#i know this is the fault of the game for forcing rook to make every companion’s choice for them but

[stinkrascal]

it’s been days and i simply cannot get over the fact that rook and emmrich’s literal 2nd date is not only at the fucking graveyard (the place he already took rook for their first-but-totally-not-first date!!!) BUT that it is for the express purpose of him introducing rook to his dead parents. the implication that this man met his problematically young girlfriend a few weeks ago and hes already like well we’re on our second date now, i should introduce her to my parents. who are also dead btw. and then he tells her to introduce herself to their graves so proper like theres nothing weird about this predicament hes found himself in. oh my god. i love you my midlife crisis king

[thedissonantverses]

The Inquisitor failed where Rook succeeded.

These games aren’t about Solas and the Inquisitor and it would actually make the story incomprehensible and worse if that was the case.

Or my breakdown of why having the elven agents would have been a no good, very bad terrible idea.

So right off the bat my first problem with this is that I don’t care about Solas’ loneliness. It’s his own fault. He killed his friends. I like the character. I understand his motivations. I redeemed him. He is compelling. He’s still the antagonist. He still committed atrocities. You can ship him all you want. I do.

But you cannot uncouple what he’s done to rationalize his actions. He willingly got a body. Sure Mythal might’ve manipulated him but he did in fact make the choice. Same with the Titans. For that alone he’s a monster. Forcing all the blame onto Mythal ignores the text and no it’s not surprising some people latched onto the nearest woman to excuse a man’s actions. She is culpable and he is culpable. They’re both Evanuris no matter how much that chafes Solas’ mythology about himself.

Solas also let the elven gods out then lied to Rook when he blamed them because it’s his whole m.o. He fucked up a ritual he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Hell even if Solas didn’t fuck up his own ritual a second time, it’s still his fault. If he had asked for help a single time none of this would have happened. Varric would still be alive as would all of the people Elgar’nan and Ghiln’nanin killed.

Forcing in elven agents, where we would mostly likely be forced to battle and kill them, would be the worst way to handle the elves in DA. Like it’s an exceptionally bad idea. Which is why I’m so glad they didn’t do it. You cannot tell me that you like the elves and understand the lore then have them start what amounts to a holy war in retaliation for past holy wars on behalf of a man who wants to openly destroy their world. Then turn around and say BioWare hates the elves. Or that they handled the Dalish badly because they sure did a better job than you did. It’s a level of cognitive dissonance that is truly baffling.

This story is not about the Inquisitor either. The Inquisitor, oh wait another holy figure, I don’t care how much you said shem in your fanfiction. The narrative has already set up the Inquisitor to be like Solas you don’t need to enforce this yet again, it was done well the first time. The Inquisitor failed to capture him because they think too much like him. Which is what Trespasser was about.

Rook is well established in the first major scene with Solas both visually, thematically, and narratively. Knocking down Elgar’nan’s statue. Thinking of a strategy no one else did because they let Solas set the terms of the match. Varric, knows all this, and knew he was most likely going to die talking to Solas, set Rook up in his place. Varric who found the lyrium dagger and set all of this in motion. Varric who sets Rook on the board to belabor the chess metaphor. Rook, because of all this, is a much better narrative foil for Solas because they are just a mortal and all but nameless and not some mythical divine figure sent from on high for Solas.

Solas has killed and driven away all his friends including your beloved Lavellan. He sure didn’t love her enough to tell her the truth when he should have. Rook knows they need help. They could never do anything else.

A mortal willing to stand against gods? That’s what’s compelling. Good people pulling together to fight tyranny is always going to be a better story than a man who betrays the people he loves at every turn.

Dragon Age has such a rich and interesting lore and frankly at this point twisting everything to be about one character is disrespectful to almost 20 years of crafting on the part of the writers and creative team. It actually makes me angry that their hard work is being torn apart because people want to force everything to be about one character. Not only did you completely miss out on a beautiful story to force an interpretation like this, you don’t even know what universe you’re in.

TLDR: The story is called Veilguard because it’s about Rook and the Veilguard. Hope this helps.

[chunkymamatam]

oh wow from what i have seen your stories sound cool 🤩 what are your relationships w the main cast? my fav character is prolly leona and rook so do you have any stories w them? 😊

So it's a college DR. I'm gonna start everything I'm about to say with that. Like there's probably nothing in these specific stories that I need to say that for but like I'm gonna say that every time.

Some people are weird. I'm an adult and I don't really want to hang out with a bunch of high school age teenagers. I'm also not willing to age myself down and relive the worst years of my life lmfao. We're all in the adult age bracket in my DR. Nothing wrong with being a teenager but it would feel weird for me to have a whole friend group full of them and I'm not about to be perpetually lonely.

Also I tend to not define my relationships with labels. I'm bad at labels so it's easier to define them with my experiences with each person.

Now on to my experience with these men.

Leona

THIS MF- Lmfao I first met this man in the botanical garden like in the game, tripped over and stepped on his tail accidentally. Man threatened to knock my lights out. Now, I'm genderfluid and it was a more masc day but I certainly didn't tell him that. IDK HOW TF HE KNEW. Referred to me as the correct pronouns and shit too.

He sniffed me and I was like "Hey, could you not sniff me...? Do I stink??"

He looked me up and down and proceeded to be like "Not yet but you will when I'm done beating your ass"

BRO I SAID SORRY BEFORE YOU COULD EVEN GET A WORD IN CALM DOWN

Ruggie stopped the fight but still.

2. During The whole Spell drive situation, first of all I didn't even want to be there but Crowely has a habit of threatening me and my housing. I was at Savanaclaw, being harassed by this mf named Blaze, and Leona comes out wanting to be a bitch. I explained why I was there and this man brushed it off and says

"How about we settle this over a game of Spell Drive. You win and I'll answer any questions you have but if you lose. Well I'll think of something." with that stupid smirk of his /pos

I lost and this man tackled me to the ground with his final move. He had me pinned down smirking down at me and I was internally complaining he was taking too long to gtf off me. So me, being a dastardly bastard, smirked up at him and said

"You like something you see that you're taking so long to get up" and I blew him a kiss.

BRO GOT UP SO FAST LMFAO

There's more during book 2 but honestly their overblots in general were kind of traumatizing and I'm not in the mood to talk about it. For now just know they tried to end my life and said some really cruel shit.

3. After the over blot tho. I got knocked the fuck out despite my best efforts and we ended up in the infirmary together with everyone. Cheka jumped on him and started treating him like a pony. I was doing my best not to laugh at him. He looked at me, told me not to laugh and I busted out laughing. I couldn't help it! It was just too cute! He was forced to take me home back to ramshackle by everyone there cuz I didn't look too good but there was nothing else the nurse could do. They essentially told him that it's his fault I was hurt the least he could do is take me home.

4. So during the Octavinelle situation we had to stay with him for a while. Now I didn't mind cleaning up after him and sharing a room with him for a few days. In fact I was giggling at him and making fun of him a little for having Ruggie straighten his hair all the time. He actually has 2B curls in my DR lol

I was like "Damn.. Gentrified." and he was fighting for his life lmfao I was like "Nah but in all seriousness are you not scared to ruin your curls?"

Turns out he uses some fancy heat protection product in his hair. I don't straighten my hair anymore so like I genuinely don't know how well those work but I think that was a funny interaction.

back to the original story tho. Floyd ended up giving me the squeeze and I went into a seizure. My brain was fried I told him this too. I was like "Hey Leona, I just had a seizure earlier so I'm gonna be a little slower and ditsier while cleaning you room. Just a fair warning before you think I'm acting like a little weirdo."

This man fr looked at me and was like "why are you slurring your words" Sir I just fucking told you my brain misfired. I ignore it and he just kept going bro.

"Why are you moving like that."

"You're taking too long, this is just excessive."

"I bet you're just faking it so you don't have to do your part. You probably lied and didn't even have a seizure."

At that point I was fucking done. I looked at him and said "You know what? I don't have to take this. I'm sleeping outside of Ramshackle." I stole HIS PILLOWS and HIS BLANKETS and fumbled my ass out back to Ramshackle.

A little while later he comes up to me and apologizes. I was so weirded out I was like "So who's holding a gun to your head?"

He huffed and made a frustrated face and was like "can't I just say sorry, Herbivore?"

"You personally? No. Someone is making you do this."

I was right, Jack and Grim chewed him tf out for that shit. Grim bragged about it to me that's how I found out lol. But anyway he grumbled and was like "Just come back to Savanaclaw with me"

I said "No. I'm gonna stay right here like I said I would."

This mf decides to pick me up and drag me back by force. I told the mf to put me down which resulted in and argument. Eventually I was like "Fuck you!"

This mfer responds with "You'd like that." with a smirk.

I scoffed and was like "I would NEVER want to do that with a son of a bitch who can't even tie his own shoes properly. I have a medical issue that fucks with my motor skills, what's your excuse???"

Man stfu after that.

It's funny cuz genuinely we were chill after that pfffff

Rook

Our first interaction was literally him looking at Vil sideways for the way that mfer was acting towards me and honestly I think that's so funny.

I don't necessarily have very many stories about him just little experiences. Like when I called him out for watching me before I turned around to look at him and idk what that expression was but it scares me LMFAO

He calls me Monsieur Souris

He woke me up every morning gently but when I went back to sleep got Vil. Like bruh I can sleep a little the school is RIGHT THERE. Overall he truly is mysterious. He's really not as creepy as everyone says. Until he starts hunting you anyway. I am not game monsieur Hunt. Please back off 😭

I think he's still trying to figure some stuff out with me? Idk a lot of people do that to me so maybe that's it.

Sorry if there's spelling/grammar errors. My brain is melting from this heat. Thank you for the ask ❤

[cacturne]

character creation questions: 16, 19, 20 for as many of them as you feel like!! give me The Lore

YOU GOT IT!! COMIN IN HOT!!

16. Is there any memes or running jokes associated with the character, both in- and out of universe?

Out of universe Vulture has the running joke of being short. Because i think it’s so very funny. My manlet of a woman. A little bit smaller than average for an origins elf in a world where the elves keep getting taller with each new game she’s COOKED!!! SHE’S SHRINKING!!! AND NOT JUST WITH AGE!!!

Rook has the in-universe gag of people saying “rook, like the chess piece?” And them annoyedly replying “no, like the bird!” Every single time.

They also have the gag of people criticizing them for the way they’re doing something and them replying “i’m the lords ruins expert and best climber, not [whatever they’re getting shit for]!”

19. What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite? (this is going to have an answer for all of them so warning: LONG) (LIKE REALLY LONG THIS IS GOING TO INCLUDE A DELUGE OF WIPS AND VAULT ART AFTERWARD)

For Vulture my favorite thing about her is her relationship with her family. They love each other so very much and it’s clear that Vulture would do the sixth blight solo if it meant keeping them safe. Adding onto that, i really like how she breaks her own rule about not seeing anyone else as family with Morrigan. I mean, she didn’t for a LONG time, but when you kind of raise your son together your view starts to shift a bit! Who knew! I dunno i like that moment very much, it says a lot about just how much she means to her. <- made it about the situationship again SORRY!! SORRY!!!

My least favorite thing about her is that she just fucked off!! Like Vulture darling i would love to expand on your relationships with your, you know, OTHER friends but you’re pulling a Tom Scott and going off the grid so of course the only person capable of finding you is your situationship!! Go home!! Visit Alistair!! Visit literally anyone!!

My favorite thing about Hawk is that she’s genuinely just really entertaining?? I like thinking about her because her dramatics and theatrics and her attitude are just so silly so fun! I know i talk about her mental illness all the time but she is for real like really fun to be around if you like her style. It’s just that the world hates her badly and she wasn’t built for that amount of pressure.

My least favorite thing about Hawk is in fact her mental illness. I’m getting kinda sick of it! For the love of god, TALK TO YOUR LOVED ONES!!! STOP STUFFING IT AWAY AND ACTING LIKE YOU’RE FINE!!! Hawk survives the fade AU is made so that she can finally be happy yes but it’s also made because i deserve to be able to have a break from her self destructive antics and force her to be genuine for once. God. I love her so much but GET HELP.

With Buzzard my favorite thing about him is that he’s a brick wall of a person. I think that’s such a cool character archetype. Being both physically cracked but also emotionally immune to intimidation in combat is sick, i will not lie!! I like making my characters just a little bit nearing overpowered, i can’t help it!! The way he shrugs off any kind of wound or blow like it’s nothing and never takes a step back makes me want to make stupid anime noises (uuohh sugoi!! Kakkoii!!! <- fucking cringe) and the way he always protects everyone else no matter the damage done to him in the process… wicked cool. This is why you should hire her as your bodyguard, you won’t find anyone better!

My least favorite thing about her though is that she’s out of canon pretty lackluster as a character, which is my own fault. I turned up the cool factor on her so much i don’t really know what to do with him while preserving it, it’s difficult trying to flesh him out because he has a very simple worldview of protect people he loves -> take care of them through any means necessary -> profit. That’s something i should work on myself though! I still love him in the meantime, he just isn’t as deep as my other guys which makes me sad because she deserves better than that.

My super very favorite thing about Heron is her princely attitude.. i can’t help it.. i see a gentlewoman i get red in the face!! The circumstances under which she developed this weren’t very good of course, but i don’t think she hates it for that, or hates it at all. Uoohh i love her so much she’s so charming she’s so sweeties… come sweep me off my feet Heron Adaar..!!!

