forth between the road and Niall, just to make sure Niall was being careful with the first photo of his baby.

"Are you stupid?" he said. "The baby hasn't got ears yet."

"Oh, right!" Niall snorted as he carefully put the photo back in his best friend's wallet. They were on their way to Niall's brother bachelor party. His brother's wedding and his were only six months apart.

The last time Harry had gone to a bachelor party had been by far the worst experience in his life, and he'd told himself that Niall's would be the last one he would attend in this lifetime. After that, he'd be retired from bachelor parties for good. But then, Niall had to drag Harry to his brother's bachelor party, saying Harry could use this as an example to throw one for him. Harry felt like it was his responsibility as the best man to make the groom happy, so here he was, driving Niall to the party and already wanting to turn his car around and go home.

"So when will you find out the baby's gender?" Niall asked to fill the silence.

"We'll get another ultrasound done between the eighteenth and twenty-second weeks."

"Are you nervous?"

"Yeah but...I'm happy either way."

"No, I mean...Are you nervous that you're going to be a dad? Because I'm already nervous that I might not be 'cool uncle Niall', you know?"

The way Niall blew out his cheeks and shook his head had Harry cackling. "Niall, you'll be a great uncle," he said. "Just...just don't coax my kid into weird stuff and you'll be fine."

"Hey, 99% of the trouble we got into was because of you!"

"Shit, you're right." Now it was Harry who blew out his cheeks in frustration. "But I'm going to be a good and responsible parent," he reassured himself, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I got this."

"Let's hope so," Niall said as he clasped his hands together. "Aaaaanyway, I think there are strippers there."

"What part of 'a good and responsible parent' didn't you understand?!" Harry exclaimed. "And Layla would kill you."

"I was just saying that—"

"Don't even say that!"

"Okay, okay! Gee!" Niall rubbed his forehead as Harry slowed down and pulled over in front of a club.

"Last chance to change your mind," Harry turned to him, arching an eyebrow and hoping that he'd say no.

It took Niall a few seconds to think before he unbuckled his seatbelt. To Harry's disappointment, he said, "let's do this!"

Meanwhile, Y/N and Layla were together in Layla's bedroom. The bride-to-be had just got her wedding dress earlier that day, and she'd been wearing it and swaying in front of the mirror for over forty minutes. Even though she had repeatedly said she wasn't nervous about her wedding because she was rich, Y/N knew Layla had never been more nervous about anything else in her life. She was probably as just agitated as Y/N and Harry in the waiting room yesterday.

Y/N had grown up with parents who loved each other. Layla, however, hadn't been so lucky. Those who didn't know her well would envy her because she was not only pretty, but also rich, and engaged to her best friend, who was also rich. Little did they knew, Layla had to struggle every day for validation. Her parents hated each other, and they didn't love her either, or so it seemed. When she told them about her engagement, neither of them had showed any interest, so she didn't even bother to send them the invitations.

Poor Layla had poured her heart and soul into planning such a big wedding with such little help, and she hadn't been fully happy for weeks. But today, after putting on her two-thousand-dollar wedding dress, she was on cloud nine. Y/N wished Layla would remain this happy until long after her wedding day.

"If you continue to dance like that, you'll get sweaty and ruin the dress."

The warning got Layla rooted to the spot, her eyes popped out. "Shit, you're right! I have to take it off! Help me!"

Giggling, Y/N rose from the bed to help her best friend unzip and step out of the dress. Layla had to remind Y/N every five seconds to be careful as they brought the dress to her wardrobe, and each time Y/N had to reassure her again that she knew how to handle a wedding dress because she'd been a bride before.

"Oh, really? Remember what happened to your wedding dress?"

"It wasn't even my fault," Y/N said as she flopped down on the bed, waiting for Layla to put her clothes back on.

Once Layla was done, she took a seat next to Y/N and repeated the obvious, "I just really love it."

"I know. You treat it like your own baby."

"Well, because it is my baby. The whole wedding venue could just burn and crash, but as long as I have that dress, everything is fine," Layla said with a straight face to prove that she was serious. Then, she changed the subject, "speaking of a baby, how's yours?"

Y/N brightened at once. "We got to see them for the first time yesterday!"

"Oh, shit, right!" Layla exclaimed as she held her head. "Fuck, you told me last week and I forgot! Do you have a photo?"

"Here." Y/N beamed and showed Layla the one she kept in her wallet.

"Oh my God, hi baby Ria or baby Jas. Whoever you end up being, aunt Layla will love you anyway," Layla said before glancing up to meet Y/N's eyes. "I've never talked to a womb before, how did I do?"

"You did great." Y/N giggled, giving her a thumb up.

Sighing in relief, Layla handed her back the photo so she could put it away. "So..." she trailed off. "You already got your dress right? When will I get to see it?"

"Um...I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I just...I'll be six-month pregnant at the wedding, so it's a bit loose for me now. I'll show it to you when it's close to the wedding day."

Layla scoffed, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter, just let me see it!"

"No," Y/N said she rose from the bed, checking her watch. "I gotta go home to pick up Treasure now."

Layla grabbed her wrist in an instant. "No, bitch, you're showing me the dress!"

"No!"

"Why?!"

"Because—" Y/N exhaled sharply as she pulled her arm out of Layla's grip. "I don't know...I just...look weird in it."

"Bullshit."

"It's true! I'll probably look so funny standing next to your skinny bridesmaids."

"You're not even fat."

"I will be," she blurted, not knowing why she'd said that aloud.

Y/N would never talk about her weight, even at moments when she was the most insecure. She believed that people wouldn't notice her imperfections if she didn't point them out herself. But ever since she got pregnant, she had changed a lot, physically and mentally, and she was more conscious about how she looked than she had been before.

Her cheeks reddened when Layla chortled. "You're pregnant, Y/N. Of course you'll be gaining a bit of weight. Why's it such a big deal?"

"I just..." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I-I gotta go home and pick up Treasure."

"I'm coming with you!" Layla shouted and hurried after her to the door. "But...can we stop by the grocery store on the way?"

The music in the club was as loud as thunder and the laughter ringing in Harry's ears wouldn't seem to stop. He liked the song they were playing, but he hated everything else. The group of men in front of him was cheering and drooling over the two strippers dancing around Niall's brother, who was tied to a chair. Harry loved the man but how on earth could he look so happy? What would his future wife think if she saw this scene? Harry honestly couldn't relate. Shaking his head, he took a sip of the champagne in his glass and leaned back against the bar counter.

The funny thing about this whole experience was that it used to be normal to him. Partying used to be his way of escaping from stress and responsibilities and all that shit. He used to depend on parties like this, on touches of women he didn't know to feel fulfilled. Now here he was, judging these people and wishing he'd been home with his wife. He would rather spend the rest of tonight talking to her womb than checking his watch every two seconds.

As he finished the thought, he turned to his best friend, who had the same look of anxiety on his face. Niall turned to him, frowning as he said, "are you scared? Because I kind of am."

Harry chuckled at the comment. "I've been scared since we got in the car."

"I can't believe we used to enjoy this," Niall said, nodding his head toward his brother, who was literally grinding that stripper. "I think we're getting old."

"We are," Harry agreed, emptied his glass with one go, and slammed it down on the counter. "Niall, you can't have a bachelor party like this."

"I can't have a bachelor party like this," Niall repeated the same words, slowly shaking his head, still watching his brother with anxiety.

The horrified look on his face made Harry laugh. "Your wedding would become your funeral."

"That's not the thing though," Niall said as he turned back to Harry, his eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not afraid of Layla. I just don't want to hurt her and I don't want another woman to touch me."

"I can't relate to not being afraid of Layla but—" Harry paused, looking at the other men and sucking a breath. "You're absolutely right."

"Maybe we could...I don't know? Go shopping or something for the bachelor night?"

The suggestion left Harry poker-faced. "Not having strippers at the party does not equal not having a party at all, Niall."

"You don't get to judge me. We were at a spa on your bachelor night!"

"Fuck, you're right," said Harry with a monotone and an empty stare as he puckered up his lips. Niall was about to make a remark when one of the strippers approached them. At first, Harry thought she was just coming over to get some drinks from the bar, but she stopped right in front of him and leaned in so close that he nearly fell off his chair from leaning back, not wanting to touch her.

"Hey, pretty boys, you want a show?" The brunette had a thick German accent, and her voice was annoyingly piercing. Harry hated it. Still, he politely muttered, "no, thank you."

He didn't how to push her away without having to touch her or appearing as being rude. Fortunately, he didn't have to do anything. She pulled back on her own, setting her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I get it," she said, pointing to each of them. "Are you two gay?"

"No, I'm a dad," Harry awkward replied, and he was so confused when a smirk appeared on her face.

"Oh, so you have a daddy kink, huh?"

"He does." Niall cracked up, and Harry smacked him on the arm.

"No, I'm an actual dad," he said, raising his hand and pointing to the ring. "I'm married. Sorry."

The woman burst out laughing as she immediately apologized for making him feel uncomfortable. But then she winked at him and said, "I'll be over there if you change your mind."

Harry and Niall both swallowed as they watched her walk away, swaying her broad hips seductively. Then, as if they could read each other's mind, they turned to each other and spoke at the same time, "let's get out of here."

Y/N was deeply concerned.

She'd had a bad feeling when Layla walked out of the grocery store holding two heavy bags of snacks which was more than the amount she'd eaten in twenty-five years of her life.

"Who are these for?" Y/N had asked.

And Layla had told her, "for me. I'm in a good mood."

Y/N didn't know what kind of 'good mood' her best friend was in, but now the girl was lying on the couch with Treasure on her lap, a bowl of popcorn on her right, a giant pack of gummy bears on her left, and her legs on the coffee table. She didn't look like Layla, she looked like Y/N's dad on lazy Sundays or football nights. That was how Y/N knew it was serious.

"I'm going to order a pizza. Want one?"

"Please don't. I'd throw up all over you," said Y/N as she marched toward the couch and took the bowl of gummy bears away from Layla. Layla attempted to reach for it, but Y/N smacked her hand away.

"Hey!"

"What is wrong with you?!" Y/N said. "First, you bought everything in the store that contained sugar and now you're eating pizza?!"

"I've eaten pizza plenty of times!" Layla gasped.

"That was before you turned thirteen!" Y/N cried out, but her best friend was just gawking at her like she was the one talking nonsense.

And then, it hit her.

Y/N sat speechless, her eyes bulging out as she finally realized what was happening here. "Oh no," she mumbled with a blank stare. "You're trying to gain weight with me, aren't you?!"

"No, I am not!"

"Yes, you are! You touch your hair a lot when you lie."

"Bullshit."

"There! You're doing it again!"

Layla suddenly withdrew her hands from her hair and shoved them into her armpits, her forehead puckered up and her voice was low. "So? What if I want to?"

"Then you won't fit the dress, Layla! Stop being crazy!"

"I can still get it altered," the girl argued, giving Y/N a slight shrug. "I want you to feel good about yourself, especially at my wedding."

"And you're doing that by gaining weight and ripping the dress that you love?"

"I love the dress," Layla breathed. "But...I love you more."

Though they'd been friends for that many years, Y/N could barely recalled the last time Layla had said those three words to her without making it sound like a joke. And now, it was definitely not a joke. Because the girl was blushing and nervously rubbing her palms together.

Y/N couldn't hold back a massive grin as she said, "I love you too." And then reached for Layla's hand. "But you don't have to worry about me. I'm just temporarily insecure about my body. I guess all women feel this way at least once during their pregnancy, but I'll get over it."

"What if you won't? I can't be happy at my wedding if you aren't." Layla huffed as she rolled her eyes upward. "And God, it's awful enough that you can't even attend my bachelorette party."

"Layla, we've talked about this. There'll be alcohol and...and a lot of activities that will be too much for me and my baby bump."

"I could just get rid of those."

"No, don't be stupid."

Those words slipped out before Y/N could stop herself. She had never called Layla stupid, not even as a joke. In fact, nobody had ever dared to call her stupid. Y/N expected her to get angry and say something mean, like she would have if it'd been Niall or Harry who'd said it by accident. But, no. She just snorted and playfully hit Y/N's cheek. "If I could only have one guest at my wedding, it'd be you. So...I won't have any fun unless you'll be there and have fun with me. We're in this together, remember? For better or worse."

Y/N couldn't come up with a response. In fact, she was too emotional to even make a sound. The way her chin quivered made Layla chuckle.

"Bitch, you'd better not cry because I'll—"

Without waiting for Layla to finish that sentence, Y/N wrapped both arms around her neck, hugging her so tightly. And Layla hugged her back right away as they both started laughing for no reason. Who knew how long they would've stayed like that if their men hadn't walked in?

"We're back!"

The girls both turned to the door, slightly confused.

"Oh, you're back early." Y/N raised an eyebrow as her husband approached and kissed her on the cheek. "How was the party?"

Exchanging looks, Harry and Niall said at the same time. "Terrifying." "There were strippers."

"Harry!" Niall shouted at his best friend, but it was already too late. Layla stood up so quickly that Harry reflexively took a step back.

"Strippers?" she exclaimed. "There were strippers?!"

"Yeah, but we didn't touch them—"

"I'm gonna kill Greg!" Layla clutched her fists and squinted her eyes. "I'm gonna kill your brother. I mean it this time."

