#i did try to guide people away from some things i considered deceptions but gently

[not-so-superheroine]

i led bible study at the psych institute i was in for the three months and i was blessed by the experience.

i was harassed for being "mormon" on an occassion by a few, but handled it well and kept the meeting on track. and being an open latter day saint kept some people away (i was informed by my 2nd roommate who was christian and a seminary student. she invited people to come at the sunday church service/stream bc she really enjoyed the bible study but was told by a client it was bc of the "mormon girl" leading it that they didn't go ). being an open lesbian probably played a role too.

but those whose hearts were open enough to come anyway said they appreciated the fellowship and support. we were usually a small group, but often quoted was Matthew 18:20 "For where there are two or three gathered in my name name, I am there among them."

often i was put in a position to teach by client request. bc many who came were new chrisitians or those who had attended church but never studied the Bible before, just listened to what their pastor said without studying the sacred text directly.

not what i expected to do but i did my best with the what i learned from my experience and my seminary classes and made sure to question after what their independent thoughts were on the scripture after reading it and after providing historical/cultural/societal context for the text.

i used the community of christ lessons/sermon helps to assist me. but made it more general so it would be more applicable to sola scriptura (bible only) christians or non latter day saints, reorganized or otherwise (no BoM or D&C).

i passed it on to my roommate to take it over. she is a kind, compassionate woman, so i hope more people come. she's well studied, devout, and also straight, nondenominational and sola scriptura so i hope more people are comfortable with her.

the conversations i had will stick with me for a long time. i learned a lot from other clients who came.

[perfect-fourth]

"Oh..." He offered with a punctuated purr, stopping mid twist of lock to turn his one visible eye onto Silco with a mischievous twinkle.

"I'm sure they did. And found themselves short a few fingers." That was all he said on the matter, but the meaning of it was fairly obvious. He'd enchanted the lock so as to keep intruders from entering. It was possible still, but one would have to be very determined to continue onward with bleeding stumps for hands.

An invisible smile hidden behind his mask set the mood with an accompanying hum, a deceptively upbeat tune for what they were about to do. As he pushed the heavy door open, a loud creak and a crumbling of rust announced his entry. He held the door open for his guest, allowing him to take a peak around the darkened interior before he'd have to set foot inside. He might not have known Silco personally yet, but everything he'd thusfar determined about the man spoke of one who was certainly plagued by paranoia. It was relatable, really-- and he wanted to give him further confidence in the knowledge that tonight had nothing to do with ambush or betrayal.

Despite having been abandoned for some time, Jhin had evidently taken some liberty in sprucing the place up. Nothing too fancy, but he had at the very least tried to brush away the layers of dust and grime that littered the gray wooden flooring, and the sunken seats and sofas, once a plush red now desaturated and littered with old tears and cigarette burns. An old record player stood in the corner, which had been through some hard times by the looks of it-- in a state of semi-repair, most likely by the man who had brought him here. Old curtains and tapestry lined the walls and created a more cozy space for those who had formerly dwelled there, but in the emptiness now, it only felt eerie, especially when the only source of light currently came from down a narrow hall and up a stairwell. He'd fix that soon enough by lighting some of the candles he'd brought to decorate the place, but for now he wished to only show his guest to their main entertainment for that night.

For a place where a supposed massacre had taken place, there was very little in the way of blood stains or a show of a tussle around. The only indication that the place was no longer functional at all outside of the lonely neglect of its condition was the bizarre, pitch black blots that seeped into furniture and flooring alike, leaving trails of tarry ink through the small rooms and up the stairwell that Jhin guided him to. It looked as though he'd made some effort to try and remove those, too, but the evidence of his failure sat in a nearby corner-- a bucket of chemicals and scrubbers stained with the same black substance just as vividly as it presented on the ground they walked. A pair of heavy duty gloves hung over the railing of the stairs he climbed, boots straining the wood with every creaky step.

"As for this pair, you're welcome to do with them as you will. Though I was planning to take her father down as well, a week from tonight. He'll be opening a new vault in Piltover, then. My vision is to send it up in lights when he officially declares its doors open to the public. There are very few things that my magic can't destroy, if I put forth the effort. I've been considering how I might be able to preserve some of the finances within so it can be distributed to you and your ilk, but it would probably be for the best to just erase it. Blood money is much easier to track, and that wouldn't bode well for you or your people." He expressed these thoughts just as he reached the landing of the stairs, gently lying his hand on the knob of another mysterious door.

"I have an assortment of tools for you to play with if you should find yourself feeling extra creative. Did you bring your own?"

Hearing of the enforcer Silco’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he had a particular distaste for those corrupt bastards. “Well he’ll certainly be a nice bit of entertainment this evening. Until he gives out of course.” Perhaps he’d keep it nice and simple with the enforcer and just use his fists, and boots. It could be rather satisfying to feel bones breaking, and skin splitting open under the force of his raw fury. He’d never been as strong as Vander of course, but he also wasn’t weak either particularly after the years of microdosed shimmer. The fact he’d at one point upped his shimmer just a touch to ensure he’d always be able to carry Jinx around also likely helped.

"That heiress is no doubt worth a nice bit of money for ransom, or blackmail. Apple of her parents eye, and all that.” Voice more contemplative than anything his lips curled as a particular darkness hit his gaze. “I’m sure they’d appreciate knowing if she’s alive or not. Maybe we should be so kind as to send them her eyes which ignored others plight, and saw only her own good fortune.” It wasn’t as though he needed the extra money even if it’d no doubt be useful, and the idea of her father or mother screaming as they opened a small package only to see two familiar eyes staring up at them was rather appealing. He only wished he could hear the screaming himself.

“Both entertaining choices.” It didn’t hurt to offer one offhanded compliment, and with his chastisement earlier it seemed wise. No reason to only use the stick when the carrot was within such easy reach. Not quite sure how to feel about the fact this “artist” so obsessed with killing, and the artistry of it found Zaun beautiful Silco considered him for a moment before nodding. “It is beautiful, yes.” A truthful statement as Silco adored his city-state even if he wasn’t sure his view of it’s beauty was the same as the other man, but regardless it was something they could agree on. Zaun was beautiful in it’s way.

No stranger to the darkness Silco followed Jhin even as a hand casually slid under his coat to rest on a knife. Did he truly think this was some kind of trap? Not really. Not with the moan, and eagerness the other man had shown earlier. All the same there was no reason not to be careful. Waiting for the door to open he murmured softly. “Surprised no one picked that lock just out of sheer curiosity. There’s scrap hunters and kids around Zaun that would pick it just to steal the lock, and take the opportunity to look inside just in case there was something else to sell.”

[hongism]

all about t(h)rust - c. san + j. wooyoung 18+

day 8: threesome - choi san & jung wooyoung warnings: double penetration in two holes, explicit smut, unprotected sex, oral sex m, threesome: mmf, fingering/anal fingering, anal, oral sex f, grinding, lube, creampie, facesitting, dirty talk wc: 2.2k genre: pwp, smut, 18+

“Wait, hold on. You – you want to what?” You can hardly believe that you’re having this conversation in the living room of your shared apartment with your roommate and best friend of all people. Said best friend blinks back at you with wide and pleading eyes, hands clasped over his chest as he silently begs you to give in to the proposal. On the other hand, your roommate, San, maintains the same flat and unreadable expression that he’s had throughout this entire conversation.

“We want to know who has better thrust game!” Wooyoung explains, letting his hands fall to his lap. “And we’re too biased to do anything together because even if we do fuck, we’re still gonna be at the same conclusion.” You squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore the mental image Wooyoung has just given you. “So, we need an outside opinion. From someone we trust. Aka you!”

“So what you’re telling me is…” You start, waving a hand in front of your face before cracking an eye open to peer at Wooyoung. “You want to fuck you, my best friend, then fuck him, my roommate? Just to tell you who is better at fucking?”

Wooyoung and San exchange a glance, brows raising a bit, then they return to looking at you.

“Yes!” Wooyoung says through a grin. There is no reason why you should agree to this – you’re certain you could come up with at least a hundred reasons why it would be a bad idea and ruin your relationship with your best friend and your roommate.

“Is there no one else you can ask?” You huff out without looking at either of them. You know that you can only see them in a sexual light at the moment; their request lingers at the edge of your thoughts and fills your mind with nothing but dirty images.

“No one else we trust the way we trust you,” San speaks up at long last, and you can’t resist the urge to look him in the eye as he talks. You aren’t sure why you actually decided to consider their proposal, but that’s how you find yourself straddling your best friend’s chin with his tongue pressed between your folds.

You aren’t wholly unoccupied in this position; San has a knee on either side of Wooyoung’s hips, his deceptively thin cock between your lips. You weren’t expecting the two of them to want to do this together. Yet, here you are on the creaky and dingy couch of your all too small apartment, all fully nude and in compromising positions. San has Wooyoung’s leaking member in one hand, fisting it in rhythm with the small bobs of your head. Wooyoung dips his tongue further into you, and his hands come up to spread you further apart for his wet muscle to penetrate deeper. You could lose yourself in the feeling, and you’ve already almost done so multiple times. San keeps bringing you back with a soft tug to your hair, pulling you deeper onto his cock.

“Fuck, you should feel how good her mouth is, Woo,” San grunts out. You accentuate his words by hollowing your cheeks around him. The groan that falls from his lips is heavenly in your ears, and it encourages you to do the same thing a few more times before pulling off with a loud pop of air. “Can’t believe I was missing out on this all this time.” San brings his free hand forward to grip your chin. A giggle escapes you, tongue peeking out to tease the corner of your lips. The smirk is wiped in an instant because Wooyoung hums against your clit. The vibrations send a tingle down your spine and your back arches.

“I don’t need her mouth on me when I can make her move like this,” he teases. Hot breath cascades over your clit, and you tighten your thighs around Wooyoung’s head.

“This isn’t about what your tongue can do,” San hisses between gritted teeth. You trace the head of his cock with your tongue, collecting a few beads of precum and tasting the saltiness with a shy smile.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You ask as you tilt your head to the side. San runs his fingers through your hair and pushes you further back, eyes stuck on the way his cock brushes your bottom lip.

“Hmm, you can get to work on Woo’s dick first,” San orders, arching a brow at the man under you. “You’ll need more prep for what we have planned.” You tilt your head in question, but Wooyoung slips out from under you and distracts your thought process.

“Turn around, baby.” He grips your hips tight enough to bruise, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. You let him maneuver you into whatever position it is he’s wanting.

Before you know it, San is somewhere by the foot of the couch, and you’re the one who straddles Wooyoung’s hips. You press down hard on his twitching member, letting it slide between your folds with ease, thanks to the slick of your arousal. He groans at the sensation, a noise that swiftly devolves into a high-pitched whine when you repeat the motion a second time. The weight behind you disappears, and you glance back to see that San is no longer on the couch.

“Pay attention to me,” Wooyoung whines, reaching up to grab hold of your face. He pulls you down to his level, and his hands snake around the back of your neck until your lips meet. You greet him with a kiss full of tongue and spit; your teeth graze his lower lip in a way that has him gasping for more.

“Where did San go?” You ask, pulling away to catch your breath.

“Lube,” Wooyoung answers without hesitation. “Wanna take you at the same time.” It’s evident that he isn’t interested in talking; rather, he eyes your lips over and over until you grant him another kiss. You hover over his cherry pink lips though.

“This isn’t all about thrust, is it?” Wooyoung’s gaze flits up to meet yours. He opens his mouth to respond, but the surprised gasp that falls from your lips interrupts him. You aren’t expecting the sudden slap that comes down on your ass, and it signals San’s return to the couch.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable,” he mutters. The way his hand lingers on your ass, lube in hand, tells you all you need to know, and it isn’t hard to figure out what he wants. It’s something you’ve done on occasion with exes, although you’ve never had the pleasure of taking two cocks at once, but of all people to try it with, you would trust Wooyoung and San the most.

“No, no, I – let’s do it. I’m… y-yeah, I’m c-clean if that’s–”

“Shh, shh, you’re thinking too hard,” Wooyoung coos, running his fingers over your scalp gently. The motion calms you without a problem, and he brings you back down to his lips. The cap of the lube clicks open, and a wet squirting sound follows. Wooyoung distracts you with his tongue, dragging the muscle over your bottom lip a few times so that when San presses a single digit against your ringed hole. He pushes it in at a languid pace. Even the faint touch is enough to have your hips rolling forward, grinding down against Wooyoung’s cock where it lays hard on his stomach. San wiggles his finger around inside you but doesn’t add a second one just yet to let you grow used to the stretch.

“Can you fuck me while he fingers me?” You whisper, eyes finding Wooyoung’s dark ones. His pupils dilate a bit more, and the lust behind his irises is clearly evident. He rushes to comply, sliding a hand between your legs. Gnawing at your lower lip, you shift to let him align himself with your hole. You sink down on his member without warning. The movement draws a choked out of Wooyoung, his head tipping back and exposing the long column of his neck. Sweat glistens across the skin there, and you can’t keep from leaning over him to drag your tongue along it.

“Starting all the fun without me,” San tsks, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. He slips a second finger beside the first. The stretch isn’t enough to hurt, but it’s nothing unpleasant. As much as you want his cock in you right this instant, you don’t want him to rush it either, so you settle for sitting perched on Wooyoung’s member without moving as San works you open from behind. “I wonder how long Wooyoung can be patient, hm?”

Said man squirms a bit under you; he wants to move already and fuck up into you, that much is more than obvious. He doesn’t do anything though, eyes squeezed tight and brows drawn so close together that you can barely see the skin between them. His willpower is strong – you’ll give him that, because as San continues to work you open and scissor his fingers inside you, Wooyoung doesn’t move a muscle.

“I’m ready, Sannie,” you whine, looking back over your shoulder at the man. “I need your cock in me now.” You bat your lashes in the hopes that it’ll convince San to move faster, and he groans at your insistence. He grabs for the lube again and squirts some more onto his palm, fisting his cock a few times before guiding his tip to your fluttering hole.

“No need to be so demanding, princess.” He pushes in just a bit with his hands gripping hard at your hips. The stretch isn’t unbearable, but it is more than you initially expected. Wooyoung eyes your expression with a sudden seriousness, watching for any signs of pain. “Tell us if it’s too much,” San murmurs before sinking further into your heat.

“No, it’s – ah, it’s so nice,” you stammer, breath already labored without either man having to do much. San bottoms out with a moan, and your walls squeeze him and help pull him all the way in.

“Can I move?” Wooyoung asks. He pulls your attention back to him, and you offer a quick nod. Wooyoung lifts you a bit, then pistons his cock all the way into you again. The motion has you moaning loudly into the open air, pleasurable sensation filling your body from head to toe. The loud noises quickly fall into quiet whimpers as the breath is knocked out of you, and San joins in the rhythm of Wooyoung’s thrusts. They stagger their blows so that as one pulls out, then other fucks into you harder than before. You haven’t even reached an orgasm, yet they’ve already ruined sex for you and you’ll never be able to go back to having regular sex knowing how good this feels.

“You like that? Being stuffed with two dicks?” San hisses, leaning over you to whisper the words in your ear.

“G-God, yes, yes, Sannie, fuck – feels so good!” He catches hold of your hair and tugs you back, letting you press flush against his chest as he rocks his hips into you. Wooyoung’s thrusts stutter a bit, his breath hitches, and you think he’s gonna cum right then and there, but he holds out a bit longer to grit out his next words.

“Your pussy takes my cock so well, baby girl. I’m go-gonna cum if you keep squeezing me like that.”

“Cum in me, fuck, cum in me, Woo,” you babble. Wooyoung stills deep in you, and you feel his cock twitch inside your walls a few times before cumming with a breathless whine. It’s enough to bring you to an orgasm as well. San’s member is still thrusting in and out of your ass when you cum, and you collapse on top of Wooyoung’s chest, whimpering quietly from the overstimulation.

“Want you in my pussy too, Sannie,” you mewl. San glances down at your pleading expression and relents in an instant. “Fuck me full of cum.” He all but pushes Wooyoung away from your used cunt, replacing your friend’s cock with your own as quickly as he can.

“Such a dirty whore wanting two loads in her pretty little cunt. I suppose I can give you that, princess.” He only lasts for a few thrusts, but the sensation is better than you could have imagined, his cum filling you up alongside Wooyoung’s and leaving you with a lasting warmth. San’s head falls between your shoulder blades. His breath leaves your sweat-slick back cold, and you tuck yourself further into Wooyoung’s grasp.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” San exhales, a small laugh following.

“So,” Wooyoung starts as he pushes himself onto his elbows. “Who has better thrust game?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Does that mean me or…?”

“I think it means she needs round two to figure it out, Woo.”

“That’s not what I said!”

San chuckles and drags his lips over your skin. “You didn’t have to say it.”

“Make me dinner first then we can talk about round two.”

...

a/n: hi this is a mess again but it’s okay it’s okay we vibing

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[replicantdeviancy]

                  Time, deceptive & unyielding in all it’s clinical factuality, was not a stationary thing to androids. It was decidedly linear, ever flowing in spite of their unchanging forms. Synthetic creatures like fixed points in an eternal ballet of movement, destined to singularity as they went through existence learning in awe of the evolving world, so very drawn yet somehow not quite part of its fertile organic nature. They existed in between the states of being, the slow degradation of biocomponents & bioplastics far removed from the quiet putrescence of decay & rot which came with LIVING, in the inorganic could not enjoy the ending of the world’s eternal cycle when the body was returned to the earth. Connor was no different, though he could hardly be considered part of either group. Inhuman yet never truly accepted by his android fellows, he walked the line in between two worlds like a tightrope between two fixed points on a windy day, balancing effortless yet hopeful for the fall. Grateful for the chance at experiencing life on his own terms along side the person he held most dear.

                  But eventually all things must come to an end. Day became night as that guiding light burnt out, leaving Connor in perpetual state of twilight, the world having gone black around him while he groped blindly in the darkness. He recalled the day Hank passed. He knew it down to the second, recalled the days before, the moments leading up to that final, slow release. It had been an easy passing, & far later than any would have imagined. All thanks to the efforts of his devoted android who refused to leave his side.

                  He still wore the ring given to him on the day of their joining, brandishing it’s simple yet elegant symbolism, grateful for every day thereafter spent in marital bliss. Things were not always perfect. There were moments of difficulty, tribulations & tests between them; two people who were stubborn yet naive, still learning. But those times made the happy ones that much sweeter.