My least favorite thing about Heron is her passivity. She puts up with so much shit during Inquisition and just politely takes all of it for the sake of the Inquisition and the Herald’s image. Her finally snapping at the end of Trespasser was so very satisfying but my goodness girl.. that was three years of letting yourself get kicked by all of Ferelden and Orlais. Repeatedly. You deserved better than that. Even after the Veilguard timeskip i think she still struggles with it, especially since she still regularly goes to political balls and parties with Josie, but that one is much more understandable because i would also take any hit for Josie.

My favorite Shrike trait is definitely just how much she develops during the game! From Immature Angry Girl With Issues to Decently Competent Leader is honestly such a feat and i am genuinely very proud of her. She gets removed from her harmful environment, makes her first friends, finds love, she finally gets to live as a person (not very much but certainly more than she allowed herself to live in the Circle) and it really brings out the good parts of her personality. It reveals that, shocker, when not constantly angry and stressed she can actually be quite a lovely person!

My least favorite trait of hers is that even after realizing her anger isn’t good for anyone especially herself Shrike instead kind of veers into the “i’ll show them..” mindset. She ends up genuinely liking necromancy (eventually) but initially the only reason she chose it as her specialization was because she wanted power and the mortalitasi called to Skyhold promised her that people would fear her. She realized she couldn’t be angry anymore even though she wanted to be so instead she wanted to fill that gap in purpose with becoming powerful and feared. (This whole phase was hilariously short though as the Inner Circle (except Dorian) unanimously disagreed with her decision and made it known which in turn made her feel awful and abandon those convictions almost immediately)

My favorite thing about Rook is that they’re such a silly billy. Like all the way to goofytown big fun loving goober. But what i especially like about this is that under that goofyness they’re still pretty down to earth and not “on” all the time. Like they’re silly, but they’re not grating. Cringe maybe depending on the person but you can just chill with them without them pulling any stupid stunts or saying lame jokes. They’re not a sunshine person, they’re too smug for that, but their laid back positive attitude can certainly improve the mood of a room!

My least favorite thing about Rook is that they don’t really care all that much. They’re so into what they love doing (pirating, ruins, climbing, partying with friends) but anything outside of that can’t really keep their interest or attention that much. Their parents probably assume they’re dead at this point with them having gone missing as a teenager, but they don’t care enough to make themselves known or consider how much it might have hurt them. As an elf they have a rich culture and past, but they don’t care about any of that stuff Dalish or City and think it’s kinda weird to care as much as a lot of elves do. They aren’t very considerate of anything outside their little world, which is tragic! Hopefully with a partner and some friends they can start broadening their horizons a little now!

Stork’s best trait to me is her chill attitude. Like she’s an unconventional but great leader, an accomplished researcher, a crypt baby, but most of all she is chill as fuck. Fantastic addition to the blunt rotation. She doesn’t worry too much about what life throws at her unless it’s dire and goes with the flow, the world with its life and its death is beautiful and she wants to experience all of it! Really takes in the little things as much as the big things and goes at her own pace.

Stork’s worst trait to me is just how much she tends to neglect things in favor of her research. She has on occasion cancelled plans just to attend a specific lecture or because inspiration struck and she needed to test a theory, which is kind of sucky of her. She doesn’t really do all this while consciously knowing it could make others feel bad, but that’s no excuse. It’s really something she should consider, especially at her age!! This isn’t something she does ALL the time she isn’t entirely inconsiderate but it still happens and is something she needs to work on.

My favorite thing about Magpie is her love for nature, and how gentle she is with it in direct opposition with how harsh her Crow life has been. There’s been a lot of pain and tears and many marks to remember it by but she won’t become that harsh person no matter how many times her behavior needs to be “corrected” to become a better assassin.

My least favorite thing about her is that she tends to blame herself for everything regardless of if something actually bad happened or not. Growing up with the First Talon constantly calling her a stupid idiot in her ear might have affected her on a deep level and made her believe she is incompetent no matter what!! And that’s very understandable, but Magpie dear you just got world record in the 100 meter sprint stop apologizing for not being ten milliseconds faster!!!!! You’re SWAG stop telling people you’re CRINGE!!!

20. Bonus question: share any additional thoughts, art, favourite scenes, anything you've been waiting for a chance to ramble about

ALRIGHT!!! RANDOM BULLSHIT GO!!!

Embarrassing but Vulture actually directly inspired me to get my buzzcut (thank you)

I honestly already ramble about whatever i want to ramble about on the blog so instead i will be releasing things from my vault (crowd cheers)

^ unreleased hawk doodle because it turned out bad

^ teenie tiny unreleased vulture i made testing brushes as well because its too small to justify posting

^ unreleased pigeon doodle because her mabari looked bad

^ hawk ill never finish

^ very early stages of a hawk drawing i never did too

^ vultures kieran maybe

^ magpies i dont know if im ever gonna turn into anything

^ shrike doodle i dont know if ill ever finish because that would mean i have to read hard in hightown to accurately describe the plot. and i dont want to

^ escaped the fade AU hawk i dont know if ill ever finish

^ older hawk i release from my embarrassment prison

^ another hawk ill probably never finish

^ random heron doodle

^ concept for a big piece i will probably never do (plus timestamps making something funnier)

^ hawk funny i abandoned because it looked bad and i dont remember the punchline anymore

^ very loose doodle i never intended to finish. i like baseball uniforms they look nice

^ shrikes i doodled trying to get a feel for her

^ thing that was going to be an entire scene i quickly and feverishly worked on while 100% situationshipbrained ill and later went "wait this is so embarrassing" so im never going to finish it

^ vulture in the da2 grey warden armor. will i ever finish this? i dont know. does it hurt to see me never finish this? absolutely do you know how long i spent on that armor. oh my god.

^ vulture wip ill probably never finish that i feel just as horrible about abandoning. do you have any idea how long this took.

AND AS A THANK YOU FOR REACHING IT THIS FAR IN THIS TRAINWRECK OF A POST

^ a peek of my big wip ive been slowly working on for months, from really far away

thank you for getting through this catastrophe of a post i had a blast

[riddlebot]

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD - my thoughts and feelings after beating the game. obviously, spoilers for the whole thing. <3

so starting with pros, since i do have criticisms and i don't want it to immediately sound like i'm hating on the game when i genuinely had a great time playing it and there were a lot of things i liked, so i'll start with the good.

i loved all the companions. in every other DA game there are companions i love and companions i decidedly do NOT like. it was a nice refresher that i loved every single companion in DAV.

the way the locations were built were kind of fun! i am used to DAI's open world, and open world in general, so to me it kind of felt like every place i went was a different Destiny dungeon lol but also it was so cool to finally be in a city. i didn't really play DA2 that much so it's new for me, i'm use to opening up DAI and being lost in the wilderness wherever i go - everytime i ran across a roof top in dock town i felt like i was playing assassin's creed.

different endings! i like that there are different endings depending on how your inquisitor feels, how your rook comes to feel, and whether or not you do all of the memory quests. i liked the ending i chose, the "good" ending, in which we convince solas to use his own life force to keep the veil up to repent for all he has done. do i feel he DESERVES this ending? no. but it's what my inquisitor, and varric, would have wanted. despite how badly my rook wanted to knife him in the face, lmao.

it's pretty!! even though i have to play on dogshit graphics so the game can even run on my dinky pc, it's such a beautiful game and every area is so fun - the only place i hated going was dock town's catacombs and thats because i kept getting lost

i actually loved all the codex entries and learning about the companions through their notes to each other or their diary entries or their book club letters like that was so cute

seeing my inquisitor again idc i felt he was perfectly in character which i know was NOT everyone's personal feelings depending on how they played but my boy was good

even thought it made me devastated i'm glad all the questions i ever had thought to ask about dragon age lore were answered and also hilarious that they are quite literally all solas and mythal's fault this is another thing i think a particular group of people are pretty upset about but it was blowing my mind

also i think solas is such a well written villain like IDK when he trapped my rook in the fade at the end i was gasping for air and so angry and the fact we watched him make so many sacrifices and then justify them over and over and then to tell us like you should be proud of how far you come did you not expect to lose anyone i was floored. and then the fact he tries to trick us into bringing down the veil again after that had my rook SEETHINGGGGG i'm not kidding if it weren't for my angel inquisitor who loved solas that man woulda died bc my rook was not fucking around anymore at that point

criticisms:

combat. on one hand it's fun, and flashy, but on the other hand i think they peaked with DAI's combat - it is fucking impossible to be a ranged attacker in this game. your character is the only one with a health bar, for some reason, so enemies do not attack your companions AT ALL and just swarm you. i often felt like my companions were doing absolutely nothing while i was drowning in demons and darkspawn. i also have no idea how the combo moves work so maybe once i figure that out i'll feel differently but i kept getting so frustrated with it. in DAI, i take blackwall and can literally build his character into a tank that draws all enemy aggro so i can pick them off from the sidelines as he holds down the fort. give my companions back their health bars so i can attack an ogre from a distance please i am begging you.

companion personal quests. i do genuinely enjoy most of them - emmerich's in particular, the one where you crash his rivals party and watch his skeleton son pretend to be one of the party's servants to get information was so fun to me, as someone whose favorite mission in the entire series is wicked eyes and wicked hearts from dai. but a lot of them felt repetitive and unnecessary. why does davrin drag me to arlathan forest every 2 seconds to do nothing and why is that a quest and not just a cutscene i don't have to like, go do as a mission? it would have made more sense to me if it was just a cutscene and i didn't have to fast travel around for it.

i also think the sheer amount of "mini bosses" was kind of absurd. why does literally every single companion have a mini boss. the only ones that make sense are neve and lucanis, since it has to do with the venatori. but everyone else it kind of seemed like the writers had all these ideas and just. put them all in to fit as much as they could into the game.

i did like most of the armor i just wish i could have dyed it and also dyed my companions so we could all match

this is coming from a transman but when i found out fucking governer ivenci was nonbinary i screamed. this game is so woke and it's genuinely very cool to see in such a huge franchise but the fact they just randomly tacked on being trans to some npcs kills me it was so hilarious. in some cases, like taash, i'm like absolutely yes in your fucking face transphobes, or like MAEVARIS I LITERALLY SCRAEMED WITH JOY WHEN I FOUND OUT SHE WAS TRANS but why ivenci that wsa so random to me JFKLDASJFK;LASDJ they're like btw nonbinary people can also be evil. and you know what. fair.

final thoughts is that i do genuinely love the game, and i am curious to see if they make any changes in updates in the future but i won't hold my breath. i love the characters very much. also, as someone who played with a noncanon solas romanced inquisitor (my inquisitor is male, so he romanced solas in dai via mods) i hate the solavellan ending where they walk into the fade prison/home together and lavellan just leaves everyone they ever knew and loved behind for a man that is crazy work. my inquisitor went through fucking hell after trespasser personally, and he is over solas and i am going to make a rook for him to end up with because i think it'd be cute and he deserves it.

anyway thats all have a good day.

[jockpoetry]

breaks through the door i want to know ALL of the questions for maraas!!!! but since that's maybe a bit much the stars and the sun pls :3

The Star: When things get dark, what gives Rook hope?

Pre-Veigluard he's just so fucking stubborn he doesn't know how to give up. He has always fought for himself despite the odds, despite the uphill battle, and I think he just does not know how to give up. There's always got to be something else, something more, something different he could do. Maybe he can't see it now, but he's gotten out of tight spots before, and I think he just has faith that he'll find someway to get through, to get out, and keep going. Post-Veilguard it's definitely a bit of a readjustment, but I do think that actually having formed friendships for the first time in his life that were meaningful and made him feel like everything he'd done had been worth it. I think that during the whole Antaam debacle -> meeting Varric -> being ousted from Treviso for his own safety -> Solas chase -> events of Veilguard, there was a part of him that...expected not to make it, to finally get into something he wasn't getting out of. But he did, and despite the baggage Veilguard left him with to unpack I think that he now has like...knowledge he doesn't need to rely only on himself. There's hope in others, and that's just a boost out of those dark spaces. He's always had himself, and he's always bet on himself and done well, but now he doesn't have to. And I think the world has gotten much bigger and brighter for him because of that.

The Sun: What is Rook passionate about? How do they fuel that passion?

Man I don't know that he had much passion before Veilguard. He went through the motions of life, he threw himself into training to be a crow, and then into the contracts he took, but he didn't really...live? He enjoyed the quiet, and being able to afford a small place for himself. He isn't a big reader, but he has a few books that he treasures. He enjoys the process of upkeeping his weapons, being forced to sit and focus. He's a big bundle of energy usually, so things that get him to sit still and just breathe I think he's a big fan of. Post-game I think he gets a bit more into cooking, he's not very good and he still doesn't really feel a lot of interest in eating, but it has the same kind of focused attention that gets him to be still for awhile. Growing up he really through himself into learning everything he could, that doesn't necessarily mean he was a good student, but he wanted to be. He had a lot of ground to make up and there are definitely still areas he's still weak in, but he loved learning, especially physical stuff. (Because there will always be a part of my brain that's wrestlingpilled he'd be a really good mat wrestler, he's flexible and strong and I think as good as he is with blades and his bow he's a competent hand to hand and unarmed fighter too and was really passionate about it. He wanted to be the best at something, and I think he was.) As far as fueling it, I think it's rooted in a lot of the same area as the above answer. He is so self-dependent, and so autonomous that he simply makes himself. He's not a good reader, but he will buy books and sit and read them. He doesn't really like eating and isn't a good cook, but he keeps trying. There's just an innate drive in him to Try to Keep Trying. (To, at times, his own fault, and in ways that can be slightly self-destructive, but you know it's fine! lol). He fuels himself the way he's always fueled himself, by just getting up every morning and putting a foot in front of the other and going 'you have to do this or else' or else what? Who knows, but it works.

ask me about my rook!