Clearing his throat, Harry nudged Niall so he would say something before Layla stormed out with a murder weapon in her hand.

"Anyway," Niall began with a laugh. "Thanks to Greg, we just came up with a great idea for our bachelor party!"

"We don't care about your—"

"When I said 'our', I meant, 'yours and mine', baby."

Y/N seemed rather puzzled. "Wait, you want to do a double bachelor party?"

"Yup!" Harry said excitedly. "Fuck tradition. Let's do a treasure hunt."

Everyone turned to look at the white cat, who was glaring at Harry, not so happy about what he'd just suggested.

"No, not our Treasure." He rolled his eyes. "I mean the game we used to play on Halloween night each year back in college. You know, since Halloween is the day before your wedding."

"It is?!" Layla gasped.

"Yeah. You didn't know?" Harry chuckled and gave her a shrug. "I thought you picked the day on purpose."

"What was that supposed to mean, asshole?"

Ignoring those two, Niall spoke, "Y/N is pregnant so she doesn't have to play, but she can be the host."

"Nuh-uh." Layla shook her head, crossing her arms. "If she's the host then Harry will automatically win."

"Hey, I'm not a cheater!" Y/N said, and Layla motioned her to shut up.

"I don't believe you. This idiot is your big baby. You'd kill someone for him."

"Yay, I'm the big baby!"

"Shut up, Harry!"

"Guys! Focus!" Niall exhaled. "We'll ask someone else to be the host then. But does that mean you two are in?"

"I don't know...The first time I played, Harry and I fell through the floor and got trapped in the basement," Y/N said, but her husband stroked her hair and gave her a reassuring smile.

"We'll pick a safer location this year. Do you really think I'd put my babies in danger?"

"Okay, then we're in," Layla said before Y/N could even open her mouth, and the men high-fived each other like two little boys.

It was only when Y/N got up and picked up the bowl of gummy bears that Harry and Niall noticed all the snacks on the coffee table. They both pointed to them and said at the same time, "are those for us?"

"No, they're—"

"Yes, they're all for you!" Y/N happily shoved the bowl into Harry's hands so she could pull Layla up. "Come with me. I'll show you my dress."

"Yes! Finally!" Layla jumped right out of her seat.

"Hey, can we see?" Harry asked.

And both of the girls screamed at him, "NO!"

#flatmate!harry

297 notes · View notes

nessafms · 4 years

Text

new york’s very own NESSA LOCKE was spotted on broadway street in 𝓳𝓲𝓶𝓶𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸 𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓪 𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓵 𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓼 . your resemblance to kylie jenner is unreal . according to tmz , you just have your twenty two birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being finicky , but also alluring . i guess being a scorpio explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be expensive diamonds clinging to delicate fingers , makeup swatches on tan skin , & wine induced giggles .

GREETINGS , cuties . i’m gi , 9teen , and go by she and her pronouns . i kind of suck at introductions ? so please excuse all of the rambling and unnecessary comments that are throughout this . nessa is kind of my baby ? so im super super excited to bring her into this group and play her once again and even more excited to write with all of you !!!!!! everything you need to know about her is under the cut , and if you want to plot please give this a heart and we can do so ( or message me on discord , 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲#1776 )

* basics

FULL NAME. nessa ryan locke .

NAME MEANING. pure , holy ; butterfly .

REASONING. it was suppose to be vanessa but somehow ended up being just nessa by the time she was actually born .

NICKNAMES. ness , nessy .

PREFERRED NAME. ness and/or nessa .

BIRTH DATE. november third , nineteen ninety eight .

AGE. twenty two .

ZODIAC. scorpio .

GENDER. cis female .

PRONOUNS. she and her .

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. heterosexual .

CURRENT LOCATION. moved to new york city at the age of nineteen , ( click here to see her residence ) .

PLACE OF BIRTH. los angeles , california .

HOMETOWN. los angeles , california .

FATHER. jared locke , actor .

MOTHER. jillian locke , former model .

SIBLINGS. nirvana locke , emerson locke .

BIRTH ORDER. youngest .

PETS. wolfie , husky .

HAIR COLOR. originally a black color , though it tends to go from black to a light brown and/or a blonde color .

EYE COLOR. brown , but she takes pride in the small specks of green .

DOMINANT HAND. right .

HEIGHT. five ft six .

TATTOOS. nessa has five tattoo’s all together , the first one being something that resembles the fire emoji on her right inner hip she got with her group of friends . she has a rose on the left side of her boob , which she got strictly because she thought it was pretty . she has two butterflies behind her left ear , a smiley face on her right upper butt cheek , and finally the words , ‘ take care ‘ tattooed on her right arm .

PIERCINGS. she has five holes on her right ear and seven holes on her left ear .

DRUGS / ALCOHOL / SMOKING. no ( beside smoking weed here and there ) , yes , no .

SOUNDTRACK. self care , mac miller . angel , the weeknd . fetish , selena gomez . bitter , fletcher . july , noah cyrus . bad news , kehlani . after hours , the weeknd . needy , ariana grande . save myself , ed sheeran . p*$$y fairy , jhene aiko . girls in the hood , megan thee stallion .

AESTHETICS. emerald hues forming into a distant memory , soft laughter in the dead of the night , luxurious material clinging to honeyed skin , tired hues , the glow of neon lights lightening up a dark room .

LINKS. here’s her pinterest !!

FUN FACTS. she has a three year old husky , whom she treats as though she carried him around for nine months . she has a obsession with acrylic nails , you will always find her with something different every two weeks . she always has her toes painted , usually baby something baby pink , baby blue . she enjoys switching up her look which includes hair changes whether it be sporting a wig or actually dyeing it . has a talent of painting but normally doesn’t have the time or inspiration to do so . a music bug , she has to be listening to tunes if she’s cleaning , cooking , bathing ... hates the gym more then anything but has a personal trainer ( she spends most of the time avoiding ) to kick her ass in shape . rarely diets and with this she has a bad habit of eating whatever her body craves . she loves waffle fries , and prefers a burger over a chicken sandwich . she hates neon green , don’t fight her on this . she’s a bit of a car junkie and constantly purchases them despite not needing to . her worst habit is online shopping , she will spend thousand of dollars at ONE store .

* background .

stranded at the age of five , a stuffed elephant in hand and confusion lingering on skin . only small glimpses of heart felt moments to ease the tears . one moment she was there , and the next she somehow slipped through the cracks . not even the power of hollywood being able to track down the angelic emerald hued model . instead , her father had to wrap his arms around his three children and fabricate a story that would not shatter their delicate hearts . but the damage was already done .

drenched in sovereignty and affluence , the privilege of being privilege had always been a reality , even before the disappearance of her mother . a celebrity child , grew up in the spotlight and had ears filled with comments from millions who did not know her . not a sob story , unless you considered her mommy issues . inherited her father’s ambition and her mom’s trust issues . started branding herself at the age of seventeen , a trend setter . the title of social media personality was granted to nessa before it was even a thing , and she did not stop there . ventured into the beauty industry , building an empire from top to bottom . and eventually even created a fashion line with her older sister , even after all the red warnings .

but the finer things in life did not come with all blessings . her delicate hands drenched in cold glue , shattered pieces clinging for their lives with expectations of being put back together again . adored and envied by the world , but the outside looking in did not see bent back constantly picking up pieces of her sisters who crumbled with even the softest poke . addiction controlling every aspect of her sisters lives , and the relationship she shared with them . it’s never been pretty to watch the ones you love self destruct and take everything you love and trust down with them .. hard to look them in the eyes as anger and heartache consumes you . and even harder to forgive .

forever fighting the demons her mother instored in her , and the demons her sister’s stir up . her only breath of fresh air being her daddy , and the way he always has her back ( no favorites are played but we all know ) , and the life she helped build for herself . wants to be rid of hands that hold her back and take and take until she has nothing left , and instead plunge into the world of living for herself and new york city granted the brunette that opportunity .

* personality .

affection sings to her in the form of a love song , her love language . digits itch to hold friends hands , and lean on lovers shoulders . uses pet names like her vocabulary only consists of the word angel and baby . a chatter bug that hides vulnerability with ebullience and teasing manners . impulsiveness that jumps out at all the wrong times , and a carelessness that teams up with her pettiness to make all the wrong choices . feels replaceable and easily disposable , makes her fear of ever letting anyone get too close . finicky , hard to please and even harder to totally figure out , some would say she’s hot and cold . tries to stay out of her head with burying herself in work . knows how it feels to feel like you are nothing , and fills that whole with giving back as much as she can . silly and sometimes ditzy . loves too hard for her own good , and has a bad habit of letting people back in even when they do not deserve it or her .. has a softness that’s desperate to escape . hates love because she understands what it can do to you and loves just as much for the same reason . built a wall around her heart to avoid adding any more scars , and will save you before she saves herself . holds on to people a little too tight , because she hates going through the process of letting people in all over again . a twenty something year old who craves a mother’s touch but holds a grudge that sometimes causes her to miss out on people . always just wants to feel like she’s worth making sacrifices for .

* career .

kylie cosmetics ? nessa cosmetics , a brand built at seventeen years old and has only grown from there . collections that consist of collabs with close friends and family ( when she’s talking to them ) , and season / holiday collections . does something for her birthday , november third , every year . has a collection dedicated to her zodiac sign , scorpio . constantly changing her formula to better her brand , and does everything hands on . does most of her work from her office . can find her instagram stories to be her swatching her latest products . favorite thing of hers being her eye shadows ( applaud for the pigmented ) . good quality , inclusive and diverse ( more then actual kylie cosmetics ) is the most important thing when it comes to her brand .

launched nessa skin a single year ago , and has worked on it for the last three years . her latest child , and plans to only grow it . skin has always been super important to nessa , and delivering her supporters with products that will actually work is her main priority .

a youtube channel with ten million subscribers , youtuber as a second job . it starting as a hobby and a way of connecting with supporters to becoming something she cannot imagine not doing . her channel consists of mixed content such from fashion hauls to makeup videos to even vlogs that involved her friends ( and family ) doing stupid things .

em & ness , a clothing brand her and her sister are developing . features trendy street wear , more to come soon .

* connections

the childhood friend that reminds her of simpler times , mud pies in the back yard and riding their bikes around the neighborhood . secrets and promises of being friends forever that felt secure but feel short . bonded forever maybe , but constantly feeling like strangers . ( or they could still be close friends )

the family friend that their parent(s) swore were going to end up together , though if the two caught any talk of that would scrunch their nose ups and shake their head . or at least they did for a while , until lines started to fade and the comfortableness felt like something more .. not together now , but constantly a what if , the idea still runs in their minds but is a friendship worth something that might not work out

a friendship or more so platonic soulmates , if you see one you know the other is not far behind . they are somewhat extensions of one another , swear they cannot survive without one another . the one person nessa trusts the most , someone who has never hurt her or left her . her person .

the bad influence that plays on her impulsiveness . talks her head up to get even or take that tenth shot because why the fuck not . anytime something bad almost happened , like that time we almost got a fine , she was with this person . and while she adores them , she knows they aren’t exactly the best for her .

the friend group you cannot help but envy , constantly plastered on one anothers instragram feeds . has their own groupchat that does nothing but blow up . shopping trips in italy and vacations in greece . do not always get along but there is always love in between them . they are constantly in her vlogs , and would kind of be like her very own vlog squad .

the friends with benefits who swear they are just friends , and the sex means nothing . despite the fact that they linger a little too long in one another’s bed . and the promises of this will not ruin anything become blurry when they connect on a deeper level . and it gets confusing when their affectionate comes to surface , but regardless they are just friends .

a trio of three friends who are always seen together , best friends could be the world to use to describe them ( bonus points if its all girls ) .

the heart breaker , the person that fucked her up for good . ruined the way she loved and left her with a lot of regret and heart ache . she swear she hates them , but she hates how much she loved them and how close they got to her . hates how they went from knowing her more then anyone to being someone she cannot even look in the eyes anymore ( bonus points if it involves them cheating on her , extra bonus points if it’s angsty as hell )

the drinking buddy she confides in , a glass of wine and a lot of shit talking that always end up in talking about personal matters . they are a ear and someone to lean on .

the on and off fling , their back and forth being nessa and her refusal to let them in completely . her feelings for them scare her , and she’s not ready to walk down the road of being with someone again .

other things i want include ; unlikely friends , enemies to friends , friends to enemies , lovers to friends , friends to lover , ex best friend , ex friends in general , ex friends who miss each other terribly , other youtubers she collabs with , other ceo’s of makeup brands / skin brands she has a rivalry with because the media made it seem like they hated one another .

#wealthyhq:intro #fingers crossed i didn't miss anything asdfj #tw: mention of addiction

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acathea · 4 years

Text

The Ridiculously Detailed Inquisitor Questionnaire that No One Needed

I’m just five years late for this. Taashath edition, impossibly long. @customhawke‘s inquisitor quiz was extremely time consuming to fill out but so fun!

PART ONE: APPEARANCE/PERSONALITY/BASIC FACTS

Give some basics for the Inquisitor:

Name: Taashath Adaar

Age: 32 (By the end of Trespasser, 34.). Born on Drakonis 3rd, 9:9 Dragon.