                  Connor would think on this from time to time, in the hours between shifts & stasis. Hank had left everything to him, the house included. Hardly a thing had changed in all those years, the home stagnant like a time capsule when the rest of the world had moved on. Only the most necessary, rare few cosmetic changes here & there, technology updated or damaged things replaced. Connor didn't stay inside often anymore, the place having become lonely & cold without the presence of the one who made it so bright. Thus he had taken up walking more often, wanting for data input of which he could pick apart & log away as he so enjoyed. Some time after Hanks passing, when grieving had subsided & acceptance had settled into the fabric of his metal endoframe, he returned to the DPD. It wasn't permanent. He did try other things, taking sabbaticals to pursue other avenues of interest. But like a moth to a flame he always returned, his work as a detective offering his hungry software the data it required.

                  Today he had exited stasis with a keen desire to seek out something new, something of which might pique his interest. As he had been designed as an advanced investigative unit in his time, Connor was perpetually bored. Taking long walks along different routes helped ease this feeling. He left by early morning, eager to enjoy the dawning of the new day over Detroit. The weather had grown chilly again as autumn had set in, winter soon approaching. The android’s internal clock told him that it was November 5th, a date he remembered well, for it was stuck firmly within the anamnesis of his digital mind, within the very cabling of his wires, his circuitry.

                  Early afternoon found him wandering along a familiar path, a familiar view in sight. The Ambassador Bridge was bathed in a light fog which had not been dissipated by the breeze which blew frail & cold through the foliage of a familiar park. Connor’s steps stilled & he observed that park a long while, static as he played back memories of a time long before, another peaceful day filled with laughter & the antics of an old dog who was convinced he was still a puppy. A soft smile tugged at the edges of Connor’s lips & he needlessly tugged the collar of his overcoat just a little higher as he began to walk once more. Again, he reminisced on the weather. It would begin to snow soon, & winter would fall over the city. He looked forward to it, to the holidays filled with merriment when he would spend time with his successor & their friends.

                  Connor instinctively folded his arms across his chest, tucked his hands beneath his arms to preserve the warmth of his core as feet moved of their own accord. Pointless, as his heat regulation system had been upgraded less than a decade before & was in working condition, yet it came natural to him. Such a very human thing to do. A behavior learned as his life was lived almost exclusively with humans in the past. There was fondness in thinking on this & Connor felt his smile widen gently. Head having ducked slightly in response to the chilly external stimuli, eyes still affixed upon the lonely park from over his shoulder, he was reluctant to leave it. But the hours was growing late & Xander would soon be expecting him for company.

                  Utterly & hopelessly lost in remembrances of the past, the android did not have time to process the sound of quickened footsteps nor the obstacle in his path until his chassis collided sharply with a tall, broad form of a human frame. Startled by his clumsiness, Connor reflexively drew an abrupt gasp & his body recoiled in response to the blunder of his own making. Immediately jumbled words of apology burst from his lips, lined shakily with frazzled embarrassment.  ❝ I’m so sorry! ❞   he exclaimed.  ❝ I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. ❞   Appeasing, there was a timidness to him now, a fret of anger or offense from the human whom he had inadvertently knocked into, but in a single & all consuming instant their as his eyes rose to meet those of the stranger time seemed to stop & he was transfixed. Cerulean depths framed by sparse brows. Dark, short hair, face handsome & rectangular, a distinctive nose.

                  Connor froze. Everything drew inert, soundless, as if the world had fallen away in that moment. The android stood motionless, wide eyed with his disbelief. His LED circled a rapid & constant yellow...Yellow...

@lieutenantgivesnoshits​

[dances-with-kuribohs]

Pegasus is even worse than expected. 1700 words.

...

The sound of the waves and the gentle brush of the wind were the first physical sensations he could identify.

Beneath him, sand shifted as he moved, and he avoided that at first. He had to make sure he was all here. Arms, legs, torso, head. All the parts were there, at least. He could hear the sand crunching, movement around him, and he braced himself as he opened his eyes.

The sky was shockingly blue, but above him, occupying a portion of the skyscape, a smiling face leaned over him, brightening even further when it noticed he’d woken up.

“Kaiba boy! There you are, finally arriving at the party.” 

The voice was grating. The enthusiasm ground against him like nails on a chalkboard. Pegasus Crawford leaned back to pull him to a sitting position, then continued guiding him upwards to help him stand.

Unwilling to test his voice, Seto Kaiba waited for several moments, trying to reconcile his knowledge of the world with the reality that confronted him. 

He could feel the particles of sand that still clung to his skin. Waves lapped at the sand, palm trees swayed gently with the wind he’d felt, and behind the beach, a cliff face rose steeply to a tropical forest along its edge. He could not see around the edges of the beach on either side, but there was no hint of a road or path to the beach itself, and no one else on the beach or in the water. It was just him, the landscape, and Pegasus Crawford.

“You’ve changed.” Pegasus was evaluating him, his single eye roving over Kaiba’s apparel, and Kaiba wondered if he needed to justify himself. It had been years since they’d spoken. “You know, I do think you’ve gotten taller!”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here because I want to be, Kaiba boy.” Pegasus was sunnily ambivalent, ignoring Kaiba’s withering glare. “Just look at that. I don’t think my island has ever looked more beautiful.”

“You never had a beach resort.”

“Details, details.” Pegasus flapped a hand in dismissal. “I could have had one. If I’d wanted. I preferred the castle, though, and that takes time to build.”

Kaiba had to follow as Pegasus began to walk, Pegasus’s sandals leaving deep imprints in the sand. “You know what I think of when I see the castle? Ozymandias.”

“‘Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’” Pegasus crowed, chuckling. “Really, now. I don’t frown, nor do I have a wrinkled lip.”

“The lone and level sands do stretch far away, though.” Kaiba gestured to the beach. “Does Industrial Illusions even need the island anymore?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Kaiba boy. Does KaibaCorp still own the rights to Alcatraz? You’re still on the hook for that hunk of metal deep in the ocean.”

Kaiba wrinkled his nose, although Pegasus wasn’t looking at him. “How do you know about Alcatraz?”

“I know about plenty of things.” Pegasus lifted a hand to tap his temple, his shoulders shrugging with complete ease. “Do you remember that time you thought I didn’t know something, and it turned out I didn’t?”

The wordplay was disastrous. “No.”

“Neither do I.” Pegasus laughed, pleased with himself, and he guided Kaiba up to the edge of the beach where a wooden staircase led up to a path into the forest. “I always knew more than I let on, Kaiba boy.”

Kaiba looked down at his feet as he followed Pegasus up the staircase, hearing the slap of their shoes on the wood. The requirement to walk was unspoken, but it was something about this island: it was still Pegasus’s domain. Pegasus was still the host of this excursion. 

Neither of them spoke until they reached the portion of the path where the bare dirt was overgrown with moss and fallen leaves. The sunlight dappled Pegasus’s hair, and Kaiba felt the occasional leafy frond brushing his arms as he followed the narrowing path. Pegasus was not unusual for owning an island, but the way he chose to use it was unique. 

He’d built a castle on it. With crenellations. And a dungeon.

“Why didn’t you buy a place closer to the States?”

“If you want an island, come to Japan. I was already coming here for tournaments. And you were here, after all.”

Kaiba could feel how the innocence of the statement set his alarm bells ringing. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. 

“You didn’t come here for me.”

“I didn’t have to. You came to me.”

“You had the rights to the game.”

“And you were desperate for the game, weren’t you.” Pegasus grinned, stopping to turn back to Kaiba, and Kaiba could feel the shark’s teeth hiding in that grin. Even now. Even here. Pegasus would still elude him. “Why my game, Kaiba? Why come after this one?”

“You were first on the scene. And it was well-designed.”

Pegasus clapped his hands together in delight. “You flatter me!”

Kaiba wanted to wince, but to react would be to give Pegasus the pleasure. “Your ability was never in question. Even at the tournaments. Even when you cheated.”

“It was not cheating, Kaiba boy. I was using my resources.” Though they’d stopped in the middle of the path, Pegasus made no move to keep walking, and he lifted a finger to his lips as he considered his next statement. “Wouldn’t you use the Eye, if you’d had it?”

“No.”

Kaiba knew that his focus was clear. And yet around Pegasus, the imagery grew...hazy.

“You can’t expect me to believe that you rely on a duelist’s honor. Not when you destroyed lives for the Blue Eyes.”

Kaiba could not react. Did not react. But he could feel his skin crawling. “You tried to destroy mine.”

“So where does that leave us, Kaiba boy? It’s easier when we’re not at each other’s throats.”

“You started it, Pegasus. You were the one who tried to take my company.”

Pegasus brushed aside the comment, shoulders shrugging. “You’re a businessman. It’s business.”

“You kidnapped my brother.”

“You drove a man to suicide.”

It was rare, nowadays, that Kaiba felt the need for physical violence. He had exorcised most of those impulses. But now, he wanted to punch Pegasus in the nose. 

He resisted.

“You didn’t even want my company. It wasn’t about me.”

“You were cute, yes, with your toys. Games. Illusions. You never even asked about that, you silly goose, it was right in the name! I named my own company after my intentions and you never realized it.”

“I don’t care about the wordplay.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone quoting Shelley at me.” Pegasus grinned widely, folding his arms in a move all too like Kaiba himself. “That was part of your problem. You were always too honest.”

“Deception is a weak man’s game.”

“Or you’re bad at it.” Pegasus rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, bouncing in a way that seemed to echo his impatience. “You actually wanted to make games and toys. They handed me the proposal and I had to laugh! You took some of the finest programs in the field and fed them my Duel Monsters data so that you could have something to duel against! Don’t get me wrong, Kaiba boy, all that work is impressive enough, but it’s all so painfully obvious.”

Kaiba knew he should leave. Listening to Pegasus was a waste of time, even on a good day. This was unfiltered drivel. “Get me out of here.”

“Even now, you’re trying to convince yourself it’s different.” Pegasus leaned forward, nodding. “If you’re going to lie to other people, you have to learn to lie to yourself first. Didn’t you see that?”

Kaiba felt himself flinch. Hated it. “I don’t need to lie.”

“Yes, you do. It’s why you came to see me.” The entire world shivered, shuddered, resolved. Kaiba closed his eyes. “I know what you did, in the end. Host a tournament to get what you want? It’s a delightfully aggressive method, isn’t it. I’m flattered that I could inspire you. But you can’t rely on other people for all your best ideas.”

This was all wrong. Things had gone wrong. Kaiba knew it. Pegasus was still speaking.

“If you wanted your childhood innocence, you should have just pretended you had it anyway. I did. I almost did. But you were too busy to do it right.”

Kaiba braced himself, feeling the ground drop out from under him, and he twitched with a full-body spasm before he shot up into a sitting position. He gasped in a deep breath, opening his eyes to see his legs spread over the bed before him, and he reached up to tear away the first of the electrodes attached to his temple. At the console near the bed, Mokuba looked between the screen and Kaiba himself, his expression cautiously optimistic. 

“So? How did it go?”

“I had to eject, didn’t I? It didn’t work.” Kaiba reached up to feel his throat, swallowing to feel his Adam’s apple bob. “I got Pegasus.”

“Oh.” Mokuba was quiet, brow furrowing slowly as he considered the idea. “I didn’t realize you had...memories of him.”

“Obviously I have memories of him. Even before I was president, he was at tournaments. And then there was Duelist Kingdom.”

Mokuba nodded, lowering his legs to the ground so that he could stand beside the bed and assist Kaiba in removing the rest of the electrodes. “If I knew it was Pegasus, I would’ve pulled you out sooner. But you said you wanted to get as much data as possible, so--”

“It’s fine.” Kaiba ran a hand through his hair, ensuring the wires were properly detangled and freed from his head. “I think it’s worse when he knows he’s dead. He’s even more flippant than usual.”

Mokuba shivered. “I don’t want to know about the Pegasus in your head.”

Kaiba scowled, though he agreed with Mokuba’s assessment. Attempting to translate the brain’s information into usable data was a painful process, and the Kaiba brothers had not yet discovered the trick to finding the data they most needed. 

It was disconcerting, to think that Pegasus still lived inside his own head. Even if it had been...nice to see him again.

Pegasus was an annoyance, an irritant, and a fool. 

And yet, having seen him, Kaiba could not rid himself of the ache of realizing, again, that Pegasus was gone.

[tiny-maus-boots]

The Howl pt 11

A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind words. Thank you for those that read and say nothing but do drop kudos. Thank you for those that read and reread even if you never say a word or send kudos. Thank you for those that even bothered to give it a chance. 

Biggest thank you to my bestie and beta because she made it better. And posts all the things. @chloes-yellow-cup

11.

Stacie was careful not to react with the sudden rush of anger at the news. It wasn't Aubrey's fault, she knew that, and really she hadn't blamed her in the least. But it was information that could have been shared sooner. Something she felt she should have known as soon as Aubrey realized there was tangible proof of who had taken Wade from them. The blonde waited patiently for Stacie to say or do something making her realize she hadn't even blinked.

“Why didn't you tell me you knew who did it?”

“Because I do not know who did it and I didn't think you would appreciate the news at the moment I learned of it, considering the attendance of your pack.”

She let out a sigh and nodded. That was fair, the timing had been wrong and after... The wolf rolled her hips in a slow grind against the woman under her, smiling at the way Aubrey rose to meet her. But they really couldn't afford to keep distracting each other while talking about serious things. Stacie slid to the side and propped her head up on a fist.

“But you have suspicions.”

Aubrey rolled to face her and nodded slowly. A slight furrow wrinkled the vampire's brow as she considered all the possibilities. “There are three of my blood here. Myself, my father, and my aunt but it can be none of us.”

Stacie wasn't so sure about that. She trusted Aubrey but she couldn't extend that trust to other vampires. One dark brow came up in question and she reached out to take Aubrey's hand and place it against her chest.

“Aubrey if you think you know who it is please...”

“I don't. I swear it can't be us. This type of illness can only come from a vampire that was made by bite not one that was born. None of us were bitten.”

Stacie's eyes dropped to the bite she'd made on Aubrey's shoulder, the edges were already starting to knit together where it had been shallow. She dipped her head, leaning forward and brushed butterfly light kisses over to buy herself some thinking time. She believed Aubrey without question but she didn't understand enough of vampire culture and lore to know how this could even happen.

“So how is this possible?”

Aubrey hesitated and brought her hands up to cup Stacie's face. She guided the wolf up until they were nose to nose again. It was clear that the vampire was making a conscious effort to be completely honest with her mate and Stacie respected it. Admired the courage and boldness of it even though it was giving up a lot of tightly held secrets.

“It would be possible if we had sired a vampire but...I swear Stacie, we don't have any bitten vampires in our line. There haven't been for as long as I have been alive and then some.” Stacie bumped her forehead lightly against Aubrey's in acceptance of what the blonde was saying. Still. There were questions. The vampire traced her jaw lightly with a delicate touch as she worked through all the other possibilities. “If there is a bitten vampire it would have be either very old, or very new. Though how I could have missed someone turning a human...”

Stacie had to smile at the way confusion made Aubrey's nose crinkle just a little. It was fucking adorable and she raised her head enough to be able to kiss the bridge of her mate's nose. Okay so this new information narrowed down the chasm of unknowns they were facing. She rolled to her back and stared up at the constellations carefully painted on her ceiling. It had taken her weeks to create the perfect night sky canopy and while the Sistine it was not, it gave her a sense of peace and wonder that helped her puzzle out heavy thoughts.

“So let's take age out of the equation here. If there was going to be a bitten vamp from your line it could only come from one of three people. One in a box.”

“One in your bed.”

“And one with everything to lose.”

Aubrey flopped onto her back with the weight of that final revelation. She suspected that the vampire had already considered this option but was hesitant to accept it. It couldn't be easy for her, working through all this and having to choose sides. Stacie herself had never stayed anywhere long enough to really have a place or people she could call hers. Aubrey had had six hundred years with the same fucked up family...but family they were. You didn't just shrug that off for a stranger.

The vampire sat up and slipped from the bed. Stacie scooted herself up and arranged the pillows against her headboard so she could watch as Aubrey picked up her flannel and slipped it on without bothering to button it. The way she brought the collar to her nose and closed her eyes as she took in Stacie's scent let the wolf know it wasn't because Aubrey was cold. She needed a distraction and some space to process but not enough space from Stacie that she couldn't surround herself in her mate's scent and warmth.

Stacie laid there, content to watch Aubrey pad over to the shelves of books on the wall. Curious fingers stroking along the spines as she read them. A small smile playing over her features when she found a particular title amusing or familiar. She moved on to the record player and modest collection of vinyl albums shelved on a couple of planks separated by cinder blocks. The vampire pushed the power button on the turntable and moved on to flip through the records as music spilled out of speakers.

Aubrey slowed her perusal and glanced at the record player, her head tipped to one side as she listened. Her body swaying gently to the sounds of Jenny Lewis singing for Rilo Kiley. Stacie sat up and gestured to the turn table.

“It's a band called Rilo Kiley...”

“Under the Blacklight. I know it.” Her smile was a slow surprised tug of her lips as Aubrey picked up the words and harmonized perfectly. “I saw them once. In California at the Greek Theatre. Good food, good music. It was quite memorable.”

Stacie's eyes widened at that and she felt herself flop back against the pillows with a grunt. What were the odds that she'd meet someone more than six hundred years her senior with the same taste in music? Of course 'good food' probably meant concert goers Aubrey had eaten which was an even odder counterpoint to the revelation. The soft chuckle of amazement grew into an outright laugh when Aubrey found her closet and one of Redd's shirts still hanging in it. The vampire picked it up with a pinch of two fingers and padded silently to the trashcan where she deposited it with a territorial and savage smirk.

Aubrey dusted her hands off on Stacie's shirt and moved around the loft humming along as she inspected and touched everything. She stopped at the smashed television barely hanging on by the cord and frowned. The vampire picked it up and carefully mounted it back on the wall bracket. The screen was shattered in a spiderweb of cracks and the act of putting it back up was pointless because she'd need a new one anyway but it was sweet that Aubrey clearly felt badly about breaking it. The blonde stood back with a final adjustment to make it perfectly level with a satisified nod of her head.

Her mate turned and bounded to the bed, pouncing on her almost playfully. Stacie laughed and rolled trying to pin Aubrey to the bed. But just a hint of movement from across the room was enough and the flat screen fell right off the wall mount, scraping the wall all the way down and snapping the cord as it landed face down on the floor with a sad jangling crash. Aubrey froze and turned wide apologetic eyes on Stacie, her mouth working as she tried to find words adequate enough to express her horrified embarrassment.

“I..I'm so sorry...”

It was utterly fucking hilarious and she barked out a laugh before nuzzling into Aubrey's neck. “Forget it, it's the least of my worries. You're ridiculously cute by the way and I think I should kiss you now.”

“Oh. Well if you think you should, you're the Alpha.”

