#i am praying for the links to work properly

[achelouise]

Lies, mysteries, and tricks

Fandom: Honkai Starail

Pairing: Sunday/Gen!reader, MENTIONED Gallagher/reader

Warnings: Spoilers for 2.1 and written before 2.2! Very toxic, from both sides, I think? Maybe OOC Sunday.

Summary: You learn about Robin's death, and rush to console Sunday. He isn't the thing you should be worrying about, though.

A/N: It's been a while! Came back to write this, because I couldn't stop thinking about this idea. It's rushed, and it's not really well-written, and it's short. Please forgive me~ (I am obsessed with Gallagher rn, so if anyone has any ideas I would love to hear and write about them :D (I still don't know how to properly use tumblr btw))

“Sunday? Are you in there?”

No answer. You drum your fingers against your sides nervously.

“Sunday, can we talk? Please?”

Still no answer. Your heart beats widely in your chest.

You ignore your thunderous heart as you slowly push the doors of the mansion open. The creaking doors echo and bounce along the empty halls, revealing a giant room, devoid of any light. A luxurious bed, dorned with lights and gems and painted with beautiful colors, is tucked away at the very side of the room. Sunday’s bedroom.

The factions had established that, other than the man himself, Sunday’s blood-related family, along with his spouse, would have access to it. Sunday himself had no permission to grant access to anyone, so you are surprised when the bellhop simply glanced at you and let you in without protest.

You could only guess it was because you two were close friends, and they were used to seeing you enter the Pavilion as children. Still, to enter his bedroom must be a breach in security…

But he wasn’t in any other room you could find. Time was slipping, lives were being lost, and you needed to find him. Fast.

You’re not exactly in the know. Most things you know, only Gallagher has told you. But you know full well that Sunday needs support.

“Sunday, please. I know I haven’t visited in… a while. I know what happened, and I’m sorry. Let’s work this out together. Don’t run away. Please?”

Only your echoes answer.

You were rambling to yourself at this point, desperation climbing further and further up to your chest. You have seen what Sunday does when he loses those he loves- and you want to help him. You don’t ever want to see him like that again. Never again.

You glance at the papers scattered on his desk. Maybe they have some information on where he went. He likes to rant in diaries.

You close your eyes, and pray to whatever Aeon you follow.

Forgive my sins for ever trespassing privacy to this extent. 

You don’t exactly have a clear mind when you start to rummage through the papers that endured wear and tear. You start to read some.

How could she do this?

It’s fine. It’s fine. Itsfineitsfineitsfineitsfineitsfine

Robin. Dear Aeons, Robin. 

When I find the traitor I will make them pay in blo o d 

Please don’t leave me please

Please please please please pleasepleas  e 

Your stomach drops. Poor Sunday.

Something else catches your eye, though. A soft reflection of a photo, pinned at the corner of the widespread desk. You lean over to take a good look at it.

You bite your lip so hard it nearly breaks skin. But even that dulls in comparison to the piles and piles of photos- all of them just you and Gallagher.

There are a wide range of those photos; from you two sitting across each other in the Dreamjolt Hostelry, to your hands linked together, faces flushed and smiles bright. All of them, with Gallagher’s face crossed out with glaring, red circles.

How dare he HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE

HE DID IT  HE KILLED HER   HE TOOK THEM   I WILL MAKE HIM PAY

The words are jagged and rough, as if he had barely managed to carve it out with his bare hands. It is a gigantic contrast to the sweet and elegant cursives he writes in his letters to you. It almost made you believe it wasn’t even Sunday who wrote this.

But you’re not stupid. You swallow the bile down your throat as your stomach churns with heightened fear and uncertainty. Sunday is a clever man, which makes him infinitely more dangerous.

Admittedly, he is far more unhinged than the public understands. You’ve never had a problem with it- only crazy can recognize crazy, and that was probably how he uncovered the plan of that gambler.

This doesn’t work in your favor, though. You don’t want to know what it means when he directs this insanity towards you.

You turn to leave.

“Ah, you found me.”

A hand shoots out to grip your arm, and you have no time to react. Shock, as quick as it comes, is slow to settle down. You try to scream.

“Oh Triple-Faced Soul, please seal this traitor's tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that the traitor will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.”

No.

Your whole body goes cold. You feel it- the soft waves of Harmony pulsing in your head, trapping your tongue and seeing through your eyes. You had seen its effect- seen how it slaughters and breaks those who disobey. But to receive this kind of treatment yourself…

You finally process the dangerous situation you’re in, and wrench free from his grasp. You regain your stance as you stumble backwards, a question on the tip of your tongue. “Why?”

Sunday looks… off. His clothes are askew, his eyebags more apparent without the illusion of Harmony, and a smile, out of place and out of his mind. He chuckles, far too gentle, so much so that it sends shivers down your spine.

“You know how this goes, don’t you?” he coos, berating and condescending. “Answer my questions truthfully, or suffer the rejection of the Harmony.”

“Why would I ever lie to you?” you ask, “What is there even to ask?”

His eye twitches. His voice drops an octave, laced with poison and jealousy. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

He breathes in, regaining his footing as the questions begin. “Are you interested in Gallagher? Is he interested in you?”

You think of him. A few hours ago, he insisted he came along to find Sunday with you. You’re starting to regret that decision. “Yes- and, I… I think so.”

Sunday tsks. “Do you know what he is? What it is?”

You cross your arms. “No. He is not human, but I am not exactly a young damsel in distress myself.”

“Do you not understand? That that man is nothing but a memetic entity, with thousands of truths woven together as a lie? Do you not know that the man you hold hands with killed Robin in cold blood? Why would you want to be with a foul beast like him?”

You are taken aback at the venom in Sunday’s tone. He isn’t even hiding it anymore. His breathing is ragged, and his eyes are blown wide.

“I… didn’t.” you admit, far too overwhelmed by his genuine frustration to confirm the validity in his claims.

Sunday suddenly withdrawals, as if sensing he has taken you off guard. He draws himself to his full height, casting a shadow with the light outside in the halls. The pulses in your head die out, as if they were never there.

“You are being tricked, dearest. He is not the man you think he is. He is a monster, a murderer, that serves under a shameful stain. Join me, in the pursuit of the Watchmaker. We can make all of them pay in blood.”

He rants, and you feel your heart sink. He is unstable because of this recent loss, but he has clearly not lost his mind. There is still rhyme and reason to what he does.

“My past? Hah, let’s not get into that just yet. I’ll tell you- someday.”

You glance down at the hand he offers you. His gaze is tender, but far too fragile. His lips are quivering, a silent plea.

You want to reject him. You want to scream at him, punch him, and run away, as far as possible. Gallagher had promised he would explain himself one day, and you had not mentally prepared yourself to know.

But given the unstable state he was in, it is unwise to simply respond with violence.

You reach out for his hand- only for a blade, dark and violet laced with gold, piercing from his stomach. Blue liquid pours from his gut, and this time, you truly do scream.

You don’t hear anything. The withdrawal of the blade is defeated by the look of despair and shock in Sunday’s eyes. He reaches for your hand, in a blind desperation- only to dissipate at the softest graze into a sea of bubbles.

Your heart thunders in your ribcage. A silent dread washes over you, and you hear your breaths grow shorter.

A lighter goes out.

Strong, warm arms envelop you. 

A voice, low and gruff, tells you that it’s going to be okay. The voice hovers over your ear, gentle and sweet, almost fabricated to ghost over your ear in a way you can’t refuse. You don’t respond, though, as you feel a sharp cut to your neck, and you’re out like a light.

[joshusten]

love me in spite (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy and Honey get into an argument early into their relationship.

(angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, fluff)

3k+ words [ao3 link here!] [masterlist]

[CW and notes: swearing, arguing, insecurities, overthinking, breakdowns, descriptive?? crying?? I think??, idk they’re both having a bad time. probably a lot of grammatical errors lmao. also honey is implied to be empowered!!]

Honey doesn't remember the last time they felt like this, but they’ve always known their personality would bite them in the ass someday.

“Aww, is my beloved mad again? Oh, pray tell, which heinous crime did I commit this time, officer? Robbery? Public indecency?” Guy stroked his chin, pretending to rack up his mind on any possible offense he could have made. “Hm…jaywalking?"

“Guy.”

“Oh! Or maybe—just maybe—it was wanting my ever-so-affectionate lover to stop their pretty head from fussing over me?”

"Guy, can’t you take this seriously for once?” 

“But I am! It’s just not that big of a deal, baby! Look, a manuscript can’t just write itself, y’know? Especially one with a little flair from yours truly!”

“You haven’t slept properly for days now, you work overnight most of the time, and on your days off you pull all-nighters writing!” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk!”

“Well, this one’s more serious! I haven’t even seen you eat a proper meal and anything I offer you gets left out cold!”

They continued to have a back-and-forth confrontation, voices raising and words getting crueler as time goes on, with both parties not intending to back down anytime soon. Honey thought it was the first time they ever heard Guy let out an actual annoyed scoff and they noticed the slightest change in his demeanor. 

“Jesus, Honey. Of all the times you can finally act like you care for me, why now? Hm?” There was a playful smile on his face. It almost made them believe he was still joking around but his words were laced with an unmistakable annoyance.

But something inside Honey snapped. Their chest tightened at the thought of their partner thinking they didn’t care. They felt themselves flinch from the comment and Guy seemed to notice that too as his smile drops. “Shit. Honey, I didn’t–”

“I’m–,” They scrambled to get their bag, keys, wallet, anything they would need because they just want to be anywhere but here.“I’m going out. Let’s finish this later. I-I just can’t fucking do this right now.”

They didn’t mean that. Didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. Then again, they don’t mean to sound so harsh most of the time but end up doing so either way. Grumpy. Mean. Intimidating. A common descriptor from most people. But Guy wasn’t like most people. ‘Unless,’ they think, ‘That was just a lie you told yourself to believe in.’

Honey shuts the door behind them, leaving the building and the warmth of their partner.

The pain in their chest almost distracts them from the exhaustion currently catching up to their body after a long day. They can feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming as they rub their temples gingerly with one hand, the other guiding the steering wheel. ‘Damn, it started to rain too. What a great way to lighten the mood,’ they think bitterly. Their mind eventually goes back to the fight earlier.

“Of all the times you finally can act like you care for me, why now? Hm?”

They do care. They care for him so much it scares them . He knows that, right? Even if they groan at his flirtatious quips and innuendos or if they grumble at his (very creative) attempts to give them as many hugs and kisses as they would allow, he knows that that’s just how they are, right? 

Maybe that wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe that never was enough to begin with. Maybe Guy finally realized he deserves better than an ill-tempered partner who doesn’t even know how to properly show any affection to their own fucking boyfriend.

A sharp car horn snaps them out of their thoughts. Shit, it’s a green light. They continue to drive until they see the familiar soft glow of a nearby 7-Eleven sign despite the persistent rain. 

Honey's entrance was signaled with the chime of the bell above the glass door. It’s relatively empty save for what they recognize to be a few D.A.M.N. students buying some late-night study snacks. Walking through the aisles while the pop song they heard their partner hum before softly plays in the background, slowly but surely calming them down. Muscle memory makes Honey reach for Guy’s favorite snack and they wonder how he’s doing. 

---

Guy doesn't remember the last time he felt like this, but he’s always known his personality would bite him in the ass someday.

Sure, he and Honey had their disagreements, but they were all accompanied by playful slaps and teasing laughter. Never had it gotten to the point of an actual argument that caused them to spit such venom toward each other like the one they just had. 

“I’m going out. I-I just can’t fucking do this right now.”

The door closes and Honey leaves, bringing the warmth of their shared apartment with them. Guy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and starts to get to work. He wordlessly distracts himself by cleaning the living room—picking up stray plastic chip bags, vacuuming crumbs that settled on the cheap shag carpet, and fixing up the pillows on the couch that he’s been nesting on for the past few days while he works on the final draft of the project he was writing. 

Piles of paper littered their second-hand coffee table. Every inch is covered in Post-it notes and wrinkled pieces of paper filled with ideas that he had haphazardly scribbled in an attempt to record them before it leaves his mind. Most of them, he recalls, are just random doodles of spirals and honeybees that he absentmindedly drew as he was typing away on his laptop. The spaces left exposed on the table were adorned with faded mug rings on the old dark oak wood.

