#i have wanted to slam the elves for so long ugh

[daitranscripts]

Sera Cutscene: Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

Should Have Used Bees

Sera Masterpost Related Quest: Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

The PC walks up to Sera’s room in the Herald’s Rest. As they approach, the sound of arrows can be heard.

Sera: One for the empress. For Gaspard. Briala. The duchess.

Another arrow pierces the door before the PC enters.

Sera: And Coryphefuss, right in the dangle-bag!

Dialogue options:

General: What’s wrong? [1]

General: Remind me not to get you mad. [2]

General: You think they’re the same? [3]

1 - General: What’s wrong? PC: All right, you’re clearly annoyed. What can I do? Sera (high approval): You’re doing fine. It’s the dead piled up in Halamshiral that’s nagging at me. Sera (low approval): Don’t bother. Got enough pissing me off with all the bodies from Halamshiral. [4]

2 - General: Remind me not to get you mad. PC: Well, remind me to stay on your good side. Sera (high approval): Don’t worry, you’re sparkling compared to that lot. Sera (low approval): Pfft, like you’d listen. It’s not you, it’s the pile of dead in Halamshiral. [4]

3 - General: You think they’re the same? PC: You think all those people should be treated the same? Sera: After Halamshiral? Kind of. They all get little people killed and don’t care. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Sera: A cook here, a footman there. What’s it matter, right, so long as there’s a butt for the throne?

Sera (Briala rules with Gaspard): A skinny elven puppet arse at that. Wonder how long before she forgets her “poor elves.” Sera (Gaspard rules): And a total arse, too. I thought Gaspard was tired of that Game, but he settled in real easy. Sera (Celene rules): A pretty one, sure. But how many lives are worth one empress’s arse?

Sera: Ugh, that place. Should have just thrown in some bees and slammed the doors.

Choice dependent dialogue:

Non-romance [5]

Romance route[6]

5 - Non-romance:

Dialogue options:

General: We made important decisions. [7]

General: Earwigs. That’d stop a ball. [8] + Sera slightly approves

General: That wouldn’t have helped. [9]

7 - General: We made important decisions. PC: We decided the course of a nation. I think it was worthwhile. Sera: Right, Orlais will never be the same. Except for everything they say and do. Ugh. You know the most important thing I got out of all that mess? The one thing? Don’t sleep with empresses. That’s what that was all about. [10]

8 - General: Earwigs. That’d stop a ball. PC: I don’t know. You want to stop a party, I think you go earwigs. Sera: (Laughing.) Eww, I hate those things, with their little pinchy butts! Josephine should add that to her paper threats! You know the real lesson from all this? Never sleep with an empress. [10]

9 - General: That wouldn’t have helped. PC: And that would accomplish what, exactly? Sera: Stinging around the face and neck? Can’t assassinate empresses if your eyes swell shut? I don’t know. I’m just trying to get this junk out of my head. These people, they’re the worst. Ugh. You know the most important thing I got out of all that mess? The one thing? Don’t sleep with empresses. That’s what that was all about. [10]

10 - Scene continues.

Sera (Briala and Celene reconciled): We patched their spat, Briala and the Celene. But without their breakup, none of it would have happened like that. [Typo??? It’s in the files like this lol] Sera (Briala and Celene not reconciled): That and Briala being an idiot. The whole thing would’ve gone different if that little piss-up wasn’t in the middle.

Dialogue options:

General: It’s not that simple. [11] - Sera disapproves

General (Celene rules): The empress was right. [12] - Sera disapproves

General (Gaspard Rules alone): Gaspard put an end to that. [13] - Sera disapproves

General (Briala rules with Gaspard): But Briala is in charge now. [14] - Sera disapproves

General: Their mistakes made it worse. [15] + Sera approves

11 - General: It’s not that simple. PC: There was a lot more going on than a lovers’ spat. Sera: Oh, sure. PC: There was. Sera: Because of the hole in the sky? Pfft. Plenty of idiots around before, and there’ll be plenty of idiots around after. Better save some arrows, yeah? Scene ends.

12 - General: The empress was right. PC: I think Celene did the right thing for Orlais. Sera: Right, because that was all the plan and not dumb luck. Dumb luck named you. Watch out, yeah? The hole in the sky didn’t start their war. Stupid people did that. Still going to be plenty of those after Corypheuns is dead. Scene ends.

13 - General: Gaspard put an end to that. PC: It’s over with Gaspard in charge. Sera: Right, because that was all the plan and not dumb luck. Dumb luck named you. Watch out, yeah? The hole in the sky didn’t start their war. Stupid people did that. Still going to be plenty of those after Corypheuns is dead. Scene ends.

14 - General: But Briala is in charge now. PC: You don’t think much of her, but Briala came out ahead. Sera: Right, because that was all the plan and not dumb luck. Dumb luck named you. Watch out, yeah? The hole in the sky didn’t start their war. Stupid people did that. Still going to be plenty of those after Corypheuns is dead. Scene ends.

15 - General: Their mistakes made it worse. PC: That was a mistake on their part. It made everything worse. Sera: Wrong way around, Inquisitor. It started worse. Lots of people died before there was a hole in the sky. That’s who you’re saving. If you get a chance, maybe remind them not to be idiots. Scene ends.

6 - Romance route

Dialogue options:

General: We made important decisions. [16]

General: Earwigs. That’d stop a ball. [17] + Sera slightly approves

General: That wouldn’t have helped. [18]

16 - General: We made important decisions. PC: We decided the course of a nation. I think it was worthwhile. Sera: Right, Orlais will never be the same. Except for everything they say and do. [23]

17 - General: Earwigs. That’d stop a ball. PC: I don’t know. You want to stop a party, I think you go earwigs. Sera: (Laughing.) Eww, I hate those things, with their little pinchy butts! “Concessions, or we unleash the earwigs!” Heh. Pinchy butts. Well, that was stupid. Want to go roll around until I feel better?

Dialogue options:

General: Yes. Yes, I do. [19] + Sera approves

General: You’re trying to distract me. [20]

19 - General: Yes. Yes, I do. PC: Why are we even still talking? Sera: Good question. Shut it. Scene ends. 20 - General: You’re trying to distract me. PC: That was quick, even for you. What’s going on? Sera: What? Can’t do anything else until we shove an arrow up Coryphenus. Figured I’d keep you close. Dialogue options: - General: About time you asked. [21] + Sera approves - General: Why? [22] + Sera slightly approves 21 - About time you asked. PC: I was wondering when you’d finally ask. Sera: Can’t rush all these feelings. Have to work it out. She makes a face. Sera: All right, done. Scene ends. 22 - Why? PC: It’s just a really sudden shift. Why? Sera: Because the real lesson out of this is never sleep with someone powerful and then end up like Briala. It’s real easy to get from power to stupid. You have the first part covered. I’m watching out for the second. So, you know, try not to be an idiot. They kiss. Scene ends.

18 - General: That wouldn’t have helped. PC: And that would accomplish what, exactly? Sera: Stinging around the face and neck? Can’t assassinate empresses if your eyes swell shut? I don’t know. I’m just trying to get this junk out of my head. These people, they’re the worst. [23]

23 - Choice-dependent dialogue:

Sera not brought to Halamshiral [24]

Sera brought, not danced [25]

Sera brought, danced [26]

24 - Sera not brought to Halamshiral Sera: Ugh, this isn’t working. You didn’t mope like this on the balcony, did you? Rather do pretty much anything. You want to go do anything for a while?

Dialogue options:

General: About time you asked. [27] + Sera approves

General: Why change tone so fast? [28] + Sera slightly approves

27 - General: About time you asked. PC: I was wondering when you’d finally ask. Sera: Can’t rush all these feelings. Have to work it out. She makes a face. S era: All right, done. Scene ends.

28 - General: Why change tone so fast? PC: It’s just a really sudden shift. Why? Sera: Because the real lesson out of this is never sleep with someone powerful and then end up like Briala. It’s real easy to get from power to stupid. You have the first part covered. I’m watching out for the second. So, you know, try not to be an idiot. They kiss. Scene ends.

25 - Sera brought, not danced Sera: The only fun bit was with you, after. I forget how much you drank.

Dialogue options:

General: Less than you think. [29]

General: I lost count. [30]

General: Don’t change the subject. [33]

29 - General: Less than you think. PC: I had less than you tried to pour, I’ll say that. Sera: Hey, no one was charging. ’Tender was probably dead or something. You tired of talking? I’m tired of talking. [33]

30 - General: I lost count. PC: It’s a little hard to remember. Sera: In a good way, right? Because I think so. You tired of talking? I’m tired of talking. Want to do something about that? [33]

26 - Sera brought, danced Sera: Ugh. You know the most important thing I got out of all that mess? The one thing? You can’t dance.

Dialogue options:

General: For you, I do it anyway. [31]

General: No, Sera, you can’t follow. [32]

General: Don’t change the subject. [33]

31 - General: For you, I do it anyway. PC: Maybe not, but for you, I try. Sera: Aww, that’s so twee. (Mock gagging.) But thanks. That part was fun. You want to roll around for a bit? [34]

32 - General: No, Sera, you can’t follow. PC: You’re the one who doesn’t know how to follow a good lead. Sera: Oh, “leading and following.” Save it for a fancy who thinks wines taste different. You tired of talking? I’m tired of talking. Want to do something about that? [34]

33 - General: Don’t change the subject. PC: Stay focused, Sera. You can’t jump around like this. Sera: Too late yeah? Thinking about your arse. Want to do something about it? [34]

34 - Dialogue options:

General: About time you asked. [35] + Sera approves

General (After “don’t change the subject): I’m angry, but yes. [36] + Sera approves

General: Why change tone so fast? [37] + Sera slightly approves

35 - General: About time you asked. PC: I was wondering when you’d finally ask. Sera: Can’t rush all these feelings. Have to work it out. She makes a face. Sera: All right, done. Scene ends.

36: General: I’m angry, but yes. PC: Yes, but this is my angry face. Sera: Still pretty. Come here. Scene ends.

37 - General: Why change tone so fast? PC: It’s just a really sudden shift. Why? Sera: Because the real lesson out of this is never sleep with someone powerful and then end up like Briala. It’s real easy to get from power to stupid. You have the first part covered. I’m watching out for the second. So, you know, try not to be an idiot. They kiss. Scene ends.

[gothic-lottie]

Sending an ask for the writer’s trick or treat 🎃

Alright, here's a scene from the future of my fic, toward the end of book 3, that I think is so cute!

Context: at some point I won't specify Ominis inherits and frees all the Gaunt house elves. Tilley has taken care of him since he was a child and agrees to be freed as long as she can stay with him.

Ominis, half a year out of school

When I got home, Tilley was already making dinner and I could hear Isobel's sewing machine upstairs.

“Can I help with anything Tilley?”

“I have everything under control, Mister Ominis. I made a pot of tea for you as well, it's on the table.” 

I cringed at the title and sat down to take my shoes off. “Thank you, you're so thoughtful. How has your day-” I was interrupted by the front door slamming shut and Sebastian's annoyed stomping until he plopped down beside me. “Another bad day at work, dear?”

“My boss is such an insufferable –” Sebastian started into his usual rantings about office politics and nothing actually getting done because of bureaucracy. The only reason he wanted to become an auror was to take down my family but aside from Ollie, they've all been taken care of. Since then, he's been rather directionless… well, aside from his constant attentiveness to Isobel and I. He insists on packing my lunch every morning and he stresses himself horribly every day he has to go to work when Isobel is having a difficult day. I wish he would just quit his job. We don't need three incomes, he could be such a good house husband. Tilley is elderly as well and as much as she won't admit it, she has been struggling lately. I don't want her to work herself to death… “-- it's all just boring and frustrating! Ugh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this again.” Sebastian sighed. I heard his head thump on the table.

“Why don't you just quit?”

“I can't do that” he muttered, muffled slightly by the table.

“Why can't you? We're perfectly stable on my income and Isobel's, you're miserable at this job, and you're only eighteen. You can easily change careers at this point in life.”

“What would I do between jobs? I can't just sit around all day, I'd feel useless.”

“I'm sure Tilley can find something to keep you busy. You've always liked cooking anyway and I'm sure Isobel will appreciate having you home on her bad days.” 

“I guess that does sound nice… I'll think about it.” 

“Take all the time you need, love”

The next day, I came home to find Sebastian already there, in a much better mood than usual.

“Good afternoon my love. What has you so cheerful?”

“I quit my job.” Well, that was fast.

“Oh, good. I'm glad you're happy. Was there a particular reason? You seemed hesitant yesterday.”

“My boss was being a jackass again and I was annoyed I had to deal with him but then I remembered I don't have to. I could just leave. So I quit on the spot.”

I smiled and patted his head. “Good for you, dear”

“Don't worry, I will find a new job soon.”

“There's no rush. I'm happy for you to stay home as long as it takes to find something you're happy with.”

By the end of his first week at home, Sebastian was much more relaxed than he had been at work. He was helping Tilley cook and clean, which was also taking much stress off the sweet, old elf's shoulders.

Slightly manipulate but benevolent Ominis is the best

[i-love-side-characters]

things i wish kotlc characters would say ― and if i was shannon i would write it in ― basically me being annoyed with kotlc enough to write in my own shit pt. 1?

Characters: King Dimitar, Gethen Ondsinn, Gisela Sencen, The Council (Keeper of the Lost Cities)

Additional Notes:

Please like, actually read this

I know it looks quite dense but I think it's interesting

Also not that long

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

@bronte-deserves-better @councillor-bronte-is-best-boy @cadence-talle @an-absolute-travesty @bookwyrminspiration​ @keefeinnit @mallowmeltz​ @ultralazycreatorfan @everyonehasthoughts @mistythegenderqueermess @imaramennoodle @rainbowtay-11 @we-need-more-empathy @catboyruy @we-wont-dissapear @we-have-no-bananas-today @loverofallthingssmart @a-lonely-tatertot @thesandsofdawn @enbies-and-felonies @fire-sapphics @jadenightthewriter @alabestrine @sunlight-in-a-bottle​ @damischs @pyrokinetic-loser @pyrarayn @steppingonshatteredglass

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

dimitar speech because that guy fucking deserves one (lumeria summit):

“you demand our respect, councillor?” the king snarled. “you ask for our obedience, you ask for peace. you ask us, the so-called ‘intelligent species’, to obey your command. yet what have you done to deserve our loyalty? our cooperation? you scold and belittle us, side-eye us as if we are dirt on the bottom of your shoe. i see the way your people look at mine. as if we are to kill them the second we meet. you look at us as if we were wild animals, no different from the creatures you let roam the world, killing to survive. you put the goblins on leashes, training them to you like your oh-so-precious alicorns. no, in your eyes, we are no different from them. you call us intelligent, yet you snipe behind your back at our skin, our eyes, our traditions. you speak with forked words in your ‘enlightened’ language, calling us monsters and filth and everything in between. but you are wrong, my dear councillors. we are brilliant. we are strong. we live and breathe and feel pain the same way you do. and still we are second to you.” his voice shot to a soft whisper as he stalked back to his place at the table. “do not deny it. you will just insult my intelligence further than you already have.”

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

neverseen speech about and to the council because i’ve been fucking waiting for good one:

gisela smirks. “ah, the council. so pure, the protectors of the lost cities and beyond. bringers of peace to the world. how could we ever stand against thou, o kings of the noble race?”

“careful―”

“oh no, let us speak.” gethen cuts in. “tell us, councillors, why do you deserve your power? what have you done?.” he glances around, looking every elf in the eye. “you claim your morality to be your greatest asset. can you explain that to us in small words? we’re just…. a little bit confused.”

“mhm. you see, you insist you are better than us. that you are saving the world. heroes are so often needed these days, hmm? well, we’re all a bit stumped to see where your heroics come in. tell me, do you consider exilium to be part of those heroics? of course it must be, punishing wrongdoers, those who have so terribly broken the laws of our lands. did you notice that they were children? how many of those children you’ve banished are a threat to our world? can you justify that? we grow up learning about the council, servants of the elven world, our protectors. look how you’ve betrayed them. i see you take inspiration from the human saying…. ‘out of sight, out of mind.’”

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Ch. 18)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill (Wesker & William Bromance). Rated M for smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 18: Distracted

"Ugh, we made it! Finally!" Forest whined.

Chris only groaned as he, Jill, and Forest trudged through the side entrance of the RPD, heading straight for the nearest coffee pot.

"What even was that?" Jill groused, taking off her beret long enough to fluff her short hair.

"A pain in the ass, is what! I've never had to arrest Santa and elves breaking into a mall before! Why does so much weird shit happen in RC?"

Chris didn't answer, but Forest was right. It seemed like there were a lot of firsts for him as a STARS officer as well, despite his military background.

Forest groaned, rolling his shoulder. "I'm pooped!"

"Hey, we don't wanna hear it, dude," Chris grumbled to his good friend. "Jill and I just pulled a double."

"Ya ain't the only ones! Who do ya think is covering your ass today? You're welcome!"

Chris snorted as they reached the coffee station in the hallway just outside the West Office. Nearby an RPD officer purchased a snack from a vending machine.

"Wow. You and Joseph working on the same shift? Either Wesker's going senile or he just wants to punish himself today."

Jill stifled a giggle.

Forest snickered. "Nah. Probably a trap so he can murder us."

They each made a cup of coffee. Forest added a bunch of creamer and sugar to his while Chris drank his black. Jill only added a little sugar to hers. It wasn't long before two familiar faces showed up to get coffee as well. RPD officers Rita Phillips and Elliot Edward were looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to begin their shift this morning.

"Good mornin', y'all," Rita greeted in her southern drawl.

"You three look like crap," Elliot joked. "Rough night?"

Forest ran his fingers through his long hair. "Arrested a fat man in a Santa suit with his elves breaking into the mall on east Bond."

Rita stirred her fresh coffee and blew on it. "Ha! RC knows how to keep things interesting, that's for sure."

Elliot nudged her. "Speaking of interesting, look who's back."

They followed Elliot's gaze, just in time to see Lieutenant Marvin Branagh heading for the West Office with a stalker hot on his heels. Chris recognized the reporter right away with his dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, the glasses and nicely trimmed mustache and goatee. Ben Bertolucci.

"Come on, Marv, work with me here!" Ben nagged, keeping up with the wearied lieutenant. "Don't you think it's just a little strange that a party where the mayor, city officials, police chief and even the STARS captain attended ended up having something happen where bodies were gurneyed out and, yet, nothing but silence?!"

Marvin stopped with his hand on the doorknob, sighing, and turned to the persistent reporter. "Ben, how many times do I gotta say it? You're barking up the wrong tree, man! Make an appointment at the front desk if you want to talk to them, but I'm telling you, there was an investigation and you'll get your answers soon enough!"

"You know they refuse to talk to me anymore!"

"Can't imagine why," Marvin groaned and stepped through the door, slamming it in Ben's face.

Ben hovered by the door, flustered. Rita shook her head. "On the trail again, eh Ben? You're a persistent one, I'll give you that."

"Someone's gotta be!" Ben stomped over to them. "So much corruption in this city, in this very police department! Ugh, Irons is just a rat, I'm telling you!"

Well, no one was about to deny that, but they also knew Ben Bertolucci was paranoid and a little out there with some of his conspiracy theories.

Forest rolled his eyes. "So what's it this time, Bertolucci? Aliens? Ninjas?"

"Always a smartass, eh Speyer? At least I want to get to the bottom of what really happened to those people. And not whatever BS they say it is!"

Chris sighed. Oh boy, here we go.

"Not every death in Raccoon City is tied to some crazy conspiracy! Get your head outta your ass!" Forest argued. "We know there's corruption here. There's corruption everywhere!"

Chris grabbed Forest's shoulder. "Let it go."

"Ben, either make an appointment or leave. We already have enough on our plates as it is," Jill said.

"Ugh, fine. I need a smoke, anyway." The reporter patted his breast pocket for his pack of cigarettes. "You guys shouldn't have your heads in the clouds so much."

Chris held Forest back as Ben sauntered off. Jill shook her head at his back while Rita and Elliot took sips of their coffee.

"See ya later, Ben," Rita called.

"Can't stand that guy," Forest grumbled. "Yeah, we know RC ain't perfect, but we work our asses off to change it every day! I mean, I hate Irons as much as the next guy. He's a sleazeball, but that doesn't mean he had anything to do with what happened last night."

"Gas leak is what David heard," Elliot piped up. "Happened in one of the hotel rooms after the party."

It was sad and unfortunate, they knew, but definitely not something out of the ordinary or suspicious. They would have to wait for the full details later.

Chris, Jill, and Forest left to return to the STARS office, taking their much needed cups of coffee with them. As tired and hungry as Chris was, the coffee might as well have been a drink straight from heaven.

They met Enrico just as he stepped out of the STARS office. The Bravo Captain waved at them with a tired smile, looking just as worn out as them.

"Get that bad Santa?" he greeted.

"Yeah. Everything went fine. Weird...but fine," Jill answered.

"Knew I could count on you three. I'll see you around. Have some errands to run."

"Hey," Forest called before Enrico could get far. "Did you get that repair budget approved for the STARS van so I can work on it?"

"Oh...right. No, I didn't. Sorry, Forest. I had a million things going on tonight." Enrico rubbed his mustache and glanced at his watch. "Take it up with Wesker. He should be in shortly."

"Oh, so you want me to die today. Ok, cool."

The STARS Vice-Captain chortled as he walked away. "Don't be a baby, Speyer. You can always go talk to Irons yourself."

"Fuck that noise!"

Enrico's hearty, deep laugh echoed down the hallway as the three STARS members entered the office. As tired as he was, Chris still went to his desk to at least start his report before going home. Jill sat down beside him with the same intentions while Forest unlocked the armory, grumbling something about Joseph and Richard that Chris didn't pay attention to.

He wondered if Claire ended up spending the night at the Birkin house babysitting or if she was able to go home. She had told him she didn't know when they would return home but that they would give her a ride home when they did. Considering he never got a call from her, Chris could only hope that his little sister had an uneventful, safe night.

It was only while expanding his thoughts to the William Birkin fellow and how he was friends with the Captain that Chris realized something tiny still ate at him about it. For some reason he recalled Kendo's remarks of spotting Wesker and Claire together across town again.

He quickly buried and dismissed it. It was just him. Everything was fixed now. Everything was fine.

In just three days it would be Christmas. Claire's babysitting gig would be up, and they would enjoy a nice holiday with each other and their friends. Chris couldn't wait to give Claire her gift. It was a special order for something she'd wanted for a while. Chris had only pretended to ask her what she wanted for Christmas to throw her off.

Kenneth Sullivan arrived shortly after that last thought, carrying a case and a travel mug that was no doubt full of coffee. The Bravo member went straight to his desk while stifling a yawn and waved at them with a dad-like smile. "Mornin' kiddoes. Any of you freeze your asses off yet? Cold out there!"