Stacie gave another chuckle that died away and gentled into a smile when she pulled back enough to look down at Aubrey's mildly amused face. Impossible, improbable and highly unlikely as this love might be, it was there, growing and deepening with each passing moment they shared. She didn't lean into the kiss so much as sink into Aubrey, her body fitting against her mate, all their curves meeting and hugging in all the right places. The blonde pulled back after a few moments leaving Stacie breathless and weak.

“I will find the vampire responsible, Stacie. I promise you that. Even if that trail leads me right to Amélie's feet. Just please understand, I don't do it lightly. If my aunt has caused all of this the coven will be upended. Her leadership could be contested and a new Lord or Lady may make things worse.”

There was a hesitation that Stacie didn't understand and she pushed her nose under Aubrey's jaw in a comforting nuzzle. She didn't feel any sort of deception in the way her mate was holding back, just the faint feeling of sadness echoing through their connection.

“I am not well liked and only a deep fear of Tante Amélie has kept me from my final death many times. If I burn this bridge, I burn the whole bridge to cinders for I can never go back after. If your pack doesn't accept me...I will have no home, no coven, no family...”

“You have me.” It wasn't enough. She knew that. One person couldn't be a replacement for a whole social support system. Even as she said the words she knew it would never be enough for what Aubrey was willing to give up. There was a beat of silence between them, the vampire's eyes shimmering and shifting until they settled to a serene pale green. “You'll always have me, Aubrey.”

“Then I have everything.”

The connection between them pulsed and tightened, binding them even closer. They'd give anything for each other without question or thought. Without a hint of hesitation. Aubrey raised her hand and Stacie took it, fingers lacing together comfortably. A perfect fit like everything else about them.

“So how do we do this?” How did they figure this whole mess out? “Do we just confront her outright?”

“No.” The single word spoke volumes and Aubrey shook her head as much to clear her mind as to show she was against the idea of that. “There is a reason she survived a nest of revenants when others did not. Amélie is a fearsome fighter and one of the eldest. Direct confrontation would be death.”

“So what do we do?”

Aubrey bit her lip as she thought things through. There were so many layers she didn't even know where to begin pulling them back. Stacie was more of a direct confrontation type of girl, she didn't really get the intricacies of politics and intrigue. A fact that she had only recently come to realize was costing her a connection to her pack and her tenuous hold over it.

“We would need to convince the coven that is possible for her to have sired a vampire that is now ill. It is no secret that I have been tracking the revenants so there is some credibility to stand on. But our proof...”

“Is non existent. How do you prove a scent long gone?”

It was impossible and Stacie was starting to feel the weight of the task ahead of them. If they couldn't prove anything then all they were managing to do was put targets on their backs, and the backs of every one in Gustavus. Potentially, it could all blow up in their faces.

“Maybe...we don't. If we can create enough doubt it will push some of the elders to call for a test of bloodlines. A judge, usually the best of our trackers, would be selected and all the vampires, pure and bitten would be bled. A simple but crude way to see if our family has been keeping secrets.” Aubrey gave a soft hum, her hand squeezing Stacie's lightly. “But I wouldn't trust any vampire selected judge. There is too great a chance that Tante could bribe their silence or worse, one of the others could buy lies. It would be too easy to frame another for a centuries dead grudge, of which there are many.”

“What about an impartial one? Would they trust the nose of a wolf?”

Maybe. There was a shot, if they could get the vampires to trust them enough to sniff out the culprit. But if they did then it would definitely lead to Aubrey's aunt and after that she didn't know what would happen. Would the vampires handle it themselves? Would any of this free Aubrey from her obligation to her coven or get Wade justice?

“Any wolf? No. A wolf queen? Perhaps. But we alone can't walk into the catacombs. We'll be slaughtered. We need the strength of your pack behind us, preferably furry.”

Which required them to trust Aubrey. The air rushed out of her lungs and she weighed the consequences of going in without a pack at her back. A few would come but not enough and it would be a massacre. And could they buy enough time for the full moon to have a show of force? Aubrey nudged her gently onto her back and tucked her body along the length of Stacie's side.

“You think your coven is going to wait until the next full moon?”

“Vampires don't agree to anything quickly. They will take some time to decide to meet, I have no fear we can negotiate for a full moon parley. I worry though that your pack...”

“Our pack.”

Aubrey stayed silent at her immediate correction but dipped her head in surprised thoughtfulness. Stacie frowned at the way the vampire seemed to squirm under her gaze and she tucked a finger under the blonde's chin to lift it gently.

“They'll never accept me Stacie. Not as your mate, not as your equal. There is nothing I can do to make it otherwise because I will always be the parasite in their midst. Nothing more than a tick to be tolerated, it is a role I am quite accustomed to.”

The wolf in her raged at the injustice of Aubrey's words because she knew there was a possibility they could be true. But Stacie had faith in something more than just their relationship. Something had brought them together, then, at that juncture in time. A bond unlike anything before it for either species because she and Aubrey were different, anomalies even for their kind, that had to mean something. Power roared through her and tumbled down their connection to fill Aubrey with the warmth of her wolf.

“You're my mate, my chosen. It won't be easy but I trust them to see you as I do. You just have to play by their rules.” Aubrey's lip curled and she let out a low warble of a snarl. Stacie kind of liked the rebellious streak and chuckled with a slight shake of her head. “I know. Rules are the pits and I'm not gonna lie, what we've got to do is gonna suck.”

Aubrey perked up at that and nipped at the swell of Stacie's breast. “I'm good at that.”

“Baby...you're the best at that.” Her whole body clenched at the memory of Aubrey's fangs sinking into the flesh high up on her inner thigh as she fed. “But I'm serious. They're gonna force a mating hunt on the blood moon because even I can't fight the shift the first night.”

“The first night?”

“The effects of the blood moon last three nights for us.” The tiny furrow of concentration pulled between Aubrey's brows then smoothed away as if it had never been. Stacie's brow came up in question. “What'cha thinking there, Machiavelli?”

Aubrey blinked at her and made a face. “He wishes.”

Stacie opened her mouth to say something then closed it with a click not quite sure which question she was dying to know first. Did that response imply that she had known him, or that...she currently knew him? Too many mind boggling questions were suddenly crowding her brain making it hard to think past the fact that her forever girl was really fucking old.

“I think I would like to know more of this mating hunt before I share my thoughts. If...if that is alright with you?”

Fair enough. Stacie smiled and wrapped her arms around the blonde trying to mentally prepare for explaining a wolf hunt like that. It was one of those things she'd always hated about pack law and the fact that she was going to have to do what she'd had never agreed with was giving her a little anxiety. A cool hand smoothed over her collarbone, fingers stroking gently. It was comforting and helped her slow the sudden racing of her heart.

“Mating hunts are what packs do to ensure that the strongest of us survive. In a female's case we run as far and as fast as we can to the deepest parts of the woods. When the moon rises all the eligible wolves, mostly males, shift and track us. They hunt and fight among themselves until someone gets the girl.” She said it with as much dispassion as she could muster but truthfully the whole thing made her sick. There were no choices in mating hunts, there was only instinct and the brutality of nature. There was no control! “After that the urge to mate is impossible to ignore. The pack has to honor the rules of the hunt, the winner is mate.”

Silence filled the space around them before Aubrey spoke quietly. “Do you have no say in the matter?” Stacie didn't say anything and she felt Aubrey's understanding slow nod. “And I assume I would have to hunt with all the other would be suitors, leaving me alone against who knows how many vampire hating werewolves. Oh that's IS going to suck.”

If Aubrey didn't make it...if anything happened to Aubrey...it was all very risky. They could lose everything with a gamble like this. Was it really worth the risk of a wolf getting to her before Aubrey did? And if Aubrey made it...could Stacie force a shift?

“It's a lot...”

“I'll be there.”

“Aubrey, things could go wrong. You cou...”

Aubrey's thumb traced her bottom lip in a soft caress. “Nothing will stop me from getting to you. I am your vampire but you are my wolf. We chose each other in a world where we are given none to make. I dare someone to take it from us now.”

Her heart fluttered at the slow shuddered beat from Aubrey's chest. As irregular and sluggish as it beat, she knew that beat was all for her. Stacie brought their lips together in a deep kiss, needing to share the desperate, consuming fire in her heart. Maybe it wasn't a perfect plan but they had something more than they did an hour ago. And if they pulled it off...

Aubrey nipped at her chin and pinned her to the bed, hunger rising and flooding their bond. Stacie gasped and gripped the sheets tightly in her fists as teeth found a home in her neck. If they pulled this off, no one would dare challenge their union or their choices again.

It could be a new world order...

She wasn't sure which of them thought it or if it even mattered. This was their life now and they would rule it as they saw fit.

[proheromidoriyashouto]

Inksignia, Beyond Alteo - Tattoo artist!Inko x Flower Shop Owner!Rei AU with pre-IzuShou Part 1

Canon is mostly the same with a few exceptions. Izuku immediately tells the teachers what Shouto said during the Sports Festival. Trust is broken but Izuku would rather have him alive and safe than continue to leave him in that house. The teachers - Eraserhead, All Might and Nighteye mostly- investigate and Endeavor is taken down, goes to jail, blah, blah, blah he’s not important. After careful consideration, the authorities tentatively release Todoroki Rei from the mental hospital as an out-patient.

In order to gain independence from his estate, she decides to start up a flower shop for income. So much time spent in that drab, stale hospital has fostered a desire for bright colors and the scents of nature. She uses some of her monetary award to pay off the rent for a space wedged between a smaller convenience store and a tattoo shop. The tattoo shop has dark-tinted windows with intricate, black detailing that creates a black-on-black appearance Rei recalls seeing on pottery in the States a lifetime ago. The tattoo shop opens and closes later than her own flower shop so she goes a few weeks before she makes contact with the owner.

Business starts off slowly as there are more renowned shops a short drive away but Rei creates a niche for herself by exclusively offering carnivorous plants, and freeze-drying flowers. She had a lot of time to read and explore her tastes with a decade apart from Enji and she developed a fascination with carnivorous plants. Beautiful, deadly, and deceptively delicate, they require the utmost care. Preserving flowers by freezing them was a past-time of hers prior to her marriage and she is delighting to pick it up again. It was an uncommon practice then and continues to be so now. She uses her quirk to frost the vases and keep that part of the shop cool without altering the temperature necessary by the tropical plants. Soon enough she has moderate, steady business and she’s finally beginning to turn over a profit.

She’s returning from lunch when she spots Shouto shuffling about outside. He visits her here since her release or at her apartment above the shop so being outside must mean he was waiting for her. He looks despondent when she guides him inside and he spends nearly an hour simply walking through the shop, familiarizing himself with her wares. Even after all this time she call tell something has upset him, though he undoubtedly has a lot on his mind after the Hosu Incident. Though when he came to visit after the Sports Festival and again since the investigation into her ex-husband he had been angry about something then too. He’ll speak when he’s ready so she helps a few patrons with their orders in the meantime and when he does he seems... lost.

Mama?

Yes, dear?

Are you... happy... with all of this?

...How do you mean?

I... He visibly swallowed around a lump in his throat. H-his arrest. The court proceedings, the media attention, public opinion. Doesn’t it... bother you? Make you uncomfortable? I passed by people on the way here who were whispering about you and all of us, how we’re ungrateful and-! Validating the things people like Stain say about heroes and society. Is this, he kept his eyes firmly downcast, all even worth reliving that pain? Wouldn’t you rather forget it?

S-shouto?

I’m not saying this isn’t a good thing, now, but wouldn’t have been better to let sleeping dogs lie? I... I was going to save you from that place. When I made it and he couldn’t control me or you anymore, I-I had a plan, but...

But? She approached him slowly, letting him gather his thoughts. Something changed that? She could see the tips of his ears flush though she couldn’t see his face for his hair.

I told someone. He almost growled at that taking her by surprise. He told the teachers. That’s when they started looking into it. His fists were clenched at his sides in his hurt. I just needed him to understand what- I didn’t think he’d say anything. I didn’t know him. We’d never spoken before but he was always butting his nose into things... I didn’t think he’d hang us out to dry. But he did and now. He lifted his head to look her in the eye. His expression was imploring, desperate maybe. Being dragged through court and forced to relive all those horrible things and having people think less of you for it.You- you can’t tell me it’s made you happy.

She considered his words carefully. No. No, that certainly wasn’t. Having to testify, being in the same room as your father. That was... never something I wanted to experience again.

He adopted a look that was equal parts relief and... vindication? But she continued.

But I would do it again in a heartbeat.

His expression became clear shock then. Why?

Shouto, where do you live now? She asked instead of answering.

...with Fuyumi?

Are you happy with her?

Yes.

Do you feel safe there?

He tilted his head to the side, reminiscent of an inquisitive puppy. So cute her son. ...Yes.

And you know that your father will never come near you again, right?

...Yeah.

So, my sweet boy, who I know is so so smart, She gently cupped his face in her hands and kept his eyes on her own, why wouldn’t I repeat this fight if it meant getting you and your siblings here, to this safe, happy place every time?

His eyes shined with tears.

For the record, she said, I am. Happy- that is- here. And however unintentional, I’m grateful that you told that boy. Her son’s eyes widened. He set us on this path. It was painful, yes. She tucked an errant lock of crimson hair behind is ear. It was also the road to freedom. For all of us.

Tears wet her fingers and Shouto looked away in shame. Oh. He said so softly. You- it- it doesn’t... you mean that?

She nodded fervently. Absolutely. I would thank him if I saw him.

Shouto drew his shoulders up tensely and gently pulled her hands away from his face. That... I’m not sure that’ll ever happen.

She hummed curiously. Has he requested to remain anonymous?

No, I-I thought you were hurt by all of this. I, um. He curled in on himself a bit. I was angry. I... told him off after they started looking into our lives. ...we aren’t talking.

Oh. Shouto. You were worried about my feelings? She would remain amazed by his capacity to love her after what she’d done to him.

He nodded.

Could you make up? I’d hate for him to think he didn’t do the right thing. He might not come forward for someone else if the situation arises. I’d hate to think that someone else if left in suffering over this.

He seemed to shrink in on himself even more. The- the things I said to him were, um, pretty personal. His face twisted in obvious shame. Someone else told me- a bully of his told me that he was... I said a lot of horrible things to him and he won’t even look at me anymore. Before, I was glad. But you’re- you’re happy. He said the last word as though it a ludicrous notion.

She nodded.

Now, I- I don’t know. I should apologize. Looking back it was going too far. He didn’t mean to hurt you by it. Or me. Or any of us. He’s just... I think he’s just like that. So helpful.

She smiled. He sounds nice.

Yeah. His voice cracked as he blinked away more tears. His right hand reached over to cover the knife wounds on his left arm. They were weeks old, maybe they were still causing him pain? Too nice. ...I don’t think he’ll want to talk to me. His voice dropped to a nearly inaudible whisper, a few more silent tears slipping down his face unbidden. ...I made him cry.

Would it hurt to try?

They spent the rest of the day discussing how to go about making amends, and ended up staying well-past the typical closing time. It’s dark out by the time they head out to pick up dinner. She finally has enough money to take the children out for food and Fuyumi and Natsuo said they would meet up at the restaurant. It’s been such a long time since she had a warm meal with her babies. She’s excited. They can finally get to being a real family.

They’re surprised by the door to Inksignia suddenly swinging open, bathing the street in light. A woman stepped out and she blinked large eyes at them. She was short and chubby with green hair and eyes, wearing a black dress with sheer lace revealing colorful patterns on her shoulders, chest, and back without appearing risque. Her arms, neck, and legs were conspicuously bare of tattoos. She carried herself like someone comfortable in their own skin. Surreal.

Oh! Hello! She offered them a smile. Didn’t see you there. Her green eyes drifted over Rei’s apron. She’s forgotten to take it off. You work right here at Beyond Alteo?

No worries. Yes, I’m the owner actually. I’m, uh, Rei. Just Rei.

Ah, how rude of me, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Midoriya Inko, nice to meet you. Her round face was soft and welcoming. This is my parlor. She said proudly.

Midoriya? Shouto blurted out suddenly, eyes wide.

Hm? Yes. Inko turned to him. Do I- oh. You’re him. She narrowed her eyes in recognition. Todoroki Shouto-kun. You fought my son during the Sports Festival.

Y-yeah, I did. Shouto looked nervous. Understandable. Rei had watched the fight after all. A seed of suspicion before to take root in her chest. If it had been her son injured in their match...

Are you alright? Inko asked to their surprise.

I- I’m okay.

I heard about Hosu. Are you healed properly? Have you been eating enough? My son said you eat very little- he eats me out of house and home so his idea about what constitutes regular portions is a bit skewed but he seems really worried about you so I thought I’d ask. Ah, if that’s okay?

It’s... fine. My wounds are healed. I’m eating, uh, everyday?

We’re going out for dinner right now. Rei said. Hm, she would have to see if he was in fact eating enough for a boy his age. She’d compare to Natsuo for reference.

Midoriya-san, your son... talks about me? Shouto asked.

Oh, all the time. Everyday it’s Todoroki-kun this, Todoroki-kun that. He’s been so worried about you! Especially since the, well, the news. And Hosu. He said you’ve been busy with family matters- and I won’t pry- so he hasn’t had the chance to talk to you in a while. So you mind if I tell him you’re doing okay?

Everyday? He seemed to whisper to himself. No, t-that’s okay. Yeah. Um, has he said anything else?

Ah... Just that he’s worried about where you’re staying and if you feel comfortable there. We have a spare bedroom and he wants you to know you’re welcome to it if you need it. It’s alright with me of course.

Shouto’s jaw dropped as his cheeks pinked again, and he dropped his face to hide behind his bangs. He clutched his hands to his chest. O-oh.

Shouto is staying with his sister for the time being. He was telling me how much he likes it. Rei replied when it was clear Shouto wasn’t going to. Thank you for the concern. Please thank your son for his thoughts. I’m glad that someone outside of the family is looking out for him.

Shouto flinched from behind his mother.

Inko smiled. I will. He’ll be so relieved. She spared a look to her watch and gasped. Oh gosh, I just meant to get some fresh air but I’ve kept you from your plans! Sorry! She opened the door to return to her business. It’s been wonderful talking to you. I know the hours are a bit unusual but feel free to stop by anytime with your boy! It’ll be nice to have a friend in the neighborhood.

Rei felt a flutter of something soft and fuzzy from her hairline to her toes. A friend? ...when was the last time she had one of those? Before Enji. After, most of her friends had gone on to actually make use of their hero certification and were too cowed by his political and social capital to heed her plight. None of them had reached out to her in years. The children were great comfort but they had their own lives. Maybe... should she? Oh it’s been a bit, should probably respond sometime this year- Yes!

Inko blinked at her loud answer.