He tries to compile them into a neater collection, pausing as he notices a doodle he made of his Honey. It was far from a masterpiece, but the cute cartoony style paired with heavily exaggerated furrowed brows in order to replicate their partner’s usual expression pulls a smile from his lips. There was even a jumbled-up line inside a small text bubble next to it to symbolize the adorable grumbles they always make. 

Fuck, he misses them so fucking much.

A sudden wave of exhaustion almost makes him drop the stack of papers he’s holding and it dawns on him how much he really has been neglecting his own health for this project. The stress of trying to find a job where he can utilize his degree and finally get out of that godforsaken pizza place has been taking a toll on him. All Honey was trying to do was for him to take a break that he so desperately ( and, he embarrassingly admits, unknowingly ) needed. And he just treated it like some silly joke. Granted, it really was because he wasn’t used to being coddled after, but, it definitely wasn’t an excuse to dismiss their worries like that. 

The guilt builds up in Guy’s throat like bile. He feels worse now, especially considering how much they struggle with expressing themselves like that to him in general, even if they don’t say it aloud.

He finishes cleaning up but the restlessness doesn’t leave him as time passes by with no word from his partner. Maybe this is it? Maybe he fucked it all up like always? Maybe they finally came to their senses and got fed up with him. It wasn’t uncommon for people to think he was a bit too much. Too chaotic, too irritating, too overwhelming. He ever minded those comments in the first place, but the thought of Honey possibly thinking like that too makes him sick. 

It’s getting late and he can hear the rain outside get louder. The anxiety that has been settling in their stomach flares up. He reaches for his phone to message them before concluding they might not want to be bothered right now. Shit, he’s feeling a little sluggish. 

Guy begrudgingly trudges to the wardrobe of their shared bedroom to get a change of clothes. He glances over as he pulls a familiar-looking hoodie from the hanger. Their double bed, adorned with a pizza plushie that Honey had given to him as a joke gift, was more inviting than usual. Maybe he should just take a rest and go to sleep. 

No, no, no, they might want some space from that too. Guy wants to talk this out with them instead of sleeping it out. If this persists, he isn't sure how his poor heart could take it. He ultimately decides to go back to the couch, stay up, and (at the very least) greet them when they come back. 

If they come back. God, please come back.

What if they don’t?

The thought felt like a mere whisper in his head but it left him numb. Guy's aware of his tendency to overthink but before he knew it, he was lying down on his side, hand clamped to his mouth as he forced his eyes shut. He lets out a quiet sniff. His breath hitches. Then he hears himself choke out a small sob. 

Then another.

And another. 

And another.

The dam breaks, his eyes water and he heaves as much air as he can into his lungs. It suddenly became a struggle to breathe and it definitely became a struggle to calm the ugly thoughts that plague his mind. Shaky, broken sobs fill the room, he cringes at how pathetic it sounds.  He hates this. He hates this feeling. Just come back, I’m sorry.

After what felt like hours, his sniffles slowly died down. With heavy eyes and a heavier heart, he finds himself drowsy from all the crying. The hot tears streaming down his face had begun to dry, but, the warmth on his cheeks reminds him of his Honey and the thought of them finally lulls him to sleep.

---

Honey returns, a little haggard but with a calmer mind. The drive around Dahlia and their quick run to the local convenience store definitely helped lighten their mood but the guilt still followed them around like a shadow. Shaky hands find their way to the lock of their shared apartment and Honey opens to a dim living room, with the forgotten hanging bulbs from the kitchen barely providing a sense of light. They noticed the place was tidier than they remembered.

It was eerily quiet, as well. The wrinkling sound of the paper bag that they were holding filled the room.

"Guy?" Fuck, they can hear their voice getting wobbly. 

"I'm home. You there?" A shift from the room was all they heard accompanied by a sniffle. Honey suddenly becomes hyper-aware of the soft snores matching the rise and fall of a figure on the couch.

They couldn't really explain why their heart started to pound with their pulsating headache. Why they made a beeline inside their apartment. Why they started to get down on their knees in the living room despite the protests of their tired body. Why their chest sank deeper as they saw their partner all bundled up on their battered couch. 

They don't miss the frown on his face and his tear-stained cheeks.

Fuck. Tears? Guy was crying? 

Honey quietly (urgently) sets down the paper bag from their grasp and slowly places a hand on his shoulder, patting it ever so gently.

"H-hey? Guy, what are you doing over here?" They noticed how cold they felt to the touch and remembered their thermostat wasn't working that well. "It's freezing. You're freezing. "

After a few gentle pats and caresses (and reminders of how it's cold here, the bed is warm. Take it, please. ) Guy manages to blearily open his eyes, rubbing away the sleepiness and the few tears that managed to slip.

Cute. His eyes are so cute. Honey would have thought if their mind wasn't filled with thoughts and questions. Why was he sleeping on the couch? Was he waiting for me? He didn't need to do that. Why was he crying? Did he cry himself to sleep? Was it because of me?

Did I do this?

"Honey?" Guy's voice croaked and Honey's heart aches after hearing how hoarse it was. It aches a little more to see him smile at them despite the argument they had earlier.

"You're back…" he mumbles, slightly adjusting his body to prop himself up with his arm. He was wearing their hoodie again.

"Guy, why are you sleeping here? It's cold," they repeated, the worry in their tone becoming more and more evident. 

This had Guy fully sitting up, giving his full attention to their Honey with a slight grin that was preparing to give out a smug reply before dropping his smile and deciding otherwise. If he noticed that their eyes were starting to get just as glassy as his, he didn't mention it. “I-I mean, you’re…mad, right? I thought you’d want some more space from me or something…” 

“N-no! I mean, yeah, thank you for that but that doesn't—” Honey cuts themselves off with a groan. Why can’t I just say what I want to say? What do I even want to say? Guy immediately notices their partner’s frustration and sits down beside them.

“Hey, hey, it's okay. You’re okay, Honey,” he says with a reassuring smile and slowly raises his hand near their cheek, “Can I touch?” 

Honey immediately nods, almost melting at Guy’s warm hands. The familiar calluses from working countless graveyard shifts and delivery jobs all over Dahlia for Max’s kept them grounded. They notice a newly formed bump on the ring finger of his dominant hand from the number of handwritten notes he’s been doing recently.

After a few moments of soft breaths and the sound of Guy's rough thumb gently gliding across their cheek, Honey let out a weak laugh but the words that followed were by no means a joke to them. “You’re so good for me.” Too good. I don’t deserve you. 

It was Guy’s turn to let out a confused chuckle. He felt anything but good to them at the moment.

“What do you mean by that, hon?” He caresses their cheek and he forgets how much his chest hurts when his Honey leans into his touch. “Hey, c’mon. Do you…do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Honey nods once more. "I'm…I'm sorry," they choke out as if the words got caught up in their throat. Everything was overwhelming again. The sound of the remains of the rain, the ticks of the wall clock, and most of all, Guy's unwavering attention to them. They avoid his gaze. 

"I know that…I'm…I dont have the most…pleasant attitude," The nervousness in their tone was obvious but the quick squeeze of their hand from their partner was enough for them to go on. "And I know that you didn’t mean that. About me…not caring,” They felt him give another squeeze, a bit tighter than the last. “Fuck, god knows you’ve put up with me long enough for me to know you wouldn’t mean that.” 

Honey manages to finally look him in his eyes again, they think it's their favorite color. “I…I just don’t know why I act like this. Why can't I just…care for you in a normal way.”

“Oh, Honey…” 

“I’m just so fucking sorry. I really, really care for you, please know that,” they sob out. Guy thinks he’s never seen them this vulnerable. His arms slowly circle and stop around their body as if he was waiting for their permission but Honey beats them to the embrace, burying their head on his chest. He knows they can hear his heart speed up.

“Hey, I know, I know,” The hands that were once on his partner's cheeks find their way to their back, rubbing circles and tracing shapes. “I’m really sorry for what I said too. The stress from work and writing these past few days is catching up but please don’t let that ever be an excuse for me to talk like that, especially to you and especially if it makes you think of all these lies.”

“And all this talk about…caring for me in the ‘normal’ way. Don’t say that.” Guy slowly pulls away to tilt his partner's chin up for their eyes to meet again. The way his Honey looked so distressed was a sight he decided he never wants to see again. “What matters is that I know you care and I want you to know that the way you show it is… fuck, I’ve never felt so cared for like this until you, Honey. Okay?”

“I’ll work…on not neglecting my health too. If it weren’t for you, I might’ve actually collapsed from exhaustion,” he adds, lips upturned into a sheepish smile. “So, thank you.”

Guy isn’t prepared for the way their Honey finally graced him with a soft smile. He’s had them laugh and grin at his…eccentric behavior before, but this smile held so much fondness and sincerity (directed towards him of all people! ) that made this moment all the more intimate. 

I think I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack. He doesn't recall having butterflies for lunch but he definitely feels them flutter up and about in his ribcage. He wants to treasure this moment. He wants to treasure them.

Honey looks down, uncharacteristically flustered and Guy’s heart soars again. “Thank you,” they whispered. “For that.”

“Of course, Honey. Though, I must say,” he grins. “Although your methods of conveying your love for me are a bit… unconventional , you could say I’m on the more bizarre side, too. I guess we make a perfect match after all then, don't we?”

Honey snorts, a reaction that's endearingly familiar to him and he smirks even wider. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Well, for the record, if anybody here is fucking stupid, it would be you!” Guy shoots back, “Hi, hello, I’m stupid, by the way, ehh– Ow, ow, ow!”

The pair continues to laugh and banter at each other like before, but, as they comfortably settle down to cuddle on the couch, they both don’t miss the way the grip on their entangled hands tightened for the slightest bit.

---

hope you enjoyed!! please let me know if i had any mistakes or just some feedback in general!! i kinda wanna continue doing these kinda stuff :DD

[ashecampos]

ANYONE BUT HER 7

JANIS IMI-IKE X FEM READER

a little Regina x reader

Warnings - swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions of anxiety. Regina being Regina. Hurt. Angst

The POV switches between reader and Janis (I use — when I change the POV)

there will be more parts to this, make sure to reblog and comment and I will get the next few parts up as soon as I can, happy reading lovelies 🫶🏼

———————————————————

TALES OF TESSA MAKE SURE TO READ THIS AND PREVIOUS PARTS BEFORE THIS, LINKED IS FROM THE POV OF TESSA (readers best friend)

———————————————————

I am startled awake by a familiar vibration next to my head, i squint to see who’s phone is ringing, of course it is mine. I groan and sleepily wiggle out of Janis’ arms, grabbing my phone while exiting the room to take the call, I find my way to the bathroom again and sit against the bathtub, answering the call not bothering to read the caller ID, assuming it’s Tessa or Damien.

“Y/n?” The person on the other end asks, as if they knew there would be a chance someone else could’ve answered. I instantly freeze up recognising the voice on the other side of the phone call. “B..Bea? Why the fuck are you calling me?” I say as I start to pace back and forth. “I know im the last person you want to hear this from but I was told you have been seeing Janis Imi’ike, im so sorry y/n” she says, obviously putting what she needs to say off. “Just spit it out bea, whatever you must say, say it” i speak with a sense of urgency “me and Janis have been seeing eachother in secret for a few months now, she had admitted she only helped you that night to make sure you broke up with me” she says. I search for a reason for her to be lying about this but come up with nothing, all rational thoughts gone. I make quick work of ending the call and storming back into the room where me and Janis were peacefully sleeping not even five minutes prior. I grab my hoodie and jeans, throwing them on, I then grab my shoes and leave.

One foot after the other I make a run from it. Like I ran from bea when she cheated. Like I’ve ran from every situation that’s caused me pain. I make my way back to my house, seeing a figure sat on my poarch, it seems they had saw me before i got the chance to see them. The person stands up and walks over. Only now do I realise the hot, sticky tears running down my cheeks causing my ability to make out the person falter. I desperately rub my face using the sleeves of my hoodie, silently praying it’s not my mom who is the one to see me like this. Thankfully I see blonde hair. Bleached blonde hair. Regina George.

She makes her way over, her pace quickening when she sees the state im in. “Oh y/n what happened? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” She bombards me with questions while gripping my chin and tilting my head up to look at my face properly. A frown upon her own. “I’m fine I just want to be alone, go see Aaron or something Regina” I choke out trying to hold back the tears threatening to pour again. She shakes her head, unhanding my face and instead grabbing my hand, dragging me into the house. And up the stairs into my room. “Jesus y/n why is your room so dark. No wonder you’re so pale..no offence” she says while running to my curtains, pulling them open and allowing the natural light inside. I wince at the brightness of the morning sun.