"Morning, Ken," Chris and Jill greeted.

"Hey Sully, you got your video recorder today?!" Forest yelled from the armory.

Kenneth sighed with a small shake of his head. "Nah, man. It's still getting upgraded. Why?"

"Oh, for posterity! In case I get fucking murdered today."

Kenneth snorted, eyes on his computer, fingers clacking on the keyboard as he signed in. "Hey, that'll be on you, bro. Leave my old ass outta it."

"Frost and Speyer on the same shift today," Jill stated, not looking up from her report.

"Oh!" Kenneth grimaced. "Well, hell. Boss done lost his damn mind!"

Forest barely made it out of the armory with two ammo cases, carrying them to his desk, when the office door opened once more. Forest, quiet until he realized it was just Joseph, hollered out to his good friend.

"Hey Frost, on time for once!"

"We're gonna die," Joseph panted, pressed against the door, a little panicked. He hurried to his desk, just on the other side of Forest. "It was nice knowing y'all. Forest, we ain't gonna make it ten minutes, you and I."

"Great."

Jill sighed as she scribbled through a note stuck on her case file. "Are you being overdramatic again, Joe?"

"Probably," Kenneth mumbled.

"No! Someone or something got his panties in a twist this morning."

"Joe, calm down. He smells fear," Forest said while opening one of the ammo crates.

"I know! Where's Chickenheart when you need him?!"

"Oh, quit your whining. You two make it worse half the time," Chris grumbled. He understood. Wesker had days when he was a complete dick. There were days Chris challenged him every chance he got, days where he and Wesker absolutely did not like each other. But it was rare anymore. He surely hadn't quite grown out of his rebellious, stubborn streak. He just knew how to apply it to other aspects of his job that made him a better officer.

"Easy for you to say, Redfield. You get to go home soon," Joseph grumbled.

"Ehh, he probably didn't get laid after that fancy party last night. Can't blame the guy, I suppose," Forest quipped.

Jill barely had time to roll her eyes before the door opened again and everyone but her and Kenneth froze. Why would they? It wasn't as though Jill or Kenneth ever got on the Captain's bad side and so barely reacted to his mood. Chris looked, just to see if Joseph was being dramatic, because, well, he was a little dramatic at times. Not as much as Brad, but still.

Chris knew Wesker well enough to know that he was not happy. The man had great control over his emotions, but something or someone had him fuming beneath his skin. The only outward sign was his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, since his sunglasses were currently hanging from his breast pocket.

Oddly enough though, his sharp, aggravated glare did not immediately go to the two that often got under his skin, but straight to Chris himself. His brain panicked, trying to think of something he may have forgotten to do or something he could've done to have drawn his Captain's ire over Frost and Speyer of all people.

If looks could kill, Chris would've been dead.

Thankfully, it only lasted a few moments, despite feeling like a millennium. Chris could breathe again, pulse pounding in his temple. Wesker's glare went straight to Forest, and he knew he was fucked.

"Speyer, my office. Now." And he slipped into the small office to the side of the STARS entrance door.

"Ugh." Forest whined, getting up. "Tell my momma I loved her."

Chris's good friend entered the office and shut the door behind him. They all waited, listened. But no harsh voices came. Chris was relieved and tried to get back to work, still confused over what happened.

"You piss him off somehow?" Jill whispered.

"No idea."

He took it as a sign though. He saved his report and gathered up his stuff to leave, peering down at his partner when he realized she was still hard at work, flipping through a case file.

"You staying?"

"Yeah. I have two case reports due today and one of them is the Boeler case." She gave him her trademark "I got this" smirk. "I won't be much longer. You're not gonna stick around and make sure your good buddy comes out of there alive?"

"After the look I got, Forest is on his own. He'll understand."

Jill chuckled and went back to work. Chris messed up her hat as he walked by, and she retaliated with an elbow to his gut. Chris waved goodbye to them, intending to sneak out to his freedom, but just as he reached the door, Forest stepped out of Wesker's office.

The Bravo marksman didn't look mad or scared, mostly confused.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Flying with Brad to Fairview today."

"Was that why he was mad?" Surely not. It wasn't as though flying the choppers to Fairview for maintenance was anything out of the ordinary. Brad could only do so much with the equipment and setup here.

"No." Forest scratched his head. "Kinda weird, man. Never seen him like that before. He was mad, but he wasn't. Fucking distracted. Whoever put him in that mood really got their A-game going on. And now I have to contemplate what the fuck I'm doing with my life."

Wesker distracted? Was that even possible?

Chris shook his head with a sigh. "Stay out of trouble, ya idiot."

He bumped fists with Forest and left. He could feel the exhaustion in his body taking over. He was ready to hit the sack and sleep all day after the night he had. Once he made sure Claire was home safe and sound first, of course.

Tracking Stephan Bennett's movements through Raccoon City after he'd absconded from Bard's Christmas party had proved to be a surprising challenge for Ada, even with the tracking bug Claire had attached to him. It was night. It was freezing. There was snow everywhere. It really was no fun at all. Zero out of five stars, wouldn't recommend.

Stephan's driving was reckless and urgent, making it hard to tail him in an inconspicuous way. But seeing as he bailed out of the old hotel with a snapped forearm, she wasn't surprised. He was in dire need of medical care.

It was obvious that Albert had gotten a hold of him and killed all of his men. Ada was still reeling from the fact that Albert chose to protect Claire over getting his easy ticket to Roth. The ticket that would've given him the preemptive strike. As shocking and fascinating as it was to see Albert Wesker show such behavior to anyone other than William Birkin, it was a double-edged sword. Claire may have been saved from a terrible fate at the hands of Roth, a known human trafficker for Umbrella and other companies, but all it proved was that Albert wasn't going to let her go.

She followed Bennett to the Apple Inn first. It didn't take long for Roth to come out of the side entrance into the parking lot. Hiding in plain sight this whole time? The sneaks!

Using her listening device while parked on the street further down, Ada was able to tune in to an argument between the two over what happened. Ada didn't need her binoculars to see Roth's face when Wesker's name was dealt. There was a heavy silence, the kind that tended to settle when your worst fears came to realization. Next thing Ada knew, Aaron Roth was hopping in the driver seat and they were off again.

"Too late to skip town now, hmm Roth?" Ada asked. "After this long, you finally have to face him."

The spy followed them to a medical clinic in Cider District, just south of west Ennerdale Street. She parked the beat up, inconspicuous van across the street at a STAGLA gas station. Watching. Waiting. This wasn't an "after hours" clinic, but, apparently, they had an ally here waiting for them, to set Bennett's arm no doubt. Ada would be here for a while…

She got the short end of the deal tonight, but then again, she was curious how this was going to end.

Luckily, she brought a blanket and a thermos full of coffee.

Mostly, this allowed Ada's mind to wander as she watched with patience akin to a feline. She thought over the night so far. The mission at Bard's Christmas party went smoothly until the hotel room, but once again Claire proved she was more than capable of handling herself through wit and tenacity. Ada admired her and actually hoped the girl would get her happy ending.

Ada frowned, popping the lid on her thermos and taking a sip of coffee. Unfortunately, Albert held the same admiration for Claire but with a darker twist that bordered obsession. A possessive kind of smitten she'd never seen from him before. She had no doubt where Albert and Claire ended up after the party, or the nature of their evening.

Claire didn't strike Ada as the kind of woman who was into "bad guys". She was also too smart and grounded to know that there was nothing she could mend or tame in Albert Wesker, despite any attraction or feelings she may have for him. The truth of the matter was that Albert had entranced her, as he often did. Charm was second nature to him, just like manipulation, just like his desire for control. Claire had no idea who she was sleeping with. She thought she did, but it was a droplet in the ocean. But if Wesker's obsession kept her in his bed, she would be drowning in that ocean soon enough.

Something else perturbed Ada in the quiet of the night. The settling of the cold encroached inside the van, through her coat, through her blanket. Beams of headlights passed by along the street between her and the clinic. The gas station was open all night, the only bright light near her, but she had parked away from direct traffic coming in and out.

She lost count of the time waiting and watching. No movement came from the clinic. Ada didn't like the feeling in her gut, and figured it was time to bug Roth's car and send Albert a coded message, although she doubted he would even read it tonight. Not while he had Claire in his bed.

Just as the spy sat her thermos in the center console, a couple of sharp taps scraped her window. Ada sighed. There it was. She turned to look through the tinted driver window of the van, expecting Roth or some of his men, but instead she was quite surprised. And she hated surprises.

Wesker didn't say a single word when Claire got out of his car and slammed the door shut. He clenched his jaw as he reversed out of her driveway and drove for the police department.

"So who's really complicating shit here?"

The nerve of that woman. She never ceased to both infuriate and enthrall him. If he hadn't been running late already, he'd be tempted to follow her into the house and settle the tension in a different manner.

He squeezed the steering wheel, drowning the urge. That thought irritated him further as it evinced what he had been denying for days - that Claire had pull over his self-control.

He simmered in frustrated silence until he arrived at the RPD. It stayed with him as he marched his usual route from his parking space towards the STARS office.

And just was his luck as he was halfway across the main hall, babbling voices of a busy morning like static in his ears, one voice boomed above them all carrying his name.

"Wesker!" Irons called, standing near the Goddess statue. "C'mon, we're going to my office. We need to have a little chat."

In other words, Irons had questions about what happened at Bard's Christmas party. But Wesker was far from in the mood to deal with him currently.

"Sounds like the perfect place for you to waste oxygen. Without me."

The STARS Captain stepped right past the Police Chief without missing a beat, not bothering to watch Irons' predictable reaction: flushing, floundering words. The chattering officers nearby instantly hushed, becoming shocked onlookers. One of them was Joseph Frost and Wesker was about to order him to get to work when a sharp whistle caught his attention.

"Hey, Wesker!"

It was Enrico. He was at the top of the stairs in the main hall talking to a veteran police officer. After a cheerful farewell and "Merry Christmas" to his colleague, the Vice Captain of STARS met Wesker at the bottom of the stairs, greeting him with a tired smile.

"Got the all clear for the Bravo helicopter to be delivered in Fairview, but Vickers will need help troubleshooting some of the squawk sheet."

Frost slinked by them as quickly and quietly as possible. Enrico watched him go with furrowed brows.

"Hey Joe, what's the hurry?!" And then sighed. "Kids these days."

"Is there anything else?" Wesker asked as amiable as he could, despite his agitation.

"Not anything out of the ordinary. What about you? I heard about that gas leak at the hotel. Weren't you at that party?"

"That was after I left."

"I don't know how you can rub shoulders with all those politicians and rich folk, Wesker."

"Child's play," Wesker boasted, heading up the stairs. "Politicians are easy to entertain."

Easy to extort. Easy to control.

Everyone was.

He continued treading for the STARS office, too distracted and annoyed to get coffee.

Through all of his frustration and anger, however, Wesker realized it wasn't directed at Claire, but what she claimed. And she was right.

He was angry with himself. He was the one complicating matters, all because he wanted her. Things would've gone oh so differently had it been anyone else but Claire. Perhaps Aaron Roth would be bowing at his feet right now.

As vexatious as Claire was, he had always admired her, but now she had his full adulation. Her goal was to piss him off and she did, but what she didn't know was that it also had the opposite effect of what she was striving for.

And Wesker acknowledging all of this only frustrated him further. No one else could've done that to him, and it reinforced his desire to have her to himself. Unfortunately, too many factors prevented that from happening. Entering the STARS office, still seething beneath his skin, Wesker glared at one of the main obstacles in his way.

Chris.

He actually liked and respected Chris compared to most, but wanted him dead in that moment. But Wesker knew better. If he really wanted Claire to himself, he would have to be patient and play his cards right. Both of which he was adept in.

All in due time...

"Speyer, my office. Now."

Wesker slipped into his room and went to his desk, sitting down just as Forest entered and closed the door behind him. The STARS Captain already had messages on his answering machine, but ignored them for now.

"Mornin' Captain. What can I do ya for?" Forest greeted.

Though a great officer with exceptional training and experience, Wesker could hardly stand him at times. His typical carefree greeting would've annoyed him like most other mornings, but Wesker was still distracted by a certain redhead and how she had called him out.

"You're accompanying Vickers to Fairview today. The Bravo helicopter needs servicing. He has the discrepancy sheet. I want them all cleared."

Forest was quiet for a moment, bouncing his foot on his knee, confused yet curious. "Yeah, sure. Not a problem, Cap. We'll get it done."

Typical Forest Speyer. Trying to appease and annoy him at the same time…

Claire would often bounce her leg when she was deep in thought. It did wonderous things to the muscles in her calf that in turn did something to his muscles.

Had he really gotten off on that tangent because of Speyer? He had to focus before this simple assignment meeting wasted any more of his time.

"Good," he said as he regained his mental composure. "You are excused."

The Bravo marksman slowly stood up, baffled, scratching his neck as he exited the Captain's office.

After Forest left, he still wasn't quite himself. Calmer, but still distracted. After pressing the playback on his answering machine, he listened to the voicemails while thinking back to his and Claire's night at his house. The amazing sex, sure. But that "heart-to-heart" later had a curious effect on him that he couldn't quite place.

Wesker checked his pager and found no messages from William or Ada. He recalled William mentioning he had to go to the Spencer estate this morning. He probably wouldn't hear from him until this evening. Ada was most likely still doing surveillance on Roth and Bennett.

Until he heard from her, they couldn't move forward. Sighing, Wesker turned on his desktop and got to work.

Wesker checked his watch as he made his way through NEST. 6:42 P.M. He'd only just left his shift at the RPD and went home to change before coming here, bringing with him the same headache that had plagued him all day. The underground facility's bright lights only made it worse despite him wearing his sunglasses.

He had yet to hear from Ada. On top of that, he just couldn't get his mind off of Claire. Both of which irritated him. Perhaps Ada got tied up somehow. Or something happened to her. Either way, they didn't have much time left.

As he rounded one corner, closing in on William's laboratory, other researchers staying out of his way, his thoughts switched back to Claire. By now Roth would know that it was Wesker who was after him. He knew little about Stephan Bennett, but Wesker knew his type. He would seek payback for what happened last night. Roth would know better though. Claire should be safe for now. However, he made a mental note to keep more eyes on her. He had already done so for William outside of NEST...without him knowing of course.

"Good evening, Dr. Wesker!"

"Hello, Dr. Wesker."

Two young, attractive female researchers pulled him out of his thoughts. An unwanted distraction.

"Ladies."

Instantly charmed, they crooned as they went on their way. Wesker rolled his eyes and took the next left to William's laboratory. He didn't acknowledge the guard, regrouping his thoughts as the electronic doors slid open after reading his ID wristband.

He looked around the main area, but William wasn't around. Neither was Annette.

"Will?"

He proceeded to the back rooms, one of which was a rest area.

Just try it, Will. I will break your nose again.

But no attempted jump scares sprang on him. Surprisingly, he was spared such antics this time. He didn't find his partner in the resting area, but in one of the smaller back labs analyzing blood and tissue samples. William chewed on his lip, deep in thought, fingers hovering over the keyboard of a nearby computer.

Wesker could instantly tell William was more restless than usual, and something had him quite conflicted. He whistled sharply. Will jumped, whipping around in surprise. He sighed in relief and relaxed.

"Hey Al, my pal!" Such a remark was typical of him, but Wesker knew this one was forced. An attempted front to distract Wesker from his real mood. Ambivalence was the main thing he felt from his partner.

William slapped him on the arm and pointed to the case of glass vials with glee. "Look who I got to see today!"

Wesker picked one up, turning it in his fingertips as he read. "Lisa? You haven't needed samples from her in a long time."

"Yeah, and it was a bitch as usual. She still remembers me. Still wants to rip my face off. Probably so she can wear it." He shivered at the thought.

He went back to typing on the computer, more focused than before, but still preoccupied...still anxious. Wesker waited for a moment, expecting William to demand details on his night with Claire. But it never came. All he rambled about was getting poker winnings from Scott and Steve at the Spencer estate.

Suddenly indignant, Wesker glared at Will, and it was enough to make him trail off. "What?"

"I figured you would've been begging for details on my night with Claire over whining about winnings from a poker game two months ago."

Will huffed. "First of all, Steve's a scumbag and he cheated! Second, anyone with eyes knows what happened between you two last night, and it does me no good to beg for details because you won't share them! Thirdly, I find it so adorable when you get upset when I don't give you attention."

Another typical response that was delivered too forcefully. Wesker restrained himself from slugging his partner, only because he now had no doubt something was wrong with him. William might've been a good poker player with anyone else, but he wasn't with him.

Wesker was about to confront him, but then dropped it. There was a more important issue right now. "Ada has yet to contact me."

William forgot about the samples, peering at him with a surprised yet concerned frown. "What? Really? That's not like her. You think something happened?"

Wesker thought about it. "There's a good possibility she's been compromised at this point. If so, our next move is crucial."

William slowly nodded, unsure. There weren't too many who could get the upper hand on Ada Wong, but Roth could've been one of them. He always had many tricks up his sleeve. Wesker had been after him for a few years now. This wasn't just about stopping Roth from selling their research. A mere stick in the fire. Wesker was after something much bigger from the information broker.

"What do we do? Without Ada, we don't know where they are."

"After what happened at the party, it's probable that Roth will contact me. For a truce, no doubt." Roth wasn't the gloating type. Always level-headed, he'd play his capture of Ada in a more resourceful manner.

"Then what? We're running out of time to kill the bastard. Keeping Bard and Mueller around is one thing, but Roth has to go!"

William still didn't know. Wesker wanted it to remain that way. He couldn't know his true motives in this stratagem. Bard and Mueller were easy to control. Pawns on a chessboard. Roth wasn't so easy. But if Wesker could get him right where he wanted him, then he would be pocketing a rook.

"His partner, Stephan Bennett, is quite predictable. He'll want revenge for what happened last night. Not just on me, but on Claire. He's attracted to her."

"He's definitely got a hard-on for her, yeah."

Wesker scowled, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. "I may be able to use Claire to lure him out. If we can get to him, we can get to Roth."

Had Wesker let Claire be taken in the first place, they wouldn't be in this situation. Then again, Ada going MIA wasn't something he had expected.

Will's brows rose high on his forehead. "You...want to put Claire at risk?"

"You're surprised?"

He half-shrugged. "Well, you just seem...well, protective of her, I guess. Considering what happened at the party."

Wesker sighed. "Don't be absurd. I'll use Claire any way I wish."

His partner pursed his lips, attention slipping back to his computer monitor like he didn't believe him one bit. "Yeah, okay."

"Besides. She won't be at risk. Once Bennett takes the bait, I am free to finish what I started at the hotel."

"You sure do have it out for this guy, huh? A small fry like Bennett? Why? Because he has a thing for Claire?"

Wesker folded his arms. "Okay, Will. What is troubling you?"

Will exhaled sharply through his nose. "There you go again, changing the subject to avoid something you don't want to admit. Always deflecting. Gettin' old, Al. And I'm peachy, by the way. Just a bad day. Just stressed that my research is about to be sold to any two-bit moron to make Roth rich."

Wesker remained silent. Twenty-six years. Twenty-six years he's known William. The majority of his life. The two of them knew each other too well at this point. There was no doubt that William was telling the truth just now. But it still wasn't what was bothering him. He wondered if Spencer had complained about the progress of the G-Virus again, but William would've mentioned that.

Perhaps it had something to do with him. William's gaze on him was strange today, as though he had suddenly sprouted another appendage and William wasn't sure how to compliment him on it.

Instead of pushing William, Wesker sighed, dropping his arms with a shake of his head. "I won't allow it to happen. We are in the endgame now, Will. Keep it together. The final pieces are about to make their play. That includes Claire. That includes us. I need you focused."

William glumly nodded. "Yeah...anything for you, Al."

Wesker hesitated, and he hated that. It was as if he knew he was supposed to say something more to his partner, but he just couldn't articulate it. He turned and left William's side. It was better if he left for now.

"Hey, Al...about Anezka…"

Wesker stopped, tensing. He glared over his shoulder at William, unknowingly clenching a fist. William hesitated now, as if the words he had formed suddenly dissipated and he awkwardly tried to think of something else. "I...I like Claire better. I-I know the situation is a bit more...complicated, but I think you do, too. You should own up to it already."

"And what purpose would that serve?" Wesker asked.

"I don't know. Maybe you'll find out soon. Besides, what's the purpose of holding onto whatever feelings or resentment you have for Anna?"

Never had William challenged him like that before. It took much of his self-control to contain himself and not beat his partner to a pulp. At the same time, he commended William for such a move. The Golgotha researcher remained frozen by his station, only concerned curiosity on his features.

Wesker ground his teeth and walked out.

Her mind was on auto-pilot. After entering the house, Claire hardly recalled storming into her room and stripping down to nothing. Next thing she knew hot water was spraying down her bare back in the shower.

As hot as she could stand it.

Steam fogged up the bathroom while her thoughts sieved through the events and emotions of last night. The Christmas party. Bennett. The way his arm snapped like a dry twig, the crack echoing in her ear. Bennett's men, eyes cold, sprawled at her feet. The intense feeling in Wesker's car. The even more intense sex at his house. Sleeping in his bed. Sitting in his lap. The way he looked at her. How he recalled a dead mother he never mourned or cared about just to propitiate her.

How he had laid claim to her and had "spared" her brother for those intentions.

She scrubbed every inch she could scrub. Revolted, but pissed more than anything. Pissed at herself. Pissed at him. Maybe a little scared, if she had to be honest with herself. She was in a bad situation. Real bad.

Why me?

Why did she have to go on that hiking trail?

Why was Wesker obsessed with her? Was it her looks? Her red hair? Her charming, ladylike personality? Did she remind him of his past lover who had run off? Surely not. He was the type of man who could have any woman he wanted. Maybe she just wanted to know how she was different from them all. How was she special?

She clawed her scalp, the shower drowning out her aggravated moan. Her thoughts confirmed what she had been trying to swallow all along...She had developed her own unhealthy feelings for him, too.

Claire toweled herself off and returned to her bedroom. She looked her nude body over in the full-length mirror. The bump on her head from her scuffle with Bennett had gone down, and now only a little cut remained, hardly noticeable. But she noticed other marks on her body and she knew what they were from. None of them bothered her except for one she noticed - just as Chris came through the front door calling her name.

"Claire? You home?!"

That fucking asshole!

The small hickey was fresh on the side of her neck and there was no denying what it was. She shouldn't have been surprised, honestly, with how fervent last night had been.

"I'm here, hold on!" Claire hollered back. She let her hair down from the towel and fixed it to where it covered the mark up.

She did her best to bury her stressed thoughts, eager to see Chris after all that had happened. She practically flew out of the bedroom and nearly barreled him over with a hug.

"Hey, there ya are!" Chris said, relieved. "Everything alright?" He squeezed her tight.