Erm, Rei flushed, y-yes, I’d like that.

Inko’s smile widened into a 1000-megawatt grin that almost seemed to dull the lights from the within the parlor in comparison. We’re open earlier on the weekends. You could come by then if it’s better for you.

I will, I think. Yeah.

(This was supposed to be a short headcannon and now the animal is loose. I’ll expand from here and post link to AO3 when it’s done. Does anyone want to read more??? Let me know!!

Shouto felt betrayed and protective over his mama so he raged a bit. Izuku can understand why but it definitely hurt and he’s been avoiding Shouto- which Shouto now feels regret about. They’ll make up don’t worry.

Rei and Inko are gonna be nearly as dumb as their sons and I think it’ll be fun.

TLDR: tattoo artist!Inko x flower shop owner!Rei get together AU, still quirks and hero-sons. the name of Rei’s shop has meaning. inko’s almost as cool as she seems yo)

[shannaraisles]

In Marcher Fields - Chapter 17

Poppy Hawke was never the daughter her mother wanted, the sister her twin preferred, the hero Kirkwall desired. They do not see the woman who stands between them and the chaos that threatens. No one takes the time to look, until she crosses the path of a certain Knight-Captain with demons of his own to battle …

[Read on AO3]

9:41 Dragon, Firstfall

"So that's decided, then. We'll head to Adamant immediately following the Ball at the Winter Palace - everything should be in place by the time we get there."

Xena nodded firmly, patting the table in front of her. It had not taken more than an hour to settle everything for what looked like an assault on the Warden fortress - between Leliana's scouts, Josephine's contacts, and his faith in his own men and their abilities, Cullen felt sure they had more than a fighting chance, even with the probability of demons.

"And Lady Hawke?" Josephine asked, in a deceptively mild tone.

Cullen didn't miss the way both she and Leliana glanced briefly in his direction, feeling his face heat up at the implication that he should know what was happening with Poppy. Alex had remained in the Western Approach with Alistair, both of them keeping an eye on the slow gathering of Grey Wardens at Adamant while Poppy came back to Skyhold to report on what they had found out after Erimond's aborted attack on Xena. Apparently there had been a fair amount of friction between Poppy and Alistair, which was another reason to keep them as far apart as was feasible. Cullen was just a little ashamed of his quiet pleasure on hearing that the hero, Alistair Theirin, hadn't managed to charm Poppy enough to keep her from sharing her opinion on blood magic and idiocy. But only a little. He was more distracted by the looming conversation he had promised her brother he would have with her.

"She'll be coming to the Winter Palace with us," Xena was saying confidently. "Lisette already ran up a spare uniform, it just needs to be fitted. And let's face it, we're going to need every bit of leverage we can get in Orlais."

"Grand Duke Gaspard may not appreciate -" Josephine began, but Leliana interrupted.

"To have the Champion of Kirkwall alongside the Inquisitor is a valuable asset in such a setting, Josie," she reminded the ambassador. "Hawke is well able to navigate Orlesian society and politics. We will just have to keep her away from Lord Cyril du Montfort, that is all."

Xena perked up. "Oh, does she have a history with him?"

Despite himself, Cullen was smiling as he answered before Leliana could.

"She was involved in the circumstances of his father's death, I understand," he told the Inquisitor. "It was very hushed up, but she was at Chateau Haine when Duke Prosper died."

"I did not know that," Josephine admitted with some surprise. "Lord Cyril is now one of the Council of Heralds ... but no matter. If Lady Hawke remains with one of us, there is little chance she will cross paths with him."

"An excellent idea, Josie," Leliana agreed. "May I suggest Hawke accompanies the commander for the evening?"

A slightly alarming smirk passed between the two women as Josephine considered this. The sheer level of knowing impishness in the room increased smartly, raising suspicions in Cullen's mind. He knew what Orlesians were like, especially in a formal setting. He wasn't particularly looking forward to the ball in any case.

"I'd feel better knowing she was somewhere easy to find," Xena volunteered. "Does that work, Cullen?"

"So long as she doesn't have any objections, then I see no reason why not," Cullen agreed, trying not to sound as hopeful as he felt. If he could guarantee Poppy's company for the entirety of the ball, he could also guarantee that the worst of the advances would never come to pass.

"She's agreed to come, anyway," Xena said, jumping down from the carven block they'd had made so she could stand at the war table and not feel like a child in front of the humans. "We can sort out the rest another time. When's dinner?"

As the discussion devolved into the familiar debate about just why Xena wasn't allowed to eat her dinner in the Herald's Rest when they had nobles visiting the castle, Cullen stepped away, making a few notes that he would have to make sure were circulated by the end of the day. There was always so much to do - orders to give, reports to read and sign, requests to confirm or deny, tactics to arrange, training to oversee ... He was generally the last to leave these war room discussions, trailing out in the wake of the ladies by several meters at least, frowning down at the notes in his hand as he stepped into the crumbling corridor.

"Cullen?"

Surprised out of his fierce concentration, his boot caught on an upraised corner of flagstone, bringing him to a stumbling halt as Poppy pushed from her lean against the wall. He hadn't expected to see her there; wasn't ready to see her one-on-one. All right, so he'd had several weeks to mentally plan the conversation Alex had asked him to have with her, but Cullen had thought he might have at least another day. The Poppy he remembered had always enjoyed the night immediately following any sort of mission that took her away from home as a time to be with herself. As the thought crossed his mind, he instantly knew what was different. No home, too much time alone. Of course she would want to spend the time with people.

She tilted her head, meeting his gaze with blue eyes that were so much more guarded than he remembered.

"Can we ... talk?" she asked softly.

He could have sworn she seemed almost nervous. But Poppy was never nervous or, if she was, she never let it show. Letting it show was a weakness that could be exploited. That was the sort of thing you only shared with people you trusted, people you ... People you love. And she was nervous - it was there in the flicker of her gaze, unable to hold his eyes for more than a moment before sliding away; in the hand that wrapped about a hank of her loose hair, no longer black but restored to the swaying brunette he recalled, gently tugging once or twice before falling to her hip.

"Of course," he assured her, buoyed up by this clear indication that he might not be wrong in his hope after all.

She glanced around the open corridor, her expression just a little bemused.

"Ah ... in private?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, of course." Cullen wanted to slap himself for fumbling that. "Ah ... my office is usually quite stuffy at this time of day," he said. "Shall we ... shall we walk on the battlements?"

The nervous glimmer in her eyes fled at that, reassurance that she did actually want to talk to him, and not just have someone to walk with through the Great Hall. He'd seen the nobles clustering around Josephine's door, eager to be able to say they had spoken to the Champion of Kirkwall. He didn't envy her having to navigate that maelstrom of entitled asses every time she had to pass publicly through the castle.

"After you," she said, gesturing for him to lead the way. "You know Skyhold best, after all."

"I think the only person qualified to know it best may be Sera," he said, moving to guide her through Josephine's office, ignoring the curious smile on the ambassador's face as she watched them walk by. "If only because she has a terrible habit of investigating every crevice at the most inopportune times."

Poppy snorted softly; a glance at her revealed a quiet smile that was achingly familiar. He missed seeing that smile on the pillow beside him. He missed everything, but now was not the time to suddenly declare his heart.

"I would say she sounds like Merrill, but somehow I don't think they could possibly be compared and found similar in any way," she murmured in amusement, wiping the smile from her face as Cullen drew the door open.

The clustering nobles drew back as commander and Champion stepped smartly into the Great Hall - it was that or be mown down. Without needing to discuss it, Cullen found himself matching his pace to Poppy's, allowing her to quicken to a long stride that took them out of the hall within moments, leaving the nobles to mutter and complain among themselves in the wake of two warriors who clearly had other things on their minds. They kept that pace all the way through Solas' study, and into Cullen’s office, where Poppy finally slowed.

"Sorry," she apologized, her expression just a little tight. "I don't have much patience with nobles these days."

"Understandably," Cullen assured her, settling his notes safely on the desk.

He was a little surprised, though. She had always had patience with the nobles of Kirkwall, even when they had messed her around. But then ... four years with only her brother for consistent company, four years of avoiding population centers. It was no wonder her levels of patience with the useless and inane had diminished. It made sense.

"Well ... shall we?"

He gestured toward the northernmost door, letting her take the lead this time as they stepped through and passed across the gatehouse, through the still decrepit second gate tower, and out onto a quiet stretch of the battlements. A pointed look at the guard patrolling this section sent her marching smartly away to lurk on the other side of the next tower. This length of battlement would be safe enough, with Commander Cullen and Lady Hawke there.

Yet now they were here ... nothing was forthcoming.

Poppy said nothing, her eyes focused on the distant mountain tops as she stepped into the sunshine, resting her forearms against one of the merlons that had not yet been restored. The sunlight shone in the honeyed highlights of her brown hair, the longer length making his fingers itch to glide into those waves and curls, to feel the softness and hold her against him, to breathe in the honeysuckle scent of the oils she used to strip blood and dirt from the mane that crowned her. Gone was the shapeless clothing; her tunic and pants fitted her snugly, displaying the toned form that was still a little too slender for his liking, the evidence of a life lived hard these past lonely years. Blue eyes that had always reminded him of the summer sky over Ferelden looked out over the Frostbacks, distant in thought as her teeth tugged at the pillow of her lip.

The silence grated on his nerves. They needed to talk - words that had gone for too long unsaid needed to find expression somehow. But how to begin?

"It's, ah ... nice day," he blurted out, inwardly cringing at the ridiculous opening.

"What?" She blinked, dragging her gaze from the snow-capped mountains to look at him with mild bemusement.

"I, ah ..." Cullen cleared his throat, pulling his hand down from its nervous creep to the back of his neck. "You said you wanted to talk?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, I ..."

Poppy hesitated, twisting toward him in her lean. Her hand opened toward him, then drew back, folding anxiously over the other as she looked down at her fingers. Cullen moved closer, taking up a lean of his own against the same crumbling merlon she had chosen. He could see her turmoil, the roiling emotion she couldn't quite hide from him, but he still knew how she needed this to go. She needed him to keep his mouth shut so she could say what was on her mind without distraction.

"Cullen, I, we ... that is, I didn't ... fuck, this was so much easier in my head ..."

She closed her eyes, missing the affectionate smile that rose on his face on hearing that. He watched as she drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and finally just committed to the sentence she had prepared.

"Cullen, I love you," she blurted out, opening her eyes after this spilled forth. "I never stopped loving you, I've missed you so much, but I don't know if you can ever forgive me for what I let happen in Kirkwall, and for running away afterward when I should have stayed to face -"

He raised his hand, gloved fingers gently stopping the burble of words from her lips. She stilled, her eyes wide with worry and hope as she stared at him, swallowing down whatever else had wanted to escape in that flurry of verbiage. And Cullen felt ... he felt. For the first time in years, he let himself fully embrace what he had thought was lost, the feeling that she was here, she was his, that she loved him as he loved her. Alex, you were right, he told the man in the silence of his mind. Thank you.

"There's nothing to forgive," he told her gently, his thumb pressing just a little more firmly against her lips to prevent any interruption. "You were right. Though the method was extreme, Anders was right. I should have listened to you sooner. But none of that changes how I feel about you, Poppy. I love you. You're the only woman I have ever loved. Whatever else has changed in my life, that never has, and it never will."

"But -"

"No, love." He felt the scar on his lip tug tight as he smiled at her confused delight, a feeling he had not actually enjoyed since she'd left his life. Without her, that scar was a reminder of what he had lost; with her, it was a reminder that she had chosen to be with him. "No buts, no sorries. No more apologies or regrets. Stay with the Inquisition, Poppy. Stay with me."

He shifted closer, finally allowing himself to trail his fingertips along her jaw, into the fall of her hair, thrilling to the way she tilted into his touch, leaning into him as he leaned into her.

"No more running, Poppy," he whispered, tasting her breath on his lips for the first time in what felt like an age. "Be with me, always."

"Yes ..."

It was barely more than a whisper, but it was there, her agreement, her longing, heard and tasted and felt, and so much more than just a word between them. It was a promise, a promise that begged to be sealed with a kiss ...

"Commander!"

And in a flash, the moment was gone.

Cullen groaned, his jaw clenching at the familiar sound of his most enthusiastic messenger's voice directly behind him. He closed his eyes, opening them to find Poppy's brightest grin shining back at him, the dance of her eyes promising that the only reason she wasn't laughing was because she was sure this could get better. His hand uncurled from her jaw as he straightened up, turning to glare at the luckless Jim.

"What?"

He watched as the boy faltered in the face of his obvious disapproval, as the eager eyes flickered back and forth between Commander and Champion who was, no doubt, still grinning like the cat that ate the canary from her lean against the wall. She's doing nothing for my reputation here, he realized, but was quick to squash that thought. She's more important than your bloody reputation, you oversized nug-rat.

"Uh ... it can wait," Jim quavered, backing away only to turn and run for the nearest door - anything to be out from under that particular scowl.

Cullen sighed, shaking his head as he turned back toward Poppy. "I'm sorry, there's always - mmm ..."

Her lips on his, her hands in his hair, and all the Jims in the world could not have stolen this moment from him. This moment, this feeling, Poppy in his arms once more, wrapped around him as he tugged her close to his chest, breathing her in with the freedom he had missed for so long. The world could go hang so long as she kissed him, so long as she let him kiss her, lips soft and gentle and loving as they traded that long-denied affection back and forth until breath became more necessary than kisses. To hear her laugh that familiar breathless laugh as they drew back just far enough, to feel himself chuckle along with her as she held him close ... it was as though the years that had passed had never parted them.

Cullen grinned as he pulled Poppy close, burying his face in the honeysuckle sweetness of her hair, and sighed in slow delight. She was here, she was his. He was home again.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

swimming with the sharks

[billy hargrove x reader]

author’s note: here’s part 2 to “my type”! i started writing this super late. now it’s 2:30 am and i’m delusional but i finished this in one sitting cuz i love y’all

word count: 2,848

part one: x

Steve’s bedroom door is wide open, and you take a brief detour on your walk to your own room, leaning in the doorframe with crossed arms and a small smile on your face. There’s papers scattered on his bed and he’s cross-legged in the midst of the mess, heavy sighs leaving his lips as he tries to make sense of it all. It seems he hasn’t noticed you, and you don’t think he actually will if you stay quiet.

“You guys get everything done?”

At this, your brother finally glances up and you can see the stress in his eyes. Though you’re not sure if that’s due to the work or Billy Hargrove being Billy Hargrove—which is to say, giving Steve a hard time. “I think so? I hope so. Because Christ, if I have to see that son of a bitch again over break—”

“Hey,” you interrupt gently. You’re not defending Billy in the least bit, heavens no. It’s true that Steve never speaks so aggressively about many people, something you’ve always been so proud of him for, and you’re hoping one bump in the road doesn’t change that. Also, you don’t want him getting too passionate about his distaste for his project partner when your parents might overhear the curses spewing from his mouth. You can hear your dad now—“There will be no swearing in this house!”

Steve doesn’t need you to explain why you cut him off. He looks apologetic as he continues, calmer this time. “I really hope we’re finished. Seeing Billy can most definitely wait until next week.” He murmurs to himself that he’d prefer never seeing Billy again period but you can still hear it from across the room, and it makes you chuckle.

“I’ve never seen you this riled up about anyone.” You walk over to him, glancing over all the papers. You don’t take a seat because there’s no space, but you’re fine with standing to the side. There’s two different types of handwriting present amongst the notes, though most of them is in what you recognize to be Steve’s. He probably took it upon himself to do much of the writing, since it would help keep things more organized.

“He almost makes it too easy.” Steve scoffs. “Hey, you answered the door when he came by. What’d you think of him?”

You take a moment to consider the query, lips pursed in thought. You’re genuinely not sure what to make of Billy. You thought you had him pinned down until he’d promptly thrown all your expectations out the window. Every attempt to shut him down had just resulted in you screwing yourself over. He was a step ahead, pushing you into a corner until you had nowhere else to run.

“He’s… really bold,” you decide to say, shrugging as you do so. “Really flirty.”

“Did he say something to you?” Steve’s eyes are watching you closely, face a mixture of concern for you and anger toward Billy for even trying anything with you.

“Not anything that crossed the line,” you reassure, smiling and hoping that he believes you. Had Billy crossed a line? Crossing a line would mean you’d find something offensive, but… you’d found nothing he said offensive. In contrast, a part of you did kind of like it. No guy has ever been so forward and confident with you and you hate to admit that it had been a refreshing change of pace. But Jesus, why did it have to be someone still in high school, and why did it have to be the one person your brother hates the most? You feel like you’re betraying him by entertaining the thought of Billy in this way.

Steve doesn’t respond right away, trying to figure out if you’re lying, but when he comes to the conclusion you aren’t, he sighs. “I mean I doubt you’ll be seeing him again while you’re here, but if you do, just… stay away from him, okay?”

You nod and smile. “Okay.” You think that Steve telling you this will help keep your resolve strong, that the excitement that bubbles in you at the prospect of seeing Billy again will start to dissipate as you repeat what he’s said to you—stay away from him. At least you hope it will.

———

Of course it should follow that you do run into Billy Hargrove again while you’re in Hawkins. Maybe it’s because this place is tiny and it’s easy to run into people. Maybe it’s because the issue you and Steve should’ve been more worried about is whether Billy could stay away from you.

You’re at the general store, paying for an array of snacks for tonight’s movie marathon with your brother. This was a weekly occurrence when you were still in high school, but now it’s tradition for whenever you’re home from college. It’s Steve who goes to the video rental store to get the movies, a bunch of VHS tapes in his arms as he barely maneuvers the door open before kicking it closed with his foot. He always rents the maximum amount even if you never get through them all, but you try awfully hard to. He’s there so often that the guy working there knows him, and when Steve’s trips there became less frequent, that’s how the clerk (David you think his name is) learns Steve has a sister who’s now in college and that’s why he’s not around often anymore. And that’s also how David knows whenever you’re in town—Steve pops in to rent some movies.

“Hey, what do you know—it’s Steve’s sister.”

While the cashier is getting your change you grit your teeth, debating between ignoring the statement or glancing over your shoulder at the one who had said it. After you tuck away the cash in your wallet and stuff your wallet into your purse, you twist around, plastic bag in hand, to see Billy Hargrove standing there, hands tucked into his jacket pockets just like the first time you’d seen him, and the same deceptively sweet smile on his face.

You sigh as you walk over (not to him, you tell yourself. The exit is just in that direction). “Steve’s sister has a name. Or have you forgotten it in the slough of names of other girls you talk to?” Well, it seems like you won’t be ignoring him after all. Nice one, [Name]. Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut? You don’t foresee this going very well.