She sits me down on my bed, leaning closer to me. “So tell me what’s got you so upset?” She says gently and in a genuine tone. So I tell her everything. I mean it’s Regina George. She may be seen as the ‘queen bee’ but honestly she’s never been bad to me or my brother so I trust her.

“So let me get this straight. She got you to break up with your ex so she could get with her then continued to see the both of you behind each other’s backs? Oh my god. I’m going to kill her” the blonde says while grabbing her phone out of her pocket and aggressively typing away. After a few seconds she looks up and smiles sadly “you’re gonna sit with me and my group at lunch now, trust me she won’t bother you baby.” She says while putting her phone away.

——-

I wake up and stretch, extending my arms out, feeling the surface of the sofa to find it empty. My eyes shoot open looking for the girl. She’s nowhere to be seen. I groggily stand up and head for the bathroom. She wasn’t there either. I sigh assuming she got asked to run some errands by her mom or something. I turn some music on and start to move the basement back to how it was before the date.

The day goes by so fast. The day turns into the next and then the next. No word from y/n at all. She must just be busy.

Entering school on the Monday was probably one of the worst decisions of my life. First everyone was looking at me. Then I got to my locker and there she was at hers. She sees me and walks away quickly. I frown assuming she was just in a mood with it being so early in the day or something like that.. until I see Damien and Tessa storming over. “Janis ‘Imi’ike I have known you for fifteen years but this. This is a new low even for you” the boy starts. “Tell me this is some sick joke right now Janis I swear to god” Tessa says almost immediately after Damien. I look at them taken aback at their sudden disgust and anger toward me. “Can someone please tell me what I done?” I say slamming my locker shut, staring both of them down. “you used her to fuck her ex. Janis I thought you genuinely liked her” Tessa snapped before Damien could say anything “what are you talking about? I do like her. And I despise bea” I say, frowning. “well the morning after you and her had that date night, I got a call from Regina telling me to haul ass to y/N’s house because the poor girl was hysterical, turns out Bea had called her and told her everything about you and… oh fuck, it’s a setup. We need to get to y/n before they do anything else”

——-

These past few days Regina has been the nicest I’ve ever known her to be, yes she is the ‘queen bitch’ of north shore but she’s always been nice to me for some reason. After what happened the other day, she’s only been nicer. I haven’t really spoke to anyone about what happened. I kinda went off the radar until Tessa turned up at my house demanding to know why I hadn’t been answering. Naturally I broke down and told her everything and after reassuring her (a lot) that i would be okay, she left to go home and sleep for school. Aaron didn’t really care about what happened. Not that I really told him. Yes he’s my twin, I’ll always love and be there for him but we don’t really associate with each other anymore. So when I woke up this morning I decided to ‘suck it up’ as my dad would say. I threw on a hoodie and some baggy jeans. Then Regina called me. “Hey short stuf- oh Jesus please tell me you aren’t wearing that?!” She nearly screams down the phone, I cringe looking down at my outfit earning a sigh from her. “I’ll be over in five, do your makeup and I’ll pick some clothes for you when i get there okay?” She asks in a sweet tone. I smile and nod before hanging up and grabbing a joint I rolled last night ready for today. I stare down at it for a few minutes contemplating what im going to do if Janis approaches me today. I haven’t spoke to her since the phone call. I didn’t confront her, I just ran. Shaking my head I light up and take a few drags of the blunt with laying on my bed, all tasks out of sight and mind.

By the time I finished the joint, Regina is in my room and looking through my closet, she looks over at me her smile fading while she grabs an outfit that fits ‘plastic’ standards, but is still in my style. Then she comes and sits next to me on the bed. “So what’s the plan?” She speaks before I can, I shrug “go into school and show her who she messed with” I say in a mocking tone earning a smack over the back of my head from the blonde, she laughs and drags me off of my bed, keeping a tight hold on my wrist to keep me steady. She drags us into my closet and sits me down, pulling my hoodie off and replacing it with an old band shirt I made into a cropped vest, she smirks and grabs my backpack, throwing it at me. She grabs my hand and we are out of the door, in her jeep and on the way to school.

I stand at my locker waiting for Regina to find Gretchen and Karen and come back to get me so she can introduce me to them. Looking up from my phone I see Janis, I roll my eyes and walk the other way, not wanting to start a fight twenty minutes before homeroom. I pull out my phone and call Regina to ask where she is.

Minutes later im stood with the plastics. Gretchen looks me up and down trying to figure me out, while Karen just stands there smiling at me. “I love your shirt, where can I get one?” Gretchen starts off, I smile with a little bit of a blush forming “oh uhm I made it actually” I say looking at the shirt I made a few weeks ago just after meeting Janis. The girls eyes light up as she leans closer “omg so your like an artist and a musician, that’s so fetch” she bounces with excitement. A laugh erupts from beside me “what’s fetch?” Regina asks cringing a little. “Oh it’s like slang from some movie I saw” the girl explains the plot of the movie, I smile at her and her little quirks “well that movie sounds fetch, we will have to watch it one time, right Regina?” I nudge the blonde, knowing how mean she can be towards Gretchen at times. Karen looks over my shoulder and gasps a little. We all turn around to see the commotion. Tessa and Damien are shouting at Janis. I guess Tessa told Damien. Well at least they’ve got to her before I could. Not that I’d even know what to say. “Hey cmon we should get to PE so we can get changed out of sight from the creeps” Regina tugs my arm. I know she’s never early for anything, which lets me know that she is only suggesting that so I wouldn’t have to see Janis. She grabs onto my hand as we all walk to the changing rooms. I drop my bag to the floor and pull off my vest, replacing it with the track hoodie I originally had put on. I change into some shorts and put on my not so white converse. Once we are all changed, we sit on the benches outside of the changing rooms, waiting for the bell to ring and for everyone to come to class, I put my hair in a messy bun before looking up to see two faces laced with shock “you have a tattoo?” Karen says with a smile, earning a confused look from me “you guys don’t?” I answer the question with another question, they all shake their heads making me laugh, I shrug the interaction off and pull on the strings of my hoodie.

The bell eventually chimes and people start flooding into the changing rooms, Janis and Damien included, the both of them are glared at by the three girls while I stare at the floor. The coach shows up, smiling at me, waving his arms around like a goof “y/n congratulations on last weeks race kid” he enthusiastically says before patting my back. “Thanks, hope the next one is just as easy” I laugh a little. To say track is stressful would be an understatement. Some people join to have something to put on their college forms, some join because they love sports, me, I joined because my dad wanted me to be apart of every hobby, he wants me to have as many skills as possible. I know he means good but the pressure to be the best at everything is crushing. I get snapped out of my thoughts when Regina’s hand holds onto mine, I look around and see people leaving to head to the field, I look at Regina and she mouths “you okay?” towards me, I simply nod, I wasn’t about to scare off the person who offered me a safe space this fast.

Approaching the field I see the teacher is holding a bag full of equipment, I look over at Tessa knowing what’s in the bag. Fucking rugby balls. I’ve never liked rugby but Tessa on the other hand. She loves it. It’s her whole life. She has been scouted by professional teams since we were kids. Me on the other hand, not the type of person to tackle people, I would happily just stick to track.

I look up to see Tessa running over to me, a massive grin on her face. “Y/n cmon we are doing rugby” she waves a ball in my face like an excited child. I look over to where she is pointing and see Damien and Janis, I frown and shake my head a little “wait T you aren’t in this class, why are you here?” I laugh a little knowing she is meant to be in English language class right now. Once again she waves the ball in my face “coach pulled me out asking if I would help with some tackling drills.” She nudges me before going to grab me to go see Janis. “Actually im going to stay here and help the plastics” I mumble knowing she won’t like me hanging around with Regina. “What why? Your not like in love with my cousin right?” She crosses her arms and stares at me “you and Janis need to talk. Sooner than later I suggest” she lectures me just as the coach blows the whistle.

Me and Tessa both get forced to grab a tackle practice pad and hold them up ready for the coach to tell people to try tackling us both. A lot of them don’t try to tackle too hard, a few manage to push me back a little but one manages to knock me. Regina. She stands staring at me like a predator scoping out its prey, she then gets a running start, getting lower to the ground with every stride closer she gets and eventually she has her arms around my torso and she manages to buckle my legs and she’s on top of me, smirking down at me with a satisfied grin. “Falling for me already huh?” She leans closer to my face with a cheeky grin, we stay like this for a few seconds before she gets off of me and we both stand up. I take my place back at the line, bag in hand ready to go.

I tilt my head to the side and see Tessa and Janis laughing, Tessa looks over at me with a sympathetic expression, it seems like she knows more about this situation than she’s letting on.

Once the lesson is practically done and everyone is walking off of the field I jog a little to catch up with Tessa and nudge her. “Hey can I grab you for a sec after we are changed I need to tell you something?” She says with a sad smile, she glances at Janis and Damien who are a few feet in front of us, then she looks at Regina and the plastics who are a few feet behind us. “Omg yes, I feel like I haven’t seen you since last week, sorry for going off the rails though” I frown feeling as if im to blame for this situation “that’s actually what I need to te- …oh hey Regina” she starts before Regina comes and joins us causing her to quickly change the topic of conversation. “Hey Tes, you should totally come sit with us, y/n has finally agreed to sit with me and the girls” Regina almost brags, a massive grin plaster across her pretty face.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Where the Light Enters - Part 3

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual sex, enemies to lovers, past childhood sexual assault, past sex trafficking, referenced noncon, non-explicit dubcon, panic attacks, happy ending, the tags look scary but this is mainly a story about recovery

Cole/Female Inquisitor

word count: 6k

ao3 link

Masterlist

The Hinterlands wasn’t the worst place in the world. It was warmer than the snow covered mountain she was relegated to most of the time, so she certainly enjoyed that. She didn’t have to wear layers and layers of fur and thus could actually move properly which was a novelty to her at this point. 

It was quite pretty too. She loved the lakes and rivers when things were calm. 

The bears in the Hinterlands were not her favorite. She always brought someone sturdy to send off after them while she stayed far away from the creatures. 

The demons were certainly unpleasant, but that came with the territory when she was the only person that could close their entrance to this world.

It was the sheer quantity of violent humans running around that really got to her. Templars in all colors and mages and venatori and the carta, half of them fighting both each other and her. 

She’d take a hundred unthinking bears over them. 

Her worst fear was getting captured. 

Of course, she would give the Inquisition up in a second and convert fully to the side of whoever captured her, she knew that much. But that wasn’t something she could recover from in the eyes of her current allies and the last thing she wanted was to get on the bad side of a force as powerful as the Inquisition who wanted her as badly as they did. 

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. 

In the meantime, they wandered. Cassandra was ready to fight anything, practically begging someone to come up to her. 

That meant being loud and noticeable in a way that was clearly meant to draw attention. 

In the end, they watched Cassandra fight a bear. 

Varric helped, she supposed. He fired off arrows as quickly as his mechanical crossbow allowed him to. 

Rosemary did not help, but then again, what could she do? She wasn’t equipped to fight anything, let alone a bear. 

Cole was up in a tree. When Varric tried to figure out what he was doing, the only response he could pull from him was, “She needs to fight. She needs to know she’s a protector. She doesn’t need my help. I would make it worse, another thing to watch.”

“You’re not a thing, kid,” Varric said as he notched another arrow. 

“She thinks I am.”

“She’s just scared,” Varric tried to reassure him, even as distracted as he was. 

“Yes. Lots of people are scared. I don’t know how to make them stop.”

Despite Cassandra being the one fighting the bear face to face, Varric managed to deal the killing blow with a swift arrow between the ribs. “None of us do.”

They plodded off again after that. 

Her feet were already tired, still unaccustomed to the long treks that being a member of the Inquisition required of her. She wished she had a more sedentary power, or perhaps wished that they could bring the rifts back to her. 

And then, as they stomped along and imagined a world where she didn't have to wander around in bear infested woods, her least favorite thing happened. They found a rift. 

There was something genuinely incredible about them, if you didn’t know how truly dangerous they were. The way it hung in the open sky, a rip in the clear void of the air. The green glow curled at the edges, like it was trying to grab onto the empty air for purchase. 