Race: Qunari

Gender/preferred pronouns: Trans Woman – She/her

Class (warrior/rogue/mage): Warrior

Preferred weapon/spell type: Two-Handed Swords

Specialization: Champion

Romance: Josephine

Give a detailed description of your Inquisitor.

Taashath has coppery, almost metallic-looking skin and bright red eyes surrounded by a black sclera. She has thick, long crimson hair that falls past her waist, which she keeps tied in a simple braid when out on missions. She takes excellent care of it and is very proud of the way it looks. Her eyebrows are dark, thick, and arched, of a red so dark it almost looks black if the sun is not shining on them. Her face is heart-shaped, with high and pronounced cheekbones and deep-set eyes, where subtle crows-feet rest, made more apparent when she smiles. Crowning her head are two large, dark horns that end in an upwards tip, chipped in places from her many fights throughout the years.

Taashath is tall compared to the other races, but stands at a rather short height for a qunari - at 6’9’’ft (205cm). Her body is muscular and toned, shaped from years of fighting and travelling. It’s scarred in numerous places, and it’s why she tends to wear clothing that covers her entire body not to show them.

Does the Inquisitor have any scars/tattoos before the game’s events? If so, tell how they got them/their meaning (for example, what elvhen god does Inquisitor Lavellan’s vallaslin represent, and why did they choose them?)

A horizontal scar crosses the length of the right corner of her mouth to her cheekbone, that she got on a job while still an inexperienced warrior. The debris from the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes also hit her left eyebrow, leaving a nasty mark. Her body is scarred in numerous places due to her life work as a mercenary, notably her arms, and she always makes a point of covering them. Even when it should be too hot for long sleeves.

She wears mostly practical clothing, with little space for frivolousness. Usually in the dark colours of the Inquisition. After the events of the main game, she allows herself some prettier clothing and lighter colour schemes.

OPINIONS. Give your Inquisitor’s stance on:

The Chantry: Taashath dislikes the Chantry and would rather not be called the Herald of their Prophet. She doesn’t have any fond memories regarding priests of the Chantry, but only of the stones they would throw at her and her parents when passing through a village. She is interested in the history of the Chantry. She especially takes time to study it all in her time in Skyhold, but she holds no illusion that most in the Chantry want her dead. She has no issues with the Maker or Andraste, per se, however, even though she doesn’t believe in any kind of higher power.

Tevinter: Taashath has mixed feelings about Tevinter. She knows of the complicated history between the Qunari and the Imperium – but also, she’s Vashoth. Does that really apply to her? Of course, she holds mostly disdain for the way Tevinter controls its people and enslaves everyone they deem inferior. But she’s also intrigued by the culture of knowledge-seeking, were it not corrupted by lust for power.

Ferelden: It’s… brown. And cold. And it rains a lot. Taashath is more used to the warmth of the north, the brightness of it, but she falls in love with the culture and the people. Would she live in Ferelden? Absolutely not. But she doesn’t hate it.

Orlais: Orlais is… a very sore spot for her. For a chunk of her young adulthood, Taashath worked towards being admitted into the University of Orlais, her biggest dream. She wanted to study history and languages and geography. She wanted to walk in the University’s library and devote her life to knowledge. They laughed in her face, refused her entrance and kicked her out. Her experiences in Orlais after that were riddled with anxiety. When she visited the Winter Palace, however, she enjoyed beating the orlesian nobles that looked down on her at their own Game. She doesn’t like orlesians much, except a select few, and visiting the country is always the last thing she’s looking forward to.

Mages/Magic: Magic has always served Taashath well, and she sometimes envies those she encounters who have the gift. She is a big supporter of the mages’ freedom, although she agrees that they need a place where to study their magic – one where they’re not prisoners, maybe. But she’s not a fool, and she knows it can be dangerous – just like the weapons she carries.

Templars: While they never bothered her personally, Taashath is acutely aware of the abuses the Templars perpetuate and how power-hungry they can be, as she heard of the events of Kirkwall. She thinks their abilities may be of some use. Still, their affiliation with the Chantry and their methods don’t align with her moral principles. She would only ally with them if it was the only thing she could do. There must be some other way to protect people from demons other than Templars.

The Mage/Templar War: She believes it was inevitable. Wherever she went in Southern Thedas, she would always hear of the abuses of the Templars – either from apostates who wanted to join the Valo-Kas, or from the people they encountered. When the Chantry in Kirkwall exploded, she was surprised it didn’t have major consequences in all of Thedas sooner, taking another three years for the rebellion to fully take place. She supports the mages’ freedom.

The Dalish and City Elves: She is fascinated by the ways of the Dalish and would trade everything of value she has for the chance of learning more of their history and culture - and Shaevra is more than happy to share her culture with someone who seems to deeply appreciate it. She fails to make the connection between the nomadic way of the Dalish and the life she was living travelling with her parents. In regards to the city elves, she never knew much about them. It was only after becoming Inquisitor that she learned more of them from the servants in Skyhold. Then she sees first hand their living conditions in Orlais, and she feels much pity for them – although she admires their strength and sense of community.

Dwarves: Taashath hasn’t had much chance of seeing how the dwarves live in their thaigs, although she’s very curious about it – again, only after becoming Inquisitor does she have an opportunity to experience more of their culture. She’s more used to dealing with the Merchants’ Guild and surface dwarves. While she doesn’t have a particular liking for them, she also has no issues with them – unless they call her an ox-woman, which has unfortunately happened on more than one occasion.

Qunari/Tal-Vashoth (do they even know the difference?): It’s… complicated. She’s qunari herself, although she is Vashoth. For followers of the Qun, she is nothing – like she doesn’t exist. For non-qunari, she is just like them, so she’s seen as a violent savage before a person. The only other example of qunari outside of the Qun are Tal-Vashoth like her parents, which she ran from because she believed she’d be better off without them. The others are either the Tal-Vashoth she is hired to kill, or the ones she works with, with whom she doesn’t feel any real connection to. It’s because of her feeling like she doesn’t have a culture of her own that Taashath is so interested in those of others. She feels like a fish out of water and is both interested in the ways of the followers of the Qun and wary of them. As I said, it’s complicated, and the only subject that genuinely makes her head hurt when she thinks about it.

Humans: In her youth, Taashath used to idolize humans. She wanted to be like them, to be one of them – mostly because she only wished to have a roof over her head and not be thrown out of villages having sticks and stones thrown at them. She used to think that they must have been right about her parents, that they were savages and if only they allowed her in, they would see she was not like them. Now it’s different. Taashath has been hurt too many times by humans. She is wary and distrustful of them – the reason why she was convinced she wouldn’t have survived the events of the Conclave is that she was a qunari amidst angry humans. Of course, she can be swayed to think differently of some humans, but she treads very carefully when dealing with them. She likes the Avvar, though, and enjoys her time in the Frostbacks because of them.

What is their favourite place to travel to?

The Hissing Wastes. She loves the vastness of it, the climate, she loves the oasis. It’s also where she tames her wyvern mount, so it holds a special place in her heart.

Their least favourite?

Val Royeaux/the Winter Palace. It makes her feel anxious – she always has to watch her step and her mouth, always has to make sure she appears perfect in every way. It makes it hard to enjoy the architecture and pretty colours.

Honourable mention: the Fallow Mire. She hated being there, hated the climate, hated the mud and the water and the rain and everything that was there. She was glad to be out of that wretched place.

Describe what your Inquisitor is like before the game’s events–preferably, choose three words that describe best. Then explain why those adjectives are appropriate descriptors.

Quiet – During her travels, Taashath learned what misunderstood words might bring her in human society, and afterwards, it just stuck. She rarely spoke unless spoken to, and she much preferred entrusting her thoughts and musings to diaries and poetry rather than spoken words.

Apathetic – Or at least, on the surface. Taashath forces herself to appear unbothered and undisturbed by anything because, as usual, people will assume the worst when she expresses any kind of positive or negative emotions. This actually drives people away from her, which is… not what she’s aiming for when she does that. This also results in her basically shutting down her emotional side - which is ironically exactly what people expect of a qunari. It’s hard for her to trust people, to let herself go and be who she is – something that she only allows herself in private - and in turn, this created a sort of shell around her that, at some point, became more of prison than a protective measure.

Level-headed – Taashath takes a lot of time to think things over. What she says, what she does is always the result of careful calculation and pondering. Not just in dealing with people, but with situations that come about as well. This makes her an excellent leader because she – usually – does not let emotions speak for her. There are a few exceptions, though.

Does your Inquisitor change over the course of the game’s events? If so, how? What events affected their character arc the most?

It’s a mixed bag of feelings. Taashath learns to voice her feelings, her opinions, not to filter herself as much as she was used to and learns how to make friends. But after the events of the main game, the weight of being Inquisitor starts being too much. Every decision she makes leads to major consequences for the people involved - and even those who weren’t! - and they’re not always predictable. Each failure weighs on her even more. Sometimes, she feels herself becoming paralyzed by fear and doubt, and it’s only through the connections she’s made over the years in the Inquisition that she doesn’t break.

Being a lover of history and knowledge, seeing what happened to Ameridan shocked her quite a bit. Not only does she now doubt everything she’s ever read, but she’s also afraid that – with time – the Chantry will do the same to her. That they will erase her from history, make her a human, and rid the records of there ever being an Inquisitor named Taashath Adaar, of the qunari peoples. It’s disturbing, and she feels much pity for Ameridan and what was done to him. The events of the Descent also shake her, but mostly because she realizes there is so much more to Thedas than she realized. She wonders what other things there are still to discover or uncover.

The events of Trespasser truly break her. She fears and dislikes what the Inquisition is becoming, and she feels that everything is slipping out of her control. Even her advisors start making decisions without her, taking actions she wouldn’t have approved of. She thinks that finally, the charade is over and that she will be revealed for the fraud she is. She is glad, in the end, to disband the Inquisition. It was getting too big, too frightening, and something she was not proud of. She feels like a failure, honestly. Losing her arm also does not help, as her fighting style depends on it, and now she cannot even write – the only thing that brought her comfort for so many years. She feels that in some way she’s been stripped of her identity and made into something she doesn’t recognize.

Solas betraying her was the worst thing. He honestly acted as her mentor, because he was the only one that knew something about the Anchor and how to control it. Taashath feels everything spiralled after he left. When she finds out that not only is he an Ancient Elven God, he is responsible for everything that happened, and what he is about to do will destroy the world, she just really doesn’t know how to cope with it. She is broken for a while. But, like always, she picks herself back up out of sheer willpower. She wants to save her friend, even if it means protecting him from himsef. It’s the only thing giving her purpose, now, the only thing she will not allow herself to fail at.

Use three words to describe your Inquisitor at the end of the game, and explain why they are appropriate. (If there are any that are still the same from the beginning of the game, explain why they are still appropriate DESPITE the game’s events.)

Authoritative – Taashath, through her knowledge of history and nobility, through being a good strategist, learns to use her voice and make herself heard, learns to make decisions and take control of the situation, and to live with the consequences of what she does. She’s also less afraid of not appearing perfect in front of the nobility – she knows who she is, and nothing will change that.

Paranoid/Insecure – She makes decisions. She lives with the consequences. But each day, those decisions and their repercussions weigh more and more on her, with the death count rising, always. She doubts herself, she is afraid she is not suited for the role and that she should pass it down to someone else instead. But she doesn’t do it, because she is also afraid of what someone else might do with the power of the Inquisition. In the end, it was never its fate to last, and she knew that.

Dedicated – Despite her doubts, her fears, Taashath simply cannot give up. She will do anything it takes to find Solas, to make him see that this world is worth keeping, and to save him from himself – and the people of Thedas from him. It’s her only goal, and she puts everything she has in herself towards it. She will act, even if it means more decisions, and more weight on her shoulders. She can take it.

Life Before the Conclave

What is their combat skill level before the events of the game? Are they already skilled fighters, or can they barely hold their weapon of choice properly?

Taashath’s father was a Karasten, well trained in the way of fighting. He always believed that his daughter should be able to protect herself, given their nomadic lifestyle, and trained her with sticks first and real swords later from a very young age. She is quick and agile, nimble for someone of her stature and the weapons she wields. She’s an excellent fighter, despite it being something that she does only to defend herself and not because she actually enjoys it.

How well do they improve after becoming the Herald/Inquisitor?

With The Iron Bull’s help, Taashaths learns quite a few tricks. Not just that, but he teaches her how to make training something to actually relax with, something she can do to wind down and keep her body and mind sharp. She does indeed come to enjoy sparring with him, Cassandra and Blackwall (as the other soldiers will not fight her). Losing her arm, her fighting hand, is absolutely the worst. If all else fails, now she cannot even fight. Of course, after Dagna makes her a very flexible prosthetic, she starts training again – as if she had never held a weapon before. She’s not at the level she used to be, but she’s still quite the fighter.

Does the Inquisitor have family they left behind? Friends?