Billy chuckles, the look of satisfaction in his eyes apparent now that he’s got you roped into a conversation. “I could never forget your name, [Name]. No need to get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” you snap, brows furrowed.

“Uh huh.” Billy’s doing his best not to smile. He’s not convinced in the least bit and it makes you irritated. “And I guess the next thing you’re going to say is you don’t like talking to me.”

“You’re right: I don’t like talking to you.” You skirt around him, hoping that to be the end of it. But apparently whatever he had come here for isn’t as important as continuing his conversation with you, because he trails behind you, catching the door before it slides back into place and following you outside.

“If you didn’t like talking to me you would’ve ignored me.” Shit. You seem to be chock full of bad decisions lately, and they are all bad decisions Billy Hargrove is pouncing on like a predator to its prey. Then you realize this is a second out—you could stay silent this time and walk away, over to your car a short ways down the block. But you come to a stop at this comment, and the moment you do, there is no turning back. So you twist around to face him. Fuck it.

“What’s your deal?” you ask. Honestly, you’re pretty sure you already know the answer, and the prospect of being correct in your assumption makes your heart beat a little harder.

Billy raises a brow and shrugs. “To make a friend?”

You see straight past this. “That’s not your game.”

He doesn’t put up much of a fight trying to defend his response. In fact, he doesn’t put up a fight at all. “True.” That same easy smirk is back on his face and he speaks quieter now so no one walking by can overhear. “Okay, you wanna know my deal? You’re a nice girl home from college for the week. I bet you’re stressed from the workload, so you’re looking to blow off some steam. And I’d be more than happy to help you with that.”

You swallow hard, not answering immediately. You had been stressed from your classes and were looking forward to unwinding, but you’d planned to do that by spending time with your brother, not by hooking up with anyone, much less a high school senior. But every word that leaves his mouth is cracking that resolve you thought would be solid stone, even as you repeat stay away from him over and over. It doesn’t matter how many times you do because your fingers are twitching with the urge to reach out, to dig your nails into the muscles of his back and leave little red crescent moons as he fucks you.

It’s official—your sexual frustration is rearing its head, and it overpowers the notion that you should turn him down and forget this ever happened and just spend the rest of your break unwinding the way you meant to originally.

“Just one time,” Billy continues, since you haven’t said anything. He can see the cogs spinning in your head as you try to make a decision, but he’s already certain of the way this is going to go. “And then you never have to speak to me again since, well, apparently you don’t like talking to me.” He laughs a little.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears like thunder and your breaths are shortening from anticipation and the intensity of his gaze. He hasn’t even touched you yet. You wonder what will happen when—yes, when—he does.

It doesn’t take you much longer to find out. You can’t quite remember what it is you say, something to the extent of okay, and then he’s guiding you to his car and pulling out of the parking spot before he speeds down the street. He drives so fast you’re practically glued to your seat, unable to move from the sheer force. Buildings give way to trees as you come to the outskirts of town, the forest extending in either direction of the two-lane road. He pulls off to the side, so far out there’s no chance of anyone driving by.

A turn of the key and the engine dies, and just as it does, Billy’s reaching over to pull you to him, and you let him. You straddle him, grinding down hard on his crotch just as he engulfs your lips in a kiss. You whimper at the friction, and his hands find your waist, trailing down to your hips and then around to grab a handful of your ass. He guides you back and forth over his clothed erection and you pull away to be able to moan more freely, head thrown back. He takes the opportunity to nip and suck at the exposed column of your throat. Luckily you still have the presence of mind to tangle your fingers in his hair, gripping tightly as a warning. It only makes him groan.

“No marks,” you breathe out. He only hums against your skin and you can’t tell if that’s supposed to be him saying okay. You’re a little preoccupied staring up at the ceiling of the car through half-lidded, hazy eyes.

At some point you’ve shed your clothes, all of them thrown away haphazardly. Billy’s shirt is off but the most he does in the ways of his jeans is unbutton them so he can pull his boxers down enough to free his dick. You wrap your hand around his shaft and he hisses, head dropping back against the headrest, which makes you chuckle, swollen lips upturned in a small smirk. You run your thumb over the crown, catching the pre-cum leaking from his slit. With your eyes still on his, you bring your hand up to stick your thumb in your mouth, sucking at it generously as your tongue licks at the salty substance.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy forces out. He squeezes your hips and pulls you toward him, and when your clit slides against his dick, you squeal. This makes him smirk and, now the one in control, he repeats the motion, causing you to pant at the slightest pressure to your increasingly sensitive clit. You thought you’d be able to tease him more and get him back for that but you’re already on the verge of cumming and he’s not even inside you yet.

You lift your hips and position him at your entrance, and you moan as you sink down onto him. It doesn’t take you very long to start moving, aching for more friction. Billy keeps his hands on your hips as you bounce, eyes drinking you in—the way your hair cascades down your back, brushing against your bare skin; the way your chest heaves; the way your stomach tenses as you try to hold back your orgasm, wanting just a little bit more. He dips his head to run his lips over your breasts.

When your breaths start to quicken he knows you’re right at the edge, so he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you steady before he bucks his hips, thrusting into you harder. Your eyes clench shut as you fall forward against him, screaming at the force of your climax which has you seeing stars. Even as you start to come down from it, he’s still thrusting, chasing after his own orgasm, and the only noises to leave your mouth are a series of pants and whimpers, your oversensitive pussy clenching around him. That’s what pushes him over, and he cums with a drawn out groan.

The two of you stay that way for a few minutes, trying to regain your breaths. Eventually Billy lifts you gently to slide you off him, and you whine quietly at the sensation. Another few minutes goes by and then you’re dressing yourselves again. It takes you a bit longer since you need to put everything back on. You have to search the interior for everything except your panties, which had landed on the dashboard and were easy to spot. As you slide your bra on, you glance down to find purple marks littered across your breasts. You sigh and only half-playfully shove at Billy’s shoulder. He furrow his brows in confusion as he buttons his jeans but when he sees the darkening marks, he smirks.

“I said no marks,” you state.

He shrugs. “Heat of the moment. Besides, they’re not visible.”

You’re too tired to argue.

———

Billy drives you back into town, pulling in right next to your car. You grab the plastic bag of snacks and your purse from the back before opening the door and getting out. When you open the driver’s side to your car, you toss the bags over to the passenger seat.

“Nice talk,” Billy speaks up so you can hear him. You look back at him and that cheeky smile and with a small smile of your own, you flip him off. He laughs, and your bruised lips curve up a little more at the sound.

———

It takes a while to decide what movie to watch first. You and Steve spend a bit of time arguing, claiming that your choices were better for one reason or another. The debate ends with a coin-flip: Steve’s choice of film wins.

You settle back on the couch, delighting in the soft cushions. You’re only half-paying attention to the previews, and Steve glances over at you, noting how tired you are. “You look tired. What’d you get up to today?”

You look over at your brother and wonder if he might know, if he’s just asking to see if you would tell the truth. And you’re worried for the briefest of moments because if he finds out, he’ll go ballistic on Billy, and while you don’t like him all that much either, he certainly doesn’t deserve that when you had wanted it just as much as he did. But there’s nothing in Steve’s eyes which indicates he’s even remotely suspicious—just genuinely curious about how your day has gone. So you sigh and shrug noncommittally, looking back at the television screen. “I’ve been running on low sleep all day. And errand running is hard, okay?”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, and you can’t help but giggle a little too. You both settle down when the movie starts, munching away at your snacks. This is looking to be a great spring break.

[nyssatrevelyan]

Abandoned

Story available on Archive of Our Own, will update when I can.

Chapter 1

Nyssa had awoken alone.

For a moment, she was cold and disoriented, and she looked around blearily, trying to make sense of the world.  Straw was scratching her, and she was sore and naked and….

Blackwall.

She looked around the upper story of the barn, but aside from a cat prowling about looking for mice, she was alone.  She could hear the mounts shuffling and making quiet noises to themselves, and Horsemaster Dennet speaking to them softly.  Maker, if she could hear him….

Nyssa raked her fingers through her hair, and felt straw in it.  She blushed, groping for her clothing.  As she did, she noticed the soft gleam of metal by her feet, and leaned over.

Blackwall’s Warden-Commander badge.

A chill raced down Nyssa’s spine.  Why would he leave this here, with her?

By the time she’d made it down the stairs to the ground level of the barn, Dennet had blessedly found something to do outside by the well.  She was more than half convinced by the way he studiously stayed at the well that he HAD heard what had happened last night, and was trying to give her an escape route.

Might well be he was trying to give HIMSELF a way out of an uncomfortable encounter, too.

A piece of paper caught her attention, balanced against the griffon riding toy Blackwall had been carving.  She picked it up, her stomach knotting with dread.

 My lady:

 There is little I can say that will ease this pain.  Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would've hurt more if I stayed.  

I am deeply sorry. -- Blackwall

She stood, staring at the note, her mind racing.  He'd.... left?  He'd left, and had tried to make it seem... good that he'd left?

She gripped the parchment hard, unconscious of crumpling it in her suddenly damp fist. It couldn't be, he loved her and she loved him, he wouldn't  --

Unless...

Her cheeks burned with shame.  She hadn't told him, not until they were already.... that this -- that he was her first love.

He'd stopped, frozen for a moment, and she'd seen something in his eyes -- indecision? Worry?  For a moment she'd thought he'd stop, and had begged him to go on.  He'd seemed to come to some decision, and instead of stopping, he'd been very gentle and compassionate, attentive to her beyond all imaginings.  He'd coaxed her to pleasure repeatedly, until she'd dozed off, limp and exhausted, nestled against his side.

Maybe.... maybe he hadn't liked her.  Maybe her inexperience....  Or worse, maybe he'd never liked her.  Maybe he had only wanted to bed the Inquisitor.  People were attracted to power, and she was no fool -- she was attractive enough, physically....

Maybe that was all he'd ever wanted of her.

Her stomach twisted with nausea as she turned toward the barn door and saw a scout standing there.

“Sister Leliana has confirmed it.  Blackwall has gone.”

Nyssa nodded slightly, the parchment damp and crumpled in her fist, then noticed the look of sympathy in the runner’s eyes.  She looked away quickly, her face suffusing with shame.  “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice barely able to get around the lump in her throat.  “That will be all.”

She didn’t run.  A lifetime of Circle training took over, and she walked purposefully but without unseemly, eye-catching haste – her hand wrapped so tightly around the Constable’s badge that the edges cut painfully into her hand. 

He should never have allowed her to accompany him back to the stables.

Blackwall tightened the cinches on his -- well, the Inquisition's horse, really, but the little gelding he rode most often when they went into the field.  Brown as dirt, steady, with a deceptive gait that ate up distance even with a hairy lummox like him aboard.

The gelding turned to look at him, nudging the warrior with a soft nicker. Blackwall usually had a carrot or an apple for him, but now, tonight -- he hadn't taken the time to get one from the kitchens.

He glanced at the ceiling above him praying that even this slight noise wouldn't give him away, heard nothing, and turned back to his task.   With every buckle fastened, disgust, guilt and sorrow made him more desperate to be away.

He'd known he was worthless.   He'd known and he'd begged Nyssa to believe him when he said he was nobody, and that there no life they could have together.  And now she was another regret, another stain on his soul -- another life he'd fouled and ruined, just because he was too weak to do the right thing and leave her alone.  A woman twenty years his junior... bad enough he was old enough to be her father, but the life she'd had forced on her had left her far more innocent than he'd realized.

He'd wanted to believe her.  That was his only excuse, and still, the blame was his entirely, not hers.  He'd wanted to believe her when she told him she knew he was a good man, he'd wanted to believe her when she looked at the death and destruction in his wake and said, "You don't have to face this alone."  And blessed Andraste, the way she looked at him, and the gentleness of her touch... the way she believed in him, trusted him....

He should never have let her accompany him back from the tavern.  They'd drunk some, but he wouldn't excuse himself with that.  He hadn't been drunk.  Neither had she.  The difference was he'd known, he'd known from the moment he asked her to accompany him to the tavern that he would be leaving.  He'd known what he was doing, and couldn't -- and didn't want to stop.  She had probably imagined this was the start of their life together when he knew, he'd always known, it was goodbye.

Another lie.  Another betrayal.

He leaned forward, his head against the saddle, a hand over his eyes, his breath unsteady. The one person in the world who thought him worth something, and to do this to her....

He swallowed, straightened, and continued his task, now fastening his saddlebags to the saddle.

He'd taken her innocence on a stack of hay bales in a stable.

The shame of that hit him like a hammer blow; it took his breath away.  He hadn't realized until her sharp gasp, and when he'd realized, tried to disengage, she'd clutched him tighter and pleaded with him not to worry, to go on, that she loved him....

A worthless bastard like him.

He'd loved her like a man possessed, whispering his adoration of her with every stroke -and then he'd loved her again, kissing her, stroking her, licking her.  He'd managed to build her pleasure, tease her until she came, stifling her cries in his shoulder.

He could still taste her.  Maker, he had thought to take the memory of her to his pyre, but once he realized that he was the first man she'd lain with, he'd used every technique he knew to bring her to fruition, three times to his once.  To leave her with at least one good memory of him.

"She's happy."

He gasped, whirling.  Cole, of course.  "Maker's balls," he swore, taking the horse's reins.

"Guilt, shame, another life ruined, another lie, another betrayal -- go before I can't. It's better this way." Those pale eyes looked at him from beneath a fringe of limp blonde hair and that ridiculous hat.  "You don't want to go.... and she needs you."

"The last thing she needs is me," Blackwall said.  "Maker forgive me for hurting her like this -- I know I can't."  He looked at the strange spirit boy.   "Let her sleep," he begged.  "Let her have some happiness before she realizes.... before I'm gone."  He led the horse outside.

"She loves you."  Cole sounded a little confused, a little worried.  "She'd help, I know she'd help!  She'd want to -- "

"No, Cole!"  The whisper came sharp, and fierce.  "She mustn't know, she mustn't.... it's kinder to let her remember me as she sees me -- not as I am."

Blackwall mounted the gelding.  "Let her dream," he repeated softly.  "Let her have some peace.  Maker knows she gets little enough of it."

He'd left the note on the unfinished griffon riding toy -- and the Warden-Constable badge beside her.

Let her love the dream.  The reality would be a bitter disappointment.

He'd ridden through the silent, empty courtyard and out of Skyhold, alone.

When Dorian knocked at Nyssa's door a few hours later, it was opened after a good few minutes of fumbling.

Nyssa was swaying slightly as she held the door open, a bottle of Gwaren whisky clutched by its neck in her left hand.  The bottle glowed a peculiar green as the mark pulsed against the cold glass. “Dorian!” she said, a bit too loudly.  “C’mon in, have a drink with me, cousin!”

Dorian stepped in, shutting the door and guiding her back up the steps with his hand gently resting on the small of her back.  “I see it’s been that sort of day for you this time, Nyssa.”

“He’s gone,” she said, plopping gracelessly onto the couch by the top of the stairs and taking another swig from the bottle.  She coughed, then looked away at the pattern in the carpet.  “Gone,” she repeated.   “Without a word.”

She didn't need to clarify:   runners had been racing through the library up to and down from Leliana's roost all day.  It hadn't been long before he knew that Blackwall had gone, whither no one knew.

“Somehow it doesn’t feel very gratifying to have been right about his boorishness.” Dorian reached over and gently tugged the bottle from her fingers, then took a swig himself.  His nose wrinkled at the taste.  “Nyssa, I thought you had better taste than this.”

“It’s strong,” she said, raking her fingers through her hair.  “I need strong.”

He considered the missing Warden, and kicked himself for having encouraging her in her pursuit.  Yes, she had been attracted to Blackwall, probably his physical strength.  He WAS quite a burly man, and muscular.  What must he have seemed to her when mages tended to be lithe?  He was larger than Cullen, and any of the templars in the courtyard sparring.   He must have felt safe, like protection.  But there was also that quiet resolve to do one's duty as one must.  Duty, sacrifice, and honor.  Nyssa had fallen for that, too.

Dorian huffed, trying to distract her as he considered how best to help her.   "I suspect the last thing you'll need in the morning is the hangover this swill will trigger."  He sat beside her on the couch.  "But, if needs must, we'll be miserable together.  Mother Giselle can shoot me some more dirty looks and make a few veiled comments about my undue influence on you, but ha! the joke will be on her -- it will be your influence over me!"

Nyssa stopped, looking stricken.  "I don't want that 'bad Tevinter' nonsense coming back up."

"Well, I AM a bad Tevinter.  Ask my countrymen."  He smiled at her, leaning and crossing his leg negligently.  His rings flashed as he saluted her with the bottle.

Nyssa flopped back against the couch, groaning.

Dorian took one more swallow of the whiskey, then set it out of her reach, shaking his head at the taste.  "People come and go from Skyhold for all sorts of reasons.  Why is this particularly upsetting to you?  I know you were fond of...."

She closed her eyes, took a breath.  "Because I spent the night with him," she said in a small voice.  "And when I woke, he was gone."

Dorian went still, his grey eyes darkening.  Oh, he knew how that went, well enough.  The difference being that he had known each time what the outcome would be come the morning.  Clearly, Nyssa had not.

She sat forward, elbows on her knees, running her fingers through her hair nervously.  "I feel so stupid," she said, her voice tight and shaky.  "I'm not... I hadn't...."  She stilled, unable to meet his eyes.  "Maybe.... I just wasn't g--"

Maker.  She was ashamed.

Dorian shook his head. "Stop.  I refuse to listen to you running down my best friend."  There was anger smouldering in his eyes, but Nyssa could also see -- not pity, but understanding.  He put a hand on her shoulder.  "No matter what you may think or feel, it has nothing  to do with you, and everything in the world to do with his being a swine."

Nyssa shook her head bitterly.  "Everyone leaves me," she muttered.

"Nyssa...."

She looked over at him.  "Everyone, Dorian.  My parents... they couldn't get the templars out to take me away fast enough.  When I was in the Circle, I didn't.... I wasn't able to inherit but I had it pounded into my head that there had better not be any Trevelyan mage bastards.  So I wouldn't.... and my friend decided to move on to someone who would."  She drew a short, shuddering breath.  "And when the Circle dissolved -- my Aunt Lucille took me, just long enough to send me to the Conclave with my templar and clerical cousins.  They're all dead now."  She sat stiffly.  "So this, this being alone thing, it's not new to me.  But it still hurts.  It hurts that no one stays, ever."

He sighed, and there was something unreadable in his eyes as he slid closer and wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close.  "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my dear.  Poor as that company may be."   He felt her start to relax against his shoulder fractionally, and patted her back gently, soothingly.  "And one of the first things we are going to work on, beside your perception that you are somehow unworthy of people's regard, is your pedestrian taste in alcohol.   Surely as Inquisitor you should have better ways to drown your sorrows!"