As soon as they got close enough, its defenses sprung up and all hell broke loose.

Her power didn’t work if she was too far away, so instead, every time they found one, she found the best hiding spot she could and hunkered down, praying her companions would protect her. 

She felt even more exposed than usual. She realized that she’d foolishly forgotten a mage and thus, no one here could cast a protective barrier around her. Likewise, with only one warrior, and a relatively small one at that, she didn’t have a particularly good human shield. 

Varric tried his best, but he was a distance fighter. It wasn’t his fault. 

Cassandra was overwhelmed. One bear was fine, she could focus her attention and do what needed to be done. But here she was too split, with half a dozen demons swarming them. She couldn’t cover Rosemary properly and fight. So she made the choice anyone would. She focused all her attention on the fighting and Rosemary sunk back further behind the rock she’d found that was barely half her size. 

And then Cole looked down at her, making herself small on the floor; he looked at the other two, overwhelmed by demons; and he sprung into action. 

It was mesmerizing to watch. The way he flickered in and out of existence in some sort of cosmic dance, daggers shining in the sun. Each strike was perfectly placed, causing more damage than inelegant swords and spells ever could

He was right. The boy could fight. 

And fight he did. 

Rosemary’s arms rose to cover her head, praying to whatever god these idiots believed in that she’d make it out of this alive. She couldn’t remember what the god’s name was, but she figured she was more likely to respond in this new land so it was worth a shot. 

The chaos began to die down and she peeked out to see a disheveled but alive Varric. 

She rose shakily to her feet, leaning on the rock as she did. 

And then a bright green flickering silhouette appeared in front of her, shaped exactly like a wraith, and she fell back into soft soil.  

Cole drew back into focus out of the green as she breathed unsteady breaths. 

She could see his face like this, from below. It looked unnervingly blank, as it always did. It was like he didn’t know how to paint emotions across it, blank not in a carefully studied way as hers often was, but instead blank in an innocent, unknowing way. 

He just stared down at her, not so much as lifting a hand out to help her up. 

His brows furrowed. “Can you not stand on your own? I thought you just did.”

She stood once more with a sigh. “It’s just polite.”

She raised her hand to the now unprotected rift, focusing on the strange power the fade had implanted into her palm a year ago. 

As she did, the tear in the fade began to close, returning from a green tinged void back to endless clear. 

She flexed her hand as the rift finally sealed itself. It stung a little to close them, leaving a dull ache behind for a few hours after each use. It felt like it had been lasting longer and she worried, not for the first time, that this was doing real damage to her. 

But there was nothing to be done about it. She’d tried to wriggle her way out of this countless times, but it was the one thing they would not budge on. Those rifts needed to be closed, at the expense of her comfort or not. 

“Do they know it hurts?” Cole asked, and she wondered why he didn’t already know the answer to his own question. 

Cassandra scrunched up her nose. “What hurts?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, more ill-tempered than she ever let them see her. 

“The mark,” said Cole. “It burrows into her, aches and rots. The fade isn’t meant to go in a girl, it’s too big for her.”

Cassandra looked like she only mostly understood what he was talking about. “We all have sacrifices we must make to do our part.”

Rosemary did her best to nod amiably, a deep resentment settling in her chest. 

“C’mon Rosie,” Varric said, pulling her to the side. “I’ll see if I can help with that.”

He gave her a salve that didn’t help. She told him it did but made it very clear that she was putting on a false, brave face. 

He gave her a clap on the shoulder and told her she was good as new. 

She was glad Cole didn’t decide to speak up.

They continued plodding along, facing off against a few groups of hostile mages and warriors but no more demons. 

Cole seemed thrilled about the whole ordeal. After fighting a small squadron of mages, he rooted around in one of the corpses’ pockets, clearly looking for something. 

A moment later, he held up a note half covered in blood. “Brothers, tired of fighting. Their hands remember holding each other, their mouths remember smiling. Their cheeks draw up but it never feels the same anymore. He wondered if he was missed when he was struck down, knew he wasn’t. He knew incorrectly,” he announced. “We should give it to him, it wants to be given.”

“If you find who it’s for on the way, you can give it to him then,” she tried to reason with him. 

“He’s behind us. He wonders how his brother fared, terrified he’ll see him in the fight. We killed him. We have to give him the letter.”

“Listen,” she said, turning fully to face him. “If we don’t get moving, more people get hurt. We can deliver letters to grieving family members when people in the Hinterlands aren’t being attacked by demons and corrupted men anymore, alright?”

“Why do you try that on me? I can see inside. It’s for them, a performance. You would never deliver a letter. Their nobility wielded against me, because they want to help.”

It was a miracle Varric and Cassandra seemed as disinterested in these bizarre outbursts as they were. 

She dragged him along, trying to get him to stop saying incriminating things about her. She had to break the instinct to tell him white lies in an attempt to placate him. They were clearly doing more harm than good. 

As they continued along, Cole in a notably worse mood than before, they saw a farm in the distance and she smiled. Finally, some good news. They could acquisition some horses and then she’d be able to rest her feet and not have to walk for miles and miles. 

She walked into the farm house, explained who she was and who she was with, and asked incredibly nicely if they could spare some horses. 

And then they gave them a horse. One horse. For four people. 

Cassandra scoffed at the sight and she silently agreed. If it were just her, she would have stolen more, whether the farmers could spare them or not. But then again, if it had just been her, the one horse would have been fine. 

They took the horse anyway, figuring it was better than nothing. She silently told herself she could run off with it if things got truly dire, abandoning the rest of her party.

She could feel Cole’s eyes on the back of her head as she thought it, an involuntary shiver running through her.  

As they were leaving the farm, horse in tow, a panicked farmer approached the four of them. 

“Please,” he called out to them. “Our druffalo has gone missing. If you see her, could you return her to us? She's our prize animal, we need her.”

Cole’s head whipped around to face the farmer the second they started to speak. 

She’d already begun saying, “we’re incredibly busy,” as his head turned to her, eyes expectant and hopeful. 

The look did nothing to change her mind. 

And then they were off again. They were headed for real civilization this time. She didn’t even know this place had civilization.

Apparently the town was called Redcliffe and they were going to meet mages. It occurred to her for the second time that day that perhaps bringing a mage along would have been prudent. She thought she’d probably blocked that idea out because she could not stand Solas’s smug voice for another week. She’d almost strangled him last time. 

Surely there were other mages in Thedas that were willing to help. She would have taken anyone else. 

She supposed they were going to meet mages now. Maybe one of them loved trudging through the woods and casting protective spells around frightened, incompetent leaders. 

When they got to this town, however, the mages were nowhere to be found. Something about them being taken over. 

At least if the mages were taken over by the enemy, she had templars on her side. This is what they were trained to do, stop rebel mages. 

With no mages to confront, she turned to Varric for some guidance. 

He smiled and said, “Nothing else for it, I guess. Time to go to the tavern.”

She grinned at him, glad she’d brought him along. 

It wasn’t a very big tavern but then again, it wasn’t a very big town. It wasn’t truly small, those sorts of towns didn’t have taverns, just illegal, impossibly strong alcohol being manufactured in someone’s shed. 

Regardless of the size of the tavern, she was glad to be there. It was better than the woods. 

Varric ordered four drinks, handing one to her and Cassandra before turning to Cole. 

“How old are you anyways,” he asked, looking Cole up and down.

Cole looked at him vacantly. “Time passes differently in the fade, I don’t know. This body is twenty. Was twenty. He died.”

Varric nodded, giving Rosemary a pointed look. “Right. You can probably have a beer then. It’ll be good for you, put some hair on that chest.”

“A drink can give me hair?” he asked.

“Not literally. It’s a figure of speech.”

Cassandra eyed the exchange nervously. “I don’t think we should be giving a spirit anything to further lower its inhibitions. He’s already dangerous, the last thing we need is for him to be more unpredictable.”

Rosemary silently agreed, wanting nothing less than for Cole to develop loose lips about things he should be keeping secret.

Varric brushed the concern off. “It’ll be fine, relax a little.”

Cassandra seemed unconvinced. 

“How do I do it?” Cole asked as he looked down the drink.

“Just drink it,” Varric said, and she couldn't help but wonder if he’d ever drunk anything before. 

“But how?”

Varric laughed a big booming laugh and showed the spirit how drinking worked, chugging the whole thing in one fell swoop. 

Cole watched him carefully and then did his best to mimic it. As soon as the liquid entered his mouth he coughed, some of the beer spilling out of his nose.

“Why?” he sputtered out, and Cassandra groaned as Rosemary fought back a laugh.

His head jerked up at that, watching the smile get suppressed off her face in lieu of faux concern.

“You should let it through or your mouth might forget how to smile,” he said, and Varric seemed more concerned by that than he’d been by Cole choking.

“I smile plenty,” she said, the comment effectively souring her mood. 

“No. Real ones.”

She slammed back her drink, wishing Varric had gotten her something stronger.

But she never actually drank, not enough to get anywhere near drunk, it dulled her inhibitions too much. This spirit was really getting to her. 

Varric seemed unphased by the end of the interaction, though she could tell he was still very much interested in Cole. Meanwhile, Cassandra had wandered off. She’d never been one for taverns. 

Varric downed two more drinks before grabbing the pair of them from where they had been sitting, silently, at a table, neither of them doing much of anything. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s find somewhere to sleep.”

Varric found an inn, which she didn’t mind. At least it had real beds inside.

Small town that it was, there were only two rooms available. Rosemary wondered if anyone else was staying here or if they only had two rooms in total. She supposed she’d never find out. 

Varric grabbed Cole, pulling him towards one of the rooms and sending her and Cassandra up to the other with a smile. 

Cassandra insisted she sleep on the floor while Rosemary got the bed. She made sure to protest just enough that it looked like she was putting up a fight while still getting to sleep on the soft mattress.

It was a restful night. At least for her. She happily would have stayed another night but she knew it wasn’t in the cards. 

Even if she pushed for another night, eventually they had to leave Redcliffe and then Rosemary was faced with another thing she hated about the Hinterlands. 

She had to camp. 

It was especially hard to stomach after getting to sleep in a big bed in a temperate climate. 

But they couldn’t stay forever, and so off they went. 

It would have been easier on horseback, but all they had was their lone horse and she couldn’t figure out a way to spin her being the only one riding. 

So they walked, leading a horse behind them through the endless woods and mountains. 

Varric sidled up beside her as they walked. “Did you know he doesn’t sleep?” He nodded his head off in Cole’s direction as he spoke. 

She turned to look at Cole, who was off in his own world, carefully placing one foot exactly in front of the other, almost like he was walking a tightrope. 

“I didn’t,” she said, “but it doesn’t surprise me.”

“Me neither. Was hard to sleep with those owl eyes just staring at me though.”

She giggled. “I’m sure. Cassandra snores but at least I wasn’t being watched.”

“Small mercies.”

Cassandra huffed, coming back from the scouting mission she’d sent herself on. They all knew she just got antsy and needed to move, to feel like she was doing something. No one ever commented on it, allowing her the idiosyncrasy. 

Cole was not privy to this silent agreement. “You never find anything. Searching, scouring, seeking. You have to look, someone has to. Someone has to find nothing so they don’t find something.”

“Can someone shut him up?” Cassandra barked. 

Varric just laughed as Rosemary muttered, “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Nonsense,” Varric announced. “You can’t get mad at the kid for being right.”

“I can get mad at him for whatever I’d like,” she said, and Cole watched her stomp off. 

“She needs to be mad. Being mad is strong. Being wrong isn’t. It’s alright to be wrong sometimes.”

“It sure is, kid,” Varric replied. “I think someone should tell her that. 

“I can do it,” he said, already taking a step towards her.

Varric caught him by the scruff of his jacket. “Better not.”

They got lost on their way back. 

It was a miracle it hadn’t happened before considering how massive this place was. It was bound to happen eventually. 

But now she was pretty sure they were off the edge of what was recorded on the map. She didn’t make any move to stop them, not wanting to argue with Cassandra, who was still leading them confidently forwards. 

When they entered some sort of tunnel in the stone of a mountain, she knew for certain they were in the wrong place. They were meant to be going back home, how could Cassandra honestly think that this tunnel they’d never seen before was the right way?