She learns this during her time in the Inquisition, as for a long while she thought they were dead, but her mother and father are still alive and well. Moreover, she’s got a younger sister and brother. Her ex-partner, a Tal-Vashoth mage, also asks for her help in the Emerald Graves and helps the Inquisition as an agent. Taashath’s mother, Asala, was a Tamassran under the Qun. She taught Taashath everything she knows and, when she came out to them as a child, Asala wasted no time in making Taashath comfortable and teaching her about herb mixtures to help her growth. Taashath’s father, Berestaar, was a Karasten. He often had more trouble than Asala in expressing his feelings and emotions, and could appear like a distant father, but he always loved and cared for her daughter and wanted nothing but the best for them.

Hissera is Taashath’s younger sister, a little spitfire that causes trouble wherever she goes.

Finally, Kost is Hissera’s twin. He’s not as restless as she is, and is also a mage.

Hissra was Taashath’s first love, and they lost each other for a couple years before the events of Inquisition. After Taash helps her personally in the Emerald Graves, Hissra joins the Inquisition as an Agent until its disbandment out of loyalty and gratitude to Taashath.

How do they feel about being separated from them?

It’s very complicated. When she was young, Taashath resented having to always be on the run. She hated that they had nowhere to stay, she hated the way people looked at her parents – her. She hated that they did not speak the King’s Tongue well, she hated that they didn’t seem to make an effort to at least appear less threatening. When she was fifteen, before her mother found out she was pregnant again, she ran away and never looked back. She felt that, on her own, she had more chances of being able to build a life for herself in human society – and she was wrong. By the time of Inquisition, she is very ashamed of what she did, the words she said to them, and wishes she could take it all back. She fears they might be dead. She reveals this to Josephine one evening, who in turn informs Leliana and asks her to look into it as a personal favour. They reach Skyhold, and it’s a very emotional reunion. Now she knows she won’t let go of them ever, and bought a house for them to stay in Antiva, near where she and Josephine live.

What is the most important/influential moment of their life before the Conclave?

There are a couple, at least. Running away from her parents was one such moment. Her breakup with Hissra was another. But most definitely her most defining moment was when she got turned away from the University of Orlais. Even after all those years on the road, and having to work as a mercenary to gather the coin because no one would hire qunari for anything else, she still hoped she could make it. She was genuinely convinced that if she argued her points well, they would admit her. After all, the University was the only place elves were allowed to study in, so how far of a stretch could it have been to allow a qunari in as well? It was the moment she gave up on her dream, forever, and resigned herself to a life of mercenary work just to get by.

Why were they sent to the Conclave?

It was just another job with the Valo-Kas. Go there and look threatening, make sure no one started anything. She knew the importance of the Conclave and was interested in seeing its outcome. Still, she knew nothing would personally change in her life. Or at least, she thought so.

PART TWO: MAIN PLOT REACTIONS/CHOICES

THE WRATH OF HEAVEN/THE THREAT REMAINS

How does the Inquisitor react to the Anchor and the idea of closing the Breach–do they want to do the right thing, are they only along because they are a prisoner, or something else?

Taashath is thoroughly freaked out the entirety of the prologue, even if she tries hard not to show it. She knows she didn’t do anything, but she can’t remember what happened. She’s surrounded by angry humans who blame her for the death of their religious head figure, and she knows how much humans hate and fear qunari. She wants to do the right thing and accepts anyway, but she honestly thinks that she won’t survive the ordeal – Anchor or no.

Do they take the mountain pass with the scouts to the Temple, or do they charge with the soldiers?

The mountain pass was without a doubt the safest and smartest choice – charging aimlessly to fight a force she does not yet know is not her style at all.

How does the Inquisitor react to being called the Herald of Andraste?

She doesn't like it, and asks everyone not to call her that. Not only because she does not believe she’s the chosen of Andraste or the Maker, but because she’s afraid of what will happen when other people realize she’s neither of those things.

Do they believe it themselves?

Absolutely not. Taashath is an atheist, and she believes Andraste was just a very powerful mage who communed with a spirit. She holds no illusions of being the chosen of any God.

How does the Inquisitor react to Chancellor Roderick’s presence and the threat of the Chantry?

Taashath does not like him, and definitely does not like the way he calls for her beheading every two seconds – but he’s nothing new. She knows how much power the Chantry and its lackeys hold, so she can only hope that he won’t bother her too much.

Does the Inquisitor decide to approach the mages or the Templars?

Taashath does not want to be affiliated with the Chantry in any way. However, she’s working for an organization that is technically under its banner. Still, she chooses the mages because she figures they can help more with this magic rather than following Cullen’s conjectures.

IN HUSHED WHISPERS

How does the Inquisitor feel about mages and about recruiting them?

She has a deep respect for magic and mages, and is a supporter of their cause. She goes to the mage without seconds thoughts because she genuinely feels they are the only way to help, and if she can help them in return, she will do anything in her power to do so. When she finds out they basically sold themselves into slavery she’s perplexed as to exactly why they would do that – but she also sees that they thought this was the only way they could escape the Chantry. This just further convinces her that she wants to help them and their cause.

How does the Inquisitor react to the idea of allying with Tevinter to gain the mages’ support?

Very practically. She is not allying herself with Tevinter, she is helping the mages and making sure they are not going to be slaves in a foreign land.

How do they react to being thrown a year into the future? Do they believe they can get back? Are they focused on their goal, gathering information? Or are they just freaking out?

Taashath, as usual, is very calm on the surface. She is very freaked out about the whole situation and what she sees, but she’s also very fascinated by how this was achieved. Having Dorian with her also helps, as even if she initially did not trust him, he quickly proves to be a valuable ally. Shared trauma is the quickest way to make friends, apparently. What really disturbs her is seeing how her companions have suffered, and seeing them die for her does a number on her. Her top priority after that becomes making sure there are the least number of casualties possible.

Did they ally with the mages or conscript them? Why?

She allies with them. She’s not about to force people to help her, and she doesn’t want the mages to go from one prison to another. She figures that the only way the Inquisition will survive is if it makes allies rather than enemies, as it already has quite a few of those, and conscripting people is not the best way to make lasting friendships.

What is the Inquisitor’s relationship with Fiona?

She is confused at first by Fiona’s reasoning, but she does not blame her more than what she feels is her right because Taashath is neither a mage nor an elf – there is clearly nuance there that she is lacking the life experiences to fully get. However, as they spend more time together in service of the Inquisition, she becomes fascinated with her stories and her life, and often comes to her for counsel.

IN YOUR HEART SHALL BURN

Does the Inquisitor help Harriet and save all possible citizens of Haven? Why?

Of course! She saved everyone, and was willing to die herself to see the innocent people of Haven survive. Even if she did not like some of them, they had all given themselves to a cause and she is a firm believer that even the most “insignificant” of people has value. Everyone deserves to live, and she makes sure everyone makes it to the Chantry safe and sound.

How does the Inquisitor feel about being a distraction for Corypheus while Haven flees? Are they resigned to their fate? Resentful? Determined to defeat the enemy/survive?

In a way, she figured she would not survive Haven. She is afraid, and while she feels like shaking in fear, she knows she cannot show any weakness at this moment. She is resigned to her fate, and she only hopes the Inquisition will be able to defeat Corypheus. They have Cassandra to lead them, after all. She has closed the Breach, her duty is done, and although she is not ready, she wants to give everyone a chance.

Does the encounter with Corypheus change their opinion of being Herald? Does it make them believe they are the Herald, lose faith, or affirm to their previous belief?

Nah, it doesn’t. It just makes her believe that she has to stop him at all costs - although she’s fascinated by what he said about the Black City.

How do they react to Solas telling them the orb is elvhen?

She’s so fascinated, and asks tons of questions. She wants to know more about it. She agrees nobody else should know the orb is elven in origin because she fears the reaction of the humans in the organization, and what it might mean for the elves working for it.

How do they feel about being chosen for Inquisitor?

It’s the first time in the game she actually shows some emotion – mostly, bewilderment. She can’t believe a bunch of humans are making them her leader, and she doubts anyone will follow her. She thinks someone like Cassandra is more suited to leading the Inquisition, and gets a bit teary-eyed when she sees the outpouring love and support the people she helped save show her. She enjoys it - initially.

What do they say are the principle foundations for the Inquisition?

Uncovering the truth, protecting the people, defending the freedom of the people of Thedas – of all its people, not just humans.

FROM THE ASHES

How does the Inquisitor react to Hawke’s presence?

Taashath has read the Tale of the Champion quite a few times, and is fascinated by meeting the Champion herself. She asks lots of questions, and she is surprised to see how mellow and quiet Hawke seems to be – so different from what Varric had written in his book.

Does the Inquisitor side with Varric or Cassandra during their fight?

Varric. He is not responsible for what happened at the Conclave, and she does not fault him for not trusting Cassandra.

How well do they get along with Hawke? Do they agree with Hawke’s decisions?

They get along pretty well. They find much in terms of common ground and Taashath values Marian’s help a lot. Taashath doesn’t know what she would have done in Hawke’s place, so she does not judge her. Marian has had many dealings with qunari of all backgrounds, so seeing Taashath does not really phase her.

HERE LIES THE ABYSS

Who is the Warden contact?

In-game? Stroud. In my personal canon? My own Hero of Ferelden. After getting news from Varric of who is responsible for the Breach, Marian contacts Anthra for help, and Anthra interrupts her search for a cure (close to bearing fruit) because she believes Corypheus is the Wardens’ responsibility. Her wife Everelle follows in tow, and they’re joined by their daughter Fen’na shortly afterwards.

How does the Inquisitor get along with them?

With Stroud, she doesn’t form much of an opinion. He keeps to himself and gives her directions and information, and so she does the same. With Anthra, she is very fascinated by her and asks her tons of questions. She’s read the Chronicles of the Fifth Blight a thousand times already, but she doesn’t pass any chances to inquire about something with the Hero of Ferelden herself. She respects her, admires her, and admires her prowess in combat.

How do they react to finding out the Wardens are being used by Corypheus?

It went against everything she knew about the Wardens. Honourable warriors dedicated to defeating the darkspawn, allying themselves with a powerful one? She did not understand, and was pretty shaken after discovering it.

How does the Inquisitor react to being in the Fade?

Extremely enthusiastic, despite the circumstances. She takes notes of everything she sees, until it becomes a little too freaky for her liking. She never expected to see the Fade in person.

Do they ever believe the spirit is actually of Divine Justinia?

For a brief moment, yes. And for a second, she started freaking out that if the spirit was truly Divine Justinia, then maybe she was really the Herald and all that other nonsense. She was thoroughly pleased to find out it was all as she believed initially - no higher power to speak of.

How do they react to the revelation regarding the Wardens’ involvement in the Conclave attack?

Disturbed. She had hoped they had no part in what happened at the Conclave, purely out of the respect she feels for the Order, but seeing her memories made it impossible to keep staying in denial.

Do they agree with Hawke or the Warden more?

In-game? Neither. Stroud’s “how dare you judge us” feels like he’s trying to avoid any kind of responsibility, while Marian would never blame what happened on the use of blood magic. In canon? Marian feels pity for how the Wardens were tricked. At the same time, Anthra can’t believe the Order let itself be fooled and forced into slavery by darkspawn. There is nothing to agree with, they all feel it’s a shitty situation.

How do they respond to Hawke’s and the Warden’s fight?

In canon, no fights happen, while in the game, she tries to make Stroud and Hawke realize that fighting while they are held hostage by a Nightmare full of demons is probably not the best decision.

How do they react to learning it was the Divine behind them in the Fade, not Andraste?

She feels relieved that it was not Andraste, sad for the Divine’s death, guilty for failing to help her.

What would the Nightmare Demon have said to rattle the Inquisitor?

“Try as you might, you won’t be able to hide forever. One day, they will all see what you really are. And I will be waiting.”

What is on the Inquisitor’s tombstone (what is their greatest fear)?

“Lost herself.”

Who does the Inquisitor leave behind in the Fade? Why do they choose to do so?

Both in-game and in canon it’s not actually Taashath’s decision, but I’ll explain the canon version: Anthra was ready to give herself for the cause, believing that Corypheus is the Wardens’ responsibility. However, Hawke believes otherwise. She failed to kill Corypheus, so in a way, she feels it’s her fault this all happened. She pushes Taashath and Anthra away with magic and forces them out of the rift before it closes. It’s her responsibility. She will pay the price.

Does the Inquisitor decide to exile the Wardens or have them fight alongside the Inquisition? What is their reasoning behind the decision?

Despite their mistakes, despite the revelation that the Wardens are not as infallible as she thought they were, she is not so stupid as to exile them. Two Old Gods still lie in the Deep Roads waiting to be awakened by the darkspawn, and when that time comes, the Grey Wardens will once again need to save Thedas.

WICKED EYES AND WICKED HEARTS

What is their opinion on attending the ball in the first place? Do they think it’s a waste of time, a necessary duty, or something exciting?

It’s a necessary duty, but one she dreads. She dreads appearing in front of the same nobles and scholars who regularly mock her and call her ox, and she fears she will make a blunder and ruin the Inquisition’s reputation.

Do the companions/advisors believe the Inquisitor will do well at the palace, or is there a fear they’ll be kicked out within five minutes?

Everyone fears the outcome of the evening because they are attempting to stop a murder. But while no one is afraid Taashath will bring shame to the Inquisition, they do have to sit down with her and try to get her to be more warm and friendly - teach her to recognize some of the nobles. Vivienne especially helps in this situation, as she’s familiar with having to appear perfect in front of a group of people ready to eat her alive.