As much as she really missed him and was worried about him, Claire dialed it down so her brother wouldn't get suspicious.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just missed you. Did you have a good night?"

"Well, it was a night, anyway. What about you? Are you just now getting back?"

Chris looked exhausted, like he would pass out any moment. His eyes watered after a big yawn and so he rubbed them.

"Oh...yeah, I am. It went well. I had an...uneventful night." She forced a smile, ignoring the pang in her heart.

That was the biggest lie she had ever told him…and she had told him quite a few these past couple of weeks.

Chris nodded, relieved, scratching his face where stubble had formed. He would be off to bed now, blissfully unaware that Claire was nearly killed tonight. Blissfully unaware that his boss had killed her assailants like they were nothing. Blissfully unaware that his sister and boss were now some kind of twisted lovers. Blissfully unaware that Claire was doing everything she could to keep him safe.

"I'm glad everything went fine for you, Sis. I'm gonna hit the sack. This double-shift really kicked my ass."

Claire pecked him on the cheek before he shambled away. Claire reluctantly watched him go. She wanted him to get his rest and was worried about him, but him leaving her alone meant she would be forced to confront her thoughts and feelings, currently in shambles.

She went to bed, too. The rest would do her some good as well, if she could sleep. Balling up under the covers, Claire squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would shut out all the emotions consuming her, the most she had ever felt at once, so intense she felt sick to her stomach. It bothered her more than the soreness in her muscles or in between her thighs.

She only hoped calling Wesker out flustered him beyond control. She hoped she drove him insane, just like he did with her.

She woke up before Chris. Claire was surprised she even managed to get any rest. Knowing her brother would sleep a while longer after such a long shift, she made herself a small breakfast even though it was after lunch time.

She kept her mind distracted with a book, not too keen on going out for a jog any time soon. When she couldn't focus on the mystery thriller, she resorted to television to keep her darker thoughts at bay, absently rubbing her neck as she changed channels.

Then the phone rang. Claire got up and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hey stuck-up, how're you?"

It was Barry. His hearty chuckle instantly made her smile. "Stuck-up? How?"

"I've only seen you once since you've been in town. When you came over for the game, remember? And now you're taking a babysitting job that ain't Moira and Polly. I see how it is."

Claire laughed. "Oh whatever, Barry! If I'm so stuck-up, maybe I'll just hang up."

"Now, I wouldn't put that past you if it was someone other than Uncle Barry."

Claire shook her head. "You wanting to speak with Chris? He's sleeping."

"Nah, just checking in. I know he was really beat according to Jill. Anything I can do for you two?"

That was just like Barry. Always looking out for them. "We're good. Thanks."

"You guys are still coming over for Christmas, right? Kathy and I are making all the fixin's and you know that woman cooks like a boss. It's a crime against humanity to miss out on her green bean casserole."

"Yep, we'll be there."

"You better! Well, I should get back to work. Take care. Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do, Barry. Bye."

After hanging up, Claire realized she still needed to pick up gifts for Moira and Polly. Some time ago, it had become tradition that Chris handled the gifts for Barry and Kathy while she handled the gifts for the girls. Claire didn't mind that in the slightest. She had babysat the girls for years and considered them like nieces to her. Though close in age, the Burton sisters were quite different. Moira was adventurous and curious, always ready to play. Polly was a bit more introverted, just as entertained with a book or a puzzle. Despite that, they were really close to each other.

Chris woke up not long after her chat with Barry. Thankfully, the Redfield siblings decided to hang out at home. Claire wasn't up for going out after the night she had, and apparently neither was Chris. They watched some movies and played games. Chris didn't ask Claire why she kept her hair down because, luckily, that was a common habit for her at home.

Later they practiced guitar with each other, playing a song their dad loved playing for their mom. In the siblings' heart of hearts, it was a gift to their lost parents.

It pained Claire to know that she would have to go another year without seeing that picture of her parents. Another year closer to forgetting their faces.

Just before bed, Chris turned on the news to check the weather. And although the local news channel displayed the winter weather report on the bottom banner, the current story was of a "gas leak" that had killed a few people in the Grand Hotel.

Claire squeezed her pajama bottoms tight in her fingers listening to all the lies being reported. It took place after the upper-class party being held at the Orient Restaurant inside the hotel and was of no relation. The victims didn't know about the leak and were discovered by a "friend" after expiring.

"What a tragic accident," Chris stated, clicking the remote to turn off the TV. "The only good I see is at least they didn't feel any pain."

Claire bit her lip, barely nodding. But they did feel pain...a lot of pain. Your boss killed them with no mercy. One of them is still running around with a broken fucking arm. And they all covered it up like it was nothing…

Those men meant her harm. Perhaps they got what they deserved, but that wasn't the point. She saw them dead. It was ingrained in her mind. There was no way to pass it up as a "gas leak". The man's neck that Wesker had snapped had him looking like something off of the Exorcist. There was no way a coroner could mess that up…

Which meant what she already knew deep down. Wesker wasn't bluffing. It was one thing passing off the death of Finley or Lowery going missing. This was bigger, and they had swept it under the rug like it was a little dust bunny. It wasn't just the Police Chief that was corrupted. There were other cops and officials on that side of the fence, probably mired in holes Wesker manipulated them to dig themselves, kind of like her.

He did control Raccoon City. And now Claire could only wonder why. Wesker was obviously a control freak and power-hungry. But if she knew anything about him now it was that every single thing he did had a purpose. He was too methodical and compartmentalized everything. She wanted to know what his endgame was. She wanted to know what he was truly after.

"Earth to Claire!" A hand waved in front of her face.

"Huh?"

"You sure have been spacey lately. I asked if you would take me to work in the morning."

"Oh, sure. No problem. I gotta do some last minute Christmas shopping anyway. For the girls."

"Remember, we're doing lunch tomorrow. Or did you forget?"

Claire playfully glared at him. "No, I have not! Get to bed, jerk."

Chris yawned and stretched. "Yep. Goodnight, Spacey."

Claire grabbed the throw pillow from the couch and smacked him across the face with it.

"Oof!" He retaliated by grabbing the other pillow and smacking her back.

A short pillow fight ensued before the siblings succumbed to laughter. Chris retreated to his room, claiming she had given him a concussion with a pillow. Claire shook her head and returned the pillows to their rightful place, settling back down onto the couch.

She took a moment, listening to the sounds inside the house. The central heat kicking on, the hollow tick of the living room clock, the echoing of Chris's water faucet in his bathroom as he brushed his teeth. Chris's bad singing.

After all she had been through, Claire was thankful this home remained a safe haven from it all. For both of them. A respite from the world outside, the world Claire now knew was not at all like it seemed.

Her main purpose still was to protect her brother, to save them both. Unfortunately, she feared she made it all the more complicated by laying with the Devil. Now only time would tell what would happen from remaining in his bed.

The following morning, Claire dropped Chris off at work and then went gift shopping for Moira and Polly. Later she found a nice sketchbook and thought of Sherry. She recalled the girl's old, weathered sketchbook that was falling apart and full of loose drawings. Without a second thought, Claire grabbed it and a basketful of art supplies.

Sherry's gonna love this!

Once she returned home, the younger Redfield had some time to kill wrapping the gifts before she would meet Chris at the RPD for lunch. She decided to take a shower since she didn't have time earlier. Although the night before was still heavy on her heart and mind, she made sure to cut this shower shorter than the last.

She got dressed a little more "girlier" than usual, and she wasn't sure why: dark, slim jeans, tall boots, a low-cut blouse and a jacket. She did put her hair up, but was able to hide the hickey with a soft scarf.

Thank god it's winter!

After a little makeup, Claire was ready to go. She checked her watch. If traffic was good, she would get there on time. She turned the light out of her room and went for the kitchen where the house and truck keys hung.

As she came to the end of the hallway a bad feeling came over her. A second later, she was hit from behind and shoved out into the open living room, where two other sets of hands grabbed her.

Shifting to self-defense mode like a reflex, Claire kicked one intruder hard in the gut and away from her. The other clasped one hand around her throat, squeezing tight. A sharp blow to her ribs nearly knocked the air out of her before she realized who it was. Bennett. It was Bennett!

Furious, Claire snatched his fingers around her throat and bent them backwards. One finger snapped and Bennett closed in with a yowl. Claire saw her opening. She bashed her head into his face - and felt his nose crack. She wasn't done, Bennett's cry like music to her ears, and aimed for his broken arm next.

She was restrained from behind by a man in tactical gear and he punched her in the back of the head in warning. Bennett cursed, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket to stop the red fountain gushing from his nostrils. A folded-up piece of paper, dislodged from the pocket in the process, fell to the floor unnoticed.

"I said easy!" snapped the intruder she had kicked away from her. Aaron Roth. She just now realized it. "Stephan, get your shit together! We can't leave any traces and we aren't supposed to hurt her!"

Bennett didn't answer him, too busy putting pressure on his nose while it bled like a river. He was certainly going to feel that for a while. His glare at her was murderous. The man would see her dead - or worse - if he was given the chance. Claire kept his gaze with her own glare.

"Want me to sign your cast, Bennett?" Claire sneered. "I'll put a big "fuck you" on it!"

"Miss Redfield, I am sorry. I am sorry it has come to this," Roth said, a pitying smile on his handsome, clean-shaven face. He looked just as he had when she bumped into him outside Raccoon University: a man in his early thirties, well dressed, lustrous brown locks and clever green eyes. He might have looked friendlier than Wesker, but Claire knew that to be subterfuge. She could feel it in her bones, he was just as astute.

Still fighting the steel hold of the man behind her, she glared at Roth. "What the hell do you want with me?"

Roth pressed his lips together before they slowly upturned into a sad, sly smile. "Well, honey, that depends on what you're willing to give us."

The back door opened. Heavy footsteps plodded through the kitchen, and the newcomer soon emerged into the living room.

Claire stopped fighting. Panic ripped through her chest, her stomach clenching in disgust and fear. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Dobroye utro, devushka," greeted the towering Colonel Sergei Vladmir, the very same one she barely escaped from while in NEST. The very same one they said would kill her if he found out about her. "I am Sergei Vladmir, pleased to make your acquaintance. I have a few questions I'd like to ask you...if you could spare me some time?"

The smile that spread across his scarred face was supposed to be friendly and non-threatening, but Claire could feel the wickedness behind it.

She was trapped. She was captured. And this time Wesker wasn't around to save her...

[efafo]

Dante and Xanovar go to Fantasy IHOP

(All Image Descriptions under cut)

[Page One ID /: Xanovar and Dante are standing next to each other, Xanovar is standing on a stool as Dante is looming over him. With a worried expression, Xanovar says, "Are you SURE about this?" as he is holding a makeup brush to Dante's Face. Dante replies "Yeah! positive." Xanovar, looking worried, doubtfully said "Okaaayyyyy..." and thinks for a moment before saying "I Guess I just don't understand. Why do you want me to make you look older? I mean, I'll Do it!!! Its just that this all seems like a waste of makeup? /end ID

Page Two ID /: Dante is looking down at Xanovar as he has a thought bubble over his head as he remembers an advertisement he saw, there are three fantasy-styled old people next to text that says "SENIORS DISCOUNT: 30% off. Humans 55+, Elves: 650+, Dwarves 300+, Ask for more info. Join our BIG JUDY program!" Just underneath Dante, Xanovar is looking up at him with huge puppy dog eyes and large text next to him that says "HE CAN SMELL LIES".

Page Three ID /: Dante looks Defeated, and says "Ugh. Okay. Okay. I Want the Discount at Fantasy IHOP" He stands next to Xanovar, looking down at him, shushing him with a finger over his mouth, and says "Don't Tell Fujio. I Will literally Never hear the End of it." As Xanovar looks up at him blankly.

Page Four ID /: Xanovar leans over and waves his hand gayly, and says "Yeah Yeah. Im not about to have him put you in the dog house." Immediately afterwards, he has an extremely grotesque closeup shot where he says extremely loudly "IF YOU BUY ME A GRAND SLAM."

Page Five ID /: Dante places a hand on his face and Sighs, and then says "Alright. A Grand Slam." Excitedly, Xanovar says "YA!!!!!" With a very happy smile. Dante tells him "More Wrinkles" and Xanovar replies "You got it!" with a cute smile.

Page Six ID /: Xanovar excitedly says, "OHH!! I've been wanting to do this for SOOOOO Long! I've Been Brainstorming on how to contour your face or what eyeshadow shades would look best on you and I've also thought that you would look good in pink or purple? I've been thinking about what brands you would like best on your face and-. Hey, Are you Listening? Dante?". As we cut away to Dante, he is doing the handsome Squidward face and is thinking "huhhhhh. the doghouse...." as he imagines himself naked with animal ears with Halice and Fujio looking on in shock and awe.

Page Seven ID /: The scene cuts away to both Xanovar and Dante at the Fantasy IHOP. Dante says his order to the waiter. "Alright. So for me, one funny face pancake, one cheesecake, a dish of savoury crepes with extra sausages. an eggs benedict with hollandaise sauce poured all over it. a mighty meaty omelet... and a black coffee. also im 750 years old so give me the discount." The waiter, looking judgemental and annoyed, says "... And the boy?" referring to Xanovar. Dante, Looking Bewildered as he forgot about him, has a grotesque face as he looks Down at Xanovar, who is playing Hatsune Miku Project Diva on the Nintendo Switch. Dante speaks again and orders for Xanovar. "One Chocolate Milk."

Page Eight ID :/ Xanovar and Dante are sitting down at the Resteraunt table. Xanovar is looking at his chocolate milk with stars in his eyes, and says "Ohh! Thank you for the Chocolate Milk, Dante!" As Dante is eating his funny face pancake he says "No problem. Thank god you're autistic." Xanovar, not hearing him says "what?" and dante replies "nothing". Xanovar, looking happy, says: "Thank you for Taking me to Fantasy IHOP, Dante!". Dante with a goofy smile gives Xanovar a thumbs up and says "No problem!"

(DISCLAIMER/ THE PERSON WHO MADE THIS COMIC IS AUTISTIC) / End ID

[touyota]

Hoe Hoe Hoe

☁️ Summary: Satoru Gojo *cough* *cough* I mean Santa Claus jingles your bells on Christmas Eve.

A/N: y’all this fic whooped my ass literally, but i think it came out pretty good. i think my smut is getting better, so hopefully i keep the momentum going for all my future fics. (also ik i’m late for the holidays but better late than never!)

☁️ Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Elf Reader

☁️ Warnings: Size kink, bulging, slight breeding kink, gojo’s massive 🐓

The holidays were always an overwhelming time at the workshop. You and your fellow elves worked overtime to fulfill the yearly abundance of Christmas lists that were received, and to be quite frank; you were due for a fucking break. As a head elf, you spent your days monitoring the shop floor and managing quality control. Everything and anything went through you, especially before it got to Santa.

You were handling a crisis on the floor, something about a particular video game console shortage, when you received a message from the big man himself.

“I swear... if I hear another word about how we are out of stock, I will personally shove a candy cane up your ass. We’re fucking elves, just go make some more.“ You shooed the elf off before taking a deep breath. You wanted to tear your hair out, every minor inconvenience didn’t require your assistance, yet they always found a way to you. In a last-ditch effort to keep your composure, you began to practice a method you learned in your weekly anger management meetings.

“One….two….three….four….five” You exhaled, opening your eyes to see a particular pink-haired headache, elf approaching waving and skipping towards you. You started counting faster; hopefully, he’d be gone at the end of your count.

“One..two..three..four..five”

“Boss! Oh, boss! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Fuck he was getting closer. You braced yourself, hoping he was referring to another supervisor standing near you.

“Onetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfiveonetwothreefourfive”

“What’s with the counting boss? You must be counting down the hours before we give everyone the best Christmas ever!” Yuji cheesed, barely able to contain his giddiness. Oh, bless his heart, Yuji was somewhat new to the shop and was a hard worker, but a few screws were missing upstairs.

“I have a bomb ticking inside my head.” you deadpanned, hoping to spook him off so you could go hide in your office.

“Oh…..Oh no, boss, you need to get checked out immediately, we need to call the police, the ambulance, the bomb squad, we might have to cancel Christmas. If we cancel Christmas, they won’t get their presents, and they’ll all be upset an-“ It was truly endearing. You could almost see the steam pouring from his ears as he panicked about you and your well-being. You pinched his lips shut before he managed to alert the rest of the workshop.

“Yuji, I was lying…what do you need?” The panic drained from his face, a relieved smile taking its place.

“The big man wants to see you, something about squashing a few last-minute details. He trailed off, focusing his attention on someone in the distance. “Nobara, stop drinking my eggnog, and don't touch my cookies!” Yuji ran off, thankfully abandoning your conversation.

You began your trek to the big man’s office, the big man being Satoru Gojo, direct descendant of Kris Kringle and newly appointed Santa Claus. Gojo was indeed an enigma, barely leaving his office only for special occasions such as Christmas Eve and Christmas itself. The only way you could speak to him was if he requested you directly.

The walk to the office required dragging yourself up to three flights of stairs before you reached the red door decorated with brightly colored green tinsel and oversized candy canes.

You made sure to knock, you weren’t completely devoid of manners, and you wanted to keep your job. A sultry voice sounded through the door.

“Come on in.” You gently open the door, almost tip-toeing in before slowly closing the door.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I don't bite unless you want me to.” You scurried towards the desk, not wanting to waste any more of his limited time.

“......Sorry, Mr. Claus, I came as soon as Yuji told me he said something about a few last-minute details.”

“He was right; come sit right here.” As inviting as he looked, patting his lap, you took several hesitant steps before perching yourself on his lap. “Get comfortable; we have a few things to discuss, nothing outrageous, just a few... things.” You played the velvet fabric of your skirt as he droned off about the minor details that could’ve been dealt with by any other elf. You grunted in response to the open-ended questions asked. “I think that’s it. Did you get all that?” He skimmed through his never-ending checklist to confirm.

“Oh...um, yes, I did, in fact, I’ll go deal with that right now.” You dust your lap off and lean forward to push up off of the oversized chair. Only to find that you haven’t moved an inch. “Um…...Mr. Claus…I can’t move, and I need to….” you trailed off, disrupted by a gloved hand tilting your chin, forcing you to look directly into those soft blue eyes.

“Tsk tsk tsk, I knew you weren’t paying attention, puddin’.” He faked a face of hurt before using the arm that wasn’t wrapped around your waist to swipe his cluttered desk clear. “I said that-” Pausing to slam your form down unto the oversized desk. “I said that all I want for Christmas is to fuck you until this desk breaks.” He whispered, pressing several gentle kisses along the column of your neck. The room temperature had increased tremendously, and the red wool suit pressed against you made it no better.

“Uh...wow...um, it’s getting kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” You pulled at your collar, hoping to put some kind of separation between you two. You were in no way trying to reject his advances. You were just entirely ambushed by how fast things were moving. Another urgent concern was the sheer size of “Santa.” You were already genetically disadvantaged in the height category as an elf, but this behemoth of a man towered over you. It left you to believe that he was more than proportionate in the nether regions.

“I think you’re right. See, that’s exactly why you’re my right-hand puddin’.” Before you could blink, you were almost instantly rid of your gown, leaving you in your unfortunately modest black undergarments. You pouted, wishing you were given some kind of warning in advance. “Poor baby, next time I’ll let you get all dolled up for me, maybe I’ll wrap you up with a bow and leave you under my tree.” You couldn’t contain your whimper at the thought, roping your legs around his waist, mimicking the same motion with your arms around his neck.

A loud horn sounded off, signaling Santa’s departure was nearing. “As much as I’d love to sit and ravish you till dawn, duty calls.” You were drawn into several more gentle kisses before Gojo deepened the kiss, nearly smothering you. You were on the brink of suffocation when he finally eased up, allowing you to catch your breath. when you felt your panties tugged to the side. “You have such a pretty pussy puddin’. I could sit here and play with it all day long.” Two callused fingers daintily drew circles around your clit, stopping to pull at the sensitive nub causing you to whine at each tug.

“Ah- p-please...Santa” You couldn’t wait anymore. Each stroke brought you closer and closer to your peak.

“Please, what pretty girl? I won’t know until you tell me.” Purposely speeding up his ministrations.

“Please...please...please...fuck me.” You cried out, you could barely contain yourself, and he wasn’t making it any better.

The air knocked out of your chest as the blunt tip of his cock breached your entrance. There was a brief pause before Gojo’s hips slammed forward, setting a brutal pace. You couldn’t form any thought, only incoherent mumbles, and whimpers leaving your mouth. The desk was rocking with each thrust, nearly throwing you off.

“Y-you feel so fucking good, ugh...this sweet little pussy sucking me in. You like that, huh? Using you like a little fuck toy? Y-yeah, you’re Santa’s little fuck toy, you just lay there and look pretty, and I’ll fuck you full of my kids. I’ll make you Mrs. Claus, and you won’t have to work in that shitty little workshop anymore. How does that sound?” Gojo’s cock pounding away at your cervix, blurring the lines of pain and pleasure.

You could almost cry because it all sounded fucking amazing. You were floating on a cloud each stroke. The rhythm was slowing to deep, deliberate thrusts when you felt an oversized hand rest on your belly.

…….Holy shit.

You nearly fainted seeing the outline of his massive cock bulge through your belly. You could tell Gojo was close, skin slapping as his thrusts sped up again. The final press of his palm forcing you over, and Gojo the same with his final thrust. Both of you were murmuring and moaning as he nudged into another breath-taking kiss. The desk finally loses its bearing and falls apart, leaving you both as panting messes on the ground.

You had wood chips in places that they shouldn’t be, and the chuckling giant next to you wasn’t helping. Your quirked an eyebrow up and questioned him. “What’s so funny?”

“I think I need to add a new desk to my Christmas list.”

[toothpastecanyon]

We Creatures, Chapter 3

When Alcor felt Mizar calling to him, he came to help. Perhaps, this one time, he should have stayed asleep.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

“I spy with my little eye… something beginning with e.”

“Is it elves?”

“What? No!”

“Just checking,” Mizar sat back in her seat. “Just checking, uh… electricity! From the lights?”

“No.”

“Elm tree! I see some elms over there.”

Alcor grinned. “Nope.”

“Okay… fuck, I give up. What is it?”

“Okay, are you ready? You’re gonna kick yourself: Everest.”

“Ev… Everest?” She raised an eyebrow. “Like the mountain in the Himalayas?”

“Yeah!” He chuckled to himself. “You know, I’ve gotten a not-insignificant number of summoners over the years who wanted me to teleport them to the top of Everest and back. Some of them worded it better than others, but you humans are just obsessed with that place - it’s so funny to me!”

“That’s great, but this is the third time you’ve named something only you can see.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t think this Eye Spy game is working.”