He sat there, soothing her, until she finally fell asleep.

[livereadyxyz]

Mental Focus

In the first installment of The Warrior Mindset: Train the Brain, I attempted to define what a "warrior mindset" was as it seems there are several definitions used depending on how the term is being applied. In this write-up, I'll discuss the topic of mental focus and how it pertains to a warrior mindset, along with a couple of proven techniques to help you "train your brain" to develop the skill.

Warrior Mindset‘ is more than aggressiveness and determination, it is about over coming challenge and adversity. It’s about possessing, understanding, and being able to utilize a set of psychological and physical skills that allow someone to be effective, adaptive, and persistent. It also allows someone to use optimal decision-making, psychological techniques, physical and tactical skills learned in training and by experience."

Focusing on behavior if you want a "Warrior Mindset"

How can someone truly pay attention when they are distracted?  The answer is they really can't, not totally anyhow. Next time you are with your friends, family or co-workers, take a look around. The odds are pretty high that you will see people starring at their palms, bypassing the real world to check in on their online identity via a smartphone. The human brain is wired to adapt to what the environment around it requires for survival, but with the technological advances of the last few years it seems that we are headed in a direction where we are re-wiring how the way our brains function; essentially tuning out the environments we live in. We've already become hyper-connected slaves to technology, de-tuned and unfocused with the actual environment around us. While being connected to a powerful global communications device is great for finding a local pizza shop or gas station, it's not great at determining potential threats in your immediate environment - which is obviously not optimal for situational or spatial awareness. Human brains in their natural state however, were designed specifically for identifying threats.

Have you ever seen someone walking down the street wearing headphones while looking at their phone the entire time? Talk about living in a bubble! Some people think that they can still pay attention while doing a complicated task, but it's just not how our brains work. Human ability to pay attention or to maintain focus is a behavioral and cognitive process of selectively concentrating. Many people just chalk the behavior up to the changing times due to technology, or to the concept of multitasking. Sure, multitasking means we can get more done, but it also makes us more prone to making mistakes. It makes us more likely to miss important information and cues about our environment, and makes us less likely to analyze information, which impairs problem solving.

Regarding the word ‘multitasking,’ cognitive, behavioral, and neurological sciences are moving toward a consensus that such a state does not actually exist in the human brain. We may make many quick ‘thoughts’ in succession, but human performance in any activity that is done without focus (often termed ‘multitasking’) is of significantly lower quality, including an absence of quality and consciousness. The word unfortunately perpetuates a false ideal of the human capacity to perform and succeed” - Annette Liska.

So, what does any of this have to do with having a "Warrior Mindset"? As we covered in The Warrior Mindset: Train the Brain, real warriors have always been encouraged to train and accumulate physical strength. But what good is strength and physical skill without a sharp focused mind to guide it? Before you can develop a 'Warrior Mindset' you will need to have a healthy mental state and you'll need to exhibit behavior that allows you to focus. As a 'Warrior' you will need to control the direction of your attention and focus your attention on your intention (try to say that three times fast). It's difficult to remain fully-focused on the task at hand in the face of distractions at times, that's just life. The human brain continuously scans our internal and external environments, even when you are focused on a particular task (to a certain extent). However, we always have distractions lurking around every corner (anyone with kids will tell you this). Some of us cannot pay attention to tasks because of thoughts, emotions, sounds, or interruptions. Fortunately, the brain is capable of instantly stopping random thoughts, unnecessary actions, and even instinctive emotions from derailing you and getting you off track. Below are two simple techniques you can start to improve your focus - on your own.

“Be Here Now”

The secret to performing at your best under pressure is to control what you’re paying attention to in the moment. If you want to be able to focus in a high stress environment, you'll need to tame your 'frenzy'. Frenzy is an emotional state where your emotions take over, making you feel fear, anger, out of control, etc. A popular phrase that is proven effective in training your brain to focus is “Be Here Now.” Corporations have used it, and school teachers have recommended this popular, yet super simple, technique to their students who find it hard to concentrate. Every time you find your mind wandering elsewhere, tell yourself, “Be Here Now.” This deceptively simple strategy is probably the most effective as it gently brings your attention back to where you want it. It allows you to clear your head of all the distractions, so that you can attain the power to focus.

ABC Technique

So how can you calm your frenzy and clear your head when there are distractions? Distractions can be anything from sounds to objects in your immediate environment that redirect your attention on to something that your brain perceives could be potentially dangerous. However, many of these distractions are false alarms. Fortunately, you can train your brain to automatically stop them from derailing your focus. To be able to do this, you must utilize your brain’s brake pedal—which can be done by using the ABC technique below.

“A” stands for awareness, which allows you to pause whatever you’re doing at the moment and recognize the distraction. Become Aware of your options: you can stop what you are doing and address the distraction, or you can let it go.

“B” stands for breathing deeply and reflecting on your options. Breathe deeply and consider your options.

“C” for choosing mindfully and deciding on what to do with the distraction—either you deal with it or dismiss it. Then Choose thoughtfully: Stop? or Go?

Where Attention goes Energy flows; Where Intention goes Energy flows!” ― James Redfield

Now, think about this, how many times did you get distracted or get your attention pulled away while reading this article? If you didn't get pulled away, excellent! If you did get distracted, I would urge you to direct your attention to the techniques above. One thing humans can do that some other animals cannot due is direct their conscious focus. Remaining fully-focused on the task at hand in the face of distractions demands that you control what you pay attention to. That is the secret to performing at your best and developing a true Warrior Mindset.

© Written by Keith Sipmann

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[erstwhile25]

Skin of the Teeth Part 2: Whereupon there is Treachery.

The longboats sliced through the waters of the bay, their paddles dipped into the water in practiced synchronization, creating a strange metronome with the slap of the waves against their hulls.  Kail found it oddly soothing, a strange bit of order leading into what would no doubt eventually be chaos.  He pushed the thought aside though and focused on his own task, he tuned out distractions, and took the world in.  

It was a moonless night, and while the stars were out, their light was simply swallowed by the dark frigid waters of the bay.  Kail had forbid lanterns out on the water, they were in a city state policed by military airships and any light on the ground in this pitch black was a beacon for miles from the air.  Still the bay had its reefs and sand bars, and those were just the things that didn’t come looking for trouble, so the away crew needed some sort of guide through the dark waters. 

Kail tried not to be too smug about it as he gave hand signals that the other boats behind his followed into safety.  There was something deliciously savory about being able to see in the dark where others were blind.  True, his eyepatch with it’s hidden aetheric lenses did all the work, but small details like that never stopped him from taking the credit before.  

Eventually the shore came into his view, the lenses in his eyepatch layered Norah and the pack of resistance waiting behind her in a soft silver corona. He couldn’t see her face from here, but he knew from the set of her feet and square of her shoulders that she was just as nervous as he.  He knocked on the boats hull, a signal for them to pick up the pace, and then motioned to the trailing boats to pull up alongside his.  

Noyra and Syf had come along at his request, each at the head of their own longboat.  Noyra the Roegadyn was hunched over in an attempt to make herself smaller, it would have been funnier Kail supposed, had it been anyone else.  He was familiar with people who were uncomfortable in their bodies, who did everything they could to shape or mold the container they had been cursed with until their dying days, in some small attempt to fit it to its interior.  Noyra at one point had been at such war with her own body.  

She had been big as a child, taller than the rest of them to be sure, but when her adult growth hit her, words like “tall” and “big” simply stopped applying her.  Even among the Roe she was considered huge, freakishly so, and as far as the gentle girl was concerned, it didn’t fit her in the slightest.  She had done everything in her power to resist her growth, from potions to acupuncture, but it was like fighting the tide.  The low had come when Kail and the others had found her trying to take a hammer to her feet.  Currently she was at something of an armistice with her size, and the others were sure that being out on the sea helped.  This was evidenced when she offered Kail a slight wave and a smile that showed very white teeth from her boat.  Then she went back to taking delicate bites of an apple that looked like a peach pit between her large digits.  

Syf was another story.  It had never been a question of Syf being comfortable with herself, but of the world being comfortable with Syf.  Hers was a form of deceptive slenderness with the truth etched under her tatters and leathers in the same network of scars that all the survivors of the Howling Sin shared.  Syf however sported a wound from that fated night that set her apart from the others, and it wasn’t her missing eyes.  The Midlander was putting a razor edge on the long blade of her wickedly hooked fishing spear, the charms and shells in her grey dreadlocks gave dry whispers and rattles with each stroke.  The strokes kept in time with the paddle dips into the water, and Kail could see her lips moving, over the sound of the rowing came her faint singing. It was a popular shanty back on the docks called “Johnny and Mercy” and Syf’s sweet soprano was doing it a particular justice, at least until you listened to the lyrics.  In the original version of the song Mercy, a sweet and unassuming woman, was on the docks looking for her sweet sailor Johnny.  All the while she is being led on a merry chase by sailors who knew what men do when they came to port.  In Syf’s version, Mercy guts Johnny by the third verse and spends the next four making him beg for mercy…pun intended.

Kail had been attempting for some time to ask Isral just what he had said or done to retrieve the woman from her haunt of the coast near Sharlayan, where apparently she had made life hell for any slaver that stopped in the area long enough to clear their throats.   Isral’s obfuscation of self was unfortunately second only to his ability to deflect questions, and whenever Kail broached the subject, he found himself instead talking of something else.  Kail couldn’t argue with results though, not but a few weeks after Isral set out, he came back with Syf eager for action.  Kail just hoped that eagerness would work for them instead of against them.  

He was rocked gently from this line of thought as the boats nudged their way onto shore and the crew, began stowing the oars.  Norah was already walking forward, with the Resistance fighters and refugees waiting warily by the wagons.  Her normally serene and polite demeanor was warped slightly by a fierce furrow of the brow, and a set to her jaw that Kail knew all too well, she had been recently arguing with someone.  So much for the picturesque twirling embrace of a reunion.  

They met one another halfway, and in lieu of a passionate pressing of their bodies against one another, forced themselves to be satisfied with a clasping of the hands and a meeting of the eyes.  Words would come, but for the few moments they would be alone, they allowed themselves the simple and sublime relief that came with knowing the other was still whole.  Kail found comfort he didn’t know he had, and the ill rest of the night seemed to simply wash away in the face of it.  He saw the same reaction in Norah’s face and she on his, the simultaneous recognition caused a small, almost embarrassed smile to tug at their lips.  

Unfortunately they were unable to wear it for long, for time was marching on.  With the care of picking a lock, Kail broke the silence. “Yer brother?” “Alive.”  She said, some of her previous relief leaking into her voice. “It was close, too close some might say, we…” she cast a glance back towards some of the wagons “we had to come to blows with the local constabulary to stop the execution.  There were casualties, and we have wounded, he’s among them.” Kail gave a grim nod, some of the Resistance had entertained the notion that this might have been done without shedding blood, he’d had his reservations.  "Lalo can take a look at them, he’s as good as any chirurgeon back in Ishgard, better than iffin ye ask him.“ She kept her eyes on the wagons a moment longer before nodding herself "Kail, there’s something el..” “You’re late!” Interrupted a gruff voice behind her.  A handful of the Resistance had broken off from the others, at their head was a muscled specimen of the Highland persuasion.  Kail remembered him from the planning sessions for this mission.  His name was Baroth, and he’d struck Kail as someone who had been an angry individual before the world had seasoned him with a lifetime of humiliation and sedition.  Time had not improved his sense of humor.   Originally Baroth had been second in command of this resistance cell, and had been kept in check by an older man named Taltov, who had been level-headed, patient, and smart.  The sort of revolutionary leader that died early and often.  True to form Taltov was no where to be seen, and Kail took that by the way Baroth stalked forward, his field promotion hadn’t been a pleasant affair. “Took you a damned era to get those boats loaded and out here, we’ve got woun…” “He’s aware of our situation Baroth, and he’s here.” Norah did the interrupting this time, biting off the last word with a clipped intensity that matched the heated glare she threw Baroth’s way.  Kail couldn’t help waggling his eyebrows over her shoulder at the newly minted Resistance leader, which earned him a black look from the man.  As tempted as he was to smart off, Kail reminded himself that this man, along with every refugee there, was coming to the end of a very long day.  So he bit back his bile and got to business.   “Unclench those teeth lad, get the wounded t'the boats and we’ll start ferryin them over t'the Rook.  The less time we spend out on the shore the better.”   Baroth shook his head curtly and patted the hanging sword on his belt.  "My self and the few that can still lift blades will be going over first.“ Kail blinked, and for a moment thought he hadn’t heard the man right, or had lost his grasp on the common tongue.  Norah gave voice to his thoughts. "You just said it yourself Borath, we’ve those who need a doctor’s care soon, they should be the first on the Rook!” “This isn’t the first time the Resistance has dealt with pirates like your paramour Lady Shin.” He narrowed his eyes at Kail, and for a moment Kail felt fancy, it wasn’t every day someone called him a paramour. “They’re all smiles and simplicity when the deal is being struck, but once they have your back to the wall, they find a knife to twist into your gut.  If I send our wounded first they’ll ransom them for coin, I’m merely ensuring ours have appropriate protection when they arrive.” Kail felt a headache coming on, and had to resist the urge to grind his teeth.  "A wee bit paranoid ent ye?  I mean what wealth am I goin t'squeeze from a bunch of ragged refugees?“ "I see no other reason why you would bring a giant and an assassin!”  Baroth nearly snarled and pointed at Noyra and Syf in turn, the two had heard the commotion and come to stand by Kail’s side.   “I am being pointed at..” stated Syf with a grin and with a rattling cock of her blindfolded head she mused to Noyra “Cleary…they are not fond of that finger.”   The mute Noyra gave a slow ponderous look from Syf to Borath, before popping the core of her apple in her mouth and chewing just as slow.  Some sort of silent agreement had passed between the pair of women, and though the sand was loose beneath their feet, they suddenly projected the same immobility one would expect from a castle wall.    As much as he would have liked to have seen them show Baroth exactly why they had been brought along, Kail was fairly sure there were better uses of their time.  He held up a hand to the pair of them, and looked back to study Baroth.  This was odd even for present company.  Baroth wasn’t panicking as most do when they’re on the lam from authorities, no this was calculated and hostile, something was wrong and he was trying to keep them off balance before they figured it out.  Kail looked over the Highlander’s shoulder and took a quick head count of the Resistance members and refugees behind him.  Realization dawned on him with all the subtlety of a hammer blow.  

He stepped into Baroth’s personal space, and he had to give the Highlander credit for limiting his reaction to simply reaching to his sword once more and widening his eyes.  Kail raised both hands, showing them empty, and displaying (he hoped) the peacefulness of his intentions.  Lowering his voice, Kail spoke that so only Norah and Baroth could hear. “Have you told them yet?” The pair of them followed his glance towards the refugees, Norah didn’t need look back to Kail, he could tell by the slump of her shoulders that she knew what he was talking about.  Baroth was under the impression however that he had some future in the acting circuit, and attempted to feign ignorance.  "Told them what?“ Kail let out a small hiss of breath, and reminded himself that while letting Noyra bounce Baroth off a nearby rock was certainly a satisfying option, it wasn’t a helpful one. "When I signed on t'this job, I was very clear with Taltov, I could take ten men, women, or children from these shores, and that was it.  I count more than twenty-five back there.”

“That…” said Norah, casting a glare at Baroth “Is what I’ve been trying to tell you.  When we sprang the others…” She stared hard back at the refugees, and in that moment there was a subtle change in her posture that Kail wouldn’t have caught if he hadn’t been looking right at her.    It was more guarded, tense, as though something from within was threatening to spill forth if she did not keep both hands upon it.  "They were in cage next to the gallows, it wasn’t but a stone’s throw from the scaffolding.  They were made to watch as their friends were just hung knowing they were next, and those…those Garlean bastards were joking about the convenience of it all.“ She turned back to Kail, the momentary unsteadiness banished behind anger and outrage.  "We…I was unable to leave them there.” Kail didn’t need any intimate knowledge of the woman to know she was speaking the simple truth.  She had been physically incapable of leaving them behind.  They would have had to drag her away before she had allowed any such thing to happen, and that’s a hard feat to accomplish with a woman who could melt steel and shatter rock.

“Well what does it matter?” Baroth finally grumbled. “So your ship rides a little lower in the water and isn’t as comfortable, you can fit them all in there, look at it.” He motioned to the Rook as if a cursory glance summed up the craft’s capabilities, and only a complete moron couldn’t see it.   “It matters.” Shot back Kail, the level nature of his voice tilting towards an anger he rarely let out.  He didn’t care if they were refugee, resistance, or long lost family.  No one told him what to do with his ship.  "Tisn’t jest about keepin her above the waves ye feckin fool, iffin she doesn’t ride high in the water she’s much slower.  That’s longer in hostile waters with little to no hope of outrunning the airship they WILL send after us.  Never mind the fact we ent got enough food an fresh water fer that many.  Ye ever seen what happens on a ship with no food?“

Baroth blanched for a moment, and in that moment it was obvious he hadn’t thought on that.  Kail bit back on his temper a bit, Baroth looked lost as he stood staring at the Ashen Rook as though it was a poisoned oasis in the desert.  He was caught between a rock and a hard place while running with a stick of dynamite.  He had probably woke today thinking something would be different because he was trying to make a difference, only to find out the depths to which the world was truly indifferent.  To say anything now would only drive the nail in the further.  Kail might have been a cad, but he tried his best not to be cruel. Norah laid a hand gently on Borath’s shoulder in comfort, before looking to Kail searchingly.  "There must be something we can do, we can’t just abandon them here.” Frowning Kail scratched at his thickening stubble and closed his eyes while he considered the whole.  To leave them on the shore would be as good as slitting their throats, the Garleans needed examples to make of escapees, and someone had to have seen the direction the wagons took off in. “The resistance’s inside men took care of any local airships aye?”

Norah nodded “For a time at least, last we heard from them they would be able to cripple any docked ships for at least a day.  If they coordinated with us correctly, the ships have been down only for a few hours.” “That’s plenty of time fer a small boat t'get somewhere.” Kneeling ,Kail quickly sketched out the curving shoreline in the surrounding area, dotting an area in the sea several times. “South east of here there’s a scattering of islands, ent big enough to colonize, but they’ve got enough brush on em t'hide from any air patrols. We’ll load the wounded onto the Ashen Rook, and after they’re squared away we’ll leave the longboats and whatever supplies we can spare t'whoever’s left.  The boats can all be converted over to sail crafts, and iffin ye work fast ye can catch the dawn breezes coming off the mountains, should give ye a solid push towards these islands.” Baroth’s frown had returned, and deepened as Kail pressed on with the idea. “Ye lot stash yerselves there, twon’t be comfortable, but those islands have game and fresh water enough to keep ye lot the better side of thin.  Ye might even get lucky and find a smuggler’s stash, some of the lads use the islands fer emergency supplies.  We take the Rook back, n’once we’ve dropped the wounded off in Gridania, we’ll turn around and come back fer ye.”