[hangovercurse]

Lesson Learned

You can’t keep your hands to yourself, so Rook teaches you a lesson

Request: “cockwarming with mgk or rook pls <3”

Rook x Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), cursing

Word Count: 1075

You knew you were in for a long night as soon as Rook put on that jacket, the one that he knew drove you crazy. You had tried to get him to stay in for the night, preferring a long night with your man and your bed over clubbing, but he refused to meet your demands.

So really, it was his fault that you were whiny all night. Your hands were on him constantly, teasing him and trying to get him to just give in and take you home. He was having none of it, scolding you to keep your hands to yourself or else you’d be in big trouble. But you couldn’t help it, he just looked so damn good.

You were grinning like an idiot when he grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the club and calling a ride home. “You think you’re so cute getting me hard in front of my friends like that, huh?” You bit your lip, turning to him and running your hands up and down his chest.

“I just can’t help it, babe. You look too good.” He grabbed your wrists, stopping your motions and pulling you tightly into him.

His voice came out as a stern whisper, “well then maybe you need to be taught a lesson.”

He didn’t touch you the entire ride home, and you weren’t allowed to touch him either. You hated this part of the punishment, but you knew whatever he had in store for you at home would make it worth it.

But when you got home, he went straight to the couch, sitting up with his legs spread. He grabbed the remote and turned on Netflix, scrolling until he found whatever movie he’d decided on. You watched hesitantly from the doorway of the living room, trying to figure out his game.

He turned to you, beckoning you over with his fingers. “Sit.” You sighed in relief, thinking maybe he would let you ride him. He pulled your bottoms down, panties and everything. “You’re so wet for me.” He moaned out, taking in your dripping cunt.

You whined as he pulled down his pants just far enough to release his hard length from their constrains. He guided you by your hips to sink down onto him, filling you up. He kept pushing you down until he bottomed out, your moans filling the air as the movie played behind you.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, lifting your hips up until he gave your ass a harsh slap. You whined out as he spoke, “you’re gonna sit on my cock without moving until I think you’ve learned your lesson, got it baby girl?” You whined in argument but stopped as another slap came across your lower cheeks.

He grabbed your face in one hand, squeezing your cheeks together firmly. “I’m sorry, baby, is this not what you wanted? Would you rather go to bed without getting to touch my cock?” You whined in protest, making him chuckle darkly. “Good, then do as I say and maybe, if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you cum.”

Your head rested in the crook of his neck as he watched his movie, thumbs rubbing over your ass softly, pulling at the skin at times. Every inch of your body was screaming at you to move, wanting nothing more than the sweet release you knew he’d bring to you so effortlessly. But you kept still, knowing soon you’d get what you wanted; what you needed.

You were falling asleep against his shoulder after an hour of the movie, the adrenaline from earlier wearing off. Suddenly, you were forced awake by a hard thrust into your hips. You gasped, head moving back to meet Rook’s eyes. He grabbed your hips, forcing you up and down on his shaft. You threw your head back in pleasure as he hit your sweet spot time and time again.

Despite you being on top, Rook was in full control of your movements. “You gonna cum, princess?” He groaned out as you clenched around him. You could feel ecstasy nearing closer and closer, giving him a mumbled affirmation and a nod. “Go on, be a good girl.” You let yourself release, pulsing around him as he continued to thrust inside of you, riding out your high.

When he had decided you’d been pushed far enough, he raised you from his hips, placing you on the couch next to him. You sighed softly, pressing a small kiss to his lips. He made quick work of pushing you to lay horizontally on the couch and crawling over you.

Your head leaned on the arm of the chair as he pushed himself into you again, fucking you deeply. You moaned out as he grabbed your neck, pushing the spots that would add to your pleasure. Your hips bucked up into his as you felt him nearing his end. “This what you wanted? To get fucked in that sweet pussy?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, voice shaking in tandem with your body, your second high closing in on you. Rook groaned, lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss as he spilled into you, letting you cum with him. Your head pushed down into the couch as you came, sounds of pleasure leaving your mouth with no control.

Rook pulled out of you slowly, pressing soft kisses to your neck where he had previously been holding. “C’mon baby,” he whispered into your skin between kisses, “let’s get to bed.”

He pulled you up from the couch, sweet kisses against your lips to contrast the rough night you’d just had. You grabbed your discarded clothes as you left, Rook making sure to turn the TV off. After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean yourselves up, you and Rook laid in bed, your back to his chest. He pressed soft kisses to your neck and jaw as he spooned you, the feelings sending you back to the brink of sleep. And once again, you were pulled out of your state by a feeling between your legs.  

Rook pushed himself into you, making no efforts to thrust into you. You groaned out, expecting him to fuck you again, but he simply shushed you, “wanna be close to my baby girl.” You could feel his breaths grow heavier, and you realized he planned to fall asleep in this position. Too tired to argue, you let yourself drift off as well.

[twstarchives]

Make the Most Out of Life

Card: Dorm Uniform - SSR Characters: Ace, Cater, Riddle, Deuce, Rook, Heartslabyul students

Chapter 1

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - LOUNGE—

Ace: Cater-senpai, put the card you picked back into the deck and I’ll shuffle it well.

Now that they’re all mixed up, I’ll guess which one your card is. Hm~...

The card you picked… is a five of diamonds!

Cater: Ehh~! Wow! How did you know~?!

Ace: Hehe, I used mind-reading magic on you. …Just kidding.

This is a magic trick using the “key card” principle.

It’s one of the most basic card tricks to be able to guess which card your spectator picked.

Anyone can do it if they learn the trick. Well, I also think you kinda need to be good with your hands to do it.

Cater: You said that was really basic, right? So can you do any other tricks, Ace-chan?

Ace: Hm, aside from cards, I can do a few kinds of table magic using cups and coins and things.

Cater: Really? Show me how to do an easy one! Maybe something that could impress the ladies at parties~☆

Ace: Sure! ...Well, that’s what I want to say. But I can’t just show you one for free.

Cater: There’s the catch~ Ace-chan, you’re actually pretty underhanded.

Ace: Well, yeah. You gotta make the most out of life.

How about you take over hedgehog care duty for me one time?

Then I’ll teach you two card tricks and one cup trick, as detailed as I can ♪

Riddle: You two. You look awfully excited for some reason. Have you finished your homework yet?

It’ll be off with your head if you’re just messing around instead of doing your work.

Ace: Oh, Dorm Leader! Perfect timing.

Could you pick one of these cards?

Riddle: Hah? What is this all of a sudden?

Ace: C’mon, just go with it. Give us five minutes of your time.

A little recreation is important for students to bond more. Right?

Riddle: Honestly… I suppose. …Alright. I’ve picked a card.

Cater: Riddle-kun, let me see which one you picked. ...King of hearts, huh?

Riddle: And what was the purpose of doing this?

Ace: Now I’m going to guess which card you picked.

Riddle: Oh, I see. You’re practicing clairvoyance magic.

Cater: Mm~ This is a little bit different.

It’s a magic trick. Ace-chan’s really good at them.

Riddle: A magic trick? Hmm… I’ve never seen one before.

Ace: Put your card back on top of the deck. Then I’ll shuffle it really well.

…Hey, Dorm Leader. Don’t look away; watch my hands carefully.

Now that the whole deck is shuffled, I’ll let you hold onto it.

Riddle: Okay…

Ace: I’m going to snap my fingers and focus on the cards. And then…

The one you picked will appear inside my jacket’s inner pocket!

Make sure to tightly hold onto the cards with both your hands so they don’t escape.

Riddle: …I don’t believe these cards have magic cast on them. How would they escape my hold?

Ace: C’mon, just go with it. …Ready? One, two, three!

Riddle: …Nothing happened.

Ace: Heheh! You’d think!

But inside my inner pocket… Look! One of the cards got away from you!

Riddle: !

Ace: This card is… the king of hearts! This is the one you picked, right?

Riddle: Yes. That’s correct.

Cater: Amazing! That’s way more advanced than the trick you showed me earlier.

Riddle: And… he didn’t use magic to take that card from my hands?

Ace: Nope! It’s just a trick.

Riddle: How does this work? And how did you know which card I chose? At what point did it get inside your pocket?

Cater: Ahaha! Riddle-kun, now you’re so invested in it~

Ace: I reacted the same way when my big brother first showed me this trick.

Riddle: Oh? I didn’t know you had a brother.

Ace: I never talked about him with you? He’s a Night Raven College grad.

And he was in Heartslabyul!

There’s not a lot to do for fun when you’re living in a dorm.

So he just played around with playing cards to kill time, and ended up building his magic repertoire.

Cater: So your brother taught you magic tricks?

Ace: Sorta… He didn’t just nicely teach me how to do them or anything.

It was more like, I watched him do them over and over again and learned by copying him.

Cater: I get it. So you’re the “skill stealer” type.

You’re super good at remembering things, huh, Ace-chan? And you’re a quick thinker.

Ace: I guess ♪ For most things, I can copy them after watching them a few times.

Unlike a certain clumsy goody-two-shoes, I’m pretty advanced.

Riddle: Since you’re so proud of your memorization skills, why don’t you show us?

By memorizing the rules of the Queen of Hearts and the timeline of magic history.

Ace: Gegh… That’s a whole different story! I suck at memorizing facts!

Riddle: Next week, the freshmen have a magic history quiz, don’t they? Deuce told me about it.

If you get any red marks, you won’t be having a seat at our Unbirthday Party next weekend.

Ace: Man… I thought I could distract you with a magic trick, but we’re back to talking about school…

Cater: Distractions don’t work against Riddle-kun, Ace-chan.

Riddle: Ace, what is your answer?

Ace: Yes, Dorm Leader!

Chapter 2

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - HALLWAY—

Ace: Hm hm hmm~♪ Hm hm hmm~♪

Deuce: You look like you’re in a good mood, Ace. You’re humming to yourself.

Ace: Well, you know~ Today’s the Unbirthday Party.

They’re serving way fancier food than they normally do, and our demon dorm leader isn’t going to nag us if we don’t do our homework...

It puts me in a humming mood.

Heartslabyul Student A: Haha, you’re right. But we also have to focus on getting ready for it.

Ace: The freshmen are in charge of setting up for the croquet match and painting the roses, right?

Deuce: Yeah. First we should feed the flamingos and hedgehogs and clean their pens.

Ace: Okay, I’ll go take care of the hedgehogs.

Deuce: Then I’ll take the flamingos. When we’re done, let’s meet up in the rose maze.

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - LOUNGE—

Ace: Alright, time to hurry up and take care of the hedgehogs.

C’mere, food!

Here, your water!

Cleanup next...

‘Kay, I’m done.

Heartslabyul Student A: Ohh, there, there, widdle hedgehogs. Make sure you woll as hawd as you can for the croquet game today, okay~?

Hedgehogs: Chee chee!

Ace: Egh, that’s weirding me out. Quit baby-talking to the hedgehogs.

Heartslabyul Student A: Oh! S-Sorry, force of habit... This is how I talk to my cat at home.

Ace: Hedgehogs don’t understand human language. Isn’t it pointless to talk to them?

I mean, you can’t communicate with animals unless you use their specific animal language anyway.

Heartslabyul Student B: But the dorm leader talks to them with human language all the time.

Heartslabyul Student A: Yeah. Well, he doesn’t use baby-talk like me, but still.

Heartslabyul Student B: Even if animals don’t understand your words, you can still get across how much you care for them.

Heartslabyul Student A: Yeah! The dorm leader even said, “It’s important to have good communication with your hedgehog and flamingo in croquet.”

“You should regularly take care of them to build up mutual trust.”

Heartslabyul Student B: I often see the dorm leader taking care of the hedgehogs even when he’s not on duty.

Ace: Our demon dorm leader really does that? Hmm.

That’s great he’s got a little kindness in him, but why doesn’t he ever show it to us students?

Heartslabyul Students: A-Ahaha...

Ace: Anyway, are you guys almost done cleaning? Next we gotta go paint the roses.

Heartslabyul Student A: Oh. I’m going to throw out the trash from cleaning those pens, so you can go on ahead.

Heartslabyul Student B: I’ll help you take it out. Ace, could you lock up the hedgehog cages?

Ace: Okay~♪

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - ROSE MAZE—

Ace: (Alright. Now we have to hurry and paint the roses...)

(The dorm leader won’t see the back of the trees. So maybe I can just focus more on the places he can see.)

Riddle: Everyone!!

Deuce & Ace: Yes! Dorm Leader!

Riddle: Have you seen the hedgehogs anywhere near here?

Deuce: I haven’t... Did something happen?

Riddle: Every single one of them has disappeared from their cage.

Ace: Huh?!

Riddle: Whoever was in charge of taking care of them must’ve forgotten to lock it... Find the perpetrator! It’ll be off with their head!!

Ace: (No way, seriously?! The last person to lock the cages... was me...)

D-Dorm Leader! Shouldn’t our first priority be to find the hedgehogs?

Riddle: O-Oh... That’s true.