“Oh… that’s okay! I have other road trip games! How about twenty questions - we pick something in the environment and, uh, the other person asks you twenty questions about what it could be…”

He launched into an explanation. In the back, Mizar rolled her eyes. She was grinning, though.

______________________________________________________________

They rounded a curve on the interstate, radio blasting.

“We gotta hooooold on to what we got!”

“It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not!”

Mizar was using a soda can as a microphone. “We got each other, and that’s enough for noooow, we’ll give it a shot!”

“OHHHHH, we’re halfway there!” Alcor swerved in time to the music. “OOOH-OHHH, livin’ on a prayer! Liiivin’ onnn a prayyyy-aaa-err!”

______________________________________________________________

“And so I told her, you can’t ride a pig into battle, Mabel. Waddles - his name was Waddles - is too small, and let’s face it, he’s not really a fighter. He rolls - rolled - in the mud all day, he ate carrots, he’s not really down to charge through a cultist’s basement and strike fear in their hearts”

Mizar was slumped in the back, methodically ripping up gummy worms. “Mmmhm.”

“But, uh, a bit of a size change, and boy was I wrong.” Alcor chuckled, one hand on the steering wheel as they cut through a forest. The sun was still up, but it was blocked by the trees; every so often he’d squint as a ray peeked through. “Kind of glad that didn’t become a regular thing. A horse-sized pig is, uh, more intimidating than you’d think.”

“Mmmhm.”

“But yeah, she did funny things like that… all Mizars tend to do stuff like that… but always a different thing, you know?”

“Yeah…”

“I dunno, maybe I’m explaining it weirdly.” His smile faded a bit. “It’s been a long time since I thought about her… too long. I just… I sort of forgot, I guess? It feels like I can’t’ve - she was my sister, but… I guess time does that to you.” Alcor stared forwards. “Everything fades. In time.”

The silence stretched, and Mizar frowned a bit. She glanced over at him.

“Dude?”

“Huh?” He blinked. “Oh, sorry! Think I blanked on you for a second there.”

“Always encouraging to hear that from your driver.”

“Heh, yeah…” Alcor nodded, and then looked back at her. “So what about you?”

No reply. He looked back, and saw she’d gone still.

“Mizar?”

“What do you mean, what about me?” Ostensibly nothing had changed about her, but Alcor could feel a sort of carefulness in her choice of words now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and Alcor made a face.

“I didn’t mean anything serious by it. I just thought I’d get to know you a little bit more!” He shrugged. “You know, uh… oh, what’s your name? I never asked you that.”

“You’ve been calling me Mizar, right? That works.”

“Well, Mizar’s your soul’s name. You have a name apart from that, right?”

“Sure I do.”

“Yeah?” There was a pause. “Uh, what is it?”

“…Smith.” Mizar ripped a gummy worm in half. “John Smith, there you go.”

Alcor struggled to keep a smile. “Okay, Mizar, uh… so you lived in New York, huh?”

“Yeah. You gonna make me give you an address now?”

“No, I- ugh. Forget it.” Alcor rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to pry, I was just trying to get to know you. Why are you so against that?”

“Why do you want to know so bad?” Mizar sat up a bit. “Look, genuinely? I’m sorry that’s frustrating for you. When I summoned a demon, I wasn’t exactly thinking I’d have to make small talk with them.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means I actually kind of like you, dude! And I feel bad, but I can’t risk…” she trailed off, then cleared her throat. “How about this. Once we get to the desert, you can ask me anything you want, okay?”

Alcor frowned. “Okay… I’ll wait for the desert, then.”

“Thank you.” She sat back a little. “Thank you, Alcor.”

He didn’t quite know what to say to that. The conversation seemed like it had reached its end, and he started fiddling with the radio again. Most of it was adverts, though; it felt like sometimes the stations were coordinating to all go on break at the same-

“Look out!”

Mizar’s voice shot through him like a knife. He looked up and noticed there was something in the road - a deer! He swerved hard, and then he tried to swerve away from a tree right at the bend in the road but it was coming up too fast and-

The impact broke on him like a wave slamming against a hard cliff, and the sound of glass and metal shattering split his body’s eardrums. He felt his head crack against the steering wheel, and when he looked up he had to blink through the blood.

There were… legs? Legs through the windshield, and a sweatered body wrapped around the tree, and Alcor felt a raw fear flood through his being.

“Mizar?” He tried to get up, get out of his body, but something held him in place. “Mizar!”

And then she moved. He froze.

“Ugh…” Mizar shifted, and moved her neck off the right-angle it was making with the tree’s trunk. She rubbed her head. “Ow.”

Alcor watched with wide eyes as she shook herself off, and started extracting her legs through the opening. All the broken glass on the hood hadn’t left a scratch on her, it was…

“Impossible,” Alcor breathed. He saw her eye settle on him, her face flash through a million expressions before turning carefully blank. “You’re not human.”

“It…” She hesitated. “It doesn’t matter right now. We need to go.”

He tried to sit up, but something was keeping him rooted in place. It was more than being trapped; he tried to step into the Mindscape, but something had tethered itself to his very soul and bound him to the Earth.

“I can’t.” He frowned. “I’m… trapped?”

“You’re trapped?”

Bound to the Earth… Alcor lifted up his shirt, and found a branch impaled through his abdomen, skewering him to the seat. It was young, thin, but before his eyes, he watched it grow thicker, watched bark form on its trunk, and creep up his skin.

Mizar saw it too. “Shit,” she said, and backed up. “They’re here. They want you.”

“The elves?”

“Yeah… I have to go now.” She jumped off the car’s hood. “Sorry, dude.”

“Mizar? They want me? Wh-what does that mean? Mizar!”

But she was gone - vanished into the darkness. Alcor gritted his teeth, then he summoned a flame and tried to burn the branch. Nothing happened; if anything, a couple leaves sprouted where it should have turned to ash. The bark kept climbing up his chest, and he felt… strange. A little drowsy. It was easy to resist - for now.

But there were voices, and he pushed all that to the side.

“...No, child.” Elvish - spoken softly, like a song. “Do not chase the startled bear into its cave. Have patience, patience…”

He could see three pairs of feet, approaching. Two of them were clad in bark armour - the middle wore a long, flowing robe, and continued forwards where the other two stopped. It walked right up to Alcor, and for the first time in a very long while, he could feel a little bit of apprehension.

It was just an elf, he told himself. Just a mortal. Whatever it was, he’s a demon, he could take it…

The feet stopped in front of a mangled car door. Then they leaned down a little, and a face appeared through the broken glass. By the ears, they were elven, and by the locks of brilliant white hair framing their face, they were ancient indeed.

“Greetings, demon.” said the elf in a quiet tone. “You’ve made a mistake.”

Then they smiled. Alcor did not like the way they smiled.

“You’ve made a mistake,” He growled. “I don’t know how you’ve got me bound, but you can’t keep it up forever. If I get out and you’ve hurt one hair on Mizar’s head… what are you doing?”

The elder was waving at the other two. In unison, they kneeled on the ground, and started whispering to it. The bark creeping up Alcor’s chest started accelerating.

“Alcor the Dreambender,” the elder turned back to him. “You don’t know what a Sanctuary is, do you?”

“Wh-”

“No, you wouldn’t. Thus far, you’ve been a wise demon; you’ve stayed out of our affairs, and we’ve stayed out of yours.” They smiled. “Or perhaps, you’ve just been a lucky one. If you were wise, you wouldn’t have meddled last night, would you?”

“Meddled?” They leaned back as the elder leaned in close. “You were trying to kill Mizar, you- get back!”

“Let me educate you, child.” They whispered in his ear. “We will grow a great forest over your body. We will live in this Sanctuary, we will walk these woods, and our every thought will keep you bound, will keep you aslumber. And your wistful dreams will cause flowers to bloom in the springtime.”

With a smile, they stepped away, and spoke again.

“Now, do you see? Do you see why you should have been wise, demon?”

Alcor growled. After a moment, he got his claws under the bark encircling his neck. With a little effort, he ripped it away, and glared up at the elder.

“You can’t bind me forever. I’ll get out - you’ll regret this!”

“Hmm… perhaps. But not in time to protect that which you travel with. This… Mizar, you say?”

“Don’t you dare.” Alcor lunged at him. “Don’t you dare! D̞̖̟̱͉O̡͖͇̫N̳̦̳̫̮͎̯'T̹̼̮̤̠͢ͅ ̻̼Y̮͖̜OU҉͙̠̪̭̞̭ ͙̥͍̙͚̹̻D͈A̵̞̠̫̙̲̝R̠E͚̜̺̫̬!̦̤̬͉̪”

“A Mizar…” They stroked their beard. “So that is how it enlisted your help.”

“She҉ is̡ ̵mi͠ne͘!͜ S̸h̸e ìs mine̢!̕ ̷You̧ ̷hu̴rt̢ my̕ Mi͘zar,̴ ̸I ̢W̨ILĻ ͢ḰĮLL͢ ̨Y̵OU̧!”

“But she is not your Mizar.”

Alcor frowned. “Don’t you tell me who my Mizar is - I can feel it. I know!”

At that, the elf… laughed. He growled.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh… it’s not funny.” They sighed; for once, the smile seemed to dip. “It’s not funny. I suppose it just… to see it happen again, it’s strange, is it not?”

Alcor watched the elf look into the distance. In their eyes were a thousand memories, and in their furrowing brow, a thousand pains. It seemed like an eternity before they spoke again.

“I had a daughter, once,” they started. “Long ago. Before I was one of the elders. Before the Transcendence. Shalana, her name was.”

Alcor watched the elf smile.

“And she was so full of life. She loved to dance with the wind and the leaves. And she loved everyone around her.” They shook their head. “She trusted everyone around her, and… she was mistaken.”

Alcor frowned. “What happened?”

“This is why you outsiders shouldn’t meddle.” They glanced up at him. “You ask me what happened - any elf would know what happened, but you are…” they sighed. “You don’t know of the Blighted Ones - they are hunters of us. Very specialized hunters; humans would see through their tricks, but we-“ they gestured at their visor. “We cannot. And you cannot, either.”

“What do you mean?” Alcor raised an eyebrow. “I have enough magic to see through any illusion-“

“And it is your magic that prevents you from seeing the truth! These creatures feed on magic - they twist your Sight, you cannot trust what you see!” The elf clenched their fists. “Just like Shalana could not See. She thought it was a friend who wanted to walk the forest with her; instead it was her doom.”

Alcor made a face. “I’m… so sorry to hear that.”

They looked at him, and did not smile. “You dare apologise to me?” They hissed, and leaned in closer. “You dare apologise to me when you saved her murderer last night!”

Alcor felt the elder grab his suit and wrench him in close. He was too stunned to resist.

“I spent millennia pleading with the Elders to hunt this creature down! Now I am one, and you dare interfere? You dare deny her justice? And for what?” They dug angrily in his suit pocket, and drew out the dewdrop. “For this?! This is what I’ll lose my retribution over?!”

Alcor couldn’t respond. The bark creeped up his neck, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open. The elder was only a blur as they pushed themself off of him.

“No…” they said. “Calm. Be calm. The mountain does not sway like the wind around it.”

He tried to sit up, but he was rooted to the seat. Nothing budged.

“I should not be surprised by this,” said the elf. “I should not. After all, what does a demon know of love?”

The bark was stretching over his jawline. Alcor could hardly summon the strength to panic anymore.

“Sleep well, Dreambender. You will wake to a better world- what is that?”

His closing eyes rolled over to look, and he saw something drop from the trees. There was a snarl, a cry, and the two elves stood up; suddenly the sleepiness fell away from him, and he jolted awake.

Mizar - or whatever she was - was the first thing he saw. She had the elder pinned, and with the back of her hand she slapped the visor off his face. They pushed her off and jumped away, covering their face.

“No! No! My eyes deceive! You’re not her!”

The two elves drew their swords and closed in. Mizar danced back as they slashed, glanced to the car, and then ripped off the side door and used it like a shield. One elf stabbed and stuck their sword in; she twisted it out of their hand, bashed them to the floor, then pounced on top and ripped out their throat.

The other elf raised their sword and drove it down through her back. She let out a cry, but in a flash she was on her feet again, eyes on the blade. They tried to slash at her; she caught their arm, twisted it back, and slammed them into the dirt.

Then it was silent, but for the quiet whimpering of the downed elf. Alcor watched her slowly, slowly kneel down to their level. She gripped their shoulders, and turned them over to face her.

He couldn’t see their face - only a sweater, and jangling bracelets on her arms. But the elf saw something else; he saw them go rigid, saw their feet kick up leaves as they struggled to get away, heard their groans turn to a desperate cry -

“No, no! No! Help! Tarathiel, aid me! I-”

Then Mizar struck. Alcor flinched at the scream, at the crack of bone and gristle; a deep pit formed in her stomach as he heard her begin to eat. Yet the more he watched, strangely, the fuzzier she seemed. Whatever she was doing, it was like the world around him had formed a kind of censor, and even the sounds of it faded sharply.

Like something was twisting his Sight… Alcor looked down at the visor that had landed on the front seat. He took a deep breath, and then ripped his hand out of the bark that had encased it, grabbed the visor, and put it over his eyes.

Now he saw without Sight. Now he saw the Creature that he had called Mizar.

It wasn’t human, no. It was much taller, and so, so thin. It was covered in a layer of fine yet shaggy hair, lending a greyish tint to the pale skin beneath; around its legs it was matted and grimy with dried sewage. Its hands were curled, clawed things at the end of its sticklike arms, and it was digging them into the elf to scoop out meat and dripping organs.

It was… oh, stars. Alcor felt a rush of primal fear at the sight of it, and he couldn’t help but gasp.

The Creature heard that; it froze, and then its head snapped around. Its face: its eyes were up where its forehead should’ve been, and the rest was all mouth, dripping with blood. Its jagged teeth glinted like broken glass as it turned and knuckle-walked towards him.

Alcor couldn’t help it; he growled, he leaned away as far as he could. “No… stay, stay back!”

He threw a blast of fire its way. It melted the side of the car, but nothing happened to the Creature - no, worse than nothing. His fire swirled around the narrow, bloodless hole in its chest, and sealed it.

“I’m warning you!” Alcor watched it squeeze itself through the opening in the car; it was so much larger than it looked. “Don’t come any closer, don’t - d-don’t touch me! What are you...”

It was reaching its filthy claws towards his face. He stiffened as they scraped against his forehead… then carefully closed around the visor, and took it off. The glow-eyed, primally terrifying being that hunched before him suddenly-

-just looked like a Mizar again. Felt like a Mizar again. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, there wouldn’t have been a doubt in his mind that this was his sister smiling sadly at him.

“I’m sorry,” said the Creature, with her voice. “I did lie to you. But… look, if I’ve built up any goodwill with you since we met… can you just hear me out? Please?”

Alcor didn’t move, didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. He watched the Creature’s eyes flit down, and fix on the branch that was keeping him in place. It reached out a lie of a hand.

“Here, let me get you out of that.”

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Why have I done this?

So, as per a conversation with @little-lightning-lavellan, I was blessed or maybe cursed, with this idea about Fane. As such, I had to write a short story about it that I think will be like four chapters long because...yeah. XD

Anyways, enjoy part one! (Look at what you’ve done. IT’S GLORIOUS!)

***

Anatomical Observations - Chapter 1

It had happened once. Short lived, quick, and barely noticeable as many things were more pressing, the world teetering on a crumbling edge. But it was hard to ignore such small things when voices were all you could hear when one was trying to work.

Solas was highly divested in an article of research. A basic magical theory in concept, minor amplifications of lesser spells, but it still required his mind to bend, to become flexible much like his magic when he had first awoken. As such, he had not heard many people come and go through the rotunda, he had not even heard the doors leading in and out slam shut or creak open, nor a polite greeting or scurrying messenger. That was how deep he was in his bubble of concentration. However, one--no, two voices from directly above were currently making it incredibly, and he meant incredibly, difficult to remain focused. 

“I do believe that is my chair you are sitting in, Inquisitor.”, a male voice with a distinct Tevinter accent floated down from above, indignation and slight amusement laced within it. 

“I don’t see your name on it, do I?”, another voice, far deeper and like rolling thunder with how it always held a slight growl. It always made Solas involuntarily shiver, and the same remained true now, making his focus splinter further like cracked ice. “Anyhow, it’s Inquisition property. Got a problem, talk to Josephine. I’m off duty.” A sound like a page being harshly flipped made his ears twitch. 

A gasp. “And work her harder than she already is? Absolutely not!” Solas could tell the line was meant to be a jab, but it only held the telling of a joke within its haughty vibrato. 

“Then I guess you’ll just have to sit your ass on the floor until I’m finished.”, that rumbling timbre came once again, a shifting sound and a loud thud signifying someone’s boots had been slammed down onto something. 

“The floor? Me?!”, another indignant squawk, actually making Solas let out a frustrated sigh as he lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. How much longer was this going to go on for? It wasn’t unusual for this type of banter to sound, but right now, he had work to complete.

And this was not helping accomplish that.

“Yes, the floor. Yes, you.”, another harsh flick of a page ruffling through the air. “Now, can you leave me alone? I’m busy.”

“Oh, yes, you’re quite busy stuffing your face with tea cakes!”, the Tevinter accent rose a pitch, as if in disbelief at what it was saying. “The crumbs! Have you no etiquette, Inquisitor?!”

“Nope.”, the gravelly voice responded with a heavy air of indifference, actually sounding a bit muffled as if it were eating something. “If Vivienne and Josephine can’t knock the elf out of me, no one can.”, Solas could just hear the sarcasm and roll of eyes in that statement. It almost made him chuckle, but he was still too miffed to push one through.

“Most elves I’ve met are very well mannered!”

“I’m not like most elves.”

“Well, that much is apparent!”

“Thanks for noticing. I’m so happy.”, the tone voicing that statement dripping with concealed disdain. Solas knew where that bitterness originated from, and hearing it always made his heart heavy. Heavier than it already was, even.

“You are a truly stubborn man! Fine, I’ll sit on the floor! The cold, cold floor!”, a scoff following right after those words as the sound of leather and, most notably a body, plopped down onto the stone. 

Solas let out a heavy, heavy sigh as silence finally followed that exchange, letting his head hang down to where his chin nearly touched his chest in defeat. It would seem his attention was severed as much as the world’s magic was. He would not be getting back into his rhythm anytime soon. 

“Perhaps I should find a quieter, more secluded place to do my work..”, he mused, lifting a hand to rub at his face slowly. “One of the lower chambers maybe..”

Solas sighed again before letting his hand fall back down to his desk with a light pap, eyes absently roaming over the pages of the tome before him. Maybe if he stilled his mind, found his anchor, he could try to decipher this line of text. The glyphs were a no go, however. Just trying to look at the faded lines was making his vision go blurry. Sadly, the theory he was trying to prove was reliant on those patterns, and they were far more convoluted than he remembered. Perhaps more things had adapted than he originally thought? Or did the older methods  have to be reworked, seemingly forgotten like so much else? He, frankly, did not know. He couldn’t focus, but he would have to try.

“A ward..?”, Solas muttered under his breath, brows furrowing as he traced a sigil with his finger. “No..it is more akin to a summoning circle. Or perhaps a rune?”, he continued, slowly feeling how his mind began to bend and think, the lines of the glyphs becoming clearer, more defined. “Ah! The outlining symbols are for--”

His musing was immediately cut off, much like the frayed line of his focus, as a shout had him freezing and quite literally jumping in surprise.

“Fasta vas! What are you doing?!”, a squawk, the curse in Tevene elongated between the two words for more flair.

“Would you calm down?! Dammit, my ears are fucking ringing now! Ugh!”, the rolling thunder voice no longer indifferent as its volume rose to make the very stone quake. Once again, it made a light shiver run down Solas’s spine despite his tensed up form. What was going on now?

“How can I be calm when you...you do that!?”, furious shifting sounded as if someone was flailing limbs about. 

“One, I don't know what the hell you’re going on about, Dorian!” The sharp snapping of a book making the ravens up above in the rookery flap in agitation. “Two, you can have your chair back because I’m not getting anything done with your needling!”

“I believe you need a needle, my friend! That looked incredibly painful!”

Solas felt his slowly relaxing body tense up at that, mind awakened, but for a completely different reason than trying to get magical research done. He lifted his gaze from where it was fixated on the pages of his book, looking upwards to search the railing that outlined the library for the source of the voices that had shattered his hour of contemplation. He knew them both, but the exclamation housed by one had him wanting to see the other.

Where..? Solas thought the question, eyes roaming every inch of the circular area before stark white had his gaze halting immediately. Ah. There we are. 

He would spot that messy head from anywhere, even in snowy regions like the Emprise. Though, the body that that hair was attached to did a fine job of location as well. Occasionally, he would find his eyes lingering, or searching for less...conventional reasons. However, this wasn’t the time to be thinking of such things, especially as his mind still reeled with what the unaccounted voice had yelled.

Fane was currently along one of the bookshelves, a gloved hand firmly pushing a book back into its place with a typical scowl plastered on his otherwise smooth face, the faded green lines of his vallaslin making an already striking face look more so. Solas felt his body relax as he took in the sight of the man, or rather, the dragon.

His dragon, to be more precise, but not in a way of physical possession. It was more fond, more willing than that. It was not a bond of slavery. It was a vow. A centuries old one, to be exact.

Solas almost called out to the other, a sense of fondness and curiosity as well as mild concern invading his mind, but he clamped his mouth shut when he saw Dorian stride up to the snowy haired man with a look of wide eyed fascination. That was an interesting look, and truthfully, a worrying one. Such looks harbored questions, and he knew Fane did not entertain many inquiries.

And for good reason.

“Wait, what? You can’t be serious?”, Dorian said with an airy laugh. “You do that, and just walk it off?”, his tone rose pitch in disbelief. 

Solas caught the glint of ebbing gold as Fane rolled his eyes, turning his larger frame to face the Tevinter mage more directly. His eyes zoned in on how the reluctant Inquisitor was tentatively rubbing at his jaw, working it back and forth slowly as if it were locked up. Dorian had said something about something being painful, hadn’t he? Was that what he meant?

“Again, I didn’t do anything.”, Fane growled out in denial, the hand upon his jaw shifting so he had it pinched between two fingers to where it appeared he was trying to fit it into place. “I was eating, and I bit my tongue because you pissed me off!”

Solas smirked faintly at his dragon’s typical usage of foul language despite the way he watched his odd movements like a hawk. Fane was incredibly eloquent, cryptic, even, but when irritation or just general boredom took hold, the dual being was a sailor. It always fascinated him rather than disgusted him. For a dragon, an ancient dragon, to latch onto common parlance as if it were the most natural thing to their being was intriguing. Then again, Fane had lived in this world for twenty-four years without knowing he was a dragon. That, would perhaps, be a more justifiable reason, but it still piqued Solas’s interest. Everything about the dragon turned elf was a point of interest. Especially now, with the way he was still nursing his sharp jaw and glowering at Dorian as if he was trying to work something out in his head.