“Just that I have this in hand…” Baroth rumbled as he stared daggers at Kail. “We’re going to set off in vessels not meant for the open seas, to a set of islands for which we have only your word on their existence.  Once we arrive we will have to hope you return before thirst or starvation or the Garleans claim us.  Have I mentioned I don’t trust you?”

“Iffin ye think  ye can get a better deal out of the Garleans, yer welcome t’wait here n’hash it out with em.”  Kail conjured one of his best wolfish smiles.  It was a smile that said he knew what sort of man Baroth was, that he wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last that Kail had dealt with.  Somehow both Syf and Noyra had picked up on the threat, and there was a tightening of fingers around a spear, and a slow hollow popping of knuckles the size of plums.  Baroth swallowed once, then looked to Norah to see if he could find support.  She gave him a slight shake of her head.  “It’s not ideal…but it’s a better plan than we had.  I’ll…I’ll go with you, once we have the wounded aboard the Rook.  We’ll all come out of this Baroth, you have my word.”

Kail felt a twinge in his gut as Norah volunteered herself, he was tempted to argue that detail right then and there, but it seemed to be the push to reason that Baroth needed.  The highlander gave a gentle nod of his head, and then headed back towards the refugees with his men in tow.  

“Well..” said Norah with a small sigh of relief.”That could have gone worse I suppose.”

“We need t’keep an eye on him Norah…” Kail muttered under his breath as he watched the man hoof it back up the sand dunes.

“Whatever for?  He’s agreed to it hasn’t he?”

“There was a reason he wanted his boys armed and aboard the Rook first…and it weren’t fer protectin the wounded, that was jest his excuse.”

It didn’t take her long to put it together, a moment of tapping her lips then she blinked and spoke Kail’s thoughts aloud. “He was going to try and take the ship…while half her crew was ferrying wounded.”  She skipped shock, and simply let cold anger blaze over her features. “The simple cheek of the bastard and after all our trouble..we aught to..”

The internal struggle on her features was plain.  She had family on the line and Baroth wasn’t just gambling with their lives, he was moving to sacrifice friends and loved ones, all in the name of a cause she carried just as close to her heart.  Yet if she took vengeance now, the lives lost for this would be for nothing.  She took a deep breath, and Kail saw a snap of electricity in her right hand, along with the heated smell of burning ozone.  It was gone just as quickly as it came, her version of letting pressure off a valve.  As she composed herself Norah’s face became both pleasant and serenely statuesque.  In that moment Kail found himself both slightly unsettled, and uncomfortably aroused, he decided it best to keep that to himself.  

“We’ll settle accounts later…for now, survival yes?”  She wove her hand into Kail’s arm and patted it fondly.  

“Survival sounds good, much better than the alternative.” He smirked, and led her back to the longboats.  

[bffhreprise]

Entry 278

 :Nervous?: inquired Adelmar, smiling at me.

 :Perhaps a little.: I admitted.  :James isn’t aware that you’ll want to announce our engagement right now, and he doesn’t always take things well.:

 :Any man willing to fight so valiantly for your hand wouldn’t ruin the moment because something doesn’t go his way for once.: argued Adelmar, keeping his smile up as he gazed at the people filing into the room.  He had ordered everyone to return, assuring them that Death had vanished.

 When James ran into the room seconds later, I could sense his tension through his posture.  Fortunately, he wasn’t angry… yet.  I could always tell if he was angry with my eyes closed.  I knew Adelmar wouldn’t budge on this, or I would have argued strongly against the coming announcement at this juncture.  If James was enraged and disrespected my cousin, they’d fight.  If James were fighting, Death would return… My family could die today.

 I felt some of my tension drain away as James allowed Adelmar to take him by the hand, placing that hand with my own.  Fighting the urge to stare up at James, I focused on the joy of our engagement and smiled out at the accumulated witnesses as Adelmar announced my betrothment to James.  Instead of continued tension, I felt James go a little slack, perhaps shocked.  At least he wasn’t angry.  My smile became all the more genuine when James started smiling as well, but I was certain this was still a shock for him.

 Eventually, my cousin’s speech came to an end, and he guided us out of the room.  Looking between us, he said, “I truly am sorry for keeping you, but formalities must be observed.  I do know of your friend marrying into the family today, and I do not wish you to miss it entirely.  Please, excuse me.  I need to have a chat with Hyun-woo about his recent behavior.”

 Giving into an impulse I jumped, wrapped my arms around my fiancé, and kissed him.  He had reflexively caught me but quickly returned my kiss, looking surprised when I pulled away from him.

 “James, we must be off… the wedding.” I reminded him.

 He sighed as he set me down.  Then he took my hand and ran with me.  The moment we passed the gate, I became disoriented.  Everything around us had changed, and I took nearly a second to recognize my family estate, over a thousand miles from where I should be.

 “My home?  How?” I asked aloud, though I was certain James would be equally baffled.

  “As the future Mrs. Somerset, you will be granted certain privileges, such as better traveling arrangements.  You will, of course, need to sign this confidentiality agreement.” announced Aaliyah as she held up a tablet for me.

 I used all of my abilities to try gauging her meaning here, knowing this was likely a trap, but she remained as unreadable as ever.  Taking the tablet, I read through the agreement, which was remarkably straightforward coming from her.  If there was deception here, consider me hoodwinked.  Having no real choice in the matter, since she transferred me here first, I would sign, though I still wished I’d be able to let Adelmar know where I stood.

 Dishes dropped as Poppy rounded a corner, obviously shocked by our presence.  “I beg your pardon, my lady.  I wasn’t aware you returned.”

 Smiling, I reassuringly said, “Good evening, Poppy.  Don’t worry about making arrangements.  I won’t be here for long.”

 Poppy curtsied, mumbled an acknowledgement, and proceeded to clean up the mess.  James, unwilling to resist, helped by cleaning up the smallest fragments and liquid with a few spells.  She smiled and curtsied again before hurrying off.

 “Sebastian, James and I are going to visit my father.” I announced as Sebastian came to investigate the noise.

 “Very well, my lady.  Might I have a word with you in private after you are finished?” he questioned.

 “No.  My fiancé and I must attend Ai and Mai’s wedding, so we’re more than slightly pressed for time.”

 “Very well, my lady.” he replied with a nod.

 Seeing Aaliyah step over to Sebastian, I signed the contract.  I wasn’t going to risk anyone over an apparent favor she had granted me.

 “I’m terribly sorry, miss Aaliyah, but I do not have any sweets on me today.” he informed her.

 She pouted, appearing to be an exceptionally adorable child.

  “Come along, James.  We’re here so that you may meet my father, given our engagement.” I stated, forcing myself not to run.  I wouldn’t have flown here if I had flown, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

 “Eventually, I would like a tour of your home.  This place seems magnificent.” commented James as we walked.

 “I’ll arrange a tour on our next visit.” I promised.

 Arriving in the library after numerous turns, I started unraveling the traps which protected my father’s domain as Sebastian locked the door.

 “Traps?” questioned James.

 I smiled and gave him a wink.  He would surely understand why I went to such lengths after meeting my father.  Hopefully, Father would be in a good mood.  There were days where I wasn’t entirely certain he even recognized me.

 “Your home isn’t the only one with secret passageways guarded by spells.” I assured James when he took note of the wall opening for us.

 “The only spells I recall are on the vault.” he replied, seeming sincere.

 “There are others.  You probably just set them off without a care, don’t you.” I replied ruefully.

 James seemed to consider what I said, and I found myself smiling again.

 “I’m going to stay here with Sebastian.  I smell chocolate.” announced Aaliyah as James followed me through the opening.

 Sebastian had taken post next to the door as a guard.  None of the staff would come in here, and Sebastian would have warned me of visitors, but he knew his duty.

 “Your father’s in a hole?” questioned James when we arrived at the way down.

 “My father spends all of his time guarding what we believe to be a magical focal point, or node.  I’ll protect you from the heat, so don’t worry.  Please try not to absorb too much energy.  My father’s staff wouldn’t be able to get anything done for half a day.  Just follow my example and descend carefully, since my spells won’t affect you.” I cautioned, hoping that this would go well.

 James nodded, so we started our descent.

 “Your father… The Duke… is a fey?” questioned James, obviously surprised.

 “What?” I questioned, perhaps too harshly.  “He’s…”  Realizing why James would say what he did, I dropped my protections.  I was soon assaulted by visions of fire.  The chaotic whirl of images and feelings projected by my father would make most fey seem rational.  The barrage of mental sensation continued on and on.  “I am so, so sorry… Tad…  Yr wyf yn dod.” I mumbled.  I never suspected that my father had been trying to communicate all this time.

 The moment my feet touched the ground, I sprinted to him, sensing his presence in the inferno around us.  I replied to him, mentally projecting my sorrow at not hearing him till now.  He told me of his days, of his continued feeling of loss over Mother.  We communicated on and on.  In time, I showed him who was with me, allowing him to see James’ fights.  I told my father of the engagement, and I felt his happiness.  He didn’t seem to fully understand, nor did he comprehend that we were leaving.  I did my best to show that we would return, but… I wiped another tear from my eye and took my fiancé’s hand.

 As we ascended back up the tunnel, James brushed more tears from my cheek.  Father was confused at why I was leaving.  He wanted me to remain.

 Staring up into James’ eyes, I admitted “I might have been able to help him to save his mind…”  If only I hadn’t been so paranoid about mental protection in my own home.  The guilt was eating away at me already.  My poor father had been shouting for attention all of this time.

 “Don’t blame yourself.  You couldn’t have known.” insisted James.

 “Adelmar had tried communicating with him several times for me, but he said it was hopeless.  He never got a response and said he couldn’t pull anything intelligible from my father’s mind.” I explained, wanting James to know that we had tried.

 “Be thankful.  You can be there for him now.” replied James, gently wrapping his arm around me.

 “Unless you want to move to England, I can’t be here often, James.” I argued, unwilling to dismiss the truth.

  “Why not?  You just signed a confidentiality agreement that allows for swift passage anywhere.  I’m rather certain that Aaliyah will take you here daily if you wish.” he insisted.

 Shaking my head, I said, “No, you still don’t understand her.”

 “I understand her far better than you do.  I’ve become more and more certain of it.” asserted James.  “If I’m understanding her intentions with that last agreement, we might soon be able to speak of things I haven’t revealed to you.  There are reasons I put so much trust in Aaliyah.  You’ll see.”

 “She will!  It’ll be exciting and new!  Fun for everyone!” exclaimed Aaliyah, floating upward right next to us.

 I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t look away.  Aaliyah had never flown around me.  Even now, I couldn’t find a trace of magic to explain her flight.  What game was she playing now!?

 “Aww… come on, Alpy.  You always believed I could fly.” insisted Aaliyah with a grin.

 “I suspected, but I didn’t expect proof.” I admitted, knowing Adelmar should know immediately.

 “Stop right there.  No reporting.  You agreed.” stated Aaliyah, a dangerous look coming to her eyes.

 “You can read my mind.” I whispered, hardly believing what just had happened.

 Aaliyah rolled her eyes and said, “Duuuh.  How am I supposed to fulfill my duties as Death if I don’t know everything?  I can’t misjudge folk.  It’d be improper, and I know you wouldn’t want me to be improper!”

 I knew she was teasing me, but I could hardly believe Aaliyah just freely gave me information.  Realizing that Sebastian was at his post still, I quickly said, “Shh… Sebastian might be listening!”

 Shaking her head, she sighed dramatically.

 “She’d know if he were.  She’d probably prevent him from hearing one way or another if there was the possibility he might hear something she didn’t want him to hear.” asserted James.

 “She’s not all powerful, James.  Even Death has her limits, and I do not want Sebastian murdered over something he cannot help.” I insisted.

 “Oh, Alpy… you’re so adorable.” replied Aaliyah, hugging me.

 “I am not being adorable.” I told her.  “One of us has to at least attempt being sensible.  James, she kills people over infractions of a ridiculously complicated agreement that most people could never even hope to understand.”

 “I’ve never taken anyone before their time.  Some people just die younger than others.” argued Aaliyah.

 “And you should get to choose when everyone dies then?” I demanded.

 “Yep, unless you can find a better judge of it.” she replied.

 “Might we table this for now and get onto the wedding?” suggested James.

 “What time is it?” I asked, realizing I had no clue.  I had been so caught up reuniting with my father that the wedding had slipped my mind completely.

 “After 2.  We’ve got plenty of time!” exclaimed Aaliyah with a grin.

 “We missed it…” I mumbled, feeling my heart sink.  “I’m so sorry, James.  I didn’t realize we had been talking quite that long.”

 “Oh, Carl!” exclaimed Aaliyah.

 “Carl?” I questioned.

 “Yes?” inquired Carl, owner of the Intergalactic House of Awesome Sauce.  He stood at the top of the tunnel, looking down at us in a perfectly curious manner.

 “Oh.  You.  How did you get here?” I inquired, certain that he hadn’t been there a moment ago.

 “I walked, of course.  Not everyone has incredible means of transportation.” he told me as if relaying the most obvious information in the world.

 “Carl, would you mind putting us back to the wedding?” questioned Aaliyah.

 “Back to the wedding?” I asked, feeling that my good sense had been left down with my father.  “What are you… talking about…”  We had moved again.  Daylight was shining in through the windows of Somerset Estate.  I could feel our friends frozen in place.

 “Welcome home, Master!” exclaimed Mila, completely unperturbed by the household being frozen in time.  “Lady Pendreigh needs to change into her dress if she’s to help the twins.  I’ll gladly help you change, Master, if you need help with your tux.”

 James gently pressed up on my lower jaw, encouraging me to close it, while saying, “Carl is also known as Chronos, if that helps.  He runs the Intergalactic House of Awesome Sauce.”

 “I knew that he ran that infernal restaurant.” I told him, sounding annoyed.  I regretted the tone, but he should be well aware that I wasn’t allowed in that place.  But this…  What was happening?  Had Aaliyah taken advantage of my lowered defenses to mess with my mind?  Could this be real?  I decided to continue as if this was real, not willing to risk botching my friends’ wedding on the slim chance that what seemed to happen was actually happening.  My life was suddenly quite strange.

[nyssatrevelyan]

Abandoned

Chapter 1

Nyssa had awoken alone.

For a moment, she was cold and disoriented, and she looked around blearily, trying to make sense of the world.  Straw was scratching her, and she was sore and naked and….

Blackwall.

She looked around the upper story of the barn, but aside from a cat prowling about looking for mice, she was alone.  She could hear the mounts shuffling and making quiet noises to themselves, and Horsemaster Dennet speaking to them softly.  Maker, if she could hear him….

Nyssa raked her fingers through her hair, and felt straw in it.  She blushed, groping for her clothing.  As she did, she noticed the soft gleam of metal by her feet, and leaned over.

Blackwall’s Warden-Commander badge.

A chill raced down Nyssa’s spine.  Why would he leave this here, with her?

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By the time she’d made it down the stairs to the ground level of the barn, Dennet had blessedly found something to do outside by the well.  She was more than half convinced by the way he studiously stayed at the well that he HAD heard what had happened last night, and was trying to give her an escape route.

Might well be he was trying to give HIMSELF a way out of an uncomfortable encounter, too.

A piece of paper caught her attention, balanced against the griffon riding toy Blackwall had been carving.  She picked it up, her stomach knotting with dread.

 My lady:

 There is little I can say that will ease this pain.  Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would've hurt more if I stayed.  

I am deeply sorry. -- Blackwall

She stood, staring at the note, her mind racing.  He'd.... left?  He'd left, and had tried to make it seem... good that he'd left?

She gripped the parchment hard, unconscious of crumpling it in her suddenly damp fist. It couldn't be, he loved her and she loved him, he wouldn't  --

Unless...

Her cheeks burned with shame.  She hadn't told him, not until they were already.... that this -- that he was her first love.

He'd stopped, frozen for a moment, and she'd seen something in his eyes -- indecision? Worry?  For a moment she'd thought he'd stop, and had begged him to go on.  He'd seemed to come to some decision, and instead of stopping, he'd been very gentle and compassionate, attentive to her beyond all imaginings.  He'd coaxed her to pleasure repeatedly, until she'd dozed off, limp and exhausted, nestled against his side.

Maybe.... maybe he hadn't liked her.  Maybe her inexperience....  Or worse, maybe he'd never liked her.  Maybe he had only wanted to bed the Inquisitor.  People were attracted to power, and she was no fool -- she was attractive enough, physically....

Maybe that was all he'd ever wanted of her.

Her stomach twisted with nausea as she turned toward the barn door and saw a scout standing there.

“Sister Leliana has confirmed it.  Blackwall has gone.”

Nyssa nodded slightly, the parchment damp and crumpled in her fist, then noticed the look of sympathy in the runner’s eyes.  She looked away quickly, her face suffusing with shame.  “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice barely able to get around the lump in her throat.  “That will be all.”

She didn’t run.  A lifetime of Circle training took over, and she walked purposefully but without unseemly, eye-catching haste – her hand wrapped so tightly around the Constable’s badge that the edges cut painfully into her hand.

He should never have allowed her to accompany him back to the stables.

Blackwall tightened the cinches on his -- well, the Inquisition's horse, really, but the little gelding he rode most often when they went into the field.  Brown as dirt, steady, with a deceptive gait that ate up distance even with a hairy lummox like him aboard.

The gelding turned to look at him, nudging the warrior with a soft nicker. Blackwall usually had a carrot or an apple for him, but now, tonight -- he hadn't taken the time to get one from the kitchens.

He glanced at the ceiling above him praying that even this slight noise wouldn't give him away, heard nothing, and turned back to his task.   With every buckle fastened, disgust, guilt and sorrow made him more desperate to be away.

He'd known he was worthless.   He'd known and he'd begged Nyssa to believe him when he said he was nobody, and that there no life they could have together.  And now she was another regret, another stain on his soul -- another life he'd fouled and ruined, just because he was too weak to do the right thing and leave her alone.  A woman twenty years his junior... bad enough he was old enough to be her father, but the life she'd had forced on her had left her far more innocent than he'd realized.

He'd wanted to believe her.  That was his only excuse, and still, the blame was his entirely, not hers.  He'd wanted to believe her when she told him she knew he was a good man, he'd wanted to believe her when she looked at the death and destruction in his wake and said, "You don't have to face this alone."  And blessed Andraste, the way she looked at him, and the gentleness of her touch... the way she believed in him, trusted him....