Hedgehogs are extremely cautious. It’ll be very difficult to track them down if they dug holes to hide in.

...What will I do if we never find them...?

Deuce: D-Don’t worry. We can find them... No, we will find them!

Ace: It hasn’t been that long since they disappeared, right?

Deuce: I’ll look around the croquet field!

Ace: I’ll try the other side of the dorm.

Riddle: I’m counting on you.

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM—

Ace: Crap... Is this my fault? No, I made sure to lock the cages... Didn’t I?

........

I don’t know! I wasn’t paying attention when I did it; I can’t remember...

If the dorm leader tries to figure out who the perpetrator was, he’ll find out I was in charge of locking the cages. And then...

Riddle: OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!

Ace: ...*shivers*

I-I have to find all the hedgehogs before Dorm Leader Riddle does!

Chapter 3

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM—

Ace: I-I have to find all the hedgehogs before Dorm Leader Riddle does!

...Or so I thought, but... where would the hedgehogs even be hiding?

I’ll search online using my phone... uhh, what does it say?

Hedgehogs are related to moles... They dig tunnel-like holes to nest in... Gegh!

So that’s what the dorm leader meant when he said they could dig holes to hide in!

They have timid temperaments... So maybe they ran somewhere without a lot of people. I’ll go try the woods.

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM - WOODS—

Ace: HEY!! ...Wait, would I put them even more on guard if I yell?

I remember at my friend’s house, their dog would come running at them the second it heard the sound of its food dish...

Well, I did bring some food. I’ll try making noise with the dish.

(Clatter clatter...) (Rustling!)

Ace: Ah!

Hedgehog: Chee chee!

Ace: That worked! I can’t believe the hedgehogs came out. I’m an absolute genius.

Now I have to catch it... Ah!

Hedgehog: Chee! Chee chee!!

Ace: Hey! Don’t run away!

Agh... It ran back into its hole in the ground! It’s so tiny, like a rabbit hole. I can’t even fit my arm in there...

Maybe if I gently poke it with a tree branch...

Hedgehog: Hiss~! Hiss!!

Ace: Oh no, it’s angry now. And it went further in!

C’mon, guys... Please? I’ll lose my head if I don’t get you to come back. And besides...

Riddle: ...What will I do if we never find them...?

Ace: Dorm Leader Riddle is really worried about you. He really loves you guys, you know?

So please, come back...

(They don’t understand human language. There’s no point in telling them this...)

(Rustling!)

Rook: You appear to be in trouble, Monsieur!

Ace: AGHH?!

Y-You scared me! Don’t start yelling out of nowhere! Anyway, who are you?!

What’s someone from another dorm doing at Heartslabyul?!

Rook: Hahaha, apologies for frightening you.

I’ve actually been behind you ever since you set foot into the woods. Perhaps I hid myself too well?

I’m the vice dorm leader of Pomefiore, Rook Hunt.

I had a reason for coming to Heartslabyul, but I’ve finished what I needed to.

I just thought I’d take the chance to watch the wildlife while I’m here, so I was in the middle of a stroll.

Ace: O-Oh, I see.

Rook: But then I encountered you—bent down on the ground, plagued by a grim resolve just screaming “Le miserable!”

Ace: So you saw everything... That’s embarrassing.

Well, I guess I don’t need to explain anything. I’m really busy right now, so could you go somewhere else?

Rook: Are you sure? I was hoping I could assist you with capturing those animals...

Ace: What?! Do you have any ideas?

Rook: Why don’t you try coercing them with animal language? Hedgehogs should be able to understand mole-speak.

Ace: You think I can speak an obscure language like mole-speak?!

You don’t even learn that unless you major in Animal Languages in university, let alone in high school!

Rook: I know a fair amount of mole-speak. I’ll teach you, so try to coerce them.

Ace: If you can speak it, please just do it yourself...

Rook: Non, non, Monsieur Heart. They’re very sensitive creatures.

Suppose I did get across to them—I’m still a stranger to them. They wouldn’t come out of their burrows for me.

Ace: (The party starts at 3PM. And it’s already a little after 2... Ahh, man...)

...Okay. I’ll do it!

I’ll try to learn mole-speak in one go.

Rook: Excellent spirit! Now, listen closely to how I pronounce them, and watch the way my mouth moves...

Chee chee! Jee jee chee! (Don’t be scared. I won’t do anything to you.)

Ace: (...He didn’t move his lips at all. That sound came from his teeth and tongue, like he was making a tsk! sound.)

——Alright, I memorized it. “Chee chee! Jee jee chee!” (Don’t be scared. I won’t do anything to you.)

How was that? Did I say it?

Rook: Marvelous! That pronunciation was truly wonderful. You really are capable of learning in one go.

Ace: I might forget it right after, so hurry and tell me what to say next!

Rook: Oui, the next phrase is...

Ace: Jee jeejee! Chee cheechee chee! (Come out. Everyone’s worried.)

Hedgehogs: ...Chee... cheechee.

(Rustling!)

Ace: I-It worked! The hedgehogs are coming out of the hole!

Rook: Oh, fantastic!

They could feel your passion in the words you spoke, Monsieur Heart!

Ace: One, two, three... Good, they’re all here.

Hah... Now I won’t be losing my head...

Um, Rook-senpai... right? Thanks a lot for your help!

Rook: Of course. Roi des Roses truly does have a fine servant.

—HEARTSLABYUL DORM—

Riddle: It’s already been two hours since the hedgehogs escaped... and we haven’t found a single one.

Ace: Dorm Leader~! Dorm Leader Riddle~!

Riddle: Ah...!

Ace: The hedgehogs were there! I found them all!

Riddle: Thank goodness...! You guys aren’t hurt anywhere, are you?!

Ace: They’re all safe. Ow, ow, hey! Don’t climb on my head!

Riddle: Hehe, they seem to like you very much.

I’m so glad you found them... Thank you, Ace. 

Ace: ...Hah. I wish he’d smile more like he’s doing now instead of always being nagging and angry.

Riddle: Hm? Did you say something?

Ace: Oh, just that... something like this is no problem if I’m doing it for you!

‘Cause I ace everything!

[bittykimmy13]

The Candescent King (GT Story)

Premise: Sequel to "The Clandestine Queen". Andres returns to the hotel and is forced to confront the reality of Lorelei's life as a trinket.

Hi, I am now fully obsessed with Andres and Lorelei and I would die for them.

Warnings: dehumanization and threat of sexual assault

The print / trinket universe belongs to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie​ / @marydublin5​ <3 Y’all have her to thank for the ending scene! The story almost ended much differently :’)

(( Read more about the print and trinket universe here! ))

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

 He had certain expectations when he returned to the Onyx Citadel Hotel for the fourth time in two years. It was nightfall when he arrived. The lobby was decorated tastefully in black-and-white to honor the winter tournament. He headed straight for his suite rather than stop and interact with the other arriving players. As expected, the staff had already dropped off his belongings in the room.

However, she was not there.

He had known this day would come eventually, so why was there an involuntary chill running down his spine when he thought of the most obvious answer for her absence?

Moving mechanically, he went for the door. He had to be certain.

The elevator ride down, his thoughts were an odd mix of racing and frozen. He wasn't upset, he assured himself. He had no reason to be. They had both known this day would come, so why did it bother him so much? He battled his confusion as he made his way through the lobby. In the center, he saw some familiar tournament players gathered around a chessboard loaded with trinkets. He averted his eyes, striding for the front desk.

"May I help you, sir?" asked the woman behind the counter.

"Where is the trinket?"

Her friendly smile wavered with confusion. "I'm sorry?"

He sighed. "I don't recognize you. My name is Andres Soto. I have competed in the last three semi-annual tournaments. The staff knows to place the trinket known as Queenie in my room along with my luggage. But she is not there."

"Oh! Aren't you the reigning champion?" When he didn't respond, she pursed her lips and frowned in thought. "Queenie... The orange-haired gal? I apologize, sir, but she isn't available."

The chill in his spine should have dissipated now that he had an answer. But it stayed locked in place. "I see."

"Shall I put in a request at the bar to have another trinket sent to your room, Mr. Soto?"

"No." Andres started to pull away, but he supposed he owed it to Lorelei to at least ask. "Tell me what happened to her. A careless guest?"

The woman blinked, then gave a startled laugh. "She's not dead, Mr. Soto! She's just occupied."

Relief and frustration mingled in his gut. "Occupied? Why wasn't she sent to my room?"

"I'm terribly sorry. There was a massive change in management and employment in the past couple of months. I suppose whoever was making your... trinket arrangements must not have passed on the instructions. I'll be sure to let the bar and restaurant know that Queenie will be prioritized to you once she's available."

"You're going to make me wait," he deadpanned rather than asked. You know I'm the champion, and you're denying my request? He clenched his jaw to keep the comment in. It would only cause problems. His tone and expression, however, worked wonders.

Her voice became even more placating as she pointed across the lobby. "If you'd like to see her, she should be right over there," she said.

Andres shoved himself away from the front desk without another word and approached the small group gathered around the center board that had been set up. Two players, three eager observers. Plenty of room for him to see. He walked up with his hands in his pockets, eyeing the board with a sneer. He had made it a point to never be in the vicinity of a game of trinket chess, and it looked precisely the way he had imagined.

It was the most trinkets he had ever seen gathered so close together. Thirty-two were on the table, each of them scantily clothed in colors that reflected their team and designated piece. Red pawns. Yellow rooks. Green knights. Blue bishops. Purple royalty.

In no time at all, his eyes zeroed in on Lorelei. She was the queen, naturally, wearing sheer black lingerie with purple accents.

And she spotted him, too. He suspected she would be smart and pretend not to recognize him, but to his surprise, she threw a minuscule hand over her head and waved it enthusiastically. Her stance was unsteady, a carefree grin plastered on her face.

Drunk.

"Hey!" she called. "Tall, dark, and scary! Hi! I had a dream about you the other night!"

Very drunk.

The players and the small audience followed her gaze with confusion. Their eyes widened when they realized who had come to observe them. He gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment, ignoring Lorelei's whoops for attention.

"Gentlemen," he murmured.

"Soto." Theo Jackson, the man playing black, did not bother hiding the irk on his face. Andres couldn't blame him; coming in 2nd place twice in a row did that to a person. "Thought you'd decide this little tournament was below your rating by now. What are you still doing, coming back here?"

Andres shrugged. "I like to win. But don't mind me. Carry on."

They settled back into the game. He tried to watch with a neutral expression, but at least any visible disgust on his face was to be expected from him. Lorelei was a mess, nearly stumbling into the neighboring square every time the board was jostled by the players' movements. The bishop beside her kept grabbing her arm to steady her.

The trinkets were plucked up and moved like pieces. Each one of them looked either frightened or entirely checked-out. But when they were captured by the opposing side and taken off the board, their relief was visible. That was, except for the pieces Jackson captured. His hands had a tendency to wander to his captured pieces while he thought of his next move.

Being the queen, Lorelei was likely to be in the game for the long haul. Andres thought about walking away. The front desk woman had promised the trinket would be delivered to him later, but something kept him rooted there. It was a strange stab of betrayal, having gotten to know her and now seeing her debase herself. It wasn't her fault, but he had the urge to correct obscenity nonetheless. Especially considering how hell-bent she seemed on getting herself killed.

"Psst." She turned around and waved both hands up at Jackson. "Listen! You've got an opening right there, and you don't see it, do you? You're blowing it. Move me to A4, c'mon!"

"Shut the fuck up." Jackson forcefully turned her back around and flicked her between the shoulder blades, sending her onto her hands and knees.

The bishop gasped and leaned down to check if she was alright.

"No, don't help her," Jackson snapped. The bishop straightened immediately. "Little bitch needs to learn her place."

Lorelei's shoulders wracked and she caught her breath. Andres was a live wire of tension, trying to talk himself down from lunging in and taking her away. The tension eased as she stood up and rolled her shoulders as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the player on white looked remarkably nervous, staring at the board and obviously mapping out the plan Lorelei had offered.

Jackson went quiet, doing the same. Then he snorted, "Whaddaya know." He plucked up Lorelei and moved her to A6. The game was over in less than three moves after that.

Lorelei was the piece to catch the king in checkmate. She skipped over and looped her arm in his, raising her eyebrows at Jackson. "See? What did I tell you?"

"That's not right," the other player spat. "You had help!"

Jackson scoffed. "As if this was a real match. Besides, are you insinuating that a fucking trinket helped me? I was going to move her there anyway."

"Fuck you, I was about to have you cornered." The other player stood up and stormed off. He wouldn't last long in the tournament with a blatant temper like that.

"Who's next?" Jackson declared.

"I am," Andres said before anyone had time to take a breath.

He slid into the seat, glancing down as the pieces dutifully rearranged themselves where they belonged. Lorelei stumbled back to her spot and smiled right at him. At least she didn't wave or yell for him. He had seen her on a board plenty of times, facing him, but never like this. He could see the trinkets on his side casting wary glances up over their shoulders at him, trying to get a read on their current master. One split second of eye contact was all it took to make them face forward again.

Lorelei, in her idiotic state, turned to face Jackson and planted a hand on her hip. "I hope you're ready to get your ass whupped," she said.

His expression darkened, and Andres wouldn't have been surprised if she was broken in half right then and there. But Jackson slid a smirk to Andres. "Am I sensing some history here? Oh, Soto. You've always acted like some kind of moral paragon. No wonder you turn down every drink with a trinket. You've only got eyes for this little bite, huh?"