How does the Inquisitor actually fare? Are they the belle of the ball, or do they barely scrape by?

Taashath does incredibly well. It’s like the nobles are at her fingertips, she manoeuvres and manipulates them all. She finds the Game quite delightful, and discovers herself a good player.

Does the Inquisitor gather blackmail information for Leliana? Gather caprice coins and stone halla? Find the Red Jenny caches?

If there was a chance, yes, but she didn’t go out of her way to find stuff that was not directly related to the mission at hand – save the blackmail for Leliana. That was valuable and essential information that would have helped them even after the evening at the palace was over.

Does the Inquisitor fight Grand Duchess Florianne, or expose her?

She exposes her. Taashath fears that a divided Orlais will be worse for the balance of Thedas than Corypheus might be, and she does what she can to make sure there is someone to rule it.

Who does the Inquisitor support for Orlesian rule?

She forces Celene, Gaspard and Briala into a truce. She holds no love either for the Empress nor for Gaspard, and wishes to see Briala and her people thrive. Still, both the Empress and Gaspard have numerous allies and enemies that balance each other out, and her only interest was a united Orlais for what was to come.

She also, not so very subtly, enjoyed the humans having to bow to her demands, for once.

WHAT PRIDE HAD WROUGHT

How does the Inquisitor get along with Morrigan?

She asks her questions, but she is wary. Morrigan seems more interested in the power she can find in the Temple of Mythal rather than stopping Corypheus, and this concerns her. She also sees how her Dalish ambassador and her clash, and she can’t help but take Shaevra’s side.

Does the Inquisitor take the Pilgrim’s Path, or fight their way through?

She follows the Pilgrim’s Path. She takes in as much of the Temple of Mythal as she can, having never had the chance to be so close to Ancient Elven culture. She wants to see everything for herself.

Does the Inquisitor ally with Abelas and the elven sentinels?

Of course. If she could, she would ask them tons of questions, and would love to hear their stories. She is very frustrated that there’s just no time to do that, and she has no wish of fighting them.

Does the Inquisitor weaken Samson’s armour before fighting him?

Yes. Weakening an enemy’s allies is the first thing she takes care of.

Who drinks from the Well of Sorrows? What is the reasoning behind the choice?

In-game, Taashath takes the knowledge of the Well for herself. Ancient history? Culture? There was not a chance she was giving that up. One of the only selfish choices she made during the game, as she knew Morrigan would benefit from it more. In canon? My own Lavellan, Shaevra, drank from the Well, as Taashath would never take that away from her. It’s her people, her culture, and she finds Morrigan’s comments terribly out of place, and a confirmation that she was more interested in the power of the Temple rather than helping fight Corypheus.

THE FINAL PIECE

If the Inquisitor drank from the Well, how do they react to finding out they are now a servant of Flemeth/Mythal?

She regrets it a bit, because she realizes she didn’t think about the consequences - and she always thinks of the consequences. It surprises her to find out Mythal is in a human body, but she’s still fascinated by everything that’s happening.

Shaerva is not bothered by being a servant of one of her gods per se, but again, she is surprised first and angry later that Mythal chose a human vessel. She’s angry with Mythal, because she could have helped them all those years, and she didn’t. She doesn’t know what to make of it.

DOOM UPON ALL THE WORLD

How does the Inquisitor feel about facing Corypheus for the last time? Do they feel confident? Do they believe they will survive the encounter? How do they cope with the possibility of failure?

Honestly, Taashath believes that this final confrontation will be the last. The Breach, again? Corypheus and his dragon? This has to be it, she thinks. Her biggest regret is not having had enough time for her family, but at least she knows she’s done all she can.

Who becomes the next Divine? Is the Inquisitor in support of the decision?

This is actually the hardest decision Taash had to make - who to support. She, of course, realizes that the Divine being someone who used to work for the Inquisition is extrmely important and valuable. Her heart says Leliana, because of her outspoken support of nonhumans and mages. Vivienne also was a candidate in her mind, and talking with her personal apprentice, Sefridi, she was swayed to her side. It is only after Anthra herself gives her opinion that Taashath finally comes to the decision that Leliana is the best suited to become Divine.

How do they react to Solas’ disappearance?

Confused, sad. She always came to him not just to have stories told, or to have him walk her through the Fade, but also when she had doubts, second thoughts, when it came to the Anchor. They spent a lot of time together, and she deeply respected him. He was very much her mentor. She misses their ritual of greeting the morning on the roofs of Skyhold more than anything.

What does the Inquisitor decide to do after Corypheus is defeated? How do they focus the Inquisition?

There are still rifts out there that need to be closed, and the Inquisition’s work is not done. Corypheus’s mess is not entirely dealt with, so she doesn’t feel like there is any other path for her aside from continuing to lead the Inquisition. She wants them to keep the peace and protect the people of Thedas, though she realizes the organization is getting too big and slipping out of her control. After the events of Trespasser, Taashath dedicates herself to finding and stopping Solas, and try to save him from himself and make him realize this is a world worth preserving.

PART THREE: SIDE QUESTS/WAR TABLE

SIT IN JUDGMENT:

How does the Inquisitor generally judge prisoners?

If there is a way for her to make use of her enemies so that they bolster the Inquisition’s forces, that is what she will do.

What are the specific judgments passed to prisoners in-game?

Gereon Alexius (If Mages Recruited): Execution/Imprisonment/Work With Mages/Made Tranquil/Research Magic

She has him researching magic, especially the time magic he was able to use in Redcliffe.

Florianne’s Remains (If Confronted and not killed): Encloisterment/Recruitment/Farm Work/Exile/Jester

Recruited her. No way she’s wasting that potential.

Magister Livius Erimond: Imprisonment/Execution/Made Tranquil/Remand to Grey Wardens

She sends him to the Grey Wardens, as she is sure they will punish him appropriately.

Ser Ruth: Divine Forgiveness/Humiliation/Imprisonment/Refuse Judgment/Exile with Wardens/Exile to Deep Roads

Refused to judge her.

Captain Thom Rainer: Pardon/Give to Wardens/Servitude

She gives him to the Grey Wardens – she can see he regrets what he’s done and willing to make amends, so she sends him where he was initially supposed to go anyway.

Samson (If Mages Recruited): Serve Inquisition/Give to Dagna/Remand to Kirkwall/Exile/Imprisonment

He serves the Inquisition.

Chief Movran the Under: Banish/Public Display/Arm and Exile to Tevinter/Assign to Abernache

Arms and exiles him to Tevinter.

Mayor Gregory Dedrick: Give to Grey Wardens/Exile/Death/Imprison in Fereldan

She has Ferelden authorities deal with him, as even though the crimes pertain to the Blight, she still feels it’s not her place to make that call.

Crassius Servis: Imprisonment/Returned to Corypheus/Recruited (Informant)/Recruited (Smuggler)

Recruits him as an informant.

Mistress Poulin: Rebuild Town/Released/Put to Work/Execution/Money Confiscated for Trevelyan

She had Poulin use her own funds to rebuild the town.

WAR TABLE

Does your Inquisitor generally use Force, Secrets, or Connections to complete War Table Operations? Why?

She rarely, if ever, uses Cullen’s forces. Only when it comes to something military-related does she call on him, otherwise all the work goes to Leliana and Josephine’s agents.

What does the Inquisitor usually spend Inquisition Perks on?

Secrets. Taashath knows that, to use the Inquisition to its fullest potential, she has to know everyone and everything about Thedas.

FETCH/GATHERING QUESTS

Does the Inquisitor take time to collect the shards? Do they complete the Temple of Pride? Why or why not?

It’s secret knowledge – of course she’s not letting that slip out of her hands. She is, however, horrified to find out how the oculara are created.

Does the Inquisitor complete the Astrariums? Why or why not?

She loved testing her knowledge of the stars and enjoyed completing the puzzles – always refusing any help.

Does the Inquisitor take time to complete side quests/recruit agents? Why or why not?

Unless she was on a mission that required to make haste, Taashath always takes the time to help people in need and spread the word of the good work the Inquisition does. As for agents, she recruits as much as she can, and never turns down help or a chance to gain more influence.

PART FOUR: RELATIONSHIPS/COMPANION QUESTS

GENERAL

Who does the Inquisitor prefer to have in their party? Why?

Cole, Solas and Dorian/Vivienne. They take turns. Cole is a spirit in a very unique predicament, Solas knows much about magic and the Fade, and Dorian is her bestie. She also really loves Vivienne’s company.

Which advisor is the Inquisitor closest to, if any?

Josephine. She helps Taashath a great deal adjusting in Haven and then in Skyhold, and she feels really drawn to her. She also really loves hearing about her time in Antiva and Orlais, but she comes to Leliana when she has doubts about what she’s doing or the Inquisition itself.

Who does the Inquisitor most often turn to for advice?

Solas, mostly. They have this ritual where they will greet the morning, relaxing their bodies, stretching them, it helps her relax a lot and start the morning with a clear mindset. She also finds venting to Dorian very helpful, and the two grow very close.

Who is the one the Inquisitor hangs out with the most in their free time?

Dorian, absolutely. They’re both bookworms and spend their time talking about what new things they’re studying, their favourite scholars and the like. He tries to get her to loosen up a bit, and although met with some initial resistance, the two grow very fond of each other.

Who would be the one the Inquisitor tells their deepest, darkest secrets to?

Cole already knows them all, and she knows it. Her deepest and darkest secrets? Leliana, the only one who will treasure them carefully.

Are there any companions the Inquisitor wishes they were closer to? If so, which ones?

Sera. Taashath feels that winding down with Sera is the best time she has in the Inquisition, but her duties always make it so she can spend little time with her, and she wishes she could be more like the elf - wild and carefree. However, after some time, they find solace in each other and help each other deal with their issues regarding their own heritages.

LELIANA

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Leliana?

She’s the voice of reason compared to Cassandra, and she trusts her from the beginning, purely because she’s level-headed despite what is happening.

Does the impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

Taashath always trusts Leliana and considers her a powerful and valuable ally. However, during the events of Trespasser she grows frustrated with the liberties Leliana takes, and her failures as well.

What does Leliana think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

Leliana sees Taashath as a wonderful woman. Knowledgeable, well versed in the fighting arts and a diplomat to heart. Honestly, Leliana couldn’t have wished for a better Inquisitor.

Does the Inquisitor help Leliana find the Divine’s last message for her in Val Royeaux?

Of course she does. Having her advisors be at peace and entirely focused on her work is a top priority.

If so, do they “soften” Leliana or confirm her “hardened” nature?

Leliana doesn’t need Taashath to tell her who she is. She only tries to remind her that there can be space for a gentle heart even when making the toughest decisions.

Does the Inquisitor support the idea of Leliana being Divine?

She swings back and forth between her and Vivienne until she finally decides to support her. The Chantry needs radical change, and Leliana will bring just that. She loves how outspoken she is in favor of non-humans and mages, and she knows she will be a friend of the Inquisition. It’s an all around win for everyone, she believes.

CULLEN

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Cullen?

He’s angry, he’s got a sword, he’s giving her the stink eye. She doesn’t like him.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

Not really. She’s apathetic towards him at best, or wishes they could find a better replacement for him, but the soldiers seem to like him, and she only wants the Inquisition to be united.

What does Cullen think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

Cullen knows full well the Inquisitor doesn’t even think him necessary to the operations, and he tries to make her see things differently. When she challenges him on his views and his methods, he realizes he only buried his bigoted views under the false pretence of having “gotten over it”.

Does the Inquisitor play the chess game with Cullen? Do they let him win, play fair, or cheat?

She doesn’t really like spending time with Cullen outside of work, so no.

Does the Inquisitor convince Cullen to stay off lyrium, or tell him to start taking it again?

She’s not gonna have him keep taking lyrium – it’s going to lead to madness eventually, and she urges him to push through it despite the pain. Genuinely, it’s when she feels sympathy for him. What he goes through cannot be easy, and even though she doesn’t like him and him being free of lyrium addiction would help the Inquisition, it’s mostly for his own good that she pushes him to power through it.

Does the Inquisitor assist Cullen in finding Samson’s base?

Yes. She is disgusted by him calling Maddox “Samson’s Tranquil” like he is some sort of pet, but in the end the only thing she cares about is weakening Corypheus’s allies.

JOSEPHINE

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Josephine?

Taashath thinks Josephine is lovely, and appreciates her efforts to make her feel comfortable. In her opinion, Josie is also a very beautiful, striking woman.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

She thinks Josephine is, along with Leliana, the most important asset to the Inquisition. Her knowledge and network of contacts is vital and she cherishes having such a prepared and professional woman by her side.

What does Josephine think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

Josephine is initially nervous about Taashath’s apparent stoic nature, but eventually learns to recognize the subtle tells of the qunari’s feelings, learns to read them, and becomes her confidante. She greatly appreciates Taashath’s interest in politics and eagerness to help.

Does the Inquisitor initiate a romance with Josephine?

Yes. To be honest, in the beginning, Taashath went to her to vent and relax. She would compliment her constantly in what could be considered flirtatious comments, but to her she was only admiring the woman she was speaking to. It didn’t even occur to her that she was developing feelings for Josephine, as she would never assume Josephine would waste her time with her, and it is only when Leliana gives her “the talk” that she’s forced to think about her feelings and realizes just how much she cares for her.