But insisting they were going the wrong way would be too assertive and she’d rather someone else take the blame when they did realize, even if it took a few more days before they got back. 

“The mind is unsure but the feet keep moving. It can’t be wrong if they keep moving,” Cole said as he stepped out of the arched pathway. 

Cassandra turned to look at him before facing the front once more, barking back at him, “What does that mean?”

“You know, Seeker,” Varric said, “There’s no harm in backtracking a little. The terrain’s getting a little rough. I’m sure this way is fine for you, but some of us need a more familiar path.”

Before Cassandra could respond with anything, whether it would have been in agreement or something cruel directed at the dwarf, an ear piercing shriek sounded from overhead.

And then Rosemary looked up and saw a dragon flying over them. 

She staggered back instantly, taking cover back in the mountain path. Varric and Cassandra followed while Cole just stood there, out in the open, staring up at the dragon. 

“Kid,” Varric called, but he got no response. 

Varric ran out and dragged Cole back to safety. He peeked his head out anyways, his hat almost falling off with how far he needed to tilt his head back to see it. 

“She’s so big! Why can’t I look? She can’t hurt me. If she attacks, I won’t be there anymore.”

Varric chuckled. “Whatever you say, kid. You know, I killed a dragon once.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “My ancestors actually hunted dragons.”

Rosemary was more than content not being able to see the dragon, retreating further into the safety of the mountain. “I didn’t even think they existed. At least not anymore.”

That seemed to upset Cassandra, her brow furrowing. “You did not believe? So you thought the old stories were what? Lies?”

The last thing she wanted was to start an argument with Cassandra. “I don’t know that I thought about it much at all.”

Varric looked back, fingers moving slightly over his crossbow, almost caressing it. “Should I fire a shot as we leave?” he asked. “Say I fought another dragon?” 

Rosemary’s eyes widened but before she could tell him off, Cole said, “They’re all so hungry. That’s why she bites. Too many mouths to feed. No one wanders in anymore. She’s so high!”

His voice swapped effortlessly between the endless narration of others' thoughts to an almost breathy excitement at the dragon. 

If she didn’t hate him so much, it might have been endearing. 

After that, they sorted out how to get back on the right track, although Cassandra did insist upon regaling them with tales of her family's deeds. It seemed an instinct born largely of embarrassment, though she was unsure how being related to dragon killers absolved her of getting them lost. 

At least she hoped they were back on the right track. She supposed she didn’t know. It was less obviously wrong, that was for certain, but she supposed it was no real guarantee. To be honest, she just wanted to find something that would help them to orient themselves on one of the maps. She figured so long as they didn’t run into any more dragons, they should be fine, even if they did take a couple more wrong turns. 

They found no landmarks before the sun began to set and the four of them decided that they’d done enough walking for the day and settled down to camp. 

She preferred this, the smaller campsites without Inquisition troops there. They had more supplies in those bigger camps but she could never shake the sense of unease that came with them. 

Cassandra set up most of the camp, more than happy to do the heavy lifting all on her own. 

Varric was trying to show Cole how to start a fire using a rock and a dagger he’d taken off Cole from wherever he’d been hiding them. The spirit couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of it, although that didn’t stop him from trying. 

It was honestly a surprise that Cole didn’t have any magic, now that she thought about it. She was pretty sure mages got their magic through a connection with the fade, so surely someone who came from the fade should have at least a little magic, certainly enough to start a fire. 

And yet he sat there, smacking the knife into the dark rock. 

He managed to pull sparks a few times, but nothing ever seemed to come of it. 

Rosemary had little to do herself and found herself just watching. 

She also had no clue how to start a fire, but Varric hadn’t offered and so she was content to just watch. 

As Cassandra finished setting up camp, Varric gently took the knife and stone from Cole, sparking it into the little pile of brush he’d formed and almost instantly starting up a small fire. 

Cole drifted over to her as Varric stoked the flame into something more useful. 

“I’m not good at it,” he said, crouching beside where she was sitting on the floor of the forest. 

She shrugged. “Can’t be good at everything.”

“Who’s up for a round of Wicked Grace?” Varric asked as he stood up from the now roaring campfire. 

Cassandra groaned and announced that she would be going to sleep, as they all should, to keep up their strength. 

Rosemary shifted closer to Varric, asking, “How do you play? I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Never heard of Wicked Grace?” he cried in mock offense. “Well, that needs to be fixed immediately. What about you, kid, you want to learn?”

“They all lie face down, never seeing another. Sometimes when he wins he smiles and that they can see. The ace is his favorite, lives in his palm until everything is perfect.”

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She gave him a dirty look. “You better not be palming cards in this game, Tethras, or I’ll bring the wrath of the Inquisition on you.”

“You’re beginners, I’ll teach you to cheat later.”

Wicked Grace was not all that difficult. He insisted that the rules were simple because it was the cheating that made it fun. She practiced palming cards as Cole announced everyone's cards in his little riddles. 

Varric was clearly a practiced player, cheating or not. Cole seemed intent on gathering as many face cards from the deck as he could, repeatedly pulling cards from the middle despite Varric saying it was not allowed. Cole responded that this was his version of cheating and that Varric said they had to. 

Varric had just sighed and allowed Cole to grab the Jack he’d held up his sleeve to add to his hand. 

She ended up winning, not through any merit of her own but because she was better at understanding Cole’s card revealing riddles than Varric was. Cole was technically losing but he seemed to be playing his own game. 

She won nothing, with Varric insisting they’d just been playing for fun and that no one should bet anything real while teaching someone to play.

Somehow, she imagined he’d be singing a different tune if he’d won.

“He would,” Cole said. “Fair’s fair, have to pay a tutors fee. You taught us either way, but we only pay if you win?”

“It was just a joke kid,” he said, giving Cole a pat on the back. “Now, you should both get to sleep. Cassandra will kick my ass if you’re both dead on your feet tomorrow.”

“I don’t sleep,” Cole said. 

“Do me a favor? Give it a shot anyway.”

Cole nodded, content with the new task he’d been given.

They both went to their bedrolls, Cole just sitting atop his while she tucked into hers and went to bed, the sound of the crackling fire sending her to sleep. 

She woke up first. She usually did, always on alert. 

Varric and Cassandra were still fast asleep. Cassandra tended to wake with the sunrise, immediately setting off to work along with the light. Varric always needed to be dragged out of bed, saying that surely they could afford to relax for a few minutes out of their day. 

Rosemary woke before the sun did. Sneaking hours, she’d called them when she was younger. The term felt juvenile now, but at the very least they were aptly named.

Cole was nowhere near his bedroll at all. She spun around with a yawn, looking for him in the treeline, before seeing him crouched on the ground, a spark flying from his hands.

She blinked a few times, willing the world to come into focus as she forced the sleep out of her eyes. He was sitting there with what she could now recognize as that rock in his hand, the other striking the dagger against it. 

She ambled over to him, sitting beside him and his little pile of dry leaves. 

“Careful,” she said with a yawn. “You’ll set the forest on fire.”

His nose wrinkled up, his eyes fully focused on the task at hand. “I want to learn but it's hard, hard to remember when it's not what I was made to do.”

“Who cares?” she asked, leaning back on her arms to watch him. “Varric can already do it, you don’t need to learn.”

“Varric remembers,” he said. “Everything you say. Everything from me too. He files it away for stories and thoughts and because he cares. But I care and it’s still hard.”

“That’s fine. Unless you decide to take up writing, I think you’ll be fine without them.”

He huffed, dropping the rock and sheathing his knife under his jacket. She noted where it was being hidden, glad that it was stored somewhere and wasn’t some magical weapon he could summon. 

“You don’t understand. You remember too, but it’s because you're scared. It means something.”

She hated this sort of thing, the emotional talk about caring that he always cycled back to. Maybe she did want him to remember more. At least that way they’d have more to talk about. 

She was spared from having to respond by the sun waking from behind the horizon, Cassandra following close behind it. 

She kicked Varric gently as she rose and he groaned. “It’s not even light yet, surely we can sleep at least until we can see.”

Cassandra did not let him and before they knew it, they were off again.

It wasn’t long before they reached familiar land and Rosemary was properly assured that they were back on track. 

Her favorite part of traveling over familiar land was that she was guaranteed to not have to face a single rift. They walked for half a day of steady, uneventful travel before they had returned and no one else so much as tried to take their heads off. 

Bull was at the gates. His face lit up when he saw her and she felt her heart stutter in her chest. 

She couldn’t do this. 

It didn’t matter. She would do it because she had to.

She greeted him with a smile, following him happily into the tavern. 

His Chargers cheered as she walked in and she pushed her hair behind her ear, feigning self-consciousness.

A drink was thrust at her and she took it happily, sipping at it carefully so she wouldn’t be too comfortable, still ready to carefully prepare reactions as needed. 

The other Chargers kept talking to her. She understood that it was so she would feel welcome, but she really wished they would leave her alone.

And Bull was all over her. He almost felt pushy tonight. Or maybe she was tired from the trip, leaning into him a little too hard, not being careful enough about the signals she was sending. 

She kept spying Cole out of the corner of her eyes, watching carefully. No one else ever seemed to see him. She supposed it was probably a spirit thing because he was incredibly conspicuous in his looming. 

She wasn’t sure how long it was before Bull pulled her off to his room. She felt a little bit too far gone considering how little she’d drunk. 

She didn’t act it, her responses coming naturally as could be from years of training. 

She had mostly stopped listening to him, at least actively. He said something to her about how she could stop him. She didn’t listen, would just go along with it all. She knew how this worked. She’d been here before. 

She nodded along. It had long since stopped feeling real, this part of it. She had practiced it endlessly, knew instinctively exactly how she should respond, and did it without so much as having to process it. 

She was pretty sure he wanted to hit her. That was fine too, another thing she’d long since become accustomed to. Plenty of men got off on it, although Bull did not seem like one who wanted her to show how much she hated it. 

She played the wooed maiden, entranced by everything he did, completely overrun by pleasure. 

It was humiliating. She preferred when they let her show she didn’t like it. It made her less embarrassed after, at least.

She barely even recognized when it was over, too far inside of herself. 

She felt herself smiling, her throat a little hoarse, although she couldn’t remember what had caused it. 

She grinned and gave him a kiss between his horns as she said something about wanting to go take a bath 

He let her leave with little protest. He at least allowed her that small dignity

She wandered off in a haze, not moving towards her own room. He might check on her if that was where she went. 

She ended up in a little shack, half exposed to the cold and not nearly dressed enough for it

She had no idea why it had hit her so hard this time. She’d been here a hundred times before, it was a well worn tool of hers. It was stupid for it to remind her of before, when she was small. It wasn’t a fight for survival here. She could reap real rewards from it now. She knew the repercussions of her actions, knew what she stood to gain and how it might fall through and not pan out the way she planned. She chose to do this. What right did she have to feel so cold?

And she was fine. She’d slept with men for protection before, would do it again when she left this place. Would do it more, probably, with less of a bargaining chip than her vital, glowing hand provided her. 

She refused to cry, would not allow it. It was a foolish instinct. Nothing productive would come from it. 

She always felt worse afterwards. Weaker. Not like the put on show of weakness she wore like armour. No, that was real weakness, a refusal to do what needed to be done and be able to be content with it. 

Warriors didn’t cry when they killed nor when they were injured. Mages did not cry when their magic stung, ripping into people as it tore themselves apart, just a little. What right did she have?

“They do cry,” said a voice beside her, and she looked up at Cole from the floor. 

She hadn’t even realized she’d sunk to the floor, too lost in her thoughts to take in anything around her. 

He dropped to the ground beside her, something heavy and woolen being wrapped around her shoulders as he did. 

She hadn’t realized she was shaking until the warmth began to set in. Even as the cold faded away, leaving her bones, the shaking didn’t stop. She didn’t know how to make it stop. 

“I can get you something,” he said. “A hot drink, warm you from the inside. That’s where the shaking comes from. I can’t take it away but maybe the warmth will make it less.”

He went to stand up and she grabbed his arm, keeping him on the ground with her. 

She rested her head on his shoulder as he settled back down, furious at herself for being comforted by him. 

Furious at herself for needing to be comforted at all. 

He shifted nervously beneath her for a while before settling down, his hand sliding over to give her arm a squeeze. 

She wondered whose head he’d pulled that idea of comfort from. 