“I’m sorry, but that was not you biting your tongue!”, Dorian exclaimed, shaking his head with that same look of disbelief before it morphed into a thoughtful look, hand coming up to absently stroke his mustache. “Though...if what I saw was..well, actually what I saw, then I have questions and curiosities regarding it.”

Fane’s expression went deadpan as he stared at the other, the golden light in his eyes all but extinguished as he turned on his heel to go the other way. Solas blinked a bit, even as his eyes followed the dragon’s retreating form.

He disengaged. Solas thought with certainty and familiarity. Unsurprising, but still worrying. He only resorts to that level of disregard when he is hiding something.  

His eyes never left Fane’s stalking form, noticing how his brows were furrowed deeply, but could see one of them twitching with nervous energy. Broad shoulders were raised much like a shield, narrow nostrils flared with attempts at dispelling whatever heat had invaded a snowy disposition, partially gloved hands flexed, tendons underneath leather bindings apparent from how much force was behind its pull.

And golden emerald eyes were now fighting for dominance - dancing and bashing against each other as abilities that had laid dormant for too long began to try and enable themselves in an attempt to mitigate the, no doubt, myriad of emotions coursing through a draconic mind. 

Solas felt his concern towards the ancient man mount at all those observations, but also, he felt slightly exasperated. The latter was only because he knew this strategy of deflection that Fane always used as his Queen upon the chessboard of his mental battles. He bounced, side stepped, and outright threw a verbal wall up when he did not wish to cross a specific square. It wasn’t that Fane was lying out of malicious means; he was doing it to protect himself and others. But Solas knew it only caused more harm, more warped perceptions.

It hurt Fane, and he knew all too well how much it hurt to keep the truth hidden, even if it was necessary for the long run.

That is the secondary explanation for this flight. Solas mused silently, eyes never leaving the dragon’s form despite his long strides. Whatever has happened puts his mask in jeopardy.  

So lost in his own thoughts and the duel of veridium, Solas didn’t notice how Dorian broke out of his look of repose as he noticed the other striding away with purposeful steps.

“Where are you going?”, Dorian called after the white hair elf, but not making an effort to chase after him with how far the other had already gotten from him.

“To beat the shit out of a dummy before I beat you.”, Solas heard Fane growl out lowly, dangerously, and for a moment, he easily caught the flickering of his eyes as they met with his own. He met that gaze with ease, reading them as no other could. The message they conveyed had him instantly seeking more as the shifting of deep emerald had his eyes narrowing in concern.

“What happened?”, Solas mouthed to Fane as he was unable to communicate precisely how the other did without it being perceived incorrectly. He noticed how the man had slowed to keep their gazes longer. There was such volume in them that Solas nearly wanted to tear his own away, but also delve deeper like he thristed for their color bound words, their fathomless depths amid a thin world.

Fane’s eyes flitted to the door that led to the balcony the Enchanter always occupied, and then down, to signify he was taking the adjacent stairwell from there to bypass the Great Hall before he disappeared from the edge of the railing, the sound of door slamming issuing his complete departure. 

Solas let out a quiet sigh before nodding, pushing himself up with his arms to stand straight. Well, it would appear he was most certainly not getting an ounce of work done today, and oddly, he was okay with that since concern was overriding his need for magical answers.

There were other, more pressing, questions that needed attending to.

***

[idjitlili]

Some Aragorn love?💖

PoTato buddies

Aragorn x reader

summary: imagine being apart of the fellowship,falling for aragorn,yet you feel like you stand no chance,turn tables he is very protective of you when another male is in the way.

word count:2299

You had been apart of the fellowship since Rivendell,you weren't much of a fighter but Gandalf insisted you come ,you were good at cooking potatoes ,and some other things. But the really reason you came was because you were a healer. You were shy around new people, you soon developed a bond with Sam you had one major thing in common you both loved potatoes. Sam was the main person you spoke to,he was not judgemental and was a kind soul.

You would burst out with laughter with Sam making the others stare at you,you were always quiet,you were all currently walking through the snow. You were freezing but Sam was distracting you with stories such as when Frodo had made him jump when he was gardenering ,and he ended up accidently throwing a potato at him,before rush to see if the potato was damaged. Pippin was also very humerus,and childish,well he was barely an adult so it made sense. "what's so funny?" he had questioned you confused ,you stopped laughing and stared at him briefly before answering. "I would tell you but...the jokes aragorn." Sam snickered next to you,Gimil burst out laughing, pippin didn't understand straight away but eventually got it, Aragorn sent you a smile before walking again.

He was surprised at your outburst, not hearing you speak that much before, when you did it was just one word answers.  He would often see you giggling with Sam , he thought you liked the hobbit, he couldn't deny he found your shyness adorable , and he found you very attractive. Sam would often tease you about Aragorn because he knew of your feelings for him.

"You are going to talk to him, y/n tomorrow, promise?" He had been trying to get you talk to Aragorn for ages, today was the closest you had gotten. You had simply nodded at the hobbit.

***

After Gandalf had died, you had all made it to the elves, well lady Galadriel. You had been sat with Sam and Frodo when legolas had walked by. "Uh..mister legolas?" He had stopped turning to you, nodding for you go on. "Uh..right..if you had no legs what would your name be?" You face was heating up,he looked at you with an confused expression. "I assume , it would be the same." You shook your head at the elf. "no mister legolas, your name would be leg a less , because your legs Aragorn." He have you a look at said 'really? ' before sending you a small smile.

"You are going to be teasing Aragorn with that for the rest of the journey,aren't you?" Gimli had asked you , you had nodded in agreement, Aragorn had heard the whole thing from nearby.

***

Boromir was dead, you had been separated from Sam, and was with Aragorn, Gimli and legolas. You had held onto Boromir's hand as he passed away. You had wept as Aragorn had led you all after Merry and Pippi, you cried the whole first day, there was no time to rest .Legolas had basically carried you the whole day your head on his shoulder. As much as Aragorn wanted to carry you , Legolas had much more strength , being an elf and all and Gimli did too but he was too short.

The third day you four had ran into Eomer, in the lands of Rohan. He had already introduced himself , and briefly questioned you all before turning his attention to you. He had stood infront of you , eyeing you. "Why do you travel with these men?" He had asked holding his posture. "Uh..I am their healer." You had spoken quietly, avoiding his direct eye, he was indeed an handsome man. "She does not need explain her reasons," Aragorn had stated simply.

"Oh I see now, she is with you." Eomer had eyed you then Aragorn , who wrapped his arm around your waist, making you flush red. Legolas had smirked at Aragorn, "yes we are." Aragorn's grip on you became tighter, Eomer had just smiled and soon enough you were told where the hobbits were, but they may be dead. That worried you , you had already lost two of your group. Eomer had given you two horses, you having to share with Aragorn, you had lift you on , sitting you infront of him. You decided not to question what he had just done. As you set off after the hobbits.

"I am sorry , if I made you uncomfortable back there." He had told you sincerely , his left arm around your waist to keep him steady. "..no you didn't." You spoke , causing him to hum in response , as you continued after the journey after the hobbits. You couldn't help but blush at Aragorn's body being so close to yours. His strong arms holding tightly around you to control the horse , his head on your shoulder to see where he was going. His breath on your neck , sending tingles down your spin.

The next time you were both so close was after the battle of helms deep, in celebration of victory. Theoden had toasted in celebration, Gimli and Legolas were having a drinking competition, as you ,Eomer and Aragorn watched. Eomer had discovered that you weren't actually with Aragorn, but it was clear that you liked him. As you would blush every time he would speak with you, he decided upon himself that he was going to do something about it. Well at least after Gimli passed out, causing Legolas to win.

As soon as a new song was played, which happened to be a fast paced one , he had asked you. "Miss y/n, would you dance with me?" He had asked you gently, you had blushed ,nodding "I am not very good though." You had spoken quietly , making your wast to Eomer. "Don't worry, I'll guide you." He had spoken grabbing your hand gently , leading you to the dance floor. Aragorn watched envy, Legolas nudged him, "I believe that he does that on purpose." Aragorn had scoffed at this, staring still.

Before you had both started dancing Eomer had let you know that he knew of your feelings for the future king, you had denied it , but he had just smirked at you in response. Before you began dancing fast paced with Eomer, with twirls and turns. He had even lifted you with ease , causing you gasp and giggle, as he spun you. Your face went red as he dipped you , it was like dirty dancing , yes there were some hip movements, you looked great with Eomer especially in the dress Eowyen had given you. you had to tuck one side up into your shorts so you didn't trip dancing revealing your whole bare leg. In finale Eomer had grabbed that leg by the knee , guiding you down to one final dip. As your cleavage was fully exposed to Aragorn, yes Eomer did that on purpose, before pulling you up, you had embraced him.

"You are a very skilled dancer , Eomer." You had spoke quietly to him as merry and pippin clapped. Gentlemen. "As are you." He spoke breathless letting go off you. In which as he did merry ran at you jumping up on you, wrapping his arms around your neck, you had grabbed a hold of his legs to keep him steady , giggling. "Will you dance with me ,my lady?" He had asked smiling up at you, you had nodded at him , dancing with him you in your arms , because he was too small on the ground.

Afterwards he would not let go of you, so you kept a hold of him , sitting back down next to Aragorn with the hobbit sat your lap. Aragorn smiled at you, and eventually Merry had fell asleep on you , using your breasts as pillow. After a while of being in that position, you began to ache you had only had one ale, it was just you were so tired. You had let out an "uGh." And a groan causing Aragorn to look at you. "What's the matter?" He had asked eyeing Pippin, he couldn't help but be jealous of him. Pippin had already made his way to bed well forced by Gandalf ,leaving Merry on you.

"It hurts him laying on my..after a long time." He had accidentally looked down at your burst when you had said it , blushing , He had pulled Merry from you gently , ushering you to stand, once you did he followed carrying Merry. "Are you tired , y/n?" He had questioned you ,you had nodded. "Take him." You had looked at him confused but did, turning to leave in embarrassment, but you didn't even get the chance to walk as you sweated off your feet in ease by Aragorn who began carrying you bridal style.

Merry laid upon your chest yet again, as Aragorn held you tightly. Eomer had smirked at the three of you in success, you and Aragorn hadn't even told the others goodnight, as he carried you away. Your eyes fell heavy ,"I'll will get Merry to bed, then you okay?" He had told you , you had nodded tiredly. Your eyes flutter closed, falling asleep in Aragorn's' arms, he smiled at your sleeping form as he took you to the room that Theoden had gave you to sleep in for the night.

He had laid you in the bed , Merry next to you , before he sat down in the armchair going to sleep. You had woken up with Merry laid across your stomach, and Aragorn changing. You had blushed harshly at his bare back before you turned so your face was faced down in the pillow so he would t know you were awake from your blushing face. Pippin groaned , now using your ass as pillow.

Aragorn had turned to see your position, before walking over to you , now dressed poking your shoulder,"y/n,Merry , wake  up ." Merry groans , you sit up rubbing your eyes, to act as if you just woke up. You push merry off of you ,shaking him awake."w-whats going on?" you question,remembering how you ended up here. "Gandalf has to Pippin to Gondor for safety." he states at the side of the bed,as you stand up from it ,yawning as merry stood on the bed. "why?" Merry asked panicked. "sauron thinks he has ring,they are leaving soon." Merry had gasped jumping from the bed,running out the door,slamming it shut. 

You looked at Aragorn ,who was already looking at you. "is Pippin going to be okay?" you questioned ,showing your concern for the youngest hobbit ,Aragorn simply nodded. You looked down to see you were still in your dress from last night,you grab your bag that is sat next to the bed pulling out your clothes. You were used to having to get dressed infront of Sam,frodo,and some other fellowship,but not the point you were naked ,or they could anything. You tried pulling the dress off but it was tied on too tight,you groaned and turned to aragorn ,who was looking away,red. "uhh..could you please help me untie this." he walked closer to you,so you turned away so he could untie you.

His hands pulled gently at the strings on the dress,loosening it ,you breathe in feeling less caged now. His hands soon fell away as he walked away ,facing away from you again. You went back to trying to remove the dress,you groan as it gets stuck under your shoulders,leaving your arms in the air ,looking pretty stupid ,if I am being honest. You werent sure why  Aragorn was still here with you. "um...I hate to ask again,but this dress is a little stuck." of course the man you like as to see you in your underclothes.

He chuckled at you ,before pulling the dress up above your head ,but it was no use,it was completely stuck. "uh..would you care if the dress is ripped?" he had questioned you ,he had now idea how anyone could fit in a dress like this ,too many layers,and buttons. "no..I'll j-just get Eowyn a new one." thats all he need ,as he ripped the dress in half  with his bare hands ,you had gasped ,and blushed at the thought of him doing that in some particular actitives. "woah...thank you."he smiled at you as you began now dressing.

"I have been meaning to tell you something ,y/n." he had spoke ,as you pulled the undershirt off,before throwing a navy tunic over your chest."o-oh?" you had replied nervously."for many months ,I have admired you...and it is clear to me you have captured my heart." you were shocked at his words ,not believing it at all. "a-are you being serious?this isnt a joke is it?" he had walked over to you ,your trousers  half on as he brought his hand to your cheek,before leaning down to press a short gently kiss it your lips. You hadnt kissed anyone before ,it had came natural to you even though you were clueless. "believe me now?" you nod at him,he wraps his arms around your waist ,your hands on is chest.

"hey,um  maybe we should go find merry?"

"in a minute,will you court me?"

"yes ,of course.Darn I could do with some mash or a grilled cheezus right now."

[marvelous-writer]

Up on the Rooftop, slip slip slip

Summary: Morgan comes home from school in tears after a kid at school tells her there’s no such thing as Santa, so Peter takes it upon himself to show her otherwise.

Word Count: 2,900

Genre: whump, fluff, humor

A/N: Thank you @whumphoarder for beta reading this and for being such a great friend and awesome person for helping me with my writing. ❤️

Link to read on Ao3

It’s just a little after four on December 24th when the car’s tires hit the gravel driveway leading to the Stark’s cabin. The familiar crunching sound sends a wave of comfort through Peter as he leans forward, looking out through the windshield to see the cabin come into view.

“Home sweet home,” Happy says, giving Peter a small smile through the rear view mirror.

Peter smiles as he sits back in his seat. “Yeah.”

It’s been almost three weeks since he’s been to the cabin, having been busy cramming for finals at school—not to mention all the extra Spider-Manning he’s been doing with the recent uptick in crime around the city. The holidays always bring more shoplifters and robberies. He can’t even remember the last time he’s had a solid four hours of sleep.

But for now, Peter can finally just relax and enjoy quality time with family and friends.

As the car rolls to a stop in front of the garage a few feet from the house, Peter’s stomach tightens in excitement. He wants nothing more than to throw his door open and race inside, but he forces himself to calmly get out and help Happy retrieve their bags out of the trunk.

“Look who’s here!” a voice comes from behind.

Peter turns around when he hears the sound of the screen door creaking open, only to see Tony standing there on the front porch, smiling at them, wearing one of the most ridiculous Iron Man Christmas sweaters Peter’s ever seen. Carefully avoiding bumping into Happy, Peter all but runs up the stairs to him and throws himself at Tony.

“Merry Christmas,” Peter murmurs against his mentor’s chest as he feels strong arms wrap around him in a warm hug.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

He feels Tony’s arms go slack around him, but Peter doesn’t let go as he presses himself further against his mentor and buries his nose into the man’s shoulder, earning an amused chuckle from Tony as his arms squeeze around him once again.

“Feeling extra cuddly today, are we?” Tony asks, his voice rumbling in his chest against Peter’s ear.

“Missed you,” Peter mumbles as something twists inside his chest.

“I’ve missed you too, bud. I can’t believe it’s been three weeks since I last saw you, give or take all those FaceTime calls.”

Peter pulls back with a smile, managing to get a hold on himself. “I know.”

“I feel like you’ve grown a few inches,” Tony says with a teasing grin as he reaches a hand up to measure him, but Peter moves away with a laugh.

“Or maybe you just shrunk a few inches,” Peter shoots back.

“Gosh, I hope not,” Tony says as he throws an arm around Peter’s shoulders as they walk in the house. A warm burst of air hits them, sending chills through Peter at the sudden change in temperature.

“How’s May been?” Tony asks.

“Uh, pretty good—busy with work and stuff,” Peter answers as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it up on the rack by the door before following Tony, catching the scent of freshly baked cookies in the air.

“So I’ve heard. I’m happy she’s able to take some time off to relax,” Tony says over his shoulder as he heads towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter says as he stops walking, expecting to her the sound of thundering little footsteps from upstairs and seeing Morgan running down the stairs to greet him... but the house is oddly silent. Unsettlingly so.

“Where’s Morgan?” he questions.

“In her room.” Tony grabs a pair of oven mitts from a drawer and opens the oven, taking out a batch of what looks to be sugar cookies. “We... have a bit of a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks, brows pulling together.

Tony takes off the oven mitts and puts them on the counter with a sigh. “Some kid at Morgan’s school told her Santa isn’t real.”

“Oh, man,” Peter says, feeling his stomach drop, knowing all too well how that felt.

He was around Morgan’s age when a bully at school told him Santa wasn’t real as well. But May and Ben didn’t sit him down and tell him the truth; instead, they went out of their way to help him believe that Santa Claus was real by leaving chewed up carrots outside their house from the reindeer and an empty plate of cookies, as well as a hand-written letter from Santa himself.

When Peter was older, he found out that May and Ben had done all of that for him, to allow him to just be a kid and enjoy the magic of Christmas, especially after losing his parents at such a young age.

And Morgan loves Santa Claus just as much as Peter had. She’s been talking about Christmas for weeks now, even having Peter help her write a letter to him, asking for either a cat or dog that needs a home for Christmas, and telling Santa to give the elves a nice long vacation after the holidays, and give the reindeer extra carrots. Santa is everything to Morgan, and she must be absolutely devastated right now.

“Yeah,” Tony says with another sigh. “Pepper’s tried everything to help her feel better... but... she’s taking it pretty hard.”

“Poor, Morgan,” Peter says sympathetically, wishing there was something he could do to help.

That’s when it hits him.

The corners of Peter’s lips turn into a grin as he looks at Tony. “I have an idea.”

...

Once it’s dark outside and Morgan is tucked in bed, Peter quietly goes outside of the cabin, followed by Happy.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? There’s a lot of fresh snow up there from last night,” Happy points out as he looks up at the roof.

“It’ll be fine. I’m super sticky, remember?” Peter tells him with a grin as he walks over to the side of the house and grips the wood siding.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ladder at least? Just to be safe?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Peter insists as he starts scaling the side of the house, concentrating hard on keeping his hands sticking to the slippery surface.

“Be careful!” Happy whispers sharply from below.

Peter rolls his eyes goodnaturedly as he continues climbing until he reaches the roof. He swings his leg over and hoists himself up with a grunt before getting first to his knees, then his feet. Carefully, he makes his way over to the window he knows belongs to Morgan’s room and peaks inside. Tony and Pepper are both sitting on the little girl’s quilted snowflake bedspread, reading a bedtime story, while Morgan dressed in pajamas, sits between them.

A smile spreads across Peter’s face as he pulls out the small strip of jingle bells he’s found inside earlier and gives them a little shake.

Morgan’s head pops up at the sound as she looks over at the window. Peter quickly ducks down so she doesn’t see him and ruin his whole mission.

“What was that?” Peter hears Morgan ask, thanks to his enhanced hearing.

“I don’t know. It almost sounded like... Santa?” he hears Tony reply in a dramatic tone as Pepper gasps in surprise.

Peter grins as he stands up straight, stomping his feet for added effect as he gives the bells another shake.

“I think he’s here!” Pepper says excitedly.

Peter peaks in the room and sees the big smile plastered on Morgan’s face. The sight sends a burst of warmth through his chest.

He stomps again and jumps slightly, but when his feet come back down to the roof, they’re met with an icy patch under the snow. His spider sense only has a brief second to warm him before Peter finds himself sliding backwards as his legs give out from underneath him.

Peter’s hands scramble to attach his fingers to the roof to stick on, or get a hold of something to save himself, but he’s sliding too fast and everything is all icy.

Suddenly, there’s nothing underneath him as he plummets through the air, the snowy ground quickly rushing up to meet him.

The last thought he has is the faint hope that the snow will break his fall, before he slams into the ground.

...

A dull, throbbing pain breaks through the darkness, along with a panicked voice somewhere in the background as consciousness slowly creeps back to Peter.

“Peter! C’mon, kid—wake up! Shit!”

Peter groans, slowly blinking his heavy eyes open, seeing a blurry figure above him.

“H’ppy?”

“Yeah. Right here, Pete,”

Peter blinks a few times before his vision clears, allowing him to see the worry written all over the man’s features as he looks down at Peter with wide eyes.

“Shit, I knew this wasn’t a good idea! May’s gonna kill me,” Happy hisses. “Are you okay? Does anything feel broken?”

As if he needs a reminder, Peter’s whole body seems to throb painfully. “Ugh, everything,” he groans.

“Shit. Uh—okay. Let’s try to get you up and into the house, alright?”

Happy begins to carefully help him to his feet but stops when Peter suddenly lets out a sharp hiss in pain and squeezes his eyes shut.

“What’s wrong?” Happy asks worriedly.

“M-My back,” Peter grits out, forcing himself to breathe through the pain radiating across his back.

“Does anything feel broken?” Happy asks, even paler now.

Cautiously, Peter moves his limbs around a bit to check. As stiff and achy as he is from his fall, there’s no sharp pain that would indicate a break. “I don’t think so? It’s just really sore,” he admits.

Happy blows out a relieved breath. “Alright. We can work with that.”

When Peter is finally on his feet, hunched over with Happy’s arm wrapped around his middle, they shuffle back towards the front of the house, Happy supporting most of Peter’s weight.

“Well, I think the plan worked,” Peter groans. “Should’ve seen her face when she heard the bells.”

“Yeah? Well that’s good at least, but I still say you should have used a ladder,” Happy grumbles as he carefully drapes one of Peter’s arms over his shoulders.

“Mmh, next time,” Peter says.

“Oh, no. There’s not gonna be a next time. You’re barred from going up on that roof ever again.”

As they approach the front porch, the door suddenly swings open and Tony steps out with a smile, only for it to fall when he sees them.

“What happened?” he demands as he rushes down the stairs.

“I feel off the roof,” Peter tells him simply.

Tony’s eyes widen and his mouth opens for a few seconds before he closes this eyes, shaking his head. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea. We should have just gone with my plan of dressing Happy up in a Santa suit and having Morgan come down around midnight to catch him putting presents under the tree.”