What is it like? Why are they attracted to each other?

Taashath is interested in Josephine’s work and stories, and she enjoys her quiet company. Josephine appreciates Taashath’s work ethics and driven mind. It’s all professional at first… until it isn’t.

Does the Inquisitor find Josephine an example of her old family crest?

Yes. Taashath takes any chance she has to make Josephine happy, and spends a great deal of time finding that antiquity – she loves collecting old wine bottles as well, and thus she knows where and who to look for when it comes to trinket-hunters.

Does the Inquisitor duel Lord Otranto for Josephine’s affections? Do they confess their love to Josephine when she intervenes, or allow Otranto to marry Josephine?

Initially, she wasn’t going to. If Josephine said they were done, Taashath was not going to force anything on her. However, this caused her a great deal of suffering. She was a mess, and this to her was just reaffirmation that no one would ever love her the way she loved them. She got blind drunk and collapsed on the sofa in her chambers. Ironically, it was Hissra – her previous partner – who found her in that condition and made her realize she had to fight for Josephine. Her yelling “because I love you!” in the middle of the square was probably the most emotional she’s been, and has allowed herself to be, in quite a bit. She poured her heart out for Josephine in that moment, and to have her love reciprocated was… more than she could have ever hoped for.

They get married sometime before Trespasser.

Does the Inquisitor talk to Josephine about her work to help her relieve stress?

Yes. They go on and on about it, and Taashath tries to give helpful advice, or just offer an understanding ear.

Do they enjoy it? Does it continue to occur?

Oh, yes. It becomes a regular occurrence, so much so that Josephine is always ready with wine and appetizers for Taashath’s visit. Yes, those are dates. No, they don’t realize it for quite a while. Everybody else knows but them.

Does the Inquisitor help Josephine reinstate her family’s trade in Orlais?

Of course!

If yes, do they kill the agent from the House of Repose?

No. The agent came to speak, and so did she.

Do they decide to take Josephine’s route of nullifying the contract, or Leliana’s?

Taashath would prefer doing what Leliana suggests because it’s fast and easy, but ultimately chooses to follow Josephine’s route and elevate the Du Paraquettes. Having nobles owe you favours is convenient.

CASSANDRA

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Cassandra?

She is mostly afraid of her, because she understands she’s in a position of power and is very, very angry at her for something she didn’t do. Does not bode well.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

They become good work colleagues after the events of the Temple, and sometimes they share book recommendations and advice. However, Taashath does not like how Cassandra pushes for her to believe in the Maker, and her general lack of tact when it comes to asking about Taashath herself prevents them from becoming fully friends, although there is much respect between the two..

What does Cassandra think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

Cassandra is surprised by Taashath’s prowess as a strategist and warrior, and is content with her being Inquisitor, although she disagrees with some of her choices.

Does the Inquisitor initiate a romance with Cassandra?

Nah. Taashath likes Cassandra well enough, but she regards her more as a colleague rather than a potential partner.

Does the Inquisitor find out about Cassandra’s “guilty pleasure?” If so, do they convince Varric to make the next chapter of Swords and Shields for her?

Yes. She finds it all amusing, really. She’s read Sword & Shield herself, and finds it very shallow – not to the level of poetry books that she usually reads. However, she sees how much Cassandra likes it, and sees no harm in nudging Varric towards finishing another chapter.

Does the Inquisitor help Cassandra track down hunt down criminals left unchecked by the Seekers’ absence?

Yes. She has Leliana check their backgrounds herself first, but she helps her in the end.

Does the Inquisitor go with Cassandra to Caer Oswin to find the missing Seekers?

Yes. She sees how important it is for Cassandra, and wants her at peace.

If so, does the Inquisitor support Cassandra’s idea to rebuild the Seekers, or do they discourage her from doing so?

Taashath knows what the Seekers mean to Cassandra, and she sees she’s horrified by the secrets they kept and wants to do better by them- Plus, she believes Cassandra is the perfect fit to guide them, so she lets her go. Her hope is that the Seekers of Truth will now be worthy of their name.

Does the Inquisitor support the idea of Cassandra being Divine?

Nah. Cassandra is not suited to deal with nobles, or politics. She is a firm believer, sure, but that alone is not enough. She would keep the peace at the cost of people’s lives – as much as Taashath’s respects her, she does not trust her with the Sunburst Throne.

VARRIC

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Varric?

She doesn’t ever really know how to respond to his jokes, but he’s an accomplished writer and a good person at heart, and she sees that. For her, it’s good enough.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

Varric’s charisma gets to her, too, and she often drinks with him. They share stories and writing tips, and after Taashath has him read some of her own writing, he tries to hook her up with someone who might publish her poems under a pen name, successfully. Sometimes, occasionally, she vents to him, but she deals with things that are so far beyond a normal person’s understanding that he rarely knows what to say, so she tries not to make him uncomfortable. Like Dorian, he tries to get her to loosen up, but it’s actually because of their shared passion of writing that they grow fond of each other and become good friends.

What does Varric think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

Varric’s dealings with the qunari in the past have left him wary of the people, but he also sees Taashath is genuinely trying to do what’s best. He only hopes things will turn out better than they did with Hawke, but Taashath seems better suited to deal with the situations thrown at her than Marian was.

If Varric could give the Inquisitor a nickname, what would it be?

Red. Her red eyes are the first thing he noticed about her, not to mention her red hair and coppery skin, and how she dresses. Red, to describe her, is the first thing that comes to mind.

Does the Inquisitor find and destroy the Red Lyrium sources across Thedas after learning about them from Varric?

Absolutely. It’s vital to her in destroying Corypheus, not doing so would be irresponsible.

Does the Inquisitor help Varric and Bianca find the thaig inside Valammar?

Yes.

Does the Inquisitor blame Bianca for what happened?

Yes. She loves learning more, and knowing more, and figuring out stuff. But lying? Putting people in danger? Refusing to take responsibility? That does not sit right with her.

SOLAS

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Solas?

She's' very uncomfortable with him grabbing her and yanking her arm, but she quickly comes to trust him - especially once she finds out he kept her alive while she was unconscious, and thanks him for his help.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

She immediately trusts him with her doubts regarding the Anchor, and often comes to him for advice. She loves walking with him through the Fade, she loves listening to his stories, they have their own little ritual in the morning. She considers him her mentor.

What does Solas think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

He is… surprised. He knows what she really is, where she comes from, what she comes from, and expects her to be nothing but a savage who will not understand the power she holds in her hand. Instead, Taashath reveals herself to be level-headed, reasonable, eager to learn, and interested in everything he has to say. Maybe he misjudged her people.

Does the Inquisitor help Solas find and activate elvhen artefacts to strengthen the Veil?

Yes. It’s part of the Inquisition’s job to deal with the Veil now, only natural that she would.

Does the Inquisitor help Solas rescue his friend in the Exalted Plains?

Of course. She sees how distressed he is, and she only wants to help him.

Does the Inquisitor choose to destroy the summoning stones or fight the Pride Demon?

They’re there to help Solas’s friend, even if the friend has been corrupted. Solas will deal with it when everything is over.

Does the Inquisitor let Solas kill the mages or do they stop him?

She stops him. It was all a mistake, one that was not supposed to happen, she doesn’t want him killing mages who didn’t understand what they were doing. Let them live, and learn from their experience.

How does the Inquisitor react to finding out Solas is Fen’harel?

It’s all a whirlwind of emotions. Some things make sense, others are completely upside down. That she was spending her time with an Ancient Elven God all this time, when she didn't believe in any higher power, shook her to her core.

Does the Inquisitor choose to look for Solas after he disappears? Why or why not?

Of course! She needs to know more, and knows that – deep down – Solas wants to be stopped. And she will.

SERA

Is Sera recruited?

Definitely. A network of spies that uses people no one ever expects to do this kind of work is exactly what Taashath needed.

If she is, does she ever leave the Inquisition, and why?

Absolutely not. Taashath values Sera’s network greatly, and she clearly wants to be with the Inquisition. Why turn down her help, when she gives it freely?

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Sera?

Amused. She doesn’t really know what to make of Sera, but her skill with a bow and her quick-witted nature are a breath of fresh air for her.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

They have a complicated relationship. Taashath sees a lot of herself in Sera, and not in the best sense. The way she looks down upon her own heritage, the way she shuts down when something becomes too overwhelming – it’s like seeing a younger version of herself. Taashath tries to help Sera in coming to terms with her own “elfyness”, and Sera ends up doing the same for her. They help each other like that.

What does Sera think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

Sera finds Taashath to be a beautiful woman, and she’s captivated by her. Helps her relax and keep her eyes looking towards the little people. Sera is always watchful for the moment Taashath becomes like the nobles she hates - and yet this never happens. Sera and Taashath remain good friends even after the end of the main game. She has her loyalty.

Does the Inquisitor initiate a romance with Sera?

No. Taashath finds Sera to be too young for her.

Does the Inquisitor complete the Red Jenny War Table missions?

Yes. After all, that’s why she recruited Sera in the first place.

Does the Inquisitor agree to send a presence to Verchiel for Sera?

Yes. She trusts and values Sera’s input, despite what others might say.

How does the Inquisitor deal with Lord Harmond? (Do they ally with him, force him to work for the Inquisition, let him leave, or let Sera kill him?)

Normally, Taashath tries to find a way so that her enemies can become her allies. However, after seeing how Harmond treats people, and seeing how distressed Sera was, she allows her to kill him. People like him would bring no good to the Inquisition, anyway.

VIVIENNE

Is Vivienne recruited?

Yes. Taashath is aware of who the Madame de Fer is, and is very intrigued by her invite.

If she is, does she ever leave the Inquisition, and why?

No. Taashath deeply values Vivienne as an ally and friend.

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Vivienne?

She’s… almost enchanted. The way she handled the confrontation with the noble, the way she got straight to business immediately. Everything from the way she was dressed to the way she acted told Taashath this was someone to keep close. Maybe she even flirted a little bit with her, with no hopes of achieving anything, of course. She’s not that deluded.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

Taashath wished Vivienne’s opinions on the Circle were somewhat different, although she still understood where she was coming from. But she comes to respect and regard Vivienne as a dear friend, and often came to her for advice or to vent. Vivienne was always willing to help, and to offer a listening ear. They enjoyed quiet evenings together, discussing politics and drinking fine wine.

What does Vivienne think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

At first, she saw Taashath as a rather weak leader, because of her demeanor. It does not fool VIvienne that a lot of her perceived stoicness is actually a shield. Then, she came to respect her and what she did, and regard her as a friend and valuable ally. Taashath became someone Vivienne could rely on. Does the Inquisitor help Vivienne look for the three tomes for the Circle of Magi?

Yes. It’s not exactly related to the Inquisition, but she always wishes to keep her closest ally content.

Does the Inquisitor agree to find Vivienne the heart of a Snowy Wyvern?

Yes. It’s the first time Vivienne directly asks for her help in a private matter, and she realizes this must be terribly important. Madame de Fer seems distressed also, and Taashath jumps to her help because she finds it so uncharacteristic of her.

Do they actually give Vivienne the heart, or do they give her the heart of a regular wyvern?

There is no reason to give her a fake heart, no reason not to trust Vivienne. After seeing Vivienne’s soft side, she feels more connected to her and was glad she tried to help, even if ultimately the Duke died.

Does the Inquisitor support Vivienne, the idea of Vivienne being Divine?

Not at first. She resonated more with Leliana’s ideas, and she had a mind of supporting the Left Hand of the Divine. After her personal assistant and apprentice, Sefridi Trevelyan, spoke to her in private, Taashath was more willing to support Vivienne in becoming Divine - especially because she is a mage. However, after more careful consideration and a talk with the Hero of Ferelden, Taashath ultimately chose Leliana.

BLACKWALL

Is Blackwall recruited?

Yes. The help of a Grey Warden when dealing with a darkspawn? Yes, please.

If he is, does he ever leave the Inquisition, and why?

No.

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Blackwall?

She is… honestly disappointed. She expected Grey Wardens to be different. For one, he does not offer much in the way of information, the very thing they recruited him for. Second, he is even reluctant to speak of his life as a Warden. But he seems like a good man and gives himself to the cause, so she values his help, although she’s not really sure he’s the best Grey Warden they could have come across.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why? She is hurt that he would lie about it all, when he could have simply joined the cause as a normal warrior. She wouldn’t have kicked him out for that. After some thinking, she figures that he is truly seeking atonement, and that he should be allowed to do that. He’s helped her all this time, after all, even if it was under a false name. She’s not one to not repay favours.

What does Blackwall think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

Surprised that Andraste would choose a qunari. But then he sees that she is a good woman, willing to do what it takes to close the Breach and defeat Corypheus, and vows to do better in regards to his own prejudices.

Does the Inquisitor help Blackwall find Grey Warden information across Thedas?

Yes. The more information they can gather, the better they can understand what’s going on. And it makes Blackwall happy, anyway.

How does the Inquisitor react to finding out Rainier’s true identity?