But still, for some impossible to understand reason, she was content sitting there beside him, feeling numb no matter how long the blanket sat around her shoulders.

And then the sun was shining through a broken roof, the morning having come after she’d slipped unknowingly out of consciousness. 

When she woke up she was alone, surrounded by blankets with a pile of dried leaves and a familiar rock lying a few feet from her.

[azullumi]

Hello,

I hope you and your family are well and in good health😃.

I am writing to kindly ask for your support in reblogging my pinned post on my page❤🙏.

We talk about our story in Gaza and the difficult life we ​​live now in light of the absence of the minimum necessities of life and famine, and also about my elderly mother who suffers from chronic diseases, my deceased father, and our home that was destroyed.🥹

I sincerely appreciate your help and look forward to your continued support🥺❤️

I hope you can support and stand.

Share my story.

Pin my story to your page.

Everything helps.

Please share any video from my blog and share the new post that I published on my blog, Perhaps with your participation, it will save my family’s life and we will reach the goal and get out of Gaza.

I don't want to lose hope, please💔

Please do everything you can for me💔💔

Thank you very much.

Ahmed Al-Nabih from Gaza

https://gofund.me/b477b817

Hello, Ahmed!! I hope you and your family are able to be safe soon!! Sorry for my late response to your message, my tumblr hasn’t been working properly lately 🥹 I’m praying for you, and may you and your family find safety and security.

Please donate to Ahmed if you can!! And consider sharing his posts and links:

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny, Pt. 12

Morvani, after a good many more instructions, gestured to the ashes below, at a particular bone and a bit of leather beneath it. "I want you to take one of my bones, and the silver sandals I was wearing when they burned me."

"I thought that was--wasn't allowed," Haj-deek said, "To take things from family tombs."

"It's perfectly fine if you belong to the family and are being told to do it, both of which I am doing now," she said, "The bone will allow you to better ask for the protection of your family, should you need it, and the sandals...well..."

Here a rather devilish grin crossed Morvani's face.

"My sons will recognize them, if they have forgotten everything else of their mortal lives."

Haj-deek couldn't help but laugh at that, but then thought of something that quickly took it back. She made certain to speak only when she had knelt to take the bone (a knuckle, she thought) and ash-covered sandals. "I was told to close the entrance I fell into. What--what should I do? What would you have me do?"

"Do as you were asked. I do not want our tomb pillaged and plundered by bandits and thieves. Mark it somehow, so later you might be able to return...but do as you were asked. But before you leave - follow me."

"Follow you?" she questioned, as Morvani's spectral form left the ashen pile. "Where?"

"Someone must make the introductions, and as your father is unable, it must be me. It is time for you to meet your family."

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

As it turned out, one of her ancestors was formerly employed in ensuring a long-buried mine stayed intact, and was thus able to show her how to collapse the doorway. "Who would have thought that I could help a member of my house so long after my death? With simple knowledge from a lifetime in the mines?"

And despite her impending departure there was a small horde of Dagoths, of all ages, who would wait and watch her as she closed what had been their only link to the outside world in two eras.

It warmed her heart to see them so happy to see her and help her. Once more she felt the glow of no longer being alone...but it was neutered of its fullness when she watched the rocks collapse over the spot.

I will come back, she thought to herself, I WILL.

She could not think how to mark the spot, until she looked at her map. And making a rough guess - it was between two others nearby - she marked it, waiting carefully for the ink to dry before setting off for the Erabenimsun camp again.

Han-Ammu was one thing. He greeted her kindly enough, and after Haj-deek explained what she'd done, said, "I now name you Erabenimsun Nerevarine, Champion of the Erabenimsun, and Protector of the People. By collapsing the entrance of the tomb of House Dagoth, you have saved us all a great deal of trouble."

He directed her then to Manirai's yurt. The others of the tribe she'd met so far had been relatively friendly, but the wise woman's face clouded on sight of her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"The shadow of evil is over you, child, that is what is wrong, and you must fight it."

"There's no evil over me. At least...no more than anyone else on Vvardenfell...I'm here to be declared Nerevarine. Not that I need it, really, because I already have the ring, but...I've guessed I should do this properly."

Haj-deek removed her glove and lifted her hand to show the ring. (Vivec had warned her to avoid this, but he'd also told her to come straight back from Tel Fyr, and she hadn't done that either...)

"Most unusual, and I will declare you Nerevarine - but please, take heed. Pray to Azura, show your faithfulness. Before it is too late."

It's already too late.

"Has--has she told you so?"

"I do not need to be told to know. I see the signs, more than I ever have before. The omens do not favor you, child, is what I mean to say."

"You--tell fortunes, then? I didn't know you wise women could see the future."

"We must be able to divine it to some degree, or we would not be wise women. Often our predictions come of spotting patterns that repeat over the years, of studying the personalities of those around us. And this you call fortune-telling! But no - sometimes visions we are granted, which we are always quick to write down."

"But you know nothing of me." Haj-deek looked to her feet. She'd changed into Morvani's silver sandals, liking instantly the high-quality yet worn-in way they felt, and the slight sheen on them was a good distraction. "Do you?"

"I have seen--" Manirai said, "I have seen you, dressed in the armor of House Indoril, skewered before Lady Azura. And for this reason I warn you - do not fight your destiny. Fill the shoes Azura has fashioned for you, walk the path she sets before you, and do not anger her needlessly, for I can only assume that is what would prompt such a thing."

Haj-deek merely nodded, refusing to lie to the woman's face. The lack of an answer concerned the wise woman, but nothing more was said on the matter. She was declared Nerevarine, and that was that.

But skewered? SKEWERED? That ugly word repeated in her head. The Indoril Armor, too...well, she'd just have to make sure never to wear the damn stuff. The ordinators didn't like it when people wore that stuff anyway, so it wasn't as if it would be hard to avoid. There were better armors to wear that wouldn't give trouble.

It was a good thing the woman didn't seem to know who her family was, or that would have made things even more difficult...might have even made her refuse to name her Nerevarine at all.

She decided to spend the night there, at the Erabenimsun camp, as they happened to have a (tiny) empty yurt, and were more than happy to show her how to set the thing up. She had a few herbs and an ash yam, and contributed a sea shanty when someone at dinner called for a song.

Despite the jovial atmosphere, the pall Manirai's warning had put over things persisted, and she went to sleep fitfully.

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

When Haj-deek opened her eyes again, she was...not sure where she was, other than inside of a cave that glowed at one end with a fire pit. Attempts to change the setting as she usually did in dreams didn't yield any results. The smallest details refused to yield to her.

So she waited.

And she heard him, before she saw him.

Who are you?

She started to say the name she had borne for fifteen years, but if he was who she thought--she answered a moment later, "My name is Sunnar."

The sound of footsteps. Haj-deek looked about, glancing first one way and then another, and saw nothing. But she blinked - and then he was there. She stumbled back, seeing for the first time the man in his entirety, the same as her mother had.

A tall dunmer, dark of hair, whose minimal clothing was all red and black - the loincloth marked with a Sixth House symbol. But it was the mask that stood out to her most - golden, impassive, completely unreadable.

She stepped back, reaching for a weapon subconsciously - and found she had none.

You do not need them here.

There was silence for a moment, and then his hands raised to her face.

So what I saw was correct, and not merely a trick of their blighted eyes. You are your mother's child.

"Y-your child," she stammered. If this was not merely a dream, perhaps he was speaking to her at a safe distance, afraid...of what, she did not know.

I fear--nothing, came the swift reply, in a tone that shook nonetheless. On my own behalf, at least. You have never been in greater danger than you are right now. You must--you must come to me.

"But the prophecies--?"

They have been dashed to bits on the rocks before, this time shall be no different. Know this - you are unsafe anywhere I or my faithful are not. The Tribunal seek your end, whatever the false god Vivec may have told you, he lies. He lies, he will do nothing but lie, and I will not lose you to his machinations.

Another pause, and a sudden stab of pain in her arm.

No... Dagoth Ur's voice choked, in a way she could never have anticipated, I will send my faithful after you. I will have you brought here, I will not let this happen AGAIN--

But from that dim-lit embrace she was dragged, from the world of dreams and into the world of the living.

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

Haj-deek gasped as she jolted awake. In the darkness of the small yurt she saw nothing at first--but then there was the glint of a lens. She felt the blade going into her shoulder, and with a shove the owner of it was forced back, without their weapon.

It was pulled out, and she cast a healing spell as she rushed forward to attack her would-be attacker, a movement which roused Sunchaser beside her.

Only once the attacker was dead and she sat tired and breathing hard, did she get the chance to check their pockets unimpeded.

There were no notes with words, but there was a symbol she could easily understand. The black hand.

Her attacker was one of the Dark Brotherhood.

[disventurecamptakes]

yesterday was a very rough day for me. I was very anxious which caused me a lot of stomach pain and headache. Kept walking back and forth hoping and praying that when the episodes drop I won't see what I ended up seeing. I could barely sleep the night before it either. Then I saw the google drive link for the episode on twitter, downloaded it and skipped straight to the end just to see who goes home, hoping that all that constant pain and fighting wasn't for nothing. Turns out they were all for nothing. I made a comment about it on reddit then I just cried my eyes out. All for nothing, yet another lose and proof that I have no luck, that nothing in my life ever wants to work out the way I want. I cried and my chest hurt so much that I passed out and my mom had to take me to the hospital. I am fine and can think and talk properly now, however i have no desire for anything anymore. Absolutely nothing. And whenever I think about what happened I just feel bad. I was able to watch season 3 episode 16 in full a few hours ago and was completely let down by how they wrote him. It was so awful. I was able to stomach how he went home last season but here? This ain't it. I haven't felt this bad watching a disventure camp episode in my life and I have 0 desire to continue watching it, and as someone who constantly defended the show this really hurts more than it should. I feel like I got stabbed. Alec haters won, I lost. Congrats to everyone who wanted him to go early, you won, he's not gonna compete ever again. I bet all of them are celebrating right now, good for them.

So this leads me to my goodbye. Everyone i know told me to leave everything about this show behind for my own well beng. And that's what I'm going to do. Thank you to everyone who liked me, and to those who didn't, I am sorry. I had some fun times here and I'm happy I was able to make some people laugh either with my pants jokes, my fanarts or with my love for Alec, which yes, is genuine, I do genuinely have a crush on him even if he's not real, even if he's a piece of shit, he's my piece of shit. i'm gonna keep this account up for a few more hours then I will delete it for good unless the mods will be faster than me and delete this thread before it for being too off topic. No more coming back unless maybe some miracle happens and I find out that either him or another character I really love will compete in another season. But i'm not gonna be that lucky because this whole thing proved that I never will be, no matter how much I beg for it. Why remain here when I'm not interested in any of the future episodes and the show will likely end for good after it, if not forever then definitely for a couple of years. No point in staying here. Goodbye and as Alec once said, "Connor is my husband, and I love him."

Anon are you okay?

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

yesterday was a very rough day for me. I was very anxious which caused me a lot of stomach pain and headache. Kept walking back and forth hoping and praying that when the episodes drop I won't see what I ended up seeing. I could barely sleep the night before it either. Then I saw the google drive link for the episode on twitter, downloaded it and skipped straight to the end just to see who goes home, hoping that all that constant pain and fighting wasn't for nothing. Turns out they were all for nothing. I made a comment about it on reddit then I just cried my eyes out. All for nothing, yet another lose and proof that I have no luck, that nothing in my life ever wants to work out the way I want. I cried and my chest hurt so much that I passed out and my mom had to take me to the hospital. I am fine and can think and talk properly now, however i have no desire for anything anymore. Absolutely nothing. And whenever I think about what happened I just feel bad. I was able to watch season 3 episode 20 in full a few hours ago and was completely let down by how they wrote her. It was so awful. I was able to stomach how she went home last season but here? This ain't it. I haven't felt this bad watching a disventure camp episode in my life and I have 0 desire to continue watching it, and as someone who constantly defended the show this really hurts more than it should. I feel like I got stabbed. Ally haters won, I lost. Congrats to everyone who wanted her to go early, you won, she's not gonna compete ever again. I bet all of them are celebrating right now, good for them.