Andres regarded him coolly. "She was delivered to my room one night against my wishes and has plagued me ever since. Are we playing or not?"

"No one's stopping you from starting."

Sighing, Andres leaned forward and studied the untouched board. He knew Jackson's strategies well enough to put him away swiftly, but he would need a different approach this time. His hand automatically reached for the board, but he paused when he remembered these were not carved pieces of wood. Hiding a wince, he tapped one of the pawns on the back. The young man spun around and looked up, eyes wide under Andres' shadow.

"You, move to E4," Andres ordered.

The pawn swallowed hard. "I-I'm sorry, I-I don't know where—"

Gathering nonexistent patience, Andres tapped the board. "Move here. Two spaces forward."

The pawn hurried to obey, eyes trained down.

Despite his attempts to focus on the game itself, Andres couldn't help but wonder what each of the white pieces on his board had done to land their fate. Murderers, traitors, those who had no place in society. He glanced across the board at Lorelei, who was swaying to music that wasn't there. She perked up when they locked gazes, and he was almost saddened by the strange hope in her eyes. With her inhibitions decimated, it was all too clear how much she trusted him.

He glanced at the pieces on the board again and wondered, How many innocents?

His thoughts shattered when Jackson snatched up a pawn of his own without warning, seeming to savor the way the girl whimpered and squirmed in the tight pinch of his fingers.

"Settle down, darling," he crooned. "You're expendable. The game will be over for you soon." When he set her down on the board, she hugged her arms and trembled, tears streaking down her face.

Andres tore his eyes away from her. Nothing he could do.

He made foolish moves from then on, but they were perfectly calculated. His primary goal for once was not to win; he only wished to capture the queen. It was child's play to reach Lorelei, considering any player's strategy would focus on protecting the king. He ordered the pieces where to go, pointing and nudged if he needed to. When he captured Jackson's pieces, he made them walk to him rather than snatching them up.

Jackson smirked each time Andres refused to grab the trinkets, making a show of picking up his own pieces and taking an unreasonable amount of time to decide his move. He held them in his palm, toyed with him while deep in thought.

Finally, Andres captured Lorelei. He had to resist the urge to pluck her up. Jackson would undoubtedly notice the special treatment.

"Come over here," Andres said, beckoning her to move among the other pawns and the knight he had captured.

"Yessir." She pranced over to him, giving a clumsy twirl and making a rude gesture at Jackson so that only Andres could see it. She took a seat behind his side of the board, and he paid no mind to the triumphant smile she aimed up at him.

His next strategy was to make it a point to capture as many pieces as possible. Once he had a small crowd of black pieces on his side of the table, it was easy enough to discreetly drop a hand over Lorelei and sweep her away from the others. He moved her to his lap under the table. With people watching around him, slipping her into his pocket would be too noticeable. He let her go on his thigh, praying she wasn't foolishly drunk enough to fall off. He could feel her tiny weight, along with the slightest tremble. Not from fear, though—he had a feeling she was giggling to herself.

From then on, it was business as usual. He managed to corner Jackson and capture the king despite his seemingly sloppy plays at the beginning. With the queen gone, anyway, there was hardly a contest.

Huffing, Jackson glared at what remained of his chess pieces, as if they had anything to do with his loss. Then he turned that irked look to Andres. "You really shouldn't be here," Jackson said. "You know you're gonna clean up. Give someone else a chance, would you?"

"Maybe you should work on your strategies," Andres returned.

Before Jackson could snap back, someone from the group piped up, "Mr. Soto, can I play a round with you?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to my room to relax before the opening social." He cupped a hand around Lorelei so that she smoothly fell into his palm when he stood. He strode away, arm relaxed at his side, and his fist closely loosely.

He waited by the elevators until he could catch one alone. When the doors were sealed, he lifted his hand and unfurled his fingers enough to see her. Lorelei sat up and leaned back on her hands, a flirtatious smile on her lips that was entirely unlike her—at least when she was with him.

"Hello again," she slurred. "My hero."

"You're drunk," he said. "How disappointing. I was hoping we could play a few matches tonight." He shook his head, observing her unfocused eyes. "It would not be fair to you."

She waved a hand at him. "Ah, don't be so dramatic. I was on bar duty before the tournament players started arriving. I'm fine."

The elevator came to a stop. Lorelei scrambled to the edge of Andres' hand and vomited over the side. Some landed on his shoe. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled sheepishly at his unimpressed expression.

"My bad," she said. "I swear I wasn't aiming there."

Breathing out sharply, he exited the elevator and headed for his suite. He took her straight to the lounger by the coffee table, laying out a pillow and setting her down on it.

"Sleep it off, Señorita Lorelei. I have a social I must attend. Will you be fine in three hours?"

"Probably." She stretched her arms over her head and laid asprawl. "And for the thousandth time, call me Lore."

Despite the state she was in, he imagined she wouldn't stay drunk for long. Trinkets rose back to soberness much quicker than natural people. Andres wasn't sure if it was an automatic side effect of their size or an intentional feature of their engineering to ensure they couldn't soothe themselves with inebriation for too long.

He stepped into the bedroom to change his shoes. As he headed back for the door to leave, she waved her hand to get his attention.

"No blanket?" She pouted. "I'm cold, you monster."

He rolled his eyes. "Shall I tuck you in and sing you a lullaby, too? You are demanding tonight."

"That's what you get for treating me like a person, Señor Andres. Now I've got all these sick and dangerous thoughts in my head about wanting to be comfortable."

"Well, stop it."

"No, sir. They're my sick and dangerous thoughts, and you can't take them away. Besides, you owe me."

He dug through one of his bags beside the coffee table until he found a silk handkerchief. "I saved you," he pointed out.

"Out of the kindness of your heart? Please. You owe me because you're going to get me in trouble, making me magically vanish like that. In fact, I'm sure there is sheer chaos downstairs over a kidnapped queen. They'll think I'm a runner."

"I'll tell the front desk I collected you." He braced his hands on either side of the cushion and leaned over her. "Would you like to write a script for me? Should I say you are too enchanting to resist, and I needed you all to myself tonight?" He dropped the handkerchief over her.

She squirmed under the fabric until she found her way out—which took twice as long as it should have. "Perfect, couldn't have scripted it better myself. Try to sound like you mean it, though." He snorted and started to pull away. "Wait!" she said. "Speaking of saving me. Can I tell you about the dream I had about you? Very quick."

He sighed. "What?"

"I dreamed..." She lowered her voice to a whisper, forcing him to lean closer. "That you stole me away from here. And we played chess day and night. And you still never beat me. It was lovely."

He didn't know how to feel or what to say. She had never been like this. Never said anything like this. And the way she looked at him... Her little eyes bright and naive over the edge of his handkerchief. He did not enjoy this drunken version of Lorelei Weaver. Not in the slightest.

"Sleep it off," he murmured again. "I want you ready to play when I get back." Then he made his escape.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ * 

The moment she started to come to, her face flushed. She couldn't remember everything with clarity, but she remembered enough to be embarrassed. Groaning low in her throat, she sat up and used the corner of the handkerchief to wipe the dry crust from the corner of her lips. Maybe if Andres wasn't too disgusted with her, she could wheedle a drop of mouthwash from him.

Footsteps thudded toward the room. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been roughly three hours since she passed out. Straightening her back, she smoothed her hair down and folded her hands on her lap. Although her head was clear, it ached.

"Oh, good," she said when Andres stalked into the room. "I thought I had only hallucinated seeing your grumpy face. How bad was the social? Did they make you..." She shuddered dramatically. "Mingle?"

"Well, you clearly feel better." He approached the lounger and didn't bother kneeling for her sake. He never did. More of the looming type. "What did you think you were doing, getting drunk like that?"

A faint, scalding smile perked on her lips. "I was forced to. The guest I was lucky enough to get saddled with likes his trinkets good and giddy. Is that fair enough for you?"

"Fair enough." His expression didn't change, other than something at the back of his eyes that was too far away to see. "It's good that you're fine now. They want to see you downstairs at the bar to make sure you have not escaped." His hand dove for her.

"Wait!" she cried. He paused, frowning. "I've had enough today. I'm not in the mood to be manhandled any more. Can't you... lay your hand down or something?"

"Why?"

"Easier on my ribs and my ego, believe it or not." She pressed her lips into a tight line and glowered straight up at him. "Doesn't seem like too much to ask for you to lay your damn hand down."

Looking like a kid forced to eat his vegetables, he dropped his hand beside her. She climbed on, and he swept her up not a moment after she settled. She grabbed at his fingers to keep from tumbling off. Already she missed the safety of the handkerchief, but the warmth of his skin was a fair substitute.

They didn't speak as he took her downstairs to the bar, where a few players were sipping on drinks, laughing, cutting up. She adopted her usual pose on her knees, shoulders back, eyes down. From her glances, she recognized a few of the players—both from her days as a human and from her evening of being their queen piece in the lobby.

"Here she is," Andres said to the bartender. "Satisfied?" He thrust her out in his open palm.

The bartender lurched back, looking from Lorelei to Andres, stammering. "I'll get the manager. Would you like a drink while you wait, Mr. Soto?"

"No."

As the bartender walked off, the man seated closest scoffed. "Well, that's a damn shame."

Theo Jackson. Lorelei kept her head turned away as if there was any hope that he might not recognize her.

Apparently tired of holding her, Andres lowered her to the bar counter. She nearly asked him to pluck her right back up, ribs and ego or not. She couldn't help but look at Jackson, going cold at the lust in his eyes as he tipped back his drink and reached for the other that had been laid out for him.

"What shame?" Andres asked boredly. She wanted to scream at him for indulging Jackson.

Jackson pointed at her with the hand that held his scotch. "Pretty little thing like that, and you don't even have a drink to put her in. I knew you swiped her. Figured you'd at least be putting her to good use."

"Mr. Soto." A woman interrupted, approaching from the other side of the bar and putting her hand out to shake. Andres had to step to the side to reach her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, about the trinket. An employee is retrieving a case. You are welcome to enjoy your regular trinket during your stay, but it's required that she remain in the case when you're not around—"

"Yes, yes, I know the rules."

Despite that, she went on. Lorelei edged closer to where Andres had moved, feeling exposed. A second after the dreadful sensation came over her, a hand shot across the bar and snatched her up. Jackson covered her scream before she could let it loose, bringing her further down the bar, further from Andres. He hushed her gently, pinning her to the counter and keeping her muzzled. His fingers were cold from the chilled glass.

"What's the trouble, darling?" His voice was much sweeter now that he wasn't playing chess. "Soto doesn't know how to treat you right. And you've got my attention. Isn't that wasn't you wanted, pulling that cool little move during my game?" He brushed a fingertip along her side, controlling her with only one hand while the other lifted the drink to his lips for another sip. "You must get played with a lot at these tournaments to know the game so well."

While she squirmed and tried to buck her way free, he leaned down closer. The stench of whiskey wafted around her.

"Why don't we go up to my room, and I show you a thing or two in return?"

He reached under her lingerie. She bit the fingertip covering her mouth. It was barely anything, but he flinched all the same and allowed her to scream.

"Stop!" she yelped.

"What are you doing?" Andres barked.

A shadow descended upon them. The drink was swiped to the ground, Andres' hand crashing into it like a freight train. Glass shattered. The pressure of Jackson's hand vanished. Lorelei scrambled backward on her hands and rear, gasping for breath as she watched Andres and Jackson come to blows.

Jackson shoved Andres into the bar, making it rattle like an earthquake. Lorelei ducked down and covered her head, peeking over her knees as Andres landed a brutal punch to Jackson's stomach.

"Stop!" the manager screamed, backing away to the other side of the bar. "Stop now! Or we'll get security! You'll be arrested!"

Andres grabbed the front of Jackson's shirt and then shoved him away, seething.

Coughing, Jackson leaned on the bar. "What are you, a fucking sympathizer?" he spat, face contorting with disgust.

"Not in the slightest," Andres growled. "But she is mine."

"Mr. Soto," the manager said in a quavering voice. "You could be disqualified—"

"No," Jackson said. "No. I'm not pressing charges or reporting this or anything. I wanna face this fucker during the finals."

A very confused-looking hotel employee walked up holding a glass trinket case. Andres pulled away from the bar and snatched the case before reaching for Lorelei. There was no waiting for her to climb on this time. He closed her in a fist and stormed off. Even over the sound of his footsteps, Lorelei heard the manager offer Jackson a complimentary trinket for his troubles.

All the way to the room, Andres did not lift his fist from his side. She couldn't help but tremble, replaying the events of the fight over and over in her mind. These weren't the carefully calculated moves of a chess game; this was chaos. Utter chaos that she had never expected to manifest in him. She had gotten so used to his collected prowess on the board that she hadn't imagined what he could do in a physical fight.

He entered his suite and put her down on the lounger. She wasn't surprised at all when he immediately began setting up his chessboard on the coffee table. She would have asked him to do it if he hadn't.

"One match before bed," he said. "I need to rest before the first round tomorrow."

Lorelei stayed quiet, hugging her knees as she watched him arrange the pieces. With each clack of wood on the board, she pictured him driving his fists into Jackson. He glanced at her every few seconds, looking like he was working himself up to say something. Then he would think better of it.

Finally, when the board was ready, he spoke.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked without the smallest measure of apology.

"Does it matter?"