Very hurt at first. Why would he lie? Why would he not trust her with the truth? And then, angry. What are Leliana’s spies doing? Do they just believe anything they hear reported, not doing background checks? It’s a moment that makes her a bit paranoid, and becomes a little harsher in the way she deals with possible allies.

Do they leave them in Val Royeaux or bring them back to Skyhold for judgment?

She brings him to Skyhold for judgement. He is her soldier, she will deal with him herself. And then, she sees that he truly regrets what he did, and decides after all this is done he will become a real Warden.

DORIAN

Is Dorian recruited?

Yes. Shared trauma through time travel is the quickest way to friendship, as I said.

If he is, does he ever leave the Inquisition, and why?

No. He and Taashath basically become best of friends, always with their noses buried in books, chatting, supporting and confiding in each other. They enjoy their fair share of nights spent talking about life - lots of “I wish I could have” conversations - while enjoying some wine. Always in moderation, of course..

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Dorian?

Distrustful. He’s from Tevinter, and when she meets him she’s dealing with hostile Tevinters. It’s not really the best of introductions, but she’s willing to hear him out.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why? Yes, absolutely. After what they’ve been through in Redcliffe, they spend much time together. Taashath is quick to trust him after their ordeal and comes to him for questions regarding magic and Tevinter – as she’s never met someone from the place besides her ex-partner, and she has no fond memories of the place. As usual, she compliments him on things, sounds flirtatious because she has kind of a way with words, he flirts back because that’s just entertaining. This goes on for a while, until he comes forward and tells her he’s not interested. It’s… awkward, she tells him she’s not interested either. Wait, you’re gay? Wait, you’re lesbian? They laugh a lot about it, and it sorts of become their way of joking with each other. She finds his opinions on slavery gross, and tells him of her former partner’s experiences in Tevinter. It’s hard for him to accept, but she doesn’t let it go until he realizes he has much to think about.

What does Dorian think of the Inquisitor? Does this change? At first he is nervous. He’s afraid this qunari will punch him down and not trust him, but she demonstrates herself to be a valuable ally. After what they’ve been through in Redcliffe, he knows he can count on her, and slowly comes to considering her his best friend.

Does the Inquisitor help Dorian find and track down Venatori?

Yes. It’s not only a favour for Dorian, but beneficial to the Inquisition. Two birds and all that.

Does the Inquisitor learn that Dorian’s father wishes to speak with him?

Yes.

Do they tell Dorian about the letter or not?

Of course. It’s not her place to keep anything of the sort from him.

Do they urge Dorian to reconcile with his father, or do they let Dorian leave without reconciliation?

She understands, and she doesn’t want Dorian to feel like she’s forcing him to do something, but she tries to reason with him that this might be the last time he sees him, and if he wants to try – she’s there for him. It’s personal for her due to her own relationship with her family.

COLE

Is Cole recruited?

Yes. She found him immediately very interesting.

If he is, does he ever leave the Inquisition, and why?

No. Sometimes Taashath doesn’t know what’s best for him, but he feels useful and she finds him interesting. Almost feels a maternal instinct towards him.

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Cole?

His existence is something she didn’t think was possible, and is intrigued by the possibilities. She also finds his way of speaking very soothing.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? If not, why?

As they spend more time together, she comes to appreciate and grows fond of Cole not just as a strange occurrence, but as a person she has grown attached to. Sure, she wants to know more about him, but she’s also eager for him to experience the world as a person, and not just a spirit perusing beyond the veil.

What does Cole think of the Inquisitor? Does this change?

She tries to drown her own light to survive, but she’s still so bright. She is gentle, kind, and she understands.

When Cole helps people, does the Inquisitor encourage their spirit-like methods (such as making people forget him and mercy killings), or convince him there are different ways to help?

She encourages him to seek out different methods of helping, and tries to help him make connections with people so that he can help them better.

Does the Inquisitor urge Cole to forgive the Templar and embrace his spirit nature, or learn to grow by confronting the Templar and becoming more human? Cole – the spirit of compassion – was in pain for what Cole – the boy – suffered through. That boy’s pain was his pain, and was she going to tell him to just forgive and forget? For starving a helpless boy? She encouraged him to do what he thought was best, and this led to Cole confronting the Templar.

IRON BULL

Is Iron Bull recruited?

Yes. He’s a valuable asset.

If he is, does he ever leave the Inquisition, and why?

No. His contacts are important, and she… gains insight into an actual follower of the Qun.

What is the Inquisitor’s first impression of Iron Bull?

Surprised. At first she thinks he’s another Tal-Vashoth, but is left astonished when he confesses he’s a Ben-Hassrath. Asala told her of Ben-Hassrath, but still, she did not think he would be… so animated. She herself is prejudiced regarding qunari, as during the years she internalized what people said about her kind. She doesn’t know what to make of him, and this makes her anxious. She still recruits him, as his presence offers various advantages, but it’s almost like she’s studying him as well.

Does this impression change over time? If yes, how so? if not, why?

Definitely. He teaches her more about what it means living under the Qun, and helps her reconnect to this part of her heritage that she was so detached from. Their sparring sessions become a little relaxing ritual for her, and she enjoys the company of the Chargers, and admires the family bond he has with them. She envies him, in some ways. In time, this envy turns to admiration, and the two become great friends.

What does Iron Bull think of the Inquisitor? Does this change? She lives outside of the Qun, her parents are Tal-Vashoth – yet she is no savage, purposeless beast. She is a great warrior, a leader – an inspiration to many. He makes sure she knows her people well, makes sure her mental health is kept in check – it’s his job, after all. But after a while, it becomes less of a job and more something that he does out of his own volition, because she cares about her and considers her his friend.

Is the Inquisition approached by the Ben-Hassrath to secure a formal alliance?

Yes. It’s a strange moment for her. It’s still difficult for her to deal with qunari business.

During the attack of the dreadnaught, does the Inquisitor sacrifice the dreadnaught and the alliance, or Bull’s Chargers?

She knows the Chargers. She loves them. She knows how the Iron Bull loves them, and she doesn’t want him sacrificing them because he feels he’s obligated to. To hell the alliance, to hell the contacts, to hell the information – these are her people. The Bull taught her well, but doesn’t realize it. It’s one of the only “selfish” choices she makes in game.

#adaar #dragon age #dai #the inquisitor #taashath adaar #videogames #.txt

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dunkshotdreaming · 5 years

Text

Rouge

Pairing: werewolf!Jaemin x idol/werewolf!reader (mentions of other members ft. appearances by the dreamies)

Genre: fluff (pg-13 at most), fantasy/supernatural au

Word count: 4,391

Summary: Maybe the cute little pup from Rouge territory wasn’t so bad after all. or In which borrowing a jacket turns out to be a fateful encounter.

✎ A/N: Officially kicking off the Nyctophilia series with a story based on the dream that started it all. Hope you guys will enjoy it, and so excited to finally have some time to work on this. (Here’s to hoping the rest of this project will turn out alright~ because I’m not even sure if this one did☺) I also apologize that this one isn’t entirely gender neutral, but if you swap out like that one pet name, I’m sure it could be! I’ll try to keep the other ones more neutral, if I can.

It felt like ages since you’d had some time off, and there was no better way to celebrate the end of your group’s promotional period than to visit your dear friends and kick back like the good old days. You had known your friends, Sayuri and Kaoru, ever since you were children. The siblings were the next youngest of the Blackwolf clan, after you, and the lot of you had many an adventure if your days as pups. Being part of the same clan, it isn’t impossible to think that the three of you had retained such a close friendship over time. They were almost like your right and left hands when it came to running the Blackwolf clan, of which you were the alpha. It was tough being both an idol and the alpha of one of the four major werewolf packs, but all was manageable with the right help and strategies. Incidentally, however, there was once almost trouble caused by Sayuri, who was caught with her mate from a rival pack, the Silveridges. But thankfully, that was then, and this is now; a new era of alphas have taken over since, and the peace treaty the clans came to an agreement over two years ago has yet to be disrupted.

And so here you are, visiting the prestigious company building your friends work at, the famous (and infamous) SM Entertainment. Meanwhile Kaoru had intensive training he couldn’t get out of, since he was still a trainee, Sayuri was off today, having opted for the still-chaotic yet freer lifestyle of working as a composer and lyricist. Though she did some freelance work as well, on occasion, this was where her office was. It was a lot more comfortable for you two to meet here than have to deal with being out in public, or risk running into any eager fans. As much as you loved and appreciated them, everyone deserved their rest now and again.

You’re both catching up in the lobby, really invested in a conversation (gossip, really) about something that happened within the clan when you hear people incoming. Quickly, you bot shift gears and continue your conversation with much less detail, using codewords when necessary, so as to not risk being exposed while freely out in the human world. Recognizing the passersby as NCT Dream, you rise from your comfortable position in the plush leather loveseat you’d been sitting in to bow to the senior group. They chuckle and tell you not to worry about formalities, all the while worrying you further when they opt to hang around in the lobby. Glancing at Sayuri, you both give a solemn nod, deciding it was better safe than sorry, and saving the rest of your conversation for a later time. Being polite, you make conversation with the group of tired boys sitting on the couch adjacent to you, finding out that they were taking a break from their upcoming album’s dance rehearsals. You nodded understandingly, having just finished your own promotions and knowing all too well the stress of comeback preparations.

You were just about to invite your friend somewhere, anywhere to continue your conversation out of earshot, desperate to hear the end of her story. Humans be damned, you needed to find out if the rumors about fellow wolves in the industry were true! But alas, you’re interrupted when Jaemin, one of the members of Dream, notices you shivering, as the air conditioning vent was just above your spot, leaving you with icy hands and chattering teeth.

“Oh no, I’m fine, really, but thank you so much for-” you start, only to once again be interrupted by the boy.

“It’s nothing, don’t mention it!” he beams at you, grabbing at the sweater lying next to his lap and wrapping it around your shoulders. As you look up at him, you take notice of his features: his pretty eyes, the slight pout of lips, even the grayish streak adorning the midsection of his bangs. It isn’t until Jaemin catches the scent of something familiar that you break from your trance. He grabs at your freezing hands with his own warmer ones, teasing you about how cute the flustered look on your face is at his actions. The other members have tuned out at this point, assuming he was being flirty and no longer held as much interest at your interactions as their conversation about dinner.

As he leans downward to speak to you from where he’s standing, barely an inch away from your own leg, he whispers gently in your ear, “I’d know that scent anywhere.”

Taken aback, you try to clear away the cobwebs forming where your coherent speech normally takes residence in your brain, offering a weak “What?” in response.

“You smell a lot like me, but yet so different. What clan are you from?” And that’s when his words sink in, flooring you at the realization. You’d been so concerned with hiding away from others that you’d forgotten the possibility of there being another like yourself, completely missing the scent of wet dog radiating off him as you’d mistaken it for sweat.

“Blackwolf,” you reply, not missing the way his smile grows tenfold while holding his gaze, “I moved here from the Noire territory up north not even a few years ago.”

“Ahh, so that’s why your scent was so powerful, you grew up within the territory, huh? You must be close to the alpha then, I’m assuming?” Jaemin slides past you to claim the spot beside you on the smaller sofa, both fascinated and intrigued at the revelation.

“Actually,” you rub your neck as your tongue nervously wets your lower lip, “I am the alpha.” A chuckle escapes you at the wide-eyed expression of the wolf next to you, tripping over his words due to the shock. “What clan are you from then?”

“I’m a Redfur, though I didn’t grow up the Rouge territory out west,” he admits, suddenly feeling shy in the presence of someone of such high regard. “You see the blonde boy with the little mole under his eye? That’s Jeno, he’s a Silveridge, we’ve known each other since we were in preschool.” He grins as he tells you this, obviously happy to have a friend and fellow werewolf on his team, never having to worry about feeling left out, and being able to speak to one of his own right from home. You kind of envied him, in a way; sure, you had your two friends, but they weren’t your bandmates, let alone labelmates. As he looks over at you two suspiciously, having caught wind of his name, you wave at him, to which he simply offers a shy smile. Hearing the all too familiar clan name reminds you of an interesting story.

“You know, my friend over there,” you nod your head in Sayuri’s direction on the recliner opposite from your spot, “her mate is a Silveridge. They’ve been together since before the treaty.” Jaemin eyes her curiously, almost as if he had just noticed her presence. The word “mate” clicks, his mouth slightly agape as he puts two and two together.

“So, you’re a Blackwolf as well, then. I knew there had to be more of us in the industry, but to think we’ve worked together before and I never even knew you were a fellow wolf,” he shakes his head as Sayuri laughs, “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Likewise,” she replies in turn, “I had a feeling an NCT member or two had some, how do I put this… otherworldly energy? But I wasn’t sure if any of you were specifically werewolves, much less two of you.”

“There are like eight of us wolves, now that I think about it, though we don’t have a single Blackwolf yet. Care to join our humble Neo Culture Technology, princess?” The pet name sent your way throws you off-kilter, clearing your throat before you speak.

“As sweet as that offer is, I’m afraid I can’t just abandon my own group before we even make it to our second anniversary.”