So this leads me to my goodbye. Everyone i know told me to leave everything about this show behind for my own well beng. And that's what I'm going to do. Thank you to everyone who liked me, and to those who didn't, I am sorry. I had some fun times here and I'm happy I was able to make some people laugh either with my pants jokes, my fanarts or with my love for Ally, which yes, is genuine, I do genuinely have a crush on her even if she's not real, even if she's a piece of shit, she's my piece of shit. i'm gonna keep this account up for a few more hours then I will delete it for good unless the mods will be faster than me and delete this thread before it for being too off topic. No more coming back unless maybe some miracle happens and I find out that either her or another character I really love will compete in another season. But i'm not gonna be that lucky because this whole thing proved that I never will be, no matter how much I beg for it. Why remain here when I'm not interested in any of the future episodes and the show will likely end for good after it, if not forever then definitely for a couple of years. No point in staying here. Goodbye and as Ally once said, Thank you! I'm going there.

this is so sad can we get a GANG GANG in the chat

[gabessquishytum]

JESUS H CHRIST that last warprize hob ask. MY GOD I am going feral. That is the stuff, that is my jam okay, that's what I'm talking about. Dream being a sadistic bastard of a king, YES PLEASE.

I love imagining Hob in tears and begging, this is uncharted territory for him. He's Hob Gadling, roguish charming mercenary for hire, who's always been able to talk himself out of trouble. He's always been the one to take care of his partners, but now. Now, he's been reduced to a plaything, dressed in skimpy fabrics, decorated with piercings designed to enhance his sensitivity to a 100, body changed to be better suited for pleasure, his and that of his king.

Oh how he struggled against his bonds at first, all the escape attempts when he managed to recover his mental faculties enough to be aware of his situation. The punishments he wrought were absolutely brutal, he always ended up a pleading, bleeding mess begging for forgiveness on all fours.

I'm drooling at the thought of a permanent change, like the piercings (body part of your choice) OR maybe a womb tattoo. OH my god, let me bring that up real quick. Maybe the aphrodisiac candies aren't enough to keep Hob in line anymore, and so Dream needed to find a way to keep him docile, on a more permanent basis. Muwahahahahaahha

Cue Hob in restraints, gagged and bound to a table. And he's bawling his eyes out as he realized what's happening, crying out no no no please no please I'll do anything, though it is muffled. And Dream is there obviously, getting off at the sight of Hob's big pleading brown eyes, but he needs to focus on the ritual now. And once it's all over, he'll make sure to kiss all of Hob's tears away, as an apology. And who knows, perhaps a pregnancy or two might distract Hob for the foreseeable future.

I'm sorry, that last line was an excuse for Dream to put Hob in a mating press position. I'm so sorry.

I pray and hope someone writes the full fic. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

-Love Yan Anon <3

Ajajdjfjggk here's a link to that other sadistic bastard dream ask <3

Magic womb tattoo tho? Magic womb tattoo <33

Hob is on his back, legs spread, and Dream is looming over him like... Well, like a nightmare. Hob has his mouth full of a leather gag and he's writhing, biting, straining against the cuffs keeping him down. When Dream starts working on him, it's agony. The magic seeps into his blood and it hurts so much... but Dream is whispering to him sweetly, telling him how brave he is and how it's all going to be OK. Hob is so strong, he's going to survive and thrive and be Dream’s good little pet. Doesn't he want to be good? He knows how hard it is for Hob to behave, but Dream’s going to make it so much easier for him. He'll be so much happier when he's calm and behaving properly.

The tattoo is of course visible for everyone to see on the outside. It curls around Hob’s lower belly, reaching down between his legs. He's not allowed to wear anything that covers up the tattoo now, so it's constantly on show. Under the skin, there's a lovely womb ready and waiting to take the king’s seed.

Hob wants to rebel, of course. His personality hasn't changed. But his blood is full of magic now, and it compels him to be good. There are moments when he misbehaves - Dream is always rather amused by his pets bad behaviour, and he enjoys the opportunity to spank Hob’s arse raw - but mostly, Hob is... docile. Sweet. Devastatingly horny, too, constantly crawling between Dream’s legs and mewling sweetly to be fucked.

Dream has a mating bench specially made for his pet, as a gift for how well he did with the ritual. Hob is gently strapped into place on the rich, comfortable leather. His legs spread open, his blood pounding through his veins with the knowledge that he’s going to be fucked and bred. He knows that he won't be allowed up again until Dream is convinced that he's pregnant - he's in for the long haul.

A week ago, the idea of his belly swelling with the king’s child would make him shudder. Now... he gazes down at the ink on his skin that claims him as Dream’s possession, his object, his thing. And to his horror and mild disgust, he finds himself looking forward to the future.

[enden-k]

Both pinned posts seem to be working well! Maybe the only thing is your nsfw twit link on your other blog (correct @ and spelling! Just leads to tumblr instead of twit)

Sorry that you have to keep repeating yourself on certain things 😔 I hope you have a good day despite it and I love the small wips and rambles you've given over the week! My first friend comes in a few hours, pray for my social battery! - 🍋

oh i forgot, i think it keeps changing to it whenever i edit my pinned there. i fixed it now (i hope)

speaking of small wips, rlly am trying to draw properly but somehow it takes ages and im back to sleepiest lil guy in all of the city mode (its the heat) 😭

anw may you have lots of fun (and energy) <3

[real-total-drama-takes]

yesterday was a very rough day for me. I was very anxious which caused me a lot of stomach pain and headache. Kept walking back and forth hoping and praying that when the episodes drop I won't see what I ended up seeing. I could barely sleep the night before it either. Then I saw the google drive link for the episode on twitter, downloaded it and skipped straight to the end just to see who goes home, hoping that all that constant pain and fighting wasn't for nothing. Turns out they were all for nothing. I made a comment about it on reddit then I just cried my eyes out. All for nothing, yet another lose and proof that I have no luck, that nothing in my life ever wants to work out the way I want. I cried, then my chest hurt so much that my mom had to take me to the hospital. I am fine and can think and talk properly now, however i have no desire for anything anymore. Absolutely nothing. And whenever I think about what happened I just feel bad. I was able to watch episode 2 in full a few hours ago and was completely let down by how they wrote him. It was so awful. I was able to stomach how he went home last season but here? This ain't it. I haven't felt this bad watching a total drama episode in my life and I have 0 desire to continue watching it, and as someone who constantly defended the show this really hurts more than it should. I feel like I got stabbed. Chase haters won, I lost. Congrats to everyone who wanted him to go early, you won, he's not gonna compete ever again. I bet all of them are celebrating right now, good for them.

So this leads me to my goodbye. Everyone i know told me to leave everything about this show behind for my own well beng. And that's what I'm going to do. Thank you to everyone who liked me, and to those who didn't, I am sorry. I had some fun times here and I'm happy I was able to make some people laugh either with my pants jokes, my fanarts or with my love for Chase, which yes, is genuine, I do genuinely have a crush on him even if he's not real, even if he's a piece of shit, he's my piece of shit. i'm gonna keep this account up for a few more hours then I will delete it for good unless the mods will be faster than me and delete this thread before it for being too off topic. No more coming back unless maybe some miracle happens and I find out that either him or another character I really love will compete in another season. But i'm not gonna be that lucky because this whole thing proved that I never will be, no matter how much I beg for it. Why remain here when I'm not interested in any of the future episodes and the show will likely end for good after it, if not forever then definitely for a couple of years. No point in staying here. Goodbye and as Chase once said, have a good life./c

[fainthedcherry]

MY ARTFIGHT ATTACKS OF THIS YEAR SO FAR!!!! I planned to attack more but...This is the first year I actually like- actively am getting attacked OUTSIDE of my mutuals! Which IS exciting but- at the same time as you can tell...I don't have time to attack people in result omg xD

The first drawing, the character Natsuki, belongs to YoyoyoRiooo on Insta and AF!

The second drawing, the Zora Legzonie, belongs to @meatdog on AF and Tumblr here! (I believe this is their tumblr as the link was scuffed on AF and had to retype it properly and hope this IS their blog LOL) (BTW, this drawing was referenced off weird stock images.)

The graph-paper'd doodles, Calypso, Hazel, Sunflower ALL belong to Luna-Lazuli on DA, TH and AF!!!

I've been revenge-chaining like 4 diff users with no joke, so I got 0 time to think of what to type here otherwise LMFAO

I don't wanna yap too much in this desc, as I'm mega-busy and trying to avenge 4 diff drawings in under 3 days isn't easy for me xD. The 2nd attack here of the zora, was an attack I've drawn tuesday I think, and then wednesday-friday I got 4 ATTACKS AGAIN- SO YEAH I'M AS WE SPEAK SKETCHING THE 4TH REVENGE DRAWING (final one actually for said Yoyoyo person, as it'll be the only characters left, that I haven't drawn of theirs!)

BUT- I can mention, that I loved doing something new again via combining pencils and markers!! I didn't really- like do it “symbiotically” if that makes sense? But yeah, in these drawings the pencils played a much more active role in me pulling off some things with shading or reflections! I got more polychromos, which means, I can combine more and more of the 2 in the future! I can't wait to have more time to draw traditionally though...I might crank back on revenges next year bc I just this year simply had so little time for it

I STILL wish for a 300-Ohuhu set to magically appear in front of my doorstep though some day. A delulu guy can dream! 🥴

BUT YEAH!!! HERE'S PROOF THAT I STILL EXIST!!!! I SHALL SCHEDULE A POST FOR TOMORROW,, WHERE YOU CAN SEE MY 4 REVENGES,,, AND IF I FINISH IN TIME I'LL ADD THE OTHER 4.

YES THIS IS THE 2ND TIME I'M DRAWING 4 REVENGES. THAT MAKES 8 REVENGES. 5 ATTACKS THIS YEAR. I'M TBH PROUD OF MY RATIO THO. I for YEARS wanted to make 10 drawings in the time of AF. BC I'm such a slow artist, this is actually a MASSIVE achievement for me. 😭✨

I HOPE TO PROPERLY CATCH UP ON MY SOCIAL MEDIA SOON THOUGH. I have SO much crap to reply to and SO much to respond to and do in GENERAL with my social medias. I made a Cara acc to get off Insta as an artist officially, so YEAH....Praying things work out and I stay off any social medias planning to use AI algos that feed off posts. We as artists are not safe anymore everywhere unfortunately.. :")

But I'm hopeful, this'll die out in a few years...

[noxexistant]

Hiya! this might be really out of the blue but Ive been thinking about mother Delancey recently and like, what do you think happened to her? what do you think her relationship was like with Oscar and Morris if she was ever around?

hi! don’t you worry, i am literally always down to be asked literally anything about the delanceys - and i’m particularly excited about this question, because i do have a lot of thoughts about both of the delanceys’ parents. there’s lots of things i’ve slipped into fics in sort of one-off mentions, but haven’t been able to properly do anything with just yet, but i definitely have a lot of ideas. the topic of the delanceys’ mother interests me a lot, particularly how oscar “i guess he didn’t take care of me” delancey doesn’t mention her once.

cw suicide, mental health issues, abuse, standard my-delanceys stuff

first off, just to establish my basis in my own personal lil universe: ‘delancey’ isn’t their real name. oscar made it up on the spot - based on a nearby signpost - when snyder asked for their family name and he couldn’t stomach saying their father’s. i don’t have a solid idea for their real last name, i believe blaze uses ‘williams’ - i just like it as this clear distinction between the delanceys and their parents. not even a name linking them. harder to trace them, behind the rumours that follow them and race who knows their father’s face only because he saw them kicking it in.

their mother was deeply mentally ill. deeply emotionally absent too, checked out in the face of this clearly volatile relationship the boys had with their father, one which i imagine involved a lot of violence from a very early age. both boys are unwanted, a bastard and a son tying their mother to this man she had to marry to rectify mistakes she’d already made - oscar - and now she’s stuck, she’s here, on this isolated farm with nothing but her awful family to cling to. she ignores the boys being hurt and neglected and mistreated, out of this mixture of self-preservation and her own resentment for them - she hurts them plenty too, on her bad days - and it’s so much easier just to drink and drift. pointless to get involved, defending boys she doesn’t care to defend. her focus is survival, just living one day to the next with whatever she has to do and take and think to cope. she gets a factory job when the farm starts failing and money gets tight, and suddenly she’s gone long hours working too hard rather than sitting for hours listlessly at the dining room table or on the porch, often praying endlessly and muttering hail marys. and then suddenly she’s dead. it’s almost like she was never there in the first place.

i see her having bipolar or something adjacent. something the boys understood as something unpredictable, pushing and pulling her between good days where she’d be absentminded and daydreaming, and bad days where she’d be on a hair trigger to attack them or start screaming over anything they’d done. she’s overworked and overwrought, a woman who needed help and love and never got either, so the boys only ever really knew her as a shell of a person. a ghost of a mother. morris loved her most, desperate for her attention and most likely to get it, albeit just in a brief stroke of his hair he’d struggle not to flinch away from, but oscar resented her. cut all his own desire for her love into pieces and sharpened them into hatred, same as he did for their father.

she killed herself when the boys were still living on the farm, maybe about ten and twelve years old, just a year or so before their father disappeared and they both left for the streets and then the refuge. their father never told them that she killed herself, just came home drunk a few days after the fact and told them she was dead - they assumed it was a factory accident - but wiesel let it slip to oscar years later while spouting cruelty at him. maybe she threw herself from a factory window, from a bridge, into the hudson. it’s a secret oscar keeps fiercely from morris, though he lives terrified that someday wiesel’ll tell morris, drunk and angry and mean, just like he told oscar.