Happy throws a glare his way, but Tony ignores it as he drapes Peter’s other arm over his shoulders. The three of them carefully make their way up the stairs and into the house, not letting go of Peter until he’s sitting on the couch.

“I’m gonna grab a heating pad and some menthol ice,” Happy says before he disappears upstairs.

“I’ll grab you your super kid pain meds,” Tony says as he heads into the kitchen, leaving Peter on the couch.

Despite the pain he’s in, Peter doesn’t regret going up on the roof. Was it stupid and dangerous? Sure. But the look on Morgan’s face made it all worth it. Peter would do anything to keep that smile on her face for as long as he can.

...

When the next morning comes, Peter’s in even more pain than the night before. He had no other choice than to fall asleep on the couch because stairs were too much of a challenge, embarrassingly enough. Happy ended up sleeping on the love seat after ordering Tony to go on up to bed, getting up to help Peter whenever he needed something.

It’s close to seven-thirty when Peter wakes to the sound of eager footsteps racing down the stairs, seeing Morgan dragging Tony and Pepper by their hands. He slowly pushes himself up with a wince, trying to ignore his protesting back as he sits up against the back of the couch.

“Petey! Petey!” Morgan exclaims as she drops her parents hands and runs over to him, practically vibrating with excitement. “I heard Santa last night!”

“What? No way!” Peter says in a fake-shocked tone. He glances sideways at Tony, who smiles and winks at him in return.

“Yeah! When Mommy and Daddy were telling me my bedtime story, I heard him walking on the roof and we heard bells! I’m gonna tell Aiden he was wrong! Santa is real and I heard him!”

Peter smiles at her, warmth blossoming in his chest at how truly happy she is. His back pain seems to have completely disappeared for the moment as he takes all of this in. This must be how May and Ben felt when Peter was younger.

“Wait... did you sleep on the couch?” Morgan asks suddenly, brows pulled together as she looks at him, then over at Happy, who is only now starting to wake up, despite all the commotion.

“Uh... yeah?” Peter says uncertainly.

Morgan gasps excitedly. “Did you see Santa?”

Peter breathes out a sigh. “No. He must have come when I was asleep. I wish I had though.”

Morgan’s brows pull together again. “Why did you sleep on the couch?”

Peter opens his mouth, but Tony jumps in before he can say anything. “Well, Pete and Happy wanted to see Santa, so they decided to camp out here last night.”

“Yeah,” Happy chimes in. “But we fell asleep and missed him.”

Morgan’s brows are still drawn together as she looks between them, then down at the heating pad on the couch. Peter stills, feeling like all the air in the room has been sucked out. Morgan might be only five years old, but she’s frighteningly smart for her age. Of course she could piece everything together. It would break her heart if she sound out the truth, and Peter’s as well.

“What’s that for?” she questions, meeting Peter’s wide eyes.

“Uh... I... I, uhm...” Peter stumbles for words, his tired brain not being helpful at the moment.

“Well, it’s a little embarrassing, really,” Tony starts, letting out a sigh. “He doesn’t want to admit it, but he took a little tumble yesterday. Slipped on some ice when Happy picked him up from school.”

Peter shoots a small glare is way, feeling his cheeks heat up even though he knows the story isn’t true.

“Oh, yeah,” Happy says, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. “He just wiped out right there on the sidewalk. Didn’t know what hit him.”

Peter sends a glare his way as well, but Happy just smirks at him.

“Aww, Petey!” Morgan says, frown dropping into concern as she crawls up on the couch and wraps her arms around him in a gentle hug. “Do you feel better now?”

“Way better,” Peter lies, forcing a smile even as pain radiates in his lower back at the awkward position he’s in now.

Morgan pulls back, smiling as she looks over at Tony and Pepper. The two are now walking back over to the living room with a tray of mugs, which Peter hopes are full of coffee.

“Can we open presents now?” Morgan asks hopefully.

“Of course,” Tony agrees, earning an excited squeal from Morgan as she jumps off the couch, jostling Peter a little.

Peter smiles as he watches Morgan search through all the presents (which definitely weren’t there when he went to sleep last night, so Tony and Pepper must have snuck down at some point) until she finds one of hers. She plops down on the floor and starts ripping open the bright red and green wrapping.

Tony helps Pepper hand out all the mugs before he sits down beside Peter, handing him one. “Cream and extra sugar?”

Peter smiles as he wraps his hands around the warm mug. “Just how I like it.”

Tony rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, before taking a sip of his own mug. For several moments, they all sit there in the living room, watching Morgan open her presents with enthusiasm.

Peter is old enough now to know that Christmas isn’t about the gifts under the tree, but Morgan is only five. For Peter, this is what Christmas is about—being surrounded by family.

As if on cue, a knock comes at the front door.

“That must be May,” Pepper announces as she puts her mug down on the coffee table before standing up from the couch and heads to the door.

“Remember,” Tony whispers, eyeing the door a little nervously. “You slipped on ice yesterday when Happy picked you up. That’s the story we’re going with.” He glances between Peter and Happy.

Peter breathes out a sigh as he takes a sip of his coffee. He doesn’t like lying to May, but that story is better than telling her the truth that he fell off the roof last night while pretending to be Santa Claus.

He has to save what little dignity he has left.

[honorfallen]

The need for a draught

A few swings of his broom and the goose finally began to vacate the doorway of the haberdashery, giving a final rebellious honk until another tap from the brush warded it off for good. Duard cleared his throat as the white-feathered beast waddled away towards the Lion’s Rest or wherever it saw fit. 

The door slammed behind him after he re-entered the small shop. He shoved the broom next to the doorway, the loud wooden thump sounding off the man’s frustration knowing that he would need to fetch it again because of that goose. His fingers scratched at the side of his face, agitated. There was no itching feeling, but he just needed to scratch--

The damned thing is just going to come back. I should just kill it. Just grab the knife next time... or better yet, the daggers~ 

Duard’s left hand tilted towards his face and he glared carefully at his palm. Fingers began to flex a few times to estimate the strength of his grip. He brushed his palm with his right finger to feel where the calluses would be: softening up. These hands were forgetting what it felt like to hold daggers. They quivered, begging for the action once more.  Please, for old time’s sake--

No. Now in place of the daggers were quills and paper, cloth and leather. The careful precision that once targeted hearts, spines, throats, and arteries now focused on more delicate crafts. More productivity and legitimate work, but the distractions were worsening. A tiresome issue, but one he shouldn’t have to deal with for long. He would receive his much-delayed draughts soon enough, and then things would be better, again. Until then, just deal with it...

Duard approached the counter, leather furs, and buckles strewed into several messy piles. In the middle of the table was a half-assembled handbag; it’s partially sewn edge patiently waiting to be finished, hopefully with no further disturbances. Taking the crafting awl into his hand, he ran the needled tip across the bag, browsing for the ideal place to puncture...

A bead of sweat began to form on the side of his forehead as he readied himself to cleanly gouge a vital area-- just like a kill spot. 

Hmm.. the Jugular, heart, or the kidney...? 

With a quick thrust, the pop from piercing the leather was satisfying. Lips turned into a frown. 

The memory of the taste of blood made him wince. It was guilt.

The sweet buttery flavor. The nectarous scent.

This awl would still do great for a single jab in a throat; a fountain of candied red is so easy to create. All that also came with the melody of adrenaline-filled hearts beating faster combined with the wailing screams of the poor creature: music to his ears. 

Prestissimo.  Prestissimo.

His own heart beat harder and faster as it sank into his chest. The bead of sweat finally sliding down his cheek. His hands first clenched the side of his head to squeeze the horrible thoughts away, then they moved to cover his face in shame for having them in the first place.

This is not me. I’m better, now. I’m better. 

Suddenly, a footstep creaked the store’s old floorboards-- a change in the air snapped him from his suffering. The smell of someone else was in the room. But where? His back tightened, feeling the presence of the intruder directly behind him.

Duard twisted backwards and grabbed the shirt collar of the intruder, slamming him into the wall. He held the awl at the man’s throat.

An angry voice yelled out. “Firelord’s flaming farts-- what are ye doin’?! Put me down!” Large beard, weird expletives being shouted about, bald as sin-- it was not just any man or stranger. Oddly enough, a friend; one he was waiting for who was very, very late.

Duard took a deep breath and held it, trying to kill his adrenaline by suffocating it. With one hand, he realized had his associate lifted up entirely off the ground, pinned to the wall. The other hand was ready to take another life. 

Human-limited strength returned to Duard at the same rate as his clarity, dropping Bordus onto the ground. 

“You know not to sneak up on me,” Duard said and he rolled his eyes.

“Sneakin’?!” The dwarf clenched both of his fists and released them into the air as he exclaimed, “How coulda ye missed me walkin’ in, even if ye been screwin’ around chasin’ that bird I’m nae that small that ye dinna see m--” 

“Do you have it?” Duard interrupted. Pacing the floor helped continue recollecting himself. Patience was a virtue that was becoming unaffordable. 

“-- if ya told me ya were good as huntin’ as ya claim, I’d never believe ye! Ye got tha instincts of a thousand year ol’ geriatric swine whose senses ben dulled from smellin’ Deathwin’s arse all day!” It felt like at least a minute of Bordus going on with a performative outrage.

“For fuck’s sake!” Such vulgarity rarely spilled from Duard’s lips. He turned around and swung his arm in a wide arc, throwing the awl across the room. The needle burrowed into the side of the wall, inches from the dwarf’s face, humming like a spring doorstop before slowly quieting down.

Now that he had his attention Duard marched towards Bordus, feet eerily quiet on the wooden floor. His suppressed anger was hidden by a polite grace. Face to face, his eyes seeming more amber than usual, Duard spoke.  “Do you have it?” Each syllable was heavily accentuated so there would be no misunderstanding.

Anger, and some color, drained from Bordus’s face, but the dwarf managed to speak out. “Yer a fool tae doubt Bordus!” He shouted. The dwarf’s tone quickly changed to whimsically talkative. “‘Bout tha timin’, though. Tha witch says she’s been strugglin’ tae make tha stuff. Not much supplies since tha night elves lost everythin’. Not like we can go beggin’ door tae door fer poisons n’ crap.” 

From his pack, Bordus drew one small phial from the batch and handed it to the man. “Best tae keep that on yer mind. Might want tae consider talkin’ to her about it. ‘Specially if this is how yer going tae act when yer low-- let me guess: ‘ol’ habits’?”

“Maybe.” Duard’s answer should have been ‘If it wasn’t obvious enough, no shit’. 

With his precious draught in hand, had Duard lost any more of his senses he would have bitten through the glass to get to the precious concoction. Instead, though still with desperation, he bit down on the cork and yanked it out, spit it off to the side, and took a large sip of the contents. 

The effect was immediate, the anger was melting away... as was his vision. Duard stepped backward and had to lean on the counter to balance himself but he slowly slid down and keeled over on the floorboards. He was unmoving for a good ten seconds. Apparently still conscious, he reached out with his index finger and pointed it at Bordus. “You-- stay the hell away... from the money drawer...”

Bordus looked quite offended at the accusation. “Fine, fine, lad.” He folded his arms as if he needed the extra security against temptation.

Another minute passed. Eventually, Duard leaned upward and grabbed his forehead after getting over his brush with clinical death. “I... am fine.” He remarked nonchalantly. “Just too much too soon. Have not had a proper dosage for too long... Ugh.” His hand reached upward and grabbed the counter and he hoisted himself back to his feet. Dusting himself off, he sighed. “I apologize for my previous behavior. That was not like me.”

A familiar dull look returned to his hazel eyes: the boring man was reborn, plagued no longer by pointless urges or troublesome thoughts.

“Sober you is not tha real you, huh.” Bordus scoffed. “Ya sure it ain’t tha other way around?” 

“Of course not.” Duard’s eyes glanced over and focused onto the awl still buried in the wall. It took a strong pull, but he managed to get the tool out in a single try. His thumb brushed over the hole left in the wall, and his face drooped with concern at the damage. Shoulders lifted in a dismissive oh well, he turned to the dwarf. “You can leave the rest of the phials on the counter. I will pay you when everything is done, here. Right now I... I need to finish my work.” He waved the dwarf away.

No more distractions. No more anything. Emptiness.

Just the work at hand, now. 

---

Author’s Note:

Just ideas I had because I never addressed a lot of stuff I have about my merc boys and their stuff going on. Still working on the dwarf accent btw

[88missmarauder88]

Sirius x Reader, Part Deux

So this is a companion to the first-ever fanfic request (located a few posts down the way), which was “Sirius x Reader” in which the reader was James’s sister and she and Sirius had a “moment” whilst listening to music. 

@underworldsheiress mentioned that she’d love to see James’s and Remus’s reactions, and I discovered that I wanted to see them too! lol So this is another Sirius x Reader but featuring a lot of James and Remus. It’s quite long, I think, but it was also helping me flesh out a larger story I’ve been working on forever, so it’s serving dual purposes, and thanks for the idea!

If anyone else has any requests, please feel free to pass them along. They’re helping me so much with my other story!

Something was different.

To be more accurate, several things were different, but in your still-half-asleep state, identifying them simultaneously was an impossible task. You forced your brain -- which currently felt like it was wrapped in a thick layer of cotton -- to focus on one at a time instead.

First, there was the realisation that you had just gotten the first good night of sleep you'd had in ages. You let out a nearly inaudible sigh as you slowly began to recognise the effects you'd all but forgotten. You weren't inexplicably still exhausted. Your body felt entirely relaxed, the tension drained from your neck, shoulders, and limbs. In fact, you'd go so far as to say you felt rejuvenated, like you could actually hop up and face a day with a smile on your face for once.

Day... that was the second realisation. Your eyes remained closed, reluctant to let go of your restful state, but you could tell by the glow of your eyelids that sunlight was filling the room. You also didn't feel as though you were in your bed. You were seated on something hard, tilted back against something softer, but that wasn't a primary concern. Merlin bless the chair or floor or whatever it was you'd fallen asleep upon because you'd actually fallen asleep.

Then there was that noise. It must've been what woke you, but you couldn't for the life of you place it. A constant, repeating pattern of long, static hisses and short crackles... shhhhpop... shhhhpop... shhhhpop...

With a heavier sigh, you resigned yourself to opening your eyes but only got the job half done before quickly having to shield them with your hand, the sudden light stinging a bit too harshly. With your hand still curved at your temple to cut the glare, you tried to look in the direction of the noise, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear away the bleariness. After a few moments, you finally spotted the culprit: The arm of Sirius's turntable had reached the end of a record, and the needle was teetering back and forth on the vinyl's edge in protest.

Sirius's turntable...

The last few realisations were made much too quickly and far less rationally.

The events of the previous evening came cascading down on you like a bucket of ice water. You were in Sirius's room. You'd fallen asleep listening to music, but not before you'd... before he'd... You squeezed your eyes shut again, biting down on your bottom lip in an attempt to steady yourself. You felt worried, nervous, and confused all at once, but there was also a lightness, like a crushing weight had been lifted from your heart. Strangely, it was that last feeling you were having the most trouble processing.

As slowly as you could, you tilted yourself forwards, then scooted quietly across the floor until you could turn and look behind you. Sirius had his right shoulder buried in the rumpled blankets that hung down from the end of his bed. You'd both apparently shifted in the night, winding up back to back. It reminded you of the position you'd all been taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts -- how to stand with your comrades in battle, to ensure all angles were covered, to leave no opportunity for a blindside attack. You wondered briefly whether either of you had ever been truly relaxed in your lives.

His hair curtained his face from your view, and you frowned at the way Sirius's arms wrapped tightly around his knees, which were drawn to his chest. With a pang, you flashed back to his 11-year-old self after you'd woken him from his nightmare on the Hogwarts Express. How he'd wedged his body into the corner of the compartment as if trying to escape not only whatever had been haunting him in his sleep but also the fact you'd just seen him in a moment of weakness. You'd both changed so much since then and yet, in unguarded moments like this, were still so much the same. That point was further proven as you reached out instinctively to brush the hair off his cheek, tucking it softly behind his ear. Sirius twitched a bit at the contact, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he murmured a few unintelligible syllables. He was dreaming, but at least it didn't seem to be a nightmare.

"Mmmmmph... phh... fuck off, Prongs, whadda you know 'bout snogging..."

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, filing that away for future use, and reached over to set the turntable to rights.

"PADFOOT!"

Ugh, he's even annoying in my head...

"PADS! Get your lazy arse up!"

You froze as you realised you weren't imagining James's voice, then whirled around at the sound of Sirius speaking again.

"Sirius, we have to--"

He was still asleep. But you could've sworn you heard him say your name...

"PADS!!!"

"Sirius!" you hissed, shaking his shoulder. He started awake, eyes darting wildly around the room before landing on you. Your chest tightened as you watched his face cycle through confusion, recognition, and finally relief. You hated that it had to be short-lived.

"Sirius, James... he's in the corridor, I think he's coming down here," you whispered urgently. "What we need to do is--"

"Pads, get up, you useless sod..."

James could only be a few feet from the door now, and before you could resume relaying your plan to Sirius, he was on his feet, grabbing your forearms and hauling you back against the end of his bed. You spluttered, trying to talk through the hair in your mouth -- not all of which seemed to be your own -- as Sirius bent over you, yanking the blankets all the way off his bed and piling them unceremoniously over your head.

"Sirius!"

"Shush!"

Somehow, through the thick layers of fabric now pressing down on you, you felt two final thwaps you assumed were his pillows. Shell-shocked and completely frustrated, you let out a huff as you heard the door to Sirius's room fly open. A sudden weight collided with your shoulder, tipping you sideways, as Sirius quickly leaned back against the blanket pile.

"Padfoot, you-- what're you doing?" James's voice rang through the room. How anyone could have enough energy first thing in the morning to be that loud you had never been able to suss out.

"Listening to my new album," Sirius answered, albeit a bit more high-pitched than normal. "See?" he continued, gesturing to his turntable.

"Why in the floor? And what the hell did you do to your bed?"

As Sirius began exalting the comforts of blanket piles, Remus came wandering in behind James, yawning broadly and scratching his chest through his t-shirt.

"Merlin, James, you're loud," he said through another yawn, which abruptly ended mid-exhale as he glanced about the room. James and Sirius had paid him no mind, and Sirius was currently patting the large pile of blankets and pillows behind his back repeatedly in an apparent effort to convince James of their superiority to just sitting on the bed. As he did, the blanket at the bottom of the pile shifted slightly, revealing a house slipper with which Remus was familiar. A slow grin made its way across his lips. Suddenly, he felt very much awake.

"Well, you're a slob, for one," James was chastising. "This isn't Hogwarts. No house-elves are going to pop in here and make your bed every day, meaning it's down to my mum, and if you're in here dismantling the whole bloody room every night..."

Sirius glanced up at Remus. Something about the look on his face made James's voice fade into a background drone; he looked smug and positively delighted, which was about as common as Acromantula venom. Remus wasn't a morning person, particularly this close to the full moon. Sirius quirked an eyebrow at him, and Moony's smile grew wider still. He looked pointedly down at something to Sirius's left. Turning his head slowly, Sirius spotted your slipper. He blanched, turning back to Remus with a panicked, pleading look. Remus's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter, but he managed to put his fingers to his lips, pulling them across in simulation of a zip to indicate James wouldn't hear it from him. Sirius shot him a grateful nod before grabbing a pillow and slamming it down onto your foot.

Remus rolled his eyes and let out an involuntary snort.

Underneath the violently jostling blanket pile, you were a mess -- hair rankled into a frizzy cloud, insides shaking, and you were beginning to sweat. Suddenly, a pillow came down hard on your foot, and you had to bite your tongue to prevent a yelp from escaping.

What the hell is going on out there?!

"What was that?" James demanded.

"What was what?"

"Why'd you slam that pillow down like that?"

"I thought... I thought I saw a spider."

"There aren't any spiders in this house, mate. Or actually, let me rephrase that: There never have been spiders in this house, but considering the state you've got this room in, we're probably going to be infested. Crisps packets on the table, chocolate wrappers under the bed, t-shirts every-bloody-where... look, like I was saying, you know I love you, but we don't have house-elves; you're going to have to pick up after yourself, now get up, we're setting this bed to rights..."

"NO!!!" Sirius and Remus shouted simultaneously. Under the pile, you smacked your hand against your forehead.

"Okay, what's going on," James said after a beat, his tone indicating he was done playing around. "There's something under the blankets, isn't there." He was met with silence. "What did you two sneak in here? Sirius, that had better not be a dog. I get that you think it'd be really ironically hilarious to keep one as a pet, but my dad's allergic, and--"

"You're right, Prongs, I'm sorry. It's a dog. Now get out. Moony and I will get rid of it."

"Why do I have to get out for you to get rid of it? It's got to go, but I wouldn't mind a look first."

"It's... mangy. Really awful, but it was the best I could find at the time. Ugly, big chunks of fur missing, possibly rabid-- OW!!"

You threw your elbow as hard as you could in the direction of what you hoped were Sirius's ribs. You were done playing as well. James was never going to leave without seeing what was under the blankets, and if Sirius had just listened in the first place, you wouldn't be in this mess. Scrabbling to your feet, you yanked the blankets off your head, regretting immediately your disheveled appearance and how you knew James would interpret it.

"What... the FUCK?" 

James didn't say it loudly, though, and that's how you knew things were quickly heading south. He said it with a deceptive control that you knew how to translate: danger. Well, you could be dangerous, too.

"You," you said, untangling your feet from the pile, "ask too many questions, you nosy git."

"What the hell are you doing in here? Why do you look like... that?" He was talking to you but glaring at Sirius, who looked positively stricken. He was doing his best to shrink back into the curtains around the bed, but you could also see him surveying the room for its best potential escape routes. You realised he'd likely spent the majority of his life doing the same thing at Grimmauld Place. Looking for places to hide. Cringing in anticipation of pain. Wilting under the wrath of his parents. Trying to find an escape. And he'd finally found it. He'd come here, where he belonged, where he was supposed to be safe and happy and able to breathe again, and you would be damned if you were going to let your brother make him remember where he'd come from, not even for one second.

"Not that it's any of your business, James, but we were listening to music. As for why I look like this, I assume you're observant enough to have noticed that I just crawled out from under about four bloody blankets."

"For the record, he's not very observant at all," Remus offered. "I mean, your slipper was sticking right out in plain view..."

"Shut it, Remus," James snapped, turning back to you with his eyes narrowed. "And why were you under the blankets in the first place if that's all you were doing?"

"Because your best mate wanted to avoid having you fly off the broomstick like you do every time somebody does something without asking your permission first!"

"I swear that's why, James," Sirius cut in quietly, his back still against a bedpost. "I just panicked when I heard you coming down the hall, and I didn't want you to think-- we fell asleep, and that's all we did. Sleep. We didn’t move off the floor all night."