"Are you too distracted to play?"

"Never."

"Then it does not matter."

He walked around the coffee table to the lounger and reached for her. He stopped short and turned his hand over beside her, offering his palm instead. She chuckled mirthlessly and scooted over to climb on. "Well, look at that. He can be taught."

She took the white team and started the game. In no time, she felt at home among the light-up squares and smooth wooden pieces. There was no rust to shake off from her strategy. No uncertainty. Since his second visit, she had been given a reason to keep her chess mind sharp.

He, however, was the one who seemed distracted as she paced around the pieces. She was well on her way to beating him in less than twenty-five moves.

"Your move," she declared when his expression stayed distant for too long.

He blinked at her, then pushed a hand up his face with a heavy sigh. "Lorelei..."

"Lore."

"Lore. When I said you were mine..." He heaved another sigh. "I want to make something perfectly clear. I hope you don't really have any fanciful ideas about me taking you away from here. I will not put myself at risk like that."

She pursed her lips and pointed at the board. "Your move."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. "Listen to me, Lore. This is the last time you'll see me here. You understand?"

She did understand. She understood that this was the first time he had seen her life outside the safety that his visits provided. She understood that he had seen the aftermath of a regular afternoon on bar duty for her. She understood that he had seen what people like Jackson did when they got their hands on her. She understood that none of it was enough to make him take the risk for her.

"This tournament is far below your rating," she said, folding her hands behind her back and strolling along the edge of the board away from him. She peeked back over her shoulder. "I was surprised you showed up at all."

"I have you to thank for my improved rating. But you are correct. I have no business at this tournament anymore."

She turned around, wishing so badly that this didn't hurt the way it did. "Then why are you here?"

His eye contact did not waver. He straightened up and looked down at her. "Because you are the best I've played in my life. Perhaps the best I ever will play. I am determined to beat you before the tournament is over. I have lost sleep over you, Señorita Lorelei. I would like to sleep soundly again. Please don't ruin it with your fanciful thoughts."

"They're my fanciful thoughts, Señor Andres. And you can't take them away. They're all I have." She pointed at the board once more, determined to memorize every last turn of their final games together. "Your move."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ * 

The morning after the tournament finals, Lorelei awoke unsure of her surroundings. She wasn't in the hotel room. Not in the cylindrical container the staff supplied Andres. She should have awoken to the sound of housekeeping knocking at the door, but instead she heard a cacophony of voices.

Motion caught her attention. Swaying. Footsteps.

Realizing she was in a pocket, she all but shot to her feet to get a look at who was holding her. Had Andres left her outside the room for some random guest to sweep up and torment? That didn't seem like him, even if he had been particularly sulky during their last night together when he still failed to beat her.

Bracing herself, she peeked up from the coat.

A familiar face. His dark eyes shot from the phone in his hand to the fact poking out of his jacket. Andres shot her a sharp look, then typed away at his phone. He lowered it enough for her to see.

"Don't get excited. This is not a rescue, I'm stealing a private tutor."

She had only half a second to read it before his hand filled her vision. He pushed her back down, one finger pressing her belly as if to tell her stay. Then his hand withdrew, and his steps resumed. Her heart hammered as the sound of an airline announcement caught her ear.

Finally, he had made a move she did not predict.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Again?

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1357

Summary: As if humiliating her at speed chess weren't enough, Beth hears Benny calling after her when she flees to her room.

“Beth. Beth! Wait! Beth, wait!”

She walks fast and because she’s excellent at walking fast, far better at speed walking than speed chess (as she demonstrated; for money; in front of an audience), she stays ahead of Benny’s voice. Her face is pinched in annoyance as she hurries down the dorm’s hallway. All the spying faces that peered out from their lonely little rooms the first time she passed peer out again, but this time, heads snap back to their chessboards when curious gazes meet the tragic fury of her eyes.

Benny’s shoes slap the floor—is he running after her now?—and he doesn’t lower his volume, though he’s almost caught up to her. Why should he be considerate enough to take other people’s comfort into account? Other people’s need to study and sleep? He’s Benny Watts, for Christ’s sake!

Beth fumbles with her key, nearly dropping her empty coffee cup in the process. The damn thing batters against the door as she finally gets it open and tears the key back out of the lock.

“Beth.”

She’s taken one step into her dorm and he’s there. Rigid, she strides to the nightstand and slams her cup down, then wheels to face him. His hands are braced in the open doorway.

“What,” Beth demands, crossing her arms, “did I short you?”

“Huh?”

“The money, Benny. Did I miss a dollar and you felt it was worth chasing me down for?”

“You’re angry.” His chest heaves once and he nods, as though to permit her this emotion. She sets her jaw.

“You made a fool of me.”

The last thing she wants is to let any tears of frustration escape, so she spins away, shrugging her coat off and tossing it across the bed so hard that its large buttons hit the wall with a click and she hopes she hasn’t cracked any.

“We don’t even know those peop—”

“To me,” she explains, turning to him again and gesturing with the full length of her arm. “You made a fool of me to me.” Her self-contempt abates for a moment and she grips the edge of the door. “I’d suggest getting the hell away from me before I shut this door on your fingers.”

Benny—the arrogant ass—shrugs.

“It’d be hard to play chess with broken fingers, but I could always move the pieces with my mouth instead. I’m sure it’s been done.”

“And I’m sure you could tell me by whom and in which year,” she bites out, now attacking his memory, the chess history backlog he carries everywhere inside his head. It’s not even a quality that bothers her, except that, right now, every single aspect of Benny is fair game. Not that he’d know a fair game if it smashed all his fingers in a doorjamb.

He hangs his head.

“I took it too far,” he concedes, “but you—”

“But I…?”

Without raising his head, he flicks his eyes up to meet hers, disheveled blond hair swaying.

“You walked in the room. You came over when I called you. You agreed to play.”

Yes, she did, but Beth shakes her head because Benny’s oversimplifying.

“No.”

“Yes,” he insists. “You were here in your room with your board and your books, you got bored, and you came to find me.”

She scoffs.

“What?” Benny demands.

“Your vanity knows no bounds, does it?”

“Don’t be defensive, Beth, it was going to be one or the other.” When her livid expression falters into confusion, he continues: “You don’t think I’m tired of playing those two every night? If you hadn’t shown up, I would’ve been knocking on doors looking for a decent match. Looking for you.”

She rolls her eyes and clenches the door until her knuckles turn white. Benny takes it in with a glance that could almost be concerned if he hadn’t pushed her to this state of irritation in the first place.

“It’s too late to flatter me.”

“It’s the truth,” he says, leaning farther into her room, like he can crowd her with emphasis. “You know what else’s true? That you agreed. Every time. I asked you and the more I asked, the more you wanted to beat me.”

“A more humane player would’ve come to that understanding and considered it grounds to adjourn,” Beth argues, shoulders back as she leans into his space in return.

“Yeah, well, I’m not humane, I’m shrewd.”

“Can’t you see that some of what happened, how I feel, this argument right now… is your fault?”

The sweet scent of apple juice hits her, alongside the smell of his body; for as confidently as he played, it seems she made him sweat. And she’s a hypocrite—condemning his lack of compassion one minute and relishing his uneasiness the next.

“I’ll accept my responsibility when you accept yours,” he suggests sarcastically, cocking his head. “Game after game, Beth. Don’t you know when to stop?”

“Not usually,” she mumbles, and lurches a few inches forward to kiss him.

His warm mouth compresses under the force of hers, but the realization that he’s not kissing her back strikes her the same instant as the realization that she’s kissing him. She’s never kissed a man who isn’t cleanshaven before. Just as she pulls away, she feels Benny’s chin tilt forward as his lips finally catch against hers. She blinks quickly, face still close to his, baffled as to where this leaves them. Her eyes find his. She frowns thoughtfully, playfully.

“Again?”

Benny’s hands jump from the doorway to the sides of her face and he walks her back with his momentum, kicking the door shut behind him. Her back collides with the wall and his hands drop to her waist and hip. He draws himself into her like a cellist huddling against their instrument, head angling to the side as he insinuates his tongue into her mouth with electrifying delicacy. Beth lifts her arms and wraps them around the back of his neck, open to him, bowing forward until they touch at their chests, their stomachs, their hips. The guy from her Russian class was mostly convenience, Harry was his care combined with her curiosity. Benny lights up every part of her.

Beth gets the hang of his rhythm and strokes her tongue across his, winning a clipped groan when she sucks. His hold on her tightens—those quick-fingered hands digging in. Will we? she wonders. They could. They could twist the lock on the door and advance on each other. That’s what they’ve been doing tonight anyway. She presses herself against the heat and conviction of his body and sneaks her leg up the outside of his, bare skin rubbing denim. With feverish kisses, Benny makes the big jump, comparable to sweeping a rook the full eight ranks of the board, and grasps her thigh. He hitches it up to his hip and rolls against her with a shudder that stands the hair on the back of her neck on end. Their mouths slide apart and she exhales his name.

Abruptly, he’s releasing her leg and taking a tottering step back. Beth confronts him with a hard warning look as her arms are forced to fall from his shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“I… hmm. This is not a good idea. I’m being humane.”

“Stop,” she orders, half-smiling because he must be joking. “This is a terrible time to reform.”

“I have to get back,” is Benny’s lame excuse as he takes another step away from her. He scratches his cheek with one finger. “I left my jacket.”

Beth snorts.

“Oh, your jacket.”

He opens the door.

“You ran after me, remember?” she says, planting a hand on her hip. “According to you, I went to the cafeteria to play chess with you. Why did you follow me to my room? It wasn’t to apologize.”

Benny grins and steps out into the hall.

“To say goodnight.”

Exasperated, Beth closes the door after him. She taps her foot in aggravation and thwarted desire, clicks her tongue, then smiles to herself as she whispers, “But you forgot to say it.”

[yandere-wishes]

Twisted Wonderland  //Yandere Pomefiore//

Happy Holidays to @edda-blattfe​ and @maichiruhanabira​/ @poisonepel​ hope you like this little gift! I think I went a little overbaord with Rook’s but hey it’s me what where you guys expecting?

Warning: Yandere themes, blood, slight gore.

Vil Schoenheitan

The arrogant prince conceals his lovesick notions behind a calm collected and narcissistic veil. To any oblivious onlooker, Vil is too wrapped up with himself and his astonishing beauty to ever even consider being interested in someone else.  Even you, you'll never suspect that the evil prince has fallen all so deeply for you. 

His attraction starts mild, It's nothing more than a slight peak of interest in the new girl. Something is dazzling about her, the glint in her eyes, the porcelain skin that stretches to cover her corps, the silky threads of her hair. She's gorgeous....but still not as gorgeous as she could be. It's then and there that he declares that his attraction is only one of concern, he has to help you look your best to reach your full potential! After all, he will soon be a king and a good king must be of aide to his less fortunate subjects!  

He approaches you one day after class, inviting you to assist him with his latest batch of beauty products. You're not particularly given a chose in the matter, before you can even stutter out a reply he's grabbed your wrist just a little too tightly and is dragging you towards the Pomefiore dorms just a little too quickly. He makes you try on hundreds of different shades of every makeup know to mankind. Uses the sweetest smelling soaps to bathe you in. Washes your hair in shampoos and conditioners that all smell speciously like apples. When he's done you can practically feel how your body is shining, you've never felt this clean and pure in your life. 

That's it that's all it is for the longest time. Vil takes the process slowly, he builds up your trust. Making you believe that he only has your best interest in mind. Soon you start to fall for him. How could you not? He's so generous and gorgeous, he's every girl's dream. 

MY lovely (Y/N) 

Vil wears the mask of the caring boyfriend, he gives you the most lavish and expensive gifts, designer dresses, custom made jewelry, he pays for so many extracurricular classes for you, such as different types of dance classes, piano, etiquette. He'll give you everything you've ever dreamed of on a silver platter accompanied by the sweetest compliments and most fragile kisses. 

 It all starts to border on over baring. It's all too much! You're slowly suffocating. 

You want to leave him, your one true wish is to leave Vil but there is always something drawing you back. Every time you try to strike up the conversation with him regarding the topic, he offers you some type of gift usually in the form of a candy apple. After just the tiniest bite, your confidence starts to waver, you feel dizzy and can never remember why you wanted to break up with such a perfect man in the first place. 

You will forever belong to me

Additional notes

Vil never forces himself onto you. He wants you to enjoy your more "intimate moments" with him. You'll have to show him very clear signs if you want him and are ready for him before he even considers touching you in that manner. 

Vil's favorite punishments are exhibition and degradation. He spends so much time building up your confidence making you believe that you are truly the second most exquisite person in all of Night Raven. Only to crash it all down, to tell how revolting your appearance is how you're only beautiful because of the cosmetics he gives you and the lotions and perfumes you use. He'll deprive you of all of them. Which will cause you do go into a maniacal fit. You need those products, you need to be beautiful, Vil needs to only see you at your best. 

As for exhibition, Vil will have no problem showing you off in your worst state. He'll make you leave the dorms and attend class with old ragged clothes, unwashed hair, and no makeup on. You'll be embarrassed and promise never to miss behave again. He's only doing this for you Vil reassures it's so your personality can become as beautiful as your face. But deep down you truly doubt it.

Epel Felmier

Epel is such a soft and obsessive yandere. All he wants is for his darling to be happy! He'll do anything, anything at all for you to just smile at him. Most times it even seems as though you're the one in control of this relationship. Epel will never harm his darling in any way, he'll pout and cry but never inflict any physical or psychological damage.