(i also think that jack’s dad killed himself, and it adds a whole other element because Foils.)

oscar thinks a lot about catholic views on suicide and whether ma would’ve made it to heaven, whether pa might. he doesn’t even know if either was baptised, and he’s pretty sure suicide sends you to hell anyhow, but he tries not to think about it. tries not to think about their mother in general, a woman who never did much for them except doom them to being alive and then leave them to it. a sentence she couldn’t even serve herself. he thinks about her whenever he sees the virgin mary, madonna, our lady. he thinks about the prayer cards she kept, and sometimes tore to shreds when she was having episodes. he thinks about her looking on, emotionless, whatever their father was doing. he thinks about her silhouette at the dining table. she was beautiful, beneath everything. morris looks just like her.

morris feels a lot of sympathy for her - or tries to. he searches for answers in his prayers, in his sleepless nights. he wonders if he might’ve done something wrong for her not to love him or oscar. unlike with pa, it’s harder for him to think that his beatings from her weren’t caused by him being bad, deserving it. when oscar spits disparaging words about her, spits on her memory in his bitterest moments - usually when morris brings her up - morris will argue for her. even if it gets him hit just like how she used to hit, a sudden manic burst of anger that leaves him reeling, oscar breathing hard with that fire in his eyes and looking like ma even with all of pa in his face, morris will defend her. try to remember her face and fail, only able to see her silhouetted in lamplight. see her in his own reflection, if he catches himself at the right angle.

if their dad’s a monster loose on the city, she’s a ghost haunting them.

[themagikmirror]

LET'S REVIEW🔎 6 MONTHS : 10 VIDEOS

It's been a labor of love and a privilege to do the work of channeling Spirit and ancestors that want the best for us in 2024! As I prepare to move through 6 more months of sidereal astrology, divination and channeling messages, I want to reflect over the first half of the year. It's always a great idea to look back before moving forward...

Hindsight is 2020

I invite you to review all videos you feel called to! Especially if you never watched any of these videos within the moments they were posted for! The next 6 months (summer + fall 2024) will begin producing fruits from things that we've sown and worked for. Likewise, it will also reveal consequences for areas we've refused to properly manage, take accountability for and grow through. My favorite time of the year is actually the second half. Everything just seems fuller and bigger. I am excited to move into new seasons and to start seeing major manifestations. If you KNOW you've done your best and been in alignment with what Spirit has asked of you, then you have NOTHING to be scared of! I'm excited to experience more retrogrades, our second eclipse season, the conclusion of Saturn in Aquarius and more Jupiter in Taurus because I know that no matter what happens if we continue to align with God's guidance its all meant for our highest and greatest good. This post excludes any written content, reels/tiktoks I've posted and my latest video. You'll have to go find those yourself 😉 2024 long form video content is listed in chronological order below ⬇️ Knock yourself out!

VIDEO #1

VIDEO #2

VIDEO #3

VIDEO #4

VIDEO #5

VIDEO #6

VIDEO #7

VIDEO #8

VIDEO #9

VIDEO #10

Thank you for being here! If you enjoy my content & it helps you unpack and process what's going on in your life, stop hesitating to connect with me on a more personal level! By clicking the link in my bio or watching these video you'll be led to my Facebook Page where you can find and hit "BOOK NOW" in the bio! This is how you can schedule spiritual work with me that's ALL ABOUT YOU! Meet a divine reflection of yourself by allowing me to help you better connect with your highest path & Spirit. Hope to meet you one day!

✨🪞💖🕯️✨🪞💖🕯️✨🪞💖🕯️✨🪞

[jujywrites]

Invincible Summer

howhoops, I forgot to actually announce this on my fic blog *facepalm* For @holly-poly 2023, I got the opportunity and motivation to properly write out a plotbunny I've been keeping for at least 3 years. As sometimes happens, it turned out to be about 3 times as long as I had thought it would be, so I'll just link to my usuals and leave a preview here. Over 3k is my full-post limit here, even with Read More, lol.

Shout-out to the lovely folks of @polyamships for their support!

AO3

FF.net

and see a preview below~

***

A rather mousy girl chooses the seat next to her ten minutes before the first class begins; Mayu has been there for twenty minutes already as she doesn’t have much else to do on that day of the first week. She keeps skimming the textbook for this class.

“Hello,” the girl Mayu does not yet know says. “I’m Sohma Kana. Pleased to meet you.”

“Hello. Likewise.” The bare minimum she can say to avoid being rude.

“Are you planning to enter the medical field? I am; right now I’m a physiology major. I think I’d like to be a nurse, or maybe work in the lab and make discoveries, or maybe…”

Clearly, not looking at the girl makes no difference in whether she talks, so Mayu gives up on trying to read her textbook.

Sohma Kana’s face is somewhat flushed, as if she ran to class. Her eyes are hazel, bright and eager; her hair, unlike Mayu’s, is too fashionably short for a ponytail, landing at her chin. However, she wears a decorative hair clip featuring one of the Sanrio characters whose name escapes her.

Mayu notices two things quickly; Sohma-san stopped speaking, and she has an expectant look on her face. This leads to a third thing: Mayu blushing (and praying that Kana doesn’t see it, and blushing harder). Because Sohma-san asked a question, probably, and Mayu hadn’t heard anything because she had been too distracted, maybe even staring.

“Shiraki. Shiraki Mayuko. I’m not, this isn’t, it’s just an elective. I’m studying to be a teacher. A high school teacher,” she adds, the realization dawning.

“I see… This way you can have a backup career as a school nurse!” Sohma-san beams a smile, giggling freely. “Well, Mayu-chan— is it all right to call you Mayu-chan? You can call me Kana-chan— let’s make a study pact.”

“Study pact?” Mayu stammers, caught off guard by... Kana-san’s eagerness.

The girl smiles, undeterred. “Let’s support each other by sharing notes if one of us misses a class, cheering each other on, that sort of thing.”

Mayu much prefers to study alone and keep to herself (because in her skewed logic, that way only she will know if she screwed something up). She has a way of studying that isn’t meant to be disturbed, and—

Kana-san gazes at her, quietly earnest. “It can just be for this course, even if we have other classes together. I do hope we have more classes in common!”

Why does she feel like a goose being imprinted on by a cygnet? She laughs shortly. “We just met. You hardly know me.”

A cat-like grin steals over her face for a moment. “I have good instincts. You seem like an interesting, nice person, and I like you. Besides, if we do end up in other courses then I’ll learn more about you!”

Mayu feels warm everywhere, not just her face anymore; she shifts in her seat, scratching the back of her neck, and admits defeat. “All right.”

[unluckyadept]

Do you still continue the story of Felix or have you stopped?

//I'm not sure if you're asking about IALS₁ (“It's A Long Story”), which chronicles the events of The Broken Seal and The Lost Age, or if you're referring to IALS₃ (“It's Another Long Story”) which covers the events after the first Mourning Moon and before the second Mourning Moon.

In both cases, I have been working behind the scenes.

For IALS₁, I have been working behind the scenes for a long time. I had a tentative plan to resume working on v2.0 in 2025, and then in 2026, but as of now that's been pushed back to 2027 at the earliest due to restructuring my life to have more balance to it.

The thing is, I am not sure how I'd actually post the story, because Staff—in their infinite “wisdom”—changed how HTML posts work and practically gutted ALL the necessary components I use for storytelling, which include (but are not limited to):

1.) The ability to have multiple links in the same line of text without breaking 2.) The ability to center text 3.) The ability to use a Read More in an HTML-edit-type post 4.) The ability to use hover text at all 5.) The ability to use text shadows at all 6.) The ability to use font colors of my choosing

Any post or draft made after mid August 2023 is affected by this change, but posts and drafts made prior are still able to be edited and work properly/fully/as desired. So my options are either:

1.) Find 261 non-reblog posts on unluckyadept to recycle into story posts 2.) Git gud and learn some more CSS to make my own website (something very basic, but functional) to be able to post things that will display the way I want them to display or 3.) Pray Staff changes how HTML posts work so that things are fully functional again

The way HTML posts work now is so limiting, so bad that I will choose Door #2 if I absolutely have to. 💧

As for IALS₃, re: what are, for Felix, “current” events…

There are actually two posts detailing certain events—most notably the rise of the first Mourning Moon—that have taken place since early 2022. Other events have been written out and only shared on Discord.

To put it briefly (and trust me, this IS the SHORT version):

The Tolbi Empire wishes to use Lalivero's coastline to launch a fleet to sail for Lemuria, to capture it and make use of the life-extending waters. To this end, they have tried invading Lalivero again multiple times, with the war starting in full with their first invasion of recent years.

Felix accepted the responsibility of being in charge of Lalivero's defenses as they resist the Tolbi Empire. To this end, he has maintained the Nol Gate (more on that below) and the Suhalla Gate—and for a time in 2022, was on the offensive, even taking a key stronghold from the Tolbi in the summer. The war turned for the much worse a few months after that, though, and they've had some pretty heavy losses. He's become convinced over these last few years that he has no choice but to strike for the heart of the Tolbi Empire, as absolutely deadly as that may be for him and those who go with him.

Sheba has been helping her father in running Lalivero itself. For a while, she was crucial in maintaining the peace between refugees from Suhalla (which was razed in 2020, but later recaptured) and the native Laliverans. The Suhallan refugees mostly returned to Suhalla after it was recaptured, and Sheba became busy helping the Laliverans flee to Contigo in a diaspora that has greatly reduced the population remaining in that part of Gondowan.

Prox has become involved with helping Lalivero resist the Tolbi; Prox itself has taken Loho (which was abandoned some time ago by the dwarves after they finished excavating it) as a stronghold to defend the Western Sea (and particularly to serve as the first line of defense for the Kalt Islanders and the Northern Reaches).

During the last few years, several Proxans have been promoted to Warrior status. I have names for several: Kalora, Eleanor, Orynar, and Falkner. Kalora and Orynar are in charge of Loho's defenses. Eleanor and Falkner are with Felix to assist him in running the two Gates that block the way to the Tolbi: the Suhalla Gate and the Nol Gate. (The Nol Gate is located in the mountains Felix raised up West of the Nol River to cut off easy access to Lalivero, a feat which spent him so thoroughly that he was unable to use Psynergy again for quite a while.)

After being officially exiled by the Senate following the lighting of the beacons, Piers dedicated his life to helping negotiate commonly agreed maritime law for the budding fleets of the Eastern Sea. He was able to keep Briggs and (and now Eoleo, too) in check for the most part, but THAT came to an abrupt end when Xian (who had been aggressively seizing territory for a while) declared open war on Champa (among others). As of now, he's very busy with that conflict.

Felix is actively working on preparing for the foray, but it takes a lot of time to do that and he has to be very careful in how he goes about executing his ploy. I hope to have the opportunity to write out his misadventures with that plan, but it probably won't be until late Autumn this year, maybe later than that… and if I get the time and energy for it, I'm not sure if I will post it openly, either. It's going to be one of those “The ‘Read More’ exists for a REASON, you fool” loooooooooooong posts (or series of posts), but remember what I said about Read More not working right? ☹️ There's that, and I can count the number of people who -might- be interested in reading that content on one hand—which is a pretty big damper on motivation even when the inspiration does exist.

Thank you for the Ask; I'd be happy to answer more questions if you have them!

—T.