James's eyes widened to such a degree you wondered if they mightn't just pop right out of his head, and you'd have laughed at the mental image if the circumstances had been different. As it was, you pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing deeply.

"Sirius, he didn't know I was in here all night," you muttered to the boy.

"Oh... oh, fuck," Sirius whispered, bouncing the side of his head repeatedly off the bedpost.

"He must have done," said Remus. "You're both wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday."

"Weren't you the one who just said he's not at all observant, Mr Helpful?" you asked.

"Oh, right... wow, we're all really shit at this, aren't we?" Remus grinned cheerfully. You couldn't help but giggle under your breath at that, which just set James off again.

"Sure, everything's so funny, just a big joke, and it's all on James because he was stupid enough to think he could have his best mate move in without making a move on the nearest breathing female."

Your whole body was suddenly tingling with fury, and you barely noticed that both you and Sirius had taken a subconscious step towards one another as you spoke simultaneously.

"She is not just 'some female'..."

"How dare you say that about him..."

"Bad form, James," Remus said in a low voice, his face the picture of seriousness now. "That's way out of line, mate."

"This may come as a shock, James, but not everything is about you, you arrogant prat," you said, voice shaking as angry tears began filling your eyes.

James at least looked remorseful, darting a hand through his hair and continuing on to the back of his neck, which he rubbed self-consciously while letting out a heavy breath.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just... I can't..."

"Come on," Remus said, grabbing James by the arm and pulling him towards the door. "You need to cool off."

James didn't protest, and as Remus pushed him into the corridor, he turned back to you and Sirius. Sirius was looking down, one hand clutching the bedpost, his breathing shallow. You regarded Remus through the shimmer of the tears you were still refusing to let fall. "I'll talk to him," the boy said quietly, giving you an encouraging smile before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

You could see in your peripheral vision that Sirius hadn't moved, so you followed suit. You could scarcely even remember now the peaceful state in which you'd woken just a little while ago, and it made you angry. You certainly didn't know what would've been said between you and Sirius once he woke up, if anything at all. Maybe you'd have just gone back to your room and let him sleep. Either way, it shouldn't have been taken out of your hands, something simple and lovely made stressful and awkward.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said finally, not looking up. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?"

"Any of it."

Your stomach lurched slightly. "That's... unfortunate to hear, I suppose."

"Good," he said, and you looked up, confused, to find him still regarding the floorboards but with a funny little half-smile on his face now. "Because I don’t mean that. But it's what has to be said for now. I should've thought about what might happen. I didn't mean to start anything between you and James."

You snorted. "If it hadn't been this, it would've been the last slice of toast at breakfast. This was nothing to do with you. You know him as well as I do at this point. If it wasn't his idea, he hates it. Until he doesn't."

Sirius nodded, finally turning to face you. "All the same, I think I should go for a bit." At the panic that must've shown on your face, he quickly added, "I just mean for the rest of the day. I'll go for a ride, come back when there's less chance of being punched in the face."

You nodded back reluctantly, and he began walking to the door, stopping abruptly a few yards short. Turning on his heels, he strode quickly back to you, moving the still-wild hair off your cheek and pressing his lips against it, lingering just long enough that it couldn't be construed as a peck. Just long enough to send the blood rushing to your head at alarming speeds. And just as quickly, he was back at the door. "See you tonight," he said as he slipped out.

You stood a few moments, wondering how your body managed to accomplish the feat, considering you felt like you'd lost all control of your motor skills. Finally, it surrendered as well, and you fell backwards into the pile of blankets, a blissful smile on your face.

"Because, Moony, of course he is. And stop snickering when I say this and answer me because I mean it: Have you ever known Sirius to be serious about anything?"

Remus complied with the no-snickering demand with effort, clearing his throat before responding.

"Yes, actually. I have. Granted, the list isn't long, but he's serious about us. His friends. He'd do anything for us, you in particular, and I believe you know that. He's serious about being nothing like his family. And besides, Prongs, it's worth saying again that I really think you're overreacting here. You know how they are about muggle music, they listen to records together all the time. They clearly weren't doing anything wrong. What's the big deal?"

"It just... felt different, I don't know how to explain it," James groused. "And since I know they don't have real feelings for each other, it would just be more frivolous flirting on his part and her being too naive to even notice what he was doing."

"I'm sorry... they don't have any what for each other?"

"Feelings. Like... fond feelings, I mean. I know they care about each other, they're friends. But most days, they're barely in a room together five minutes before they're in a row about something or trying to one up one another on a prank or just giving each other funny looks. They don't get on. Not like Lily and me..."

At that, Remus couldn't contain his laughter anymore. James glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Prongs, I really am, but we are talking about the same Lily who charmed a handful of sugar quills to chase you away from her train compartment like little daggers not two days ago, aren’t we?"

"She just doesn't know how to express her feelings for me yet."

"All right. Fair enough. Let's say for the sake of argument that's true. Then wouldn't you say it's possible two other people we know don't know how to express their feelings for one another yet either?"

James raised a quizzical brow, and Remus sighed.

"Prongs, just because your feelings for Lily are out there in the great wide open for all of us to see -- much more of than we'd like, I might add -- doesn't mean that's the way everybody acts. If you think Lily hexes you on a daily basis because she's repressing her adoration, then might it not be possible that Pads and your sister are going through something similar? To put it scientifically, sometimes, in the absence of an immovable object, two unstoppable forces have occasion to meet, and sparks will, inevitably, fly."

James looked at Remus as if he were speaking Mermish, and Remus shook his head, rolling his eyes wearily.

"They fancy each other, you nit."

James's eyes bulged for a moment, but he shook his head adamantly. "No. No way. They fight like... well, cats and dogs," he grinned.

"I'm not about to stand here and explain romantic nuance to you, Prongs, but just take me at my word for a second and then ask yourself why they wouldn't be afraid to show their feelings. Afraid of what it might mean for their friendship, how the rest of us might react, how you would react -- and well done there, by the way. Imagine for a minute what sort of mood you'd be in if you thought pursuing Lily would ruin everything else in your life."

James's predominant expression remained confusion, but Remus could see something else there now -- something that looked a bit like dawning horror. Remus decided to wrap it up with a bow for him.

"Did you happen to notice the way they stepped towards each other, not you, when you said those nasty things earlier? That they moved to defend each other first, not themselves?"

James let out an extended groan, tilting his face skyward and covering it with his hands. He remained like that for about half a minute before mumbling into his palms.

"They're bloody besotted, aren't they?"

"Afraid so, mate."

"Merlin's bollocks," James moaned into his hands. "How did I not pick up on that. Idiot, me. They're both mad as hatters, tempers with bloody millimetre fuses, it's like they were made for each other, fuuuuuck, I feel ill..."

Remus chuckled quietly as James scrubbed his hands up his face and into his hair, tugging in frustration. Remus felt for him, of course. That couldn't be an easy realisation for any bloke to make about their sister and their best mate, but better now than later, now that Sirius was living in the house. James screwed up his face and stood in silent agony for another few moments, hair jutting out in every possible direction, before his shoulders slumped and he let out a loud breath.

"Well, Moony, there's only one thing for it then," he said, straightening and looking purposefully at Remus.

Remus went cold, sucking in a startled breath. Introducing James to the facts had been something he felt needed done, and he'd definitely counted on theatrics, but he hadn't counted on an ultimatum -- or his sudden apprehension about what that "one thing" might be. If James was about to ask for his help convincing the two they were wrong for one another, he would have to think fast to devise a delicate way of telling his friend he felt the exact opposite -- not to mention prepare for another fight. Before he could speak, however, James went on.

"We'll have to force them together. It could get ugly... might be a bit like shoving two Jarveys in a bag... actually, that's exactly what it's going to be like. Pads is a stubborn sod, and she's not much better, not to mention they both curse like bloody sailors these days..."

An audible whimper of relief escaped Remus, and he burst out laughing, walking over and pulling James into a quick hug.

"What's wrong?"

"I swear, I thought you were about to ask me to help you put them off one another."

James smirked.

"Don't get me wrong, Moony, I still think the whole thing's unbelievably disgusting. But... I reckon I'll get over it. If, of course, they do one another some good. I mean, they're both absolutely mental, so who else are they going to find to put up with them, realistically. Plus, better to know your enemy and all that. And..."

He paused, his expression sobering as he adjusted his glasses.

"Whenever Sirius is in a state -- a real state, one of those ones where we can't handle him and you start worrying he’s going to do himself damage -- where do we always find him? And vice versa?" James asked.

His eyes made very clear that this particular question was the only one that really mattered. Who loved James's sister as much or more than he did? Who loved Sirius as much or more than James?

Remus nodded, patting James on the shoulder and letting the unspoken answer hang meaningfully in the air.

[trixcuomo]

I'm Not Petty (Like You)

((Next on Desperate Alt's Lives! Night Elf Sharpen helps Trixany lay a trap for Sig Nicious to date her... WILL Siggy fall for it???))

At the Daily Mail Dalaran studio...

Sharpen: Relax, Trix. At least this is a faction-neutral interview--

Trixany: I told you I was socially dead and this was a bad idea. The Orgrimmar studio threw me back out onto the street, Stormwind had already put a bounty on my head...

Sharpen: Yeah, sorry about that, by the way. I am a hunter after all. Guess I was the expert tracker at the top of their list. Oh well, I was the one who found you first, so not -that- bad?

Trixany: *voice very stressed* Well, living in a hole in the wilds of Stranglethorn Vale for three days wasn't so bad. At least I got to sleep while you doubled back and left a false trail for the Stormwind City Guard.

Sharpen: *picks a stray leaf out of her blonde hairdo* We live really weird lives, Trixany.

Trixany: By the sunwell, this is still so horrible. Ugh, I should just let my career die. If you can even call it that. All day, day in and day out, it just feels like I'm dodging Haris Pilton's lawyers banging on my door to deliver more courtsubpeonas.

Sharpen: Is she really still doing that? What a waste of space.

Trixany: This time, Haris says I copied her eye color.

Sharpen: Her eyes are fel green, like yours! It's because you're both Blood Elves. Are you kidding me?

Trixany: Hard to tell because she never takes off her shades, though. *intones* You know, I actually think she's high on bloodthistle half the time. Bet I'm right, too. I should bring it up live on air today and slam her! That pet-stealing witch. Keep your own damn dog and leave my baby dragon whelp alone...

Sharpen: Trixany, focus. You're to go in there, looking casual, being helpful. NO gossip. None. When they ask you about Sig, remember, you...

Trixany: Shrug and say those magic words. You sure I can't flirt with him on air? Being subtle isn't my style... I like to think of myself as a classy girl, but--

Sharpen: You're not a classy girl. Sassy, maybe.

Trixany: *narrows eyes* Look at you. You're assy. Always wearing such fitted pants like not everyone with a Tumblr account hasn't seen your Succulent Tart butt pic yet.

Sharpen: In that artwork, I epitomize the words 'succulent tart'

Trixany: But nobody can even see your face.

Producer: *walks up* Alriiight! We ready to go on, Miss Cuomo? We're thrilled to have you here in Dalaran, it's been so long. When was the last time again?

Bev Collarbane: *Worgen drawl* T'was when her singer-slash-street-gang attacked an innocent man on the Gnomish Tram to Ironforge. Shakin' their collective bums and singin' about cola. *producer adjusts his tie, pats down the lapels of his black suit*

Trixany: *nervous* I... I don't think I was actually there for that one. My agent kinda complained to me about the bad press coverage, though.

Bev: *growls, leaves them backstage to start the show*

Sharpen: Hrm. For a Worgen, he's cute--

Trixany: Not now, Sharpen!

Sharpen: *winks* I'm just sayin, nice tail. And that joke works eventhough I know Worgen don't have tails.

Trixany: *crosses arms, ignores him*

Producer: *looks Sharpen up and down* Oh, he's camera gold! Look at those muscles...

Sharpen: Yes, I do. *glances down at his bicep*

Trixany: He's just my emotional support Night Elf himbo friend. All the starlettes have them these days. *nudges Sharpen to cut it out*

Sharpen: Hey, I arranged this whole thing for you. I'm a lot more than some--

Trixany: *waves him off* Sharpen just stays backstage mostly and holds my orange juice.

Sharpen: *finally looks disgusted*... Well. Now I see where I really stand with you, Trix. Fine. Good luck, or whatever. Go, on.

Producer: ...

Sharpen: ...

Trixany: ... ...

Producer: *checks her Gnomish headset* Sorry this is awkward. Bev's still warming up the live audience. It's not time yet.

Sharpen: And this is of course even more awkward now, after you insulted me Trixany. You should apolgoize.

Trixany: *narrows eyes* Uh, pretty sure I just low-key asked you for orange juice. Why are you still here?

Sharpen: *leaves, grumbles*

Producer: Alright Trixany, *she checks headset, then grabs Trixany by the arm, pulling her along* This it. *her voice lowers* Remember, we're looking for scandal, flare, the Trixany brand that launches cola sales.

Trixany: *looks back helplessly for Sharpen all of a sudden* But... my friend said I shouldn't... Do you think I should?

Producer: Hey, we here at the Dalaran Daily Mail have no problems with you ending your career here and now. Why not go down in a blaze of glory, live? I mean, you're Trixany Cuomo. Do you really know how to do anything else?

Trixany: Hey! You're pretty damn nasty for Human woman.

Producer: And that's why you all keep losing Warsong Gulch.

Trixany: Damn. These Alliance are on point lately with their similies...

Producer: Here at The Dalarn Daily Mail, 'We're above it all.' We can afford a scandal or two. Remember that when you get out there and see him. It might come as a shock, and we're okay with capturing that on camera *turns Trixany around a corner and suddenly they're walking behind a curtain. Noise of the audience and Bev barking laughter reachers their ears* Remember, don't freeze!

Trixany: Oh, I get it. 'above it all'. Because it's a floating city. Huh, that's clever...

Producer: *shove!*

Trixany: *stumbles onto stage on her red and gold stilletoes and white 'I am not scandalous' dress that Sharpen helped her pick out. But the helpful Night Elf is not here now. Her long blonde eyebrows raise, as she notices who IS seated next to the tough-as-nails Worgen host Bev Collarbane.

Sig Nicious: ...

Trixany: ...

Sharpen: *somewhere off stage* Shit! It's actually, really Sig Nicious!!

Bev Collarbane: Please, Trixany. Be a good girl, sit. Sig Nicious was just talking about his next album when the topic of you two dating came up.

Trixany: I... it's something I'm familiar with actually.

Bev: *the worgen nearly barks at her* We're going to settle this here and now, once and for all. Aren't we, Siggy? Too many vicious women have been hunting you down of late, and I'm sure you want to settle it. Men like you and me, we have our reputations to defend, don't we?"

Sig: Well, yes.

Bev: Rrr... Why not use this as a chance to make an example for the rest? A free shot at Trixany Cuomo herself, on us.

Producer: Don't freeze...

Sharpen: *holding a glass of orange juice* Say something clever. Come on, Trix. Don't let them turn the tables on you, snap out of it!

Trixany: Oh... um... but when we were talking backstage before, I... uh...

Trixany: *Slowly turns to the camera, trembling* This isn't the deal I made.

Producer: Did she just...?

Sharpen: Anything -except- sounding like evil Queen Azshara in this situation!!

[vosh-rakh]

a window, open and closed

chapter 2 

(chapter 1)

cw: implied nsfw, nothing explicit

note: i don’t even know what the state of tense is in this, and i don’t care at this point lol

- - - - -

“...So.”

Hla-eix had already rolled over away from Daabush, her eyes contemplating the window. “So...what?”

“You said we would talk.”

Dammit, he remembered. She closes her eyes. “Did I?”

A hand grabs her shoulder and rolls her onto her back, but she keeps her head turned away from him. “No,” Daabush says. “Not again. You agreed to this. Stop trying to run away.”

“It’s all I’m good for. Running away.” She bites the inside of her lip, wishing she hadn’t said anything.

Daabush reaches over her, his rough hand gentle on her chin, pulling her around to face him. He’s so intense, the way he stares at her - into her. She always tries to avoid eye contact, but if she ever finds it, that intensity holds her completely still. No more running away. 

He caresses her cheek, his thumb running over the thin, delicate scales there. “I just want to get to know you, Eix.”

“Sorry,” she says, her eyes managing to step aside for just a moment to breathe. “I don’t know what to tell you. Where to start.”

Daabush purses his lips around his tusks. “Fine,” he says. “Okay. I’ll start, then. I grew up in a stronghold, out east, in the Velothi. What about you?”

“Uh.” This was going to be hard to explain. She always hates having to. But maybe if she can just get it over with… “I grew up in two places. Some in Morrowind, some in Black Marsh. Few years with my moms near the border. About ten years in Morrowind. Few years after the Red Year, I got taken in by the An-Xileel. Then -”

Daabush stretches his thumb over to cover her lips. “Sorry, hold on,” he says. “The Red Year?”

She bites his thumb. “I told you I was old.”

“Ow! Okay.” He props himself up on one elbow. “Also, what’s the An-Xileel?”

“Uh. Government of Black Marsh?”

“Is that common knowledge?”

“It’s not a secret.”

“I’ve only ever lived in Skyrim.”

“I guess you wouldn’t know then.”

“Anyways. Why’d they take you in?”

“Well. My mother was a dunmer. Ashlander. Mabrigash, to be specific. Like a witch, I guess. I lived with her and her coven for a long time.” Hla-eix looks up at the ceiling. She’s always thought about these things. She just needed a push - and some trust - but once she got going, she had plenty to say. “But the An-Xileel pushed north after the Red Year, to take back lands stolen by the dunmer long ago. We lived in those lands. So they killed the mabrigash except for me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but…okay. They didn’t kill you? Why?”

Here’s the hard part, the one she’d been avoiding. “Well. You know what I look like. I had two mothers, an argonian and a dunmer. They found a way to have a child of their own with magic. When the soldiers found me, they thought I was … a cruel experiment of witches, I guess. Another awful thing the elves had done to our people.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?”

“Couldn’t. I don’t know why. But I didn’t speak for a couple years after that. So I just let them assume what they wanted.”

“Okay. So -”

Hla-eix covers his mouth with her hand. “Nope. Your turn again.”

He swats her arm away. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Why’d you leave the stronghold?”

“Well. Hm. You know the Great Houses of Morrowind, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there was a wave of Hlaalu emigrants almost ten years ago. Bunch of folks nobody wanted no more, on account of being so close to the Empire. Got especially bad after the Red Year.”

“Wait. You said you were born in a stronghold.”

“I did. Hold your tongue for a minute. I’m not Hlaalu.” His eyes glaze with thought for a moment. “Well. I might actually be, technically. That’s...well, who gives a shit.” He shakes his head and looks back at Hla-eix. “Where was I? Before you rudely butted in.”

“Hlaalu emigrants.”

“Oh. Well, they passed through the Velothi near our stronghold on their way to Skyrim. We let them camp nearby, gave them some supplies. Hlaalu’s always been the House that hated us least. There was…” He pauses, bites his lip. “...a person who, uh. Became important to me. But before I could get...their...name, the caravan left.”

“Daa.” Hla-eix playfully bonks him on the head. “My parents were both women. You don’t have to play the pronoun game.”

He sighs, and she notices that some tension leaves his body. He closes his eyes. “Okay. So … Well, I decided to leave the stronghold to follow them, so I could talk to him again.”

“You didn’t mind leaving your kin behind to follow this Hlaalu mer?”

Daabush’s eyes shoot open. “That’s...Actually. It’s your turn. Why’d you leave Black Marsh?” 

“...Occupational reasons.”

“A trader? Adventurer? Mercenary?”

“...Sure.”

Daabush furrows his brows pointedly but doesn’t push it. “But you didn’t mind leaving your kin behind to follow your occupation.”

Hla-eix cocks an eyebrow. “So your elf crush was just a job to you?”

“That’s…!” He stiffens his posture and raises his voice. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. I was just … ugh.”

“I was forty-four when I left for the first time since arriving,” Hla-eix says. “To me, that’s nothing. But to orcs I’m sure that age is meaningful. What I’m saying is that it wasn’t easy to leave.” She wiggles and fiddles with her fingers idly. “I’m sure you can imagine … what it was like for me. To be among normal-looking argonians. To constantly have to prove yourself worthy. That you’re one of them. That you’re loyal to them, and not the dark elves.”

“...Yeah. I get it.”

She snaps out of her anxious spell and sits up straight, crossing her legs. “Tell me more about the Hlaalu boy.” 

Daabush gently runs his fingers along Hla-eix’s exposed and heavily scaled back. “...His name was Sevren. Member of the Dren family, he said.” Hla-eix raises a confused eyebrow. “As in, Vedam Dren.” She pulls back a corner of her mouth and shakes her head. “Was the Duke of Ebonheart. Whatever. Important guy.”

“...So what happened? Did you talk to him? Were you...involved?”

Daabush’s eyes close shut, then open again, but they were in a different place and time. “Yes. We were in love. He left his family to be with me.” He shakes his head back and forth slightly. “Not easy, two men, orc and elf, in Skyrim, you know. He was used to city life. But it wasn’t really an option. We joined a band of poachers in Eastmarch. They didn’t mind, long as we pulled our weight and didn’t get nobody caught. They were skeptical about Sev at first. But we managed. It was cold, but there was warmth there, with Sev, and the others. Like family.”

He shakes his head more forcibly to clear it and sits up, matching Hla-eix’s posture. “What about you? What’s your history with love like?” 

She looks away towards the window. “...I lied.”

“What?”

“I, uh. You’re my first.”

Daabush places a firm hand on her thigh. “...No. Doesn’t make sense. You’re too experienced. You’ve had others.”

She stands and walks towards the window. “No. When you’re like me, you have to pay them. And only if they’re desperate.” She opens it and leans into the biting cold.

Hla-eix doesn’t hear anything except for the heavy silence of Solitude late at night. It is a quiet hour, even the loud drunkards fled to bed. No early morning exercises clanging metal at the castle; no music wafting from the college; no weeping at the cemetery; no prayers at the temple. There is the faint whisper of winter wind, the delicate sound of snow shifting, the crisp crackling of street torches, and the cacophony of thoughts roaring in her head.

Then there is a massive warmth pressed against her back, wrapping around her. “Then I’m not your first,” Daabush says, slowly turning her to face him.

First she sees his chest, heavily scarred grey-green flesh built like a bear. Then she looks up into his eyes, this time without being forced by them. “You’re the first that mattered.”

He pulls her into a deep kiss, their first real kiss despite all their rutting, and his first in years. In his arms, she is warm despite the cold outside.

When they finally pull away from each other, he reaches over to close the window. Hla-eix buries her face in his chest, listening to his heavy heartbeat, entranced. But he hesitates, and distantly she registers the sound of a door slamming open downstairs. 

“Shit.”