Vil and Rook will probably have to convince Epel to kidnap you. They claim it's for the best but the first year is so very hesitant. If he keeps you in his room like a caged bird he's depriving you of all the things that make you happy. It takes so much manipulation from the two, third years. They promise that this is the only way to keep his darling safe. That she can mingle with their darling whenever she desires. That all of this will only make her love Epel more! 

Epel will shower you in lavish and adorable gifts, your room is practically one of a fairy tale princess. The color scheme is bright purple with violet lining and lavender undertones. Your closet is filled to the brim with dresses, ballroom gowns, and other "cutesie" clothes. Stuffed animals cover every inch of the room with a few of them on the large plush bed.  In a sense, the room is made as a sort of compromise, You have to stay locked up in there but at least you have everything you've ever dreamed of. 

(Y/N) Smile for me...

Epel tries to take you outside as much as possible. He tries to come up with cute date ideas like going to the park or carnival. It's all to make you feel normal again to give you a sense of normality. And they would work too...if only Epel didn't insist on holding your hand the entire time and that you aren't permitted to talk to anyone other than him. 

And tell me you love me

Additional notes

Epel tries to learn as much about you as possible. He already has the basics down pat, favorite color, favorite food, how long you usually sleep for, you favorite movie, the little reactions when you're nervous, how you stress certain letters in your speech, the type of cake you like, how you always put the elastic on your right wrist when you're doing your hair. 

He'll never punish you if you make him upset he'll just cry or refuse to talk to you until you apologies and start kissing the length of his neck. 

He gets Vil to give you a makeover at least twice a week. He sees how much you enjoy spending a few short hours with another person and despite his jealousy lets it happen. Anything to see that beautiful smile...anything at all...

Rook Hunt

Rook is a possessive and delusional mix with high stalker and obsessive tendencies. In Rook's disturbed mind you already love him, the two of you would be dating if certain people would stop getting in the way! It's all their fault! Those ignorant, clingy, self-centered brats that you dare to call "friends". They keep gossiping about him, making you believe that he is a deranged and treacherous man when in reality he is a sweet and caring lover! 

That's what he keeps telling himself as he dragged one of your friends into the snowy woods in the unholy hours of the night. As he tied them to a bare tree and shot them again and again and again. Until he reaches for his quiver to retrieve another arrow only to note that there is none left. He leaves them there with arrow holes in there body and blood everywhere else. Director Crowly has to clean up the hunter's mess early the next morning. 

But the problem is still there! Heck, it's even worse now! There are even more people surrounding you and keeping you away from him. Rook is a reasonable man he knows he can't possibly kill everyone at Night Raven so he goes for the alternative. He steels you away! 

You're the most beautiful thing on this earth

Of course, he makes it into a "fun" game of cat and mouse first. Before you know what's going on, there is an arrow piercing your dorm room door then another and another. You climb out the window run into the haunted woods. 'Someone is trying to kill you!' That's all that's running through your head!

Arrows fly inches away from your forme. There close, always so close, but they never quite touch you. In due time your legs start to get heavy, your lungs are failing, it's freezing, you're just starting to notice that... you're in a pair of shorts and a tank top. A few more steps, come on you can do it. 

But you can't and you freeze and fall onto your side. You close your eyes hoping it will all go away. icy tears prick at your side and you hear footsteps getting closer and closer. Someone rolls you onto your back. You're expecting a final blow for your blood to be splattered onto the white snow. Instead, you feel something wet trail up your neck. flowed by what you can only assume is a kiss. It's too cold to think and darkness slowly engulfs you, the trail of kisses never stops even as you slowly fade out. 

After that fateful night, your life is thrown into disarray. You're kept as a trophy for Rook to show off. He captured you just as he would have done with any pray, only differences while those animals get serenity in death, you are forced to live in hell with the lovesick hunter that fancies himself your "lover". 

I wonder, can you outrun my bow and arrow?

Additional notes

Rook's punishments consist of depriving you of basic needs and necessities. You're left in a dark room chained to a wall with barely anything on. You're given scrapes and droplets for food and water. His treatment of you is worse than that of some savage beast. 

Rook does love you thought and he will reward you every time you remember to greet him when he comes back to the dorm. Or when you behave when he takes you outside to socialize with his friends and their beloveds. 

His rewards are usually some elegant pieces of jewelry. All with decorative charms made to resemble bows and arrows. So you will always know who owns you. 

[darlingrutherford]

Back in October, I received an ask about Lana and Alistair sharing Cullen, which prompted me to think about what circumstances would have to happen in order for that to work in my DA canon. I started thinking about it deeply, which has turned into a lot of posts and, in November, I started working on the story version of how that would play out (or, rather, what would spark that first spicy encounter between Lana and Cullen, which could make way for more spicy encounters). I hit a rather big writer’s block on it (like most of my writing, thanks CFS) and was stuck writing a line here or there every week or so, but all this talk recently with @jellysharkbat​ about Cullanistair sparked something in my brain and I finally FINISHED IT. 

This ended up being way longer than I had originally planned lmao. So, I’m uploading to Ao3 as well if you’d rather read on there since they format a bit better than Tumblr. Enjoy!!

Healing | Cross-posted on Ao3 | Alistair Theirin/Lana Surana/Cullen Rutherford | DA:I | Explicit - trauma, PTSD, referenced non-con, sex | 18+ only, please!

     “You look exhausted.” 

The words flowed from her tongue easily enough. The past few months that she and Alistair had been at Skyhold putting together the pieces for the cure had found her and Cullen becoming even more comfortable around one another than back when she was a mage at Kinloch. As such, Lana hadn’t been expecting the almost put off glance from Cullen as his eyebrow quirked at her accusation, and her eyes widened as she quickly followed up her comment, silently wishing she could suck the words back in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - It’s just, you seemed like you were almost falling asleep there for a moment.”

Cullen sighed as his expression relaxed in understanding. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes returning to the chess board in front of them before his hand quickly dragged against his face in an attempt to wake up.

“My apologies,” he said. He leaned forward, moving one of his templars on the board to take her pawn. “I have not been sleeping well these past few nights.” 

“Is it the withdrawals still?” Lana asked. She kept her voice down when she asked the question, knowing full well that Cullen still had yet to make it known to many that his withdrawals were apt to keep him up at night. The corner of Cullen’s mouth quirked in a short lived smile as Lana pondered her move. 

“Those have not been as frequent as they once were, thankfully.” He paused as he contemplated his next words, the silence between them filled by the sound of crows as they flew above to Leliana’s tower. When he finally spoke, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I wake up more often, because of the memories.”

Lana nodded in silent understanding. She knew well what Cullen was referring to: of Kinloch, of the torture he had endured for days before she, Alistair, and their friends had rescued him and the few left alive by Uldred and the other blood mages who had taken over the Circle Tower. He had uncomfortably explained it to her weeks after she and Alistair had arrived at Skyhold together months ago, something he couldn’t have avoided when the initial sight of Lana had brought all those memories screaming back to him in his waking hours. Cullen had forced himself to make time for her, to help his mind realize the difference between her and the memory of the demon who used her image to torture him so many long years ago, but also for her. Lana’s guilt when he had eagerly left the room the first time had been clear as day, and Cullen knew she had no need to harbor it. Lana had saved his life, had protected the others he had so quickly wanted to condemn in his hysteria. She was not the same as the nightmares he so frequently experienced in his sleep. So they had spent time together ever since, talking through the past and making way towards the supportive friendship that had quickly grown between the two of them. 

“I still have nightmares from my childhood. Vivid ones, of the night my mother died.” Lana leaned forward, moving one of her rooks before sitting back. Her hand came up to tug at the end of her long braid, fingers pulling at the loose copper strands. “I used to have them every night, back when I was first taken to the templars. I went days without sleeping once, hoping that if I went long enough they’d never return.”

“I remember you being caught once after curfew, sitting in the hall,” Cullen said. A faint smile grew on his face as he looked at Lana when a laugh escaped her at the memory. “Knight-Commander Gregoir threatened to cut off your library access because of it, since you spent so many hours there, but First Enchanter Irving talked him out of it.”

“The only time I ever got caught,” she laughed. “The apprentices who slept near me would chastise me until I’d leave to calm down after one of them. I was too loud, apparently. They weren’t nightly by then, but they did occur every week at the least. They were still awful when I first left Kinloch for the Wardens. I’m grateful they’re not as frequent now. A couple times a month, perhaps.”

“What helped?” He wasn’t looking at the board at this point. His eyes were focused on Lana, watching her as she stared off at a nearby shrub as if it held all the answers in the world. 

“Time,” she finally said after a brief pause. “Time, and a lot of help. I blamed myself for my mother’s death. If I hadn’t come into my magic, she may still be… Well, but I know now that it wasn’t my fault. It took a long time for me to realize that, and I couldn’t have done it alone. That, and…”

Cullen waited for a response that didn’t come. Lana had closed her mouth, her cheeks turning pink. Cullen tilted his head, curiosity on his face.

“And… What?” He casually asked. 

“Well… I…. Had a trigger, for the memories when awake… Kind of like how they came back for you suddenly when you first saw me arrive. The nightmares were mostly in my sleep, but also, whenever I used magic… It was like I could hear her again in my head, screaming. The nightmares got worse the more darkspawn we came across, the more I had to fight. I hated my magic and what it represented.”

“I assume you no longer loathe it, if your dreams have calmed so much?” Cullen asked. Lana nodded her head quietly. She chewed on her lower lip as she returned her gaze to the board in front of them. Taking his cue, Cullen moved his templar once more. Truth be told, he was more focused on their conversation at that point than the game between them. “How did you accomplish that?”

“We… Alistair figured, if I used my magic and something good came out of it, that my reaction may change. I always used magic out of self defense, to kill darkspawn and such. He suggested that using magic for another person who would have a good reaction to it, that I would think of that instead of my mother by association. He’s a smart man. It definitely worked, the more we tried it.”

“That is fortunate that you had a way to disassociate from those memories,” Cullen said. “Healing magic can be very helpful, especially for those who fight darkspawn so often, I would assume.”

“It, well… Wasn’t all that we did.”

“I can’t imagine there are many other kinds of magic that wouldn’t be harmful to the recipient?” Cullen raised his gaze to look at Lana, noticing the pink that had spread to her ears as she cleared her throat.

“Alistair is… very receptive to it, if, um… You know, it’s controlled….”

“I see.” Cullen’s face had gone red the moment he realized what she meant. The two of them averted their gazes from the other, both intensely staring at the chess board as if their game had suddenly become just that more serious. They went through a few exchanged moves in silence, waiting for the awkwardness to tide over - as if it ever could - before Lana spoke again.

“Do you think this has helped you at all? Us, spending time like this together.”

“I haven’t had any feelings of those memories when I am around you in quite a while, so I would say, yes, it has helped considerably,” Cullen said. Lana seemed to visibly relax at his words as a warm smile grew on her face. 

“Is there anything else I could do to help redirect those memories?”

Cullen watched her as she moved her templar, taking his. The redness was returning to his face rapidly, well aware that she had no idea of the gritty details of the torture that involved her likeness. As Lana looked up and saw the almost shocked expression mixed with color on his face, her eyes widened again.

��Maker, I’m sorry, Cullen, I didn’t mean to make you think about it,” she said quickly in a mumble. “Do you want me to leave?”

“What? N - No, I… It’s, um…”

“I just, I know you said that a demon took the form of me. I don’t know what was said, what was done… Sometimes playing out a memory and changing the outcome, we’ve found it really helps me - Andraste silence me, I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?” 

Cullen swallowed, forcing his eyes back to the board as he tried to formulate what to say. Maker, what could he say in a situation like this? Cullen’s boyish crush on the young, red-headed circle mage was a memory long since passed. Of course she was still beautiful - more so now, if it was even possible - but he had moved on... Hadn’t he? Besides, she was with Warden Alistair, and quite happily by the looks of it. But still, for her to be suggesting without knowing what she was suggesting…

“It’s… It’s not that simple, unfortunately,” he stammered out.

“Are you afraid of what might happen? That I’ll hurt you?”

“What? No, I’m - I’m not afraid of you, it’s… Maker’s breath, I was tempted, tortured by your likeness, Lana. Touches, and - and, visions of so… so much more… You have no idea what you… what you’re offering, or how I will… how I would... ”

Their chess game was all but forgotten at this point. Cullen’s breathing had become heavy, his grip on the armrests of his chair tight. He had turned his gaze sharply to the side, staring at the stone wall beside them as he tried to hold back the emotions that threatened to break through his usually strong resolve. Lana sat there quietly across from him, sadness filling her as she watched Cullen all but break in front of her, like a teacup slowly hitting the hard ground. Minutes went by and, once Cullen had allowed a few heavy breaths to sigh from him and the color had calmed in his cheeks, Lana finally spoke.

“What if we tried?” She asked. Cullen looked at her incredulously, and she smiled softly. “Nothing has to happen. A completely safe environment. We wouldn’t do anything more than you felt comfortable doing. You would be in control this time. No demons.”

“What about Alistair?” Cullen asked quietly, the question surprising himself. Maker, but was he actually considering this? Lana’s laughter surprised him even further.

“Alistair won’t mind. He’ll probably encourage it, once I explain. He should be there, too. So you have someone else reassuring you who doesn’t embody the face of your memories.”