“Then maybe you can accept my offer to join me in the café downstairs? I’d love to get to know more about the girl who stole my favorite jacket, if that’s alright with you…?” Jaemin is hesitant as he takes his shot, his lower lip nestled between his teeth as he anxiously awaits what words will leave your mouth. You glance over at Sayuri, who simply smirks in response before nodding your way, mumbling for you to “get lost” so that she can go check up on her brother, very likely an excuse to let you two be.

As she passes by you on her way out of the lobby, she sends a playful jab your way, reminiscing about how she had been ruthlessly teased for having a mate from another clan, reminding you that it would soon be your turn, should you end up with the Redfur after all.

The two of you politely excuse yourselves, embarrassed by all of the noise his bandmates make upon realizing that you’d be leaving together. You’re still wearing his sweater, which he refuses to take back, so you slip your arms through the sleeves to prevent the oversized garment from falling off your body. While chatting on your way to the café, you start to reminisce your days as an SM trainee before ending up at Loen. After some back and forth of trainee tales, you both come to the conclusion that the reason you’d seemed familiar to one another was that you used to be trainees around the same time, having had class together but never interacting before today. Jaemin later reveals that most of his bandmates aren’t actually human, and you’re left speechless, in disbelief until he starts listing them off.

“You already know about Jeno and I, but there are about six other wolves, as well as a variety of species amongst us. We had two humans, but one was recently bitten by a vampire, so now we’re down to just poor Mark,” Jaemin laughs, recalling the time Mark found out about that little fact.

“So, wait, mind if I ask who exactly…” you start but trail off, unsure just what you wanted to ask, let alone how to phrase your question. He holds the door open for you, only stepping in once you’ve passed ahead, and gently releases his hold on the door.

“I’ll explain everything you want to know, let’s just order first, alright?” Whispers spread like wildfire when you both walk in, next thing you know, you’re already at the counter across from the barista.

“And how may we help this adorable couple today?” the barista asks, almost smugly. You quickly try to interject, offering a denial, but Jaemin just eats up the attention, taking it almost as praise. He rattles off his order from hell, pardon, his chaotic mess of a coffee, with a sandwich before asking what you wanted to order. You try to insist on paying for your own, but he’s having none of that; realizing that he won’t budge, you sigh as you give in, telling the barista your drink of choice and asking for your own sandwich. The silence as you wait for your meals, if you could call them that, was painfully dull, a complete 180 from your previous time spent together. You can overhear a staff member or two muttering about how you two are “just so cute” and how they “envy young puppy love”, the latter unconsciously making your eye twitch.

“Thank you and come again! Have a great day,” the barista adds as he hands over your orders.

“We’re not-”

“She’s just shy, it’s ok,” Jaemin calmly states, picking up your food and walking off to a faraway table tucked into the lonesome corner of the café. He ignores the glare sent his way, his shit-eating grin plastered nearly from ear to ear. You follow him and sit down in the booth across from him, gratefully accepting your share. As you begin to unwrap your sandwich, he stands up again, decidedly grabbing his things before announcing that he’s got a better idea. “The practice room should still be empty right now, why don’t we sneak in there to eat, so I can tell you all about the others?”

_________

Cross-legged on the floor, you’re both sitting barely inches apart from one another as Jaemin recounts all of his inhuman bandmates to you. “For starters, there’s Taeyong who’s the Redfur alpha, he’s almost like a dad to me. Lucas and Kun are Goldensnouts, the latter being the alpha of their clan. Jeno is a Silveridge, but so is Jaehyun,” he pauses to eat, or rather inhale, half of his sandwich before taking a sip from his murky, liquid concoction.

“What a day, I get to meet another werewolf and find out there’s been a whole horde of you just under my nose. That’s lovely, just lovely,” you dramatize, hearing the boy beside you chuckle into his drink as his knee playfully knocks into yours.

“Relax, it’s not so bad. Maybe you’ve just got a weak nose, for an alpha,” he jests, wiggling his brows at your flared nostrils. “Where was I? Ah yes, the rest of the members,” Jaemin starts off, continuing to list from the vampires through the rest. You find out that Renjun is a pureblood vampire, whereas Yuta who was a human, was recently turned, and therefore needs to be extra careful with sunlight. Speaking of, Renjun’s fascination for aliens comes to light as he explains that Winwin and Yangyang are both actually from a planet known as Scorlirsus, having crash landed and yet to find a way back. Then there’s Haechan, who is apparently a demigod, the sun of Apollo at that, which gives his Fullsun nickname a whole new connotation. From half-demons to sorcerers, from sirens to angels; besides the abundance of wolves, there are so many different species that you end up to losing track of them all. Except for poor Mark, who makes for an exceptionally talented human.

Another moment of silence springs up as you finish your drinks, only this one is a lot more comfortable, enjoying the presence of newfound company between your shy gazes and small talk. “Oh, you have something, right there,” Jaemin points out, breaking the silence. Before you know it, thumb reaching towards the edge of your lips as he wipes at the dried hot chocolate there before licking his finger clean. You’re dumbfounded at how casual he is about it, as if he didn’t just indirectly lick your face, then again, the gesture would be a lot less weird to wolves than to humans, so you simply shrug it off. Just about ready to toss out your trash, Jaemin grins mischievously your way as he aims his straw in your direction.

“Would you like a taste of my coffee, princess?” Two options, you realize, two options are all you have. Either taste his infamous coffee like a champ, or risk another jab at being a weak alpha for not being able to handle a little coffee. You nod, bracing yourself for whatever the taste of that drink from hell may be like, only to be utterly surprised instead.

In the blink of an eye, his drink is forgotten on the practice room floor, one of his hands on the floor beside his leg to balance him as the others lightly grips the back of your neck, holding you in place as he brings his lips to yours. Smooth, is all you can think as his tongue slides across your mouth, indirectly allowing you to taste his drink as he drinks in your lips instead. Once again, he’s teasing you for the blush on your cheeks, cooing at how adorable he finds it; but all you can do is laugh, because it’s not like he was faring any better. Jaemin’s eyes bore into yours, wordlessly asking for permission to kiss you again, to which you respond in turn by meeting him halfway, just as eager.

Rather than one deep kiss, you both share a series of softer kisses, an almost childish air to the way he handles you. As you slide over, wanting to get a little closer, he pulls you to sit onto his lap instead, placing an innocent kiss at the skin of your exposed shoulder before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His hands are running through your hair, the world feeling like it slowed down until only this moment was occurring. In the dead silence, your brain comes up with an idea, and it isn’t long before it uncontrollably tumbles out of your mouth.

“Do something crazy with me?”

“And what would that be, princess?”

“Run away with me,” you take a deep breath before continuing, “just for a little while. Let’s escape this stuffy company, our schedules, everything. Let me show you a beautiful place not far away.” Your eyes are downcast as you play with his hands, unconsciously holding your breath as you wait for a response. To your surprise, Jaemin beams a beautiful smile your way, his crinkling eyes the sign of genuine happiness.

“Lead the way,” his deep voice rumbles low in his chest, no hesitancy as he chooses to follow you wherever you shall lead, placing a kiss on the back of your hand to seal the deal. You’re both rushing to toss your trash out before running downstairs again, chasing each other not unlike the way two puppies would when playing around. It’s already late when you both sneak out from the company, the stars shining brightly overhead as you both shift into wolf forms once you're at a safe distance away from the craziness of the building, safe from any possible prying eyes.

You both run on and on for awhile, playfully bumping into one another on purpose or pushing a snout towards the other, before eventually arriving at your destination; a beautiful field of flowers far away from the city, where all the stars are visible and no one is around to bother you. After cooling off some from the long voyage, you end up laying side by side, still in your wolf forms as you don’t often get to have the luxury to be so free. Taking in the view of the large mass of red beside you, you take note of the beautiful rouge coat Jaemin is sporting, a colorful contrast to the sleek black fur you were donning. His golden eyes bore into your own, a light blue so pale it appears gray, akin the gleam from the moon casting down from overhead.

What would appear to anyone else as barking and whining is the result of both you and Jaemin conversing, talking about anything and everything, and he thanks you for taking him somewhere so beautiful and peaceful. Exchanging a nuzzle or two before ending up turning to lay almost as if you were spooning, only you’re all curled up, just barely laying atop him, you revel in the comfort you receive solely from being around one another. Perhaps the phrase “puppy love” wasn’t as bad as you’d always thought, maybe it was that feeling of finally finding someone they click well with, or a chance encounter with their mate.

You had both unintentionally fallen asleep under your favorite tree, deep in a peaceful slumber as your chests rise and fall with each breath, waking up just as the sun is about to begin its ascent. You’re the first to awake, blinking the sleep from your eyelids as you look down and take note of hands where paws had been, wondering when you’d both transformed back, and silently praying there wasn’t mud all over Jaemin’s jacket. Realizing you better head back in case people had already realized that Jaemin was missing all night long, your attempt to wake up the sleeping boy. Try as you might, it takes great effort to even get him to open his eyes, let alone stand up. He slowly stretches out before laying flat on his stomach, head tucked into his arms, and you’re forced to poke and prod until he lets out a loud whine, almost as if to say just five more minutes, mom. Opting for a different approach, you turn him over so that his head is in your lap, brushing the hair out of his eyes as you do so.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” you quip.

“’s not even sun up yet,” Jaemin slurs, rubbing sleepily at his long lashes.

“We have to head back before anyone realizes we’ve been out all night, do you really want to risk getting into trouble right before your comeback?” He hums as you run a hand through his blonde tresses, looking up at you almost with a sparkle in his eyes at the sight before him.

"Responsible,” he murmurs, “no wonder you’re the alpha.” You’re not sure whether that was a compliment, but choose to take it as such regardless, as being the alpha did require a lot of determination and patience. There’s no rush to the way Jaemin gets up, taking his sweet time as if he had all of it in the world, placing a soft press of his lips to your forehead before he’s on all fours, ready to transform again. Following suit, you join him on the ground, a similar scene to the night before playing once again as the two of you make your way back to the company building.

Things are surprisingly calm as you both shake the dirt off your human bodies, successfully sneaking back into SM and quietly reaching that abandoned practice room in desperate need of remodeling you’d used as a dining room the night prior. It isn’t long before the two of you are crashing onto the raggedy couch together, exhausted from your interrupted sleep as well as all the travelling. This time, when you wake up, your limbs are entangled with your face in his chest, having been found by Jaemin’s fellow members of Dream. Being teased by said Dreamies wasn’t the optimal way to wake up, far from it, really; all four of them were utterly noisy, until Jaemin shoot up and protectively wraps an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. You swear you hear light snores still escaping him as his head lays on your shoulder, half of his chest pressed into his back as he can’t hold his own weight up.

In the meantime, you take to chatting with Jeno, getting to know more about himself and his pack, learning a lot about this giant, intermingled group of beings. When you ask Renjun about vampires because you're curious, you explain that you had only ever heard of them, having yet to meet one in person. He prattles off about basics before getting distracted by Jisung and his haphazard shapeshifting, and you wonder how poor Mark ever dealt with being the de facto leader of this misfit group of teens, let alone doing so while being the only one without supernatural abilities. The boys have to head off again to practice, and you shake Jaemin awake, not gentle in the slightest as you treat him almost like a glowstick. He asks for a moment with you, the others teasingly making smooching sounds before high-fiving amongst themselves and walking out, warning him that if he wasn’t at practice in five minutes that they’d tattletale about his night away from the dorms. The threat hangs loosely in the air after they vanish, however.

“Thanks for letting me nap on you,” he smiles cheekily as he stands up. “I do have a serious question though,” Jaemin clears his throat, “I know we just met and all, but I have a feeling we get along really. There’s still time to figure things out, but I was kind of sort of hoping that maybe you felt the same way and that maybe… you’d like to go out sometime?” A whole nap in a secluded forest later and the boy is still shyly rocking on his feet as he officially asks for you to be his. You disguise the snort you let out as a cough, standing up as well now to look him properly in the eyes.

“I would love to go out with you again sometime, Jaemin.” Quickly exchanging numbers before he has to run off for practice, Jaemin is almost at the door when he comes running back, stealing one last kiss as his hands cup your face, wide awake at the burst of energy coursing through his veins at his elatedness to your response.

“Guess we’re mates now, it’s official,” he jests, winking at you as he lets out a short giggle. Your cheeks are too smooshed to reply, so you opt for jokingly rolling your eyes at him instead. “And the alpha at that… tell me, am I really that charming, princess?” He whines as you swat at his arm, the harmonious laughter of two young souls falling in love oozing in the otherwise dreary room. You’re disrupted by someone clearing their throat, taking note of the figure standing in the doorway.

“Hey Jaemin, I just got back. Renjun sent me to-” the boy you now recognize to be Haechan freezes as he takes in the sight before him, quickly switching into an almost condescending demeanor. “Aww, did the little Reddie finally find is mate?” Haechan freezes mid-laugh where he had been walking over, recognizing you as his idol crush when he walked close enough to see your face. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” His incessant whines fall upon deaf ears, too busy laughing at how quickly his moods changed. With a pat on the back, you usher your now boyfriend and potential mate along with his bandmate out the door, mentally preparing yourself for the berating your charming pal Sayuri was sure to deliver, all the while snuggling deeper into the jacket still clinging to your form, comfortably wrapped in his scent.

While the future is never clear and life may be unpredictable… things were certainly about get a lot more interesting with these troublemakers around, that much was certain.

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