He should never have let her accompany him back from the tavern.  They'd drunk some, but he wouldn't excuse himself with that.  He hadn't been drunk.  Neither had she.  The difference was he'd known, he'd known from the moment he asked her to accompany him to the tavern that he would be leaving.  He'd known what he was doing, and couldn't -- and didn't want to stop.  She had probably imagined this was the start of their life together when he knew, he'd always known, it was goodbye.

Another lie.  Another betrayal.

He leaned forward, his head against the saddle, a hand over his eyes, his breath unsteady. The one person in the world who thought him worth something, and to do this to her....

He swallowed, straightened, and continued his task, now fastening his saddlebags to the saddle.

He'd taken her innocence on a stack of hay bales in a stable.

The shame of that hit him like a hammer blow; it took his breath away.  He hadn't realized until her sharp gasp, and when he'd realized, tried to disengage, she'd clutched him tighter and pleaded with him not to worry, to go on, that she loved him....

A worthless bastard like him.

He'd loved her like a man possessed, whispering his adoration of her with every stroke -and then he'd loved her again, kissing her, stroking her, licking her.  He'd managed to build her pleasure, tease her until she came, stifling her cries in his shoulder.

He could still taste her.  Maker, he had thought to take the memory of her to his pyre, but once he realized that he was the first man she'd lain with, he'd used every technique he knew to bring her to fruition, three times to his once.  To leave her with at least one good memory of him.

"She's happy."

He gasped, whirling.  Cole, of course.  "Maker's balls," he swore, taking the horse's reins.

"Guilt, shame, another life ruined, another lie, another betrayal -- go before I can't. It's better this way." Those pale eyes looked at him from beneath a fringe of limp blonde hair and that ridiculous hat.  "You don't want to go.... and she needs you."

"The last thing she needs is me," Blackwall said.  "Maker forgive me for hurting her like this -- I know I can't."  He looked at the strange spirit boy.   "Let her sleep," he begged.  "Let her have some happiness before she realizes.... before I'm gone."  He led the horse outside.

"She loves you."  Cole sounded a little confused, a little worried.  "She'd help, I know she'd help!  She'd want to -- "

"No, Cole!"  The whisper came sharp, and fierce.  "She mustn't know, she mustn't.... it's kinder to let her remember me as she sees me -- not as I am."

Blackwall mounted the gelding.  "Let her dream," he repeated softly.  "Let her have some peace.  Maker knows she gets little enough of it."

He'd left the note on the unfinished griffon riding toy -- and the Warden-Constable badge beside her.

Let her love the dream.  The reality would be a bitter disappointment.

He'd ridden through the silent, empty courtyard and out of Skyhold, alone.

When Dorian knocked at Nyssa's door a few hours later, it was opened after a good few minutes of fumbling.

Nyssa was swaying slightly as she held the door open, a bottle of Gwaren whisky clutched by its neck in her left hand.  The bottle glowed a peculiar green as the mark pulsed against the cold glass. “Dorian!” she said, a bit too loudly.  “C’mon in, have a drink with me, cousin!”

Dorian stepped in, shutting the door and guiding her back up the steps with his hand gently resting on the small of her back.  “I see it’s been that sort of day for you this time, Nyssa.”

“He’s gone,” she said, plopping gracelessly onto the couch by the top of the stairs and taking another swig from the bottle.  She coughed, then looked away at the pattern in the carpet.  “Gone,” she repeated.   “Without a word.”

She didn't need to clarify:   runners had been racing through the library up to and down from Leliana's roost all day.  It hadn't been long before he knew that Blackwall had gone, whither no one knew.

“Somehow it doesn’t feel very gratifying to have been right about his boorishness.” Dorian reached over and gently tugged the bottle from her fingers, then took a swig himself.  His nose wrinkled at the taste.  “Nyssa, I thought you had better taste than this.”

“It’s strong,” she said, raking her fingers through her hair.  “I need strong.”

He considered the missing Warden, and kicked himself for having encouraged her in her pursuit.  Yes, she had been attracted to Blackwall, probably his physical strength.  He WAS quite a burly man, and muscular.  What must he have seemed to her when mages tended to be lithe?  He was larger than Cullen, and any of the templars in the courtyard sparring.   He must have felt safe, like protection.  But there was also that quiet resolve to do one's duty as one must.  Duty, sacrifice, and honor.   Nyssa had fallen for that, too.

Dorian huffed, trying to distract her as he considered how best to help her.  "I suspect the last thing you'll need in the morning is the hangover this swill will trigger."  He sat beside her on the couch.  "But, if needs must, we'll be miserable together.  Mother Giselle can shoot me some more dirty looks and make a few veiled comments about my undue influence on you, but ha! the joke will be on her -- it will be your influence over me!"

Nyssa stopped, looking stricken.  "I don't want that 'bad Tevinter' nonsense coming back up."

"Well, I AM a bad Tevinter.  Ask my countrymen."  He smiled at her, leaning and crossing his leg negligently.  His rings flashed as he saluted her with the bottle.

Nyssa flopped back against the couch, groaning.

Dorian took one more swallow of the whiskey, then set it out of her reach, shaking his head at the taste.  "People come and go from Skyhold for all sorts of reasons.  Why is this particularly upsetting to you?  I know you were fond of...."

She closed her eyes, took a breath.  "Because I spent the night with him," she said in a small voice.  "And when I woke, he was gone."

Dorian went still, his grey eyes darkening.  Oh, he knew how that went, well enough.  The difference being that he had known each time what the outcome would be come the morning.  Clearly, Nyssa had not.

She sat forward, elbows on her knees, running her fingers through her hair nervously.  "I feel so stupid," she said, her voice tight and shaky.  "I'm not... I hadn't...."  She stilled, unable to meet his eyes.  "Maybe.... I just wasn't g--"

Maker.  She was ashamed.

Dorian shook his head. "Stop.  I refuse to listen to you running down my best friend."  There was anger smouldering in his eyes, but Nyssa could also see -- not pity, but understanding.  He put a hand on her shoulder.  "No matter what you may think or feel, it has nothing  to do with you, and everything in the world to do with his being a swine."

Nyssa shook her head bitterly.  "Everyone leaves me," she muttered.

"Nyssa...."

She looked over at him.  "Everyone, Dorian.  My parents... they couldn't get the templars out to take me away fast enough.  When I was in the Circle, I didn't.... I wasn't able to inherit but I had it pounded into my head that there had better not be any Trevelyan mage bastards.  So I wouldn't.... and my friend decided to move on to someone who would."  She drew a short, shuddering breath.  "And when the Circle dissolved -- my Aunt Lucille took me, just long enough to send me to the Conclave with my templar and clerical cousins.  They're all dead now."  She sat stiffly.  "So this, this being alone thing, it's not new to me.  But it still hurts.  It hurts that no one stays, ever."

He sighed, and there was something unreadable in his eyes as he slid closer and wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close.  "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my dear.  Poor as that company may be."   He felt her start to relax against his shoulder fractionally, and patted her back gently, soothingly.  "And one of the first things we are going to work on, beside your perception that you are somehow unworthy of people's regard, is your pedestrian taste in alcohol.   Surely as Inquisitor you should have better ways to drown your sorrows!"

He sat there, soothing her, until she finally fell asleep.

[nyssatrevelyan]

Abandoned

Abandoned   2,333 words

Nyssa had awoken alone.

For a moment, she was cold and disoriented, and she looked around blearily, trying to make sense of the world.  Straw was scratching her, and she was sore and naked and….

Blackwall.

She looked around the upper story of the barn, but aside from a cat prowling about looking for mice, she was alone.  She could hear the mounts shuffling and making quiet noises to themselves, and Horsemaster Dennet speaking to them softly.  Maker, if she could hear him….

Nyssa raked her fingers through her hair, and felt straw in it.  She blushed, groping for her clothing.  As she did, she noticed the soft gleam of metal by her feet, and leaned over.

Blackwall’s Warden-Commander badge.

A chill raced down Nyssa’s spine.  Why would he leave this here, with her?

By the time she’d made it down the stairs to the ground level of the barn, Dennet had blessedly found something to do outside by the well.  She was more than half convinced by the way he studiously stayed at the well that he HAD heard what had happened last night, and was trying to give her an escape route.

Might well be he was trying to give HIMSELF a way out of an uncomfortable encounter, too.

A piece of paper caught her attention, balanced against the griffon riding toy Blackwall had been carving.  She picked it up, her stomach knotting with dread.

 My lady:

 There is little I can say that will ease this pain.  Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would've hurt more if I stayed.  

I am deeply sorry. -- Blackwall

She stood, staring at the note, her mind racing.  He'd.... left?  He'd left, and had tried to make it seem... good that he'd left?

She gripped the parchment hard, unconscious of crumpling it in her suddenly damp fist. It couldn't be, he loved her and she loved him, he wouldn't  --

Unless...

Her cheeks burned with shame.  She hadn't told him, not until they were already.... that this -- that he was her first love.

He'd stopped, frozen for a moment, and she'd seen something in his eyes -- indecision? Worry?  For a moment she'd thought he'd stop, and had begged him to go on.  He'd seemed to come to some decision, and instead of stopping, he'd been very gentle and compassionate, attentive to her beyond all imaginings.  He'd coaxed her to pleasure repeatedly, until she'd dozed off, limp and exhausted, nestled against his side.

Maybe.... maybe he hadn't liked her.  Maybe her inexperience....  Or worse, maybe he'd never liked her.  Maybe he had only wanted to bed the Inquisitor.  People were attracted to power, and she was no fool -- she was attractive enough, physically....

Maybe that was all he'd ever wanted of her.

Her stomach twisted with nausea as she turned toward the barn door and saw a scout standing there.

“Sister Leliana has confirmed it.  Blackwall has gone.”

Nyssa nodded slightly, the parchment damp and crumpled in her fist, then noticed the look of sympathy in the runner’s eyes.  She looked away quickly, her face suffusing with shame.  “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice barely able to get around the lump in her throat.  “That will be all.”

She didn’t run.  A lifetime of Circle training took over, and she walked purposefully but without unseemly, eye-catching haste – her hand wrapped so tightly around the Constable’s badge that the edges cut painfully into her hand.

He should never have allowed her to accompany him back to the stables.

Blackwall tightened the cinches on his -- well, the Inquisition's horse, really, but the little gelding he rode most often when they went into the field.  Brown as dirt, steady, with a deceptive gait that ate up distance even with a hairy lummox like him aboard.

The gelding turned to look at him, nudging the warrior with a soft nicker. Blackwall usually had a carrot or an apple for him, but now, tonight -- he hadn't taken the time to get one from the kitchens.

He glanced at the ceiling above him praying that even this slight noise wouldn't give him away, heard nothing, and turned back to his task.   With every buckle fastened, disgust, guilt and sorrow made him more desperate to be away.

He'd known he was worthless.   He'd known and he'd begged Nyssa to believe him when he said he was nobody, and that there no life they could have together.  And now she was another regret, another stain on his soul -- another life he'd fouled and ruined, just because he was too weak to do the right thing and leave her alone.  A woman twenty years his junior... bad enough he was old enough to be her father, but the life she'd had forced on her had left her far more innocent than he'd realized.

He'd wanted to believe her.  That was his only excuse, and stiil, the blame was his entirely, not hers.  He'd wanted to believe her when she told him she knew he was a good man, he'd wanted to believe her when she looked at the death and destruction in his wake and said, "You don't have to face this alone."  And blessed Andraste, the way she looked at him, and the gentleness of her touch... the way she believed in him, trusted him....

He should never have let her accompany him back from the tavern.  They'd drunk some, but he wouldn't excuse himself with that.  He hadn't been drunk.  Neither had she.  The difference was he'd known, he'd known from the moment he asked her to accompany him to the tavern that he would be leaving.  He'd known what he was doing, and couldn't -- and didn't want to stop.  She had probably imagined this was the start of their life together when he knew, he'd always known, it was goodbye.

Another lie.  Another betrayal.

He leaned forward, his head against the saddle, a hand over his eyes, his breath unsteady. The one person in the world who thought him worth something, and to do this to her....

He swallowed, straightened, and continued his task, now fastening his saddlebags to the saddle.

He'd taken her innocence on a stack of hay bales in a stable.

The shame of that hit him like a hammer blow; it took his breath away.  He hadn't realized until her sharp gasp, and when he'd realized, tried to disengage, she'd clutched him tighter and pleaded with him not to worry, to go on, that she loved him....

A worthless bastard like him.

He'd loved her like a man possessed, whispering his adoration of her with every stroke -and then he'd loved her again, kissing her, stroking her, licking her.  He'd managed to build her pleasure, tease her until she came, stifling her cries in his shoulder.

He could still taste her.  Maker, he had thought to take the memory of her to his pyre, but once he realized that he was the first man she'd lain with, he'd used every technique he knew to bring her to fruition, three times to his once.  To leave her with at least one good memory of him.

"She's happy."

He gasped, whirling.  Cole, of course.  "Maker's balls," he swore, taking the horse's reins.

"Guilt, shame, another life ruined, another lie, another betrayal -- go before I can't. It's better this way." Those pale eyes looked at him from beneath a fringe of limp blonde hair and that ridiculous hat.  "You don't want to go.... and she needs you."

"The last thing she needs is me," Blackwall said.  "Maker forgive me for hurting her like this -- I know I can't."  He looked at the strange spirit boy.   "Let her sleep," he begged.  "Let her have some happiness before she realizes.... before I'm gone."  He led the horse outside.

"She loves you."  Cole sounded a little confused, a little worried.  "She'd help, I know she'd help!  She'd want to -- "

"No, Cole!"  The whisper came sharp, and fierce.  "She mustn't know, she mustn't.... it's kinder to let her remember me as she sees me -- not as I am."

Blackwall mounted the gelding.  "Let her dream," he repeated softly.  "Let her have some peace.  Maker knows she gets little enough of it."

He'd left the note on the unfinished griffon riding toy -- and the Warden-Constable badge beside her.

Let her love the dream.  The reality would be a bitter disappointment.

He'd ridden through the silent, empty courtyard and out of Skyhold, alone.

When Dorian knocked at Nyssa's door a few hours later, it was opened after a good few minutes of fumbling.

Nyssa was swaying slightly as she held the door open, a bottle of Gwaren whisky clutched by its neck in her left hand.  The bottle glowed a peculiar green as the mark pulsed against the cold dglass. “Dorian!” she said, a bit too loudly.  “C’mon in, have a drink with me, cousin!”

Dorian stepped in, shutting the door and guiding her back up the steps with his hand gently resting on the small of her back.  “I see it’s been that sort of day for you this time, Nyssa.”

“He’s gone,” she said, plopping gracelessly onto the couch by the top of the stairs and taking another swig from the bottle.  She coughed, then looked away at the pattern in the carpet.  “Gone,” she repeated.   “Without a word.”

She didn't need to clarify:   runners had been racing through the library up to and down from Leliana's roost all day.  It hadn't been long before he knew that Blackwall had gone, whither no one knew.

“Somehow it doesn’t feel very gratifying to have been right about his boorishness.” Dorian reached over and gently tugged the bottle from her fingers, then took a swig himself.  His nose wrinkled at the taste.  “Nyssa, I thought you had better taste than this.”

“It’s strong,” she said, raking her fingers through her hair.  “I need strong.”

He considered the missing Warden, and kicked himself for having encouraging her in her pursuit.  Yes, she had been attracted to Blackwall, probably his physical strength.  He WAS quite a burly man, and muscular.  What must he have seemed to her when mages tended to be lithe?  He was larger than Cullen, and any of the templars in the courtyard sparring.   He must have felt safe, like protection.  But there was also that quiet resolve to do one's duty as one must.  Nyssa had fallen for that, too.

Dorian huffed, trying to distract her as he considered how best to help her.  "I suspect the last thing you'll need in the morning is the hangover this swill will trigger."  He sat beside her on the couch.  "But, if needs must, we'll be miserable together.  Mother Giselle can shoot me some more dirty looks and make a few veiled comments about my undue influence on you, but ha! the joke will be on her -- it will be your influence over me!"

Nyssa stopped, looking stricken.  "I don't want that 'bad Tevinter' nonsense coming back up."

"Well, I AM a bad Tevinter.  Ask my countrymen."  He smiled at her, leaning and crossing his leg negligently.  His rings flashed as he saluted her with the bottle.

Nyssa flopped back against the couch, groaning.

Dorian took one more swallow of the whiskey, then set it out of her reach, shaking his head at the taste.  "People come and go from Skyhold for all sorts of reasons.  Why is this particularly upsetting to you?  I know you were fond of...."

She closed her eyes, took a breath.  "Because I spent the night with him," she said in a small voice.  "And when I woke, he was gone."

Dorian went still, his grey eyes darkening.  Oh, he knew how that went, well enough.  The difference being that he had known each time what the outcome would be come the morning.  Clearly, Nyssa had not.

She sat forward, elbows on her knees, running her fingers through her hair nervously.  "I feel so stupid," she said, her voice tight and shaky.  "I'm not... I hadn't...."  She stilled, unable to meet his eyes.  "Maybe.... I just wasn't g--"

Maker.  She was ashamed.

Dorian shook his head. "Stop.  I refuse to listen to you running down my best friend."  There was anger smouldering in his eyes, but Nyssa could also see -- not pity, but understanding.  He put a hand on her shoulder.  "No matter what you may think or feel, it has nothing  to do with you, and everything in the world to do with his being a swine."

Nyssa shook her head bitterly.  "Everyone leaves me," she muttered.

"Nyssa...."

She looked over at him.  "Everyone, Dorian.  My parents... they couldn't get the templars out to take me away fast enough.  When I was in the Circle, I didn't.... I wasn't able to inherit but I had it pounded into my head that there had better not be any Trevelyan mage bastards.  So I wouldn't.... and my friend decided to move on to someone who would."  She drew a short, shuddering breath.  "And when the Circle dissolved -- my Aunt Lucille took me, just long enough to send me to the Conclave with my templar and clerical cousins.  They're all dead now."  She sat stiffly.  "So this, this being alone thing, it's not new to me.  But it still hurts.  It hurts that no one stays, ever."

He sighed, and there was something unreadable in his eyes as he slid closer and wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close.  "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my dear.  Poor as that company may be."   He felt her start to relax against his shoulder fractionally, and patted her back gently, soothingly.  "And one of the first things we are going to work on, beside your perception that you are somehow unworthy of people's regard, is your pedestrian taste in alcohol.   Surely as Inquisitor you should have better ways to drown your sorrows!"

He sat there, soothing her, until she finally fell asleep.