[selanaris]

Knockout x Breakdown WoW AU "Meeting"

(Based on this post Transformers Warcraft AU)

Knockout hated Dalaran, but it made good money. He worked as a temporary healer for the city's Underbelly, the sewers. Close to the Violet Hold, where they kept the worst of the worst of magical criminals. The Underbelly is where all the gangs, thieves, and black markets lived. If it's illegal, it's here. His job was an under the table healer. Want something healed without a word or document, done. Wanted to duel and have a healer on site who wouldn't say a word, done. Most ask him why ever did he leave Silvermoon, his home, and his answer has always been the same, they have prioritized arcane over light magic lately, so he left. That's not even mention how his home and family was destroyed there when the scourge attacked. He hated the memories the city gave him.

On this day though, something strange happened, a group of Horde members came in. As they entered Knockout immediately knew what they were. Rumor was that the horde and alliance both have two major guilds, Autobots and Decepticons, they worked slightly outside the factions, sometimes recruiting protecting anyone who abandoned their faction. From what he can tell, these were decepticons, recruiters specifically. He thought they were going to turn to the arena to recruit from the pit fights, but no... they came straight to him.

He raised his long red brow as an Orc, an Undead, and a Troll walked up to him. "How may I be of assistance?" He asked with his deep suave voice.

"We are looking for a healer, and we've heard of one living here that would do anything for the right price?" Said the undead with a terrible screeching voice.

"I would be him." Knockout rolled his glowing greed eyes. All undead were disgusting, even if they were allies.

The orc stepped forward, his glowing blue eyes and cold breath that came from him immediately gave him up as a death knight. "You are being offered a chance out of this... sewer, and into a better place with better pay and outcome. He have a lack of healers and you would be perfect for such things, in battlefield you can shine." The orc smirked as he kept explaining his guild.

Knockout thought it over as the orc continued to talk of all the benefits of the Decepticon guild. He raised his hand to stop him from talking, "I accept, you are offering a new home and payment, so I accept." He said with a smile. Before he knew it, he was put into the next battle against the Autobot alliance guild in Warsong Gulch.

He doesn't know what happened, but now he was stuck at the enemy base searching for the plans they came to steal, alone as his team ran off. "Where the hell is it?!" He hissed out before he heard a very specifically sound. A rogue, in this room. Knockout froze and looked around careful trying not to show that he knew the rogue was there, but he didn't know where they were specifically. He carefully grabbed the battle plans and immediately turned to run, only to be immediately struck at the back of his head. He fell to the ground, but never landed as the rogue grabbed his ponytail and held him up. When he opened his eyes he saw it was a night elf, someone who was at least three heads taller than him.

Knockout was barely conscious of his actions and surroundings as he tried to set himself free. He got his wish as he was dropped to the ground and a large black and white tauren charged and slammed the rogue into a wall. The tauren quickly picked him up, to his dismay, he still hated to be touched or to get dirty, and carried him out of the enemy base. "Do you have the plans?!" He asked as he ran. Knockout nodded lazily as he was still recovering from the blow.

He winced and held his head as all the pain started to come to him. "Ugh... yeah... I got it..."

"Good." The tauren smiled, "I'm Breakdown by the way." He introduced himself politely.

"Ugh... Knockout..." he groaned and leaned his head back. They remained quiet the entire way back to their base. Although at the time, this seemed like a one time encounter, this would lead to one of the greatest connections ever seen, after all, interracial relationships were near nonexistent, especially with blood elves who forbade them in favor of saving their small numbers after the scourge attack that killed ninety percent of their population.

[skyfireflight]

Midnight’s Dawn, Chapter 3

Pre-series/Pre-canon: The story of Xadia's history before and leading up to the continent's split, and how Elarion met Aaravos.

Story Summary: Dragons were not kind to humans. Nor were most elves. But Elarion was willing to take that risk. She had to, to save everyone she loved.

Chapter Summary: To save her village from famine, Elarion must try to connect to sun magic.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2

____________________

Part 1: Sun

Chapter 3

Elarion, core trembling

lay down on an icy night

and in the cold

pulled at her roots

challenging winter's deadly bite

- from Elarion's poem

____________________

Humans were magicless.

If they were to be compared to a tree, it would be one without fruit, without leaves. Stark white as winter.

Barren.

But such was their heritage. Such was the consequences of their lineage, their roots.

Rebelling against one's heritage was foolishness.

____________________

One year earlier

That year, winter came early and stayed late.

It was also the year of the famine.

The rains had stopped at the mountains before the village, bringing clouds empty of the water their crops so desperately needed, useless for anything except covering over and blocking out the sun.

The few crops that did grow against all odds had to be harvested quickly before the cold set in. And even then, with all the villagers who could working together, many of plants were killed by the chill, frostbitten, the ground frozen hard around the roots.

They had their stores, but it would not be enough. Perhaps the food would last for a month, maybe two. But not through the winter, which stretched it's way into spring.

The other villages and towns would have helped them, but they had the same trouble. And then, when the deep snow fell, and the ice froze the ground and made it slippery, the temperature outside plunging to each a cold only the oldest among them had ever seen, there would be no travel. If starvation wouldn't kill them, then the cold would.

___________________

Elarion shivered, wrapping her winter cloak around her. She could see her breath as she looked at the fields of ruined crops in front of her, the leaves curled and black underneath a layer of white ice and frost.

There was a sun spell that could grow crops without water or anything else. If only she still had that sun stone, she thought.

Her mom's voice called her from the village, carried out on the wind. With one more long look, Elarion turned and went home.

___________________

Turning the pages of her book did nothing. The fire in crackled in the fireplace beside her, Elarion laying on her stomach on the wooden floorboards. She shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around her.

"Why don't you read on the bed?" her mom asked from her place by the fire. She sat in the chair, sowing something. "It's warmer there."

"I'm fine here," Elarion answered. She didn't look up from the pages, turning another one.

There were all sorts of spells for growing plants and healing diseased ones and warming the land.

But she could use none of them. Elarion gripped the edge of the book briefly, the thought of slamming it closed in frustration crossing her mind. But she didn't want to damage the book. Her fingers relaxed, slightly running across the smooth cover. Then, with a huff, she brought her arm up to rest her chin on her fist.

She glared down with narrowed eyes at the text and diagrams in the books, as if they might give her answers, or just pop up out of the page and do the work themselves without needing magic from her to channel them.

"Ugh!"

"Come here," her mom said softly, putting down what she was working on and gesturing with her hand.

Leaving the book open on the floor, Elarion sat by her mother's feet, leaning against the woman's thigh.

Her mom ran a hand over Elarion's dark curls. "I know you're frustrated. But close those books for now."

"I just want to be able to do something!"

"I know. But don't you worry about it. We'll be alright."

Elarion knew her mother was only trying to reassure her. But she was almost fourteen, not four. Elarion wasn't clueless.

They still had enough food now. But how long would it last? They would not be "alright."

That night, Elarion curled up against her mother for warmth from snow storm that was raging outside.

___________________

Elarion nearly slipped on the ice when she stepped outside onto the dirt street.

"Whoa!"

She pinwheeled, her scarf flying and her bookbag slipping from her arm and dropping on the ground with a bounce and a thud.

"Got you!" Large arms wrapped around her under the armpits and pulled her upright. Once rightly on her feet, Elarion turned around to face her rescuer. Her cousin Eli stood behind her. "You alright?"

"Mmm," Elarion answered, picking up her bookbag from the ground. She straightened and rolled her shoulders, slinging the bookbag over one, to hide her embarrassment of nearly falling flat on her face. "Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks."

"You on your way to school?" he asked, looking at her bag. She nodded. "I'll walk you. And make sure you don't fall again." He said that last sentence close to her ear and in a teasing tone as they walked down the street. Elarion screwed up her face and lightly smacked him on the arm.

Honestly. She would have thought that twenty-something-year-old men (boys) would have grown out of teasing.

"How's Aunt Sabra?" she asked, changing the subject.

"My mom's doing fine. Her house needs some repair work because of the weather, but other than that."

"Don't tell her," Elarion said, dropping her voice to an almost-whisper, "but I think my mom's making something for her for Yuletide."

Assuming they would all make it to Yuletide. Elarion mentally shook those thoughts out of her head and tried to outpace them by skipping instead of walking.

Eli let out a soft chuckle. "Aunt Talia always makes her something for Yuletide. But she always appreciates it - Whoa, careful!"

Elarion made it three skip-steps before she slipped forward. Eli caught her with an arm around the collarbone and another hand around her bicep.

"Anyway," he continued when his little cousin had righted herself and stuck to just walking this time, "do you know what she's making?"

"No." Elarion shook her head. "I wasn't looking." She didn't often pay attention to what her mom was sewing, unless her mom was teaching her a new technique or sudden curiosity struck.

"I'm sure it'll be great, whatever it is."

"Yeah."

The school house was now right in front of them. Elarion waved goodbye to Eli, who nodded and waved back in turn, and went inside.

____________________

School was still going, despite the cold. Today -ironically after the snowstorm last night - the too-early winter (really, it should just be fall) freezing temperatures had let up a little. So, though still cold, not unbearably so.

Elarion sat at her desk, which was close to the middle of the room, and stared at the window. Her eyes traced the designs the frost made.

They looked like runes, Elarion thought. A flower, for a spell to grow daises. Then a long swirl, maybe for a spell that could draw sunlight down and channel it into the earth below, just that particular spot of dirt. And then that one could be -

"Elarion!"

Elarion snapped to attention and turned around to face the chalkboard. And the teacher that was giving her a knowing look.

"Pay attention, please. What is to the east of Mid Spring Valley?"

That what the valley their village was in. How ironic.

"Umm...," she thought for moment, but was able to give the answer.

Later during the school day, Elarion found herself in the library. Though it wasn't large, there were still plenty of books on various subjects, either bought by teachers themselves or donated by other settlements -usually the larger ones - or by travelling mages.

Elarion had pulled out several books about magic and about agriculture. They lay open on the table in front of her.

Flipping to a page in a book about magic history and lore, she went still, her eyes narrowing before widening again. Then, she sat down from where she was standing over the table, and took the book in her hands, sliding closer to her on the table.

Humans, it read, have often been thought to have been denied magic, and could only use it with the aid of a primal stone. However, while it is true that humans are born without an inherent connect to one of the primal sources, they are not barred from one.

A human may create their own connection to a primal source. Doing so requires a deep understanding of the primal source: where it is in relation to themselves and the world, and how it affects the world as a whole and those within the world. When this understanding is reached, a human will be connected to the primal source and will have their own inner arcanum from that source. As such, they will then be able to use primal magic without a primal stone.

Surprisingly, this created connection makes humans even more powerful than most elven mages, even archmages, as these humans would be able to use the primal source without it immediately present. A human sun mage would be able to conjure up a flame at night. A human sky mage may use a wind spell without there even being a slight breeze.

While not an incredibly common practice, many human mages have done so in centuries past. However, it has long been thought among elves and dragons that humans were not worthy of inner magic, and humans making themselves magical beings was turning against their roots. This practice angered the dragons. To avoid and turn away their wrath, human mages stopped teaching this way of using primal magic, and so the knowledge of this option was lost among the humans, as well as the elves.

Elarion stared. Was this true? Could she really...?

She turned to the cover and the front pages to see who the author was.

There was no name.

She blinked and cocked her head. Huh. That was weird.

If it were true, though, why would the dragons get so upset with humans connecting to magic? Why would they be considered unworthy, just because they weren't born with it? It would just mean that they were growing. Besides, it wasn't any of the dragons' business, anyway.

That part just confused Elarion.

The call came for another class to start, and Elarion closed the book.

____________________

They made it to Yuletide, and then Elarion's fourteenth birthday came and went. But with ration sizes getting smaller, celebrations were meager. School closed for the holidays, but then stayed closed.

Elarion went to bed hungry every night, and the winter had gotten colder, so much so that no one could stand outside for longer than a few minutes.

Aunt Sabra was not doing well. Even with the new winter cloak Mom had made her, she'd always been sensitive to the cold, and the lack of food certainly wasn't helping.

Their valley was called Mid Spring Valley for a reason. Spring usually came much earlier to this valley, by whatever reason of geography or magic.

But when that time was approaching, the ground was still covered in ice, the snow and sleet still fell, clouds blacked the sun, and the cold had not relented the slightest degree.

Aunt Sabra had gotten worse. Eli stayed by her bedside day and night, but there was little he, or anyone, could do, with no herbs left for medicine.

Many others were sick, including several of her classmates. Her mom had started to cough, too, though she insisted she was fine and that Elarion had nothing to worry about.

Then the news came that their stores wouldn't last more than a week.

When she heard, she felt a hot flash of panic, and then tears pricked at her eyes.

No. This couldn't happen.

But then Elarion's mind went back to the book she'd read at the school library. It had said that humans could make their own connections to a primal source.

If she could connect to the sun...what did the book call it? Arcanum? If she could connect to the sun arcanum, if she could do sun magic, then she would be able to warm the ground, grow enough food to keep them all alive and healthy through the rest of this long winter, and then some.

But she'd also read that as a human, connecting to a primal source would anger the dragons. Would bring down their wrath.

Dragons were already not kind to humans.

But Elarion had to take that chance. She would pull at her "roots," as the book called them, to save her village, to save her aunt and her mom and her friends, from this winter.

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

That night, Elarion lay in bed beside her mother, her growling stomach long since quiet, giving up it's crying. The fire crackled in the fireplace, but Her mom was asleep. Elarion could hear her soft breathing, interrupted by the occasional wheeze and cough.

Okay. The book said she had to understand the primal sources relation and how it affected the world and all that was in it.

Elarion closed her eyes.

The sun is above the clouds, she thought. And it warms the earth. It makes the summer hot, and it rises and sets everyday. It lights up the day, and....

Elarion drifted off to sleep.

________________

She woke in a grassy field. The sun shone overhead. The weather was warm, and the breeze was cool. Reveling in warmth and the breeze for a moment, so different from the icy winter, she looked up ahead to see the mountain range, just like the view from her village.

She looked to the side, down where the grass was being swayed by the breeze. A patch of grass was lit brightly in wide, yellow sunbeam. Then, before her eyes, green stems, different from the grass around them, shot upward.

First, they spouted leaves, then bulbs appeared on their tops. The bulbs opened and bloomed into petals, revealing flowers of pink and yellow and purple.

"Beautiful...," Elarion breathed, voice a whisper on the breeze.

Then the sunbeam widened and spread along the grassy field, and everywhere it touched, flowers grew and bloomed, until the field was full of colors.

Elarion nodded slowly, understanding what was happening.

The sun shines on the land, on plants and their seeds, and causes the plants, the flowers, to grow. It gives light and brightens the day.

She felt the heat on her skin. Lifting her head back, she closed her eyes and felt the sun on her face, and the light turning orange and red in patterns behind her eyelids.

It warms me, too. Warms my skin, and lets me see.

Maybe she was repeating things, but she had to make sure she understood everything. She had to connect to the sun.

Elarion brought her head back down and opened her eyes. Then she took a step forward.

And stepped into snow. Deep snow. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, the pure white coming up to her elbows and making a soft rustling sound and it shifted.

She was wearing her winter cloak now, she noticed. What had she been wearing before?

Not that it mattered.

The sky was deep blue with night, but clear, the numerous stars glittering brightly. Elarion could see her breath.

Another rustling sound came from beside her. A small, white, fluffy rabbit popped up out of the snow.

Awwww! So cute!

The bunny twitched it’s nose at her, before it hopped down into the snow. It popped back up, and where the rabbit had dived in, there was a round hole in the snow. Elarion looked in hole. In the circle of white, was green. Blades of green grass was growing beneath the snow. Even when the sun wasn’t shining on it.

Elarion reached her hand in and touched the grass, touched the ground it was growing from. It was chilled, but it was…it was warm. She could sense a warmth from underneath the soil. A warmth that was always there, no matter the coldness around it. Allowing the grass to grow.

The sun warmed the ground, Elarion thought. Even if this place did not get much sunlight from above - something about the planet’s tilt in certain regions? She knew she’d studied that at one point – the warmth spread into the earth from other places where the heat reached it most, until it touched everywhere, even here, in this wintery place. The earth soaked up the sun’s warmth, and held its heat, and would hold its heat inside it, store it.

Elarion breathed, and the cold air filled her lungs. But it wasn’t completely cold, she knew. Everything had a freezing point. The air stayed in a state so she could breathe it; even though it felt cold, the sun’s warmth filled the air, allowing her to breathe.

She closed her eyes, and pressed her hand more firmly to the grass and ground beneath her palm, the warmth emanating from the ground and heating her skin. A rumbling, like the earth was growling, came from deep underneath where she was sitting on her knees. Her mind's eye filled with images of lava, of fire, flowing in rivers beneath the earth, within the earth, bright with red and orange glowing light. Just like the sun. The sun powered this, continued this. It powered everything the earth, and everything on it. Without the sun, the inside of the planet would freeze, the fire and light and glow extinguished, all the lava turned to hard rock.

And whenever she felt warmth against her skin, the thought came to her, spreading through her entire body, the warmth of the sun was inside her, too. Every time she held her hands close to a flame, every time she breathed in non-frozen, non-liquid air. And every time she could see anything, whether by sunlight or a flame, the light of the sun was inside her, entering into her eyes, bringing to her the shapes and colors of the world. Colors, too, all the colors, were made and brought to sight by the light of the sun: the green of the trees, the yellow, pink, violet, blue of flowers, the oranges and reds of the sunset, the blue of her winter cloak. All of it, everything, all the beauty she could see, the images her mind processed and stayed in her memories. The light stayed with her.

Elarion opened her eyes and sat back. She leaned on her hands. The sun was setting in front of her, sinking below the horizon in a painter's palette of pinks and oranges. And then it was gone. Taking it’s light with it.

No, it was not gone. Elarion shook her head. The sun did not disappear; it never disappeared. Even when it was night here, it was day elsewhere. It was always daytime somewhere on the earth; somewhere, the earth was receiving it’s light and it’s brightness. When the sun was setting on her horizon, it was rising on someone else's, on another part of the planet.

It was always day, even at night.

The light shifted. Elarion looked up. Clouds filled the sky now. The sun was overhead, shining faintly in the winter, gray sky. But the clouds crowded and moved over it lazily, blocking out the sun’s light.

Then, the clouds parted slightly, and the sun peaked through, showing itself briefly as the clouds slowly travelled across it. And then it was covered again.

And Elarion understood.

Even when the sky was gray and cloudy, the sun was still there, above the clouds. It was always there. No matter where it was or how it was there, it was always, always there.

Heat, warmth, light, color, shapes. Liquid, air. Growth. Fire. Life.

Outside of her. Within her. Within everything and everyone.

A part of her, of everything and everyone. It was all the things.

___________________

“Elarion. Elarion. You need to wake up, sweetheart.” Her mother’s voice reached her ears through her sleepy haze. She blinked her eyes open to her mom’s face looking down at her with concerned eyes.

“Hmm…? Mom?”

“Are you alright, sweetheart? You were sweating in your sleep.” Her mom’s hand brushed over Elarion's sweaty forehead, gently pushing back stray curls. Oh, she was sweating. Why was she sweating? Her skin was damp, the material of her thick, winter night down sticking to her back. The cold air hit the droplets if moisture, and Elarion shivered.

“I'm…I’m okay,” she answered.

Then she gasped. Her dream came crashing back to her.

She sat up quickly. “Mom, I’ve got it! I think I got it!”

“Got what?”

“I connected to the sun arcanum! I understand it! I have to try - ! I need to try something! I’m gonna try something.” Elarion threw off the blankets and damp sheets and leapt out of bed.

“Try what? Elarion, get back in bed. It’s the middle of the night!” It was clear Elarion was talking to fast for her mom to understand her. But she didn’t pause to explain.

“Just come, come with me!” Elarion pulled on her winter cloak over her night gown and shoved on her boots. Then she ran outside.

The ground was still frozen with ice, and she fought not to slip as she ran, to keep her feet sure. Night still covered the sky, but it would be dawn soon, in an hour or two. Not enough time to wait for it. She had to try now. She to see if her dream meant want she thought it was, to see if what the book said was true.

She ran out of the village, to the frozen fields. Elarion fell to her knees on the edge of one of them. The dead plants were iced over, the ground hard. The sun was still beyond the horizon, and thick, night-darkened clouds still choked out many of the stars.

But she knew where the sun was. It was just over the horizon. It was in the heat beneath the earth where she sat, beneath the fields. In the warmth of her body, and in the cool of the air as she breathed. In the dim light her eyes had to adjust to in order to make out the vague shapes she knew would be bursting with color come the sunlight.

Elarion pressed her hands to the frozen, barren ground, to where the dead roots lay. Dug her bare fingers into the icy soil the best she could.

Then she closed her eyes and felt.

Brought a hand to the air. Drew a rune with her fingertip. Then another.

“Calidum soli. Crescere ager adtulit.”

The ice beneath her fingernails cracked.

Elarion gasped sharply, and her eyes flew open.

The soil warmed and became soft, and moist with the melting ice and snow. Her fingers sank into the soil.

Then, stems and stalks shot up from the ground. Green bloomed and grew tall, the crops becoming full and ripe before her eyes. Her intentions must have done something, carried more weight than she'd thought, because all around her, the snow began to melt, and very field - not just the one she kneeled by, her hands in the warm, soft dirt – began to yield its crop. A bloom of color rippling up like a wave across the valley around her, visible in the light of her magic.

Her magic. Elarion's magic.

Elarion stayed there kneeling, practically rooted to the spot, wide-eyed, her mouth spreading into a huge, beaming smile.

It worked. She had done it.

“I DID IT! WOOOO!” Elarion leaped up to her feet and pumped her arms into the air. She jumped up and down, even doing a little happy dance.

“I DID IT! IT WORKED!”

She sniffed, and her eyes were wet. Elarion brought the back of her hands, the part that didn’t have soil on them, to her face. Was she crying?

She was. They were happy tears, joyful tears. Relieved tears.

She had done it. She had connected to sun magic, and she had saved her village.

Her family and friends, everyone she cared about, would live. They would have enough food. And from now on, they always would. For as long as she lived.

___________________

The villagers came out to see what the commotion was, and couldn’t believe her eyes. When Elarion told them and her mom what had happened, they were equal parts shocked and overjoyed. Well, maybe more overjoyed.

Aunt Sabra got completely better, as well as everyone else, and her mom’s coughing and wheezing stopped before it could ever progress into anything worse.

Yuletide was celebrated again, now that they could actually have a proper feast. And feast they did. Elarion was able to help the other villages and towns in the area, too, and she both helped them with their crops and helped her village share their own bounty.

Word spread about this miracle and who caused it, and whenever Elarion wasn’t busy with school and chores and errands, she would often be practicing sun magic, giddy and excited to do all she could with it.

Little did she know, their were those watching her. Some with less than good intentions, and some with their eyes to the stars.