“I… I’m not sure if… You actually think it would help?” Maker help him, he was considering it.

“It helped me a lot.” Lana nodded. “It wouldn't hurt to try, right?”

“I don’t… think you realize just how… How far some of it went.” Cullen’s throat had gone dry, his voice a bit raspy.

“Alistair enjoys sharing me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Lana said. She placed her closed hand gently against her lips, laughing lightly at the look that spread on Cullen’s face. “Believe me, he enjoys it. He often joins in. Although, obviously, he doesn’t have to. This would be about you, Cullen. About helping you. If reliving all that without the bad helps you sleep better at night, I’d be happy to do it. Just think about it. No pressure.”

      No pressure. The words had left her so simply, so unironically, as if this wouldn’t be one of the more difficult things for Cullen to consider. It would sound perfect on paper, he was sure: taking a moment of trauma and reliving it with the ability to strike out what had gone wrong. Of course, he couldn’t strike it all out. There would always be the memories he couldn’t rewrite: of his friends, murdered in front of him after hours of torture; of the mages who trapped him and cut him before sending a demon to play with his mind. But she was there, in Skyhold - the mage he had secretly pined for all those years ago. The very person whose visage had been used to torment him again, and again, as they played her in his mind the way he had always wanted her back then: touching him, kissing him, just as he had imagined it might be, only for her to transform into the demon once more before they tortured him some more. If he had a chance to rewrite even just one part of it… After this long of trying to run from it all, he owed it to himself to try. After all the guilt she had felt since the moment she had rescued him only for him to look at her as if she had been the one to do it, he owed it to her.

“I’d say you won’t even know I’m here, but… I think we all know that would be a lie,” Alistair chuckled. 

The three of them sat in a small room, the one Alistair and Lana had been staying in since they had arrived three months ago. Lana had suggested Cullen pick the location once he had agreed to their meeting, wanting him to feel safe wherever they were - one more way for him to be in control of the setting. Of course Cullen had his own room, but the hole in the roof and the possibility of interruptions was much too high. At least Lana would be comfortable in her own room, he had told himself. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Lana sighed with a smile. She wasn’t wearing her usual blue armor that day. She sat at the edge of the bed, a tunic much too large for her hanging to her knees and breeches covering her legs. Alistair had gone without much of his armor as well, lounging in a comfy chair near the window and looking quite relaxed about the whole situation. Cullen felt a mess inside and, after the way he had blunderingly discarded his armor as he realized he was much too overdressed between the other two, he was quite sure his anxiousness was apparent as he sat in a chair near the small desk at the wall. 

“I’m teasing, of course,” Alistair said with a smile. “But, not really, at the same time. I’m here for moral support. I know things like this aren’t always easy. It wasn’t difficult for me to redirect Lana when her memories became triggered early on, but, then, I wasn’t the focus of that memory. It’ll seem awkward in the beginning, I’m sure, seeing me in the corner, watching you canoodle with my wife -”

“Alistair…”

“What? You can’t expect me not to.” Alistair grinned at Lana as she rolled her eyes at him. “What I was trying to say is: I’m not going to deck you off of her at any point, unless you’re hurting her, of course. We’re all adults. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself. Anyway, it’ll get less awkward, and we have all the time in the world. So, chop chop, get at it, have fun you two.”

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen groaned as he buried his face in his hands. 

“Ignore him,” Lana said lightly. Cullen looked up as he felt her hands on his, pulling gently as she uncovered his face. She wasn’t much taller than him in that moment, even with him sitting and slouching the way he was. It had been one of the first things he had ever noticed about her, how easy she would have been to hold in his arms. “Focus on me. Now, tell me… How did the demon tempt you with me?”

“I….” Cullen trailed off. He tried his best to keep his eyes on her, but he steadily found it more and more difficult as the memories threatened to return to him.

“I know it’s hard to talk about,” Lana said after a moment of silence. “Maybe start with the first thing?”

“You… I mean, it… When the deception began, the vision… I thought I had awoken in the tower by myself. I had almost thought they left, and then… I saw you. I mean… Not you, but…”

“Take your time, Cullen, it's all right.”

“I don’t want you to… To feel like you have to do this.”

“I wouldn’t have offered this to just anyone, Cullen. You and I have a connection that is unfortunate in one large aspect, and that’s Uldred. Let’s remove him from the equation.”

Cullen took a deep breath and nodded before continuing. 

“You crouched next to me on the floor. I tried to warn you of what had happened, but you told me all was well. That we were alone. It had all been some awful dream. You touched my face…”

Cullen froze as Lana touched his cheek. First her fingertips, gentle and slightly cool to the touch. Then they slid to hold him, the calluses on her hand from years of wielding her staff rubbing softly as they went. Lana rested her hand there, giving Cullen a small and encouraging smile.

“How are you doing?” She asked softly. Cullen's eyes flicked towards Alistair, almost expecting him to become uncomfortable with the situation at any moment, only to find the man lounging sideways in his chair with his long legs hanging over the side. 

“F - Fine. I'm, ah, fine.” Cullen waited until Lana gave him a small nod, his cue to continue. He cleared his throat, giving himself courage to continue as he focused his gaze on her. “I tried to tell you again that we should go, but you… You were persistent. You told me that you - you knew, about my thoughts… My… My desires…”

“Did you desire me?” Lana asked sweetly. Color rushed to Cullen's face as she brought her legs to either side of his lap, settling softly onto him. Her other hand met the opposite side of his face to mirror the one that already cupped his cheek, and slowly her hands slid back to curl gently in his hair. 

“I - I did, at the time.” The words were raspy as they left his throat. His eyes widened slightly as he felt his cock twitch once against his breeches, against her. A lilting laugh left her throat as she smiled.

“At the time?” She teased. 

“He'd have had to be mad not to be,” Alistair commented casually from the corner. Cullen nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. Maker, he had already forgotten that Alistair was there. Lana's hand dropped to Cullen's chin, gently redirecting his gaze towards her.

“What happened next, Cullen?”

“You… It...”

“Did it kiss you?”

“I… Yes,” he choked. Cullen's heart pounded in his chest as time slowed down for him. Slowly, steadily, Lana began leaning towards him, her eyes gradually closing as her lips neared his. And then, they met, and he froze. 

“Cullen? Cullen?”

Cullen blinked, finding Lana still on his lap but staring at him at an arm's length. There was a hint of concern in her eyes, and as his gaze slowly moved towards Alistair he saw the same caring, concerned look on the man's face. As Cullen began moving again Lana visibly relaxed as her warm smile returned to her face.

“What happened just now? Where did you go?” 

“It was… Almost just as I recalled,” he breathed. Maker, but this was more difficult than he had thought it would be. His hands were shaking, and he gripped the arms of the chair to steady them. He couldn't even recall her ending the kiss, seemingly having lost that time in his mind. 

“What was different, though?” Alistair piped in.

“What?” Cullen turned his head to look at Alistair. The man was still sitting with his legs over the side of the chair, however now he was propped up more proper. 

“Before, when it happened. Did it feel like her kiss did? Could you feel the callus on her lower lip from her chewing it too much? Were the kisses before rough and forcing, or soft and sweet?”

“Ah, m - more rough, I… Looking back on it, perhaps it was trying too hard to convince me.”

“So focus on her, then. Kiss her again, but this time count all the differences. Starting with that lovely callus of hers.”

Cullen mentally prepared himself as Lana gently ran her fingers through his hair. Her touch was kind, soothing, not at all what he had felt back in Kinloch. She trailed her fingers over his cheek, tracing his features like a lover memorizing their partner's face. He watched her eyes, her gentle smile as she followed her fingers, and his body relaxed under her touch. Her fingers trailed over the scar above his lip, following it to his lips themselves. That was when her eyes met his, and for a split second a memory of those same blue eyes flashed in his mind, only younger than the ones in front of him now, smiling up at him as they stood talking about the Harrowing she had just completed with ease, and his heart skipped a beat.

“This is real this time, this isn’t a dream,” she whispered. “You're a templar no longer, and we are not in Kinloch. Kiss me.”

Cullen's lips were pulled to hers as if by some invisible force. His hands rested at the small of her back, gripping lightly as they kissed. He followed Alistair's instruction, focusing on every little difference. He found the callus Alistair had mentioned, right at the middle of her lower lip, born from years of nervous habits, something completely missing from his memory. Her kisses were soft, gentle, as kind as her fingers that snaked through his hair once more to caress him - a stark contrast to the gripping, needing pulls from his nightmares. She smelled of lavender and vetiver, of ink and the pages of very old books. She let him take the lead, kissing back only when he kissed her, leaving him in full control. At one point a whimper left her throat, high pitched and shaking, and Cullen suddenly realized that his hands had moved to grip her bottom.

“A - Andraste preserve me, I am so - so sorry,” he sputtered while removing his hands from her. He sighed as Lana kissed him once more, and this time he found his lips trailing after hers when she pulled back.

“I meant what I said before,” she said with a small smirk. “Whatever helps you heal this memory…”

“It… It never got quite that far,” Cullen said as he cleared his throat. “Or, at least…”

“What happened?” Lana asked. Her hands were busying themselves in his hair, brushing back strands just above his ear to help relax him.

“It… It got close. It was as if it was on a loop… Always… Getting to that point, with you - it - on - on top, and then, just before, everything became real again. And they'd… Start over.”

“That's terrible,” Lana said with a frown. “The way I see it, we have two options.”

“Which are...?”

“We can play this out exactly as you remember, only follow through. We break the loop. Or, if this is too much, we can stop.”

“And… What are… your feelings on that?” Cullen asked as he eyed Alistair. The man cracked a grin from afar.

“Judging by the look on her face, and the conversation we had last night about it, she's very excited about comparing templars, if you catch my drift.”

“You really don't mind watching another man… With your wife?”

“He likes it,” Lana said with a smirk. A groan left Cullen's throat of its own accord as she shifted herself against his straining erection that begged to be freed from his breeches. “He enjoys watching me being pleased. And I enjoy him enjoying it.”

“Well, if… If no one objects, we could always try to… See how far we can get.”

“That's the spirit,” Alistair said encouragingly. “I only have one rule - well, two rules: One - what's your watchword, my dear?”

“Wicker.” Cullen watched Lana's cheeks flush ever so slightly as the world left her tongue, then his eyes flickered back to focus on Alistair as he continued. 

“That's right: Wicker. You hear that word, Commander, and you stop. You can use the same if you'd like. Rule number two: no coming in my wife. Yes, I realize we're wardens and wardens don't get pregnant often, but just humor me. Agree to those simple things and I'll let you in on a little secret - If you rub her ears too firmly a few times she'll come, so, avoid that. Unless you want her to come. In which case, it is a nice little trick.”

“Oh, Maker,” Lana sighed with a smile. Cullen chuckled nervously at Alistair’s suggestion. Maker, was he really going to go through with this? Would he even make it to that moment with her? Did she really want this?

As Lana leaned forward and took Cullen’s lips with hers he realized, yes, she did want this. Lana may have been rather obviously allowing Cullen to pick their pace, but she gave herself away in the way her hips gingerly rocked every now and then to rub against his straining erection, as if she couldn’t help herself. Cullen’s hands slowly snuck back to her waist. A strangled hum vibrated in his throat as he felt her breath shake against his lips, as if such a simple touch from him had evoked such a strong response. Memories flashed behind Cullen's closed eyes, little glimpses of watching her from afar so many years ago, always from afar. There were no rules now to stand between them, no blatant imbalances of power to keep his conscience from allowing him this. 

Maker, he didn't think he could stop kissing her even if he wanted to. Each kiss from her melded into his subconscious, each further and further from the frightful memories he had associated her lips with before. He felt as if he were truly breathing for the first time in her presence, a clear headed feeling he hadn't felt since his last draught of lyrium, and he needed more. 

“May I?”

Cullen's lips slowed to a halt as she spoke against them. He pulled back just far enough to glance down at her fingers that played with the lacing of his shirt. With a nod, Cullen watched as Lana slowly unlaced his shirt until it was nice and loose. Then she took his hand, directing his fingers towards the lace on the large shirt she wore. Cullen flushed crimson, realizing that doing so would reveal quite a bit more on her than it did on him. He swallowed as she molded his fingers to grip the lace, then he slowly pulled.

As her skin was revealed, inch by inch, Cullen felt himself seizing up. His eyes were glued to her, staring at her skin just below her clavicle as the fabric pulled away as slowly as his fingers allowed it to. He felt his mind going dark, everything around him swirling, Lana's posture slackened as she caught on to the change in Cullen's appearance when, suddenly, he saw the tip of an old scar. It poked out from under the lacing as it loosened, just on the right at the edge of the top of her breast. 

Cullen's breath released heavily, and he let go of the lace. The rest of it fell, the fabric sliding from her shoulders with it. Cullen's eyes stared at the scar, unable to take his eyes off of it as she sat on his lap with the shirt pooled at her hips. He swallowed hard, raising his hand to draw his fingers over the scar. Its edges were rough, not the work of steel - no, a claw, perhaps? From the corner of his eye, Cullen caught a glimpse of another: one just above her hip, mostly obscured by the fabric of the shirt. He clasped his hands to her waist, causing her to squeak in surprise as he lifted her off his lap and set her to stand in front of him. 

“Everything okay…?” Alistair's question went unanswered as Cullen gently slipped the shirt from Lana's hips until it pooled at her feet. Cullen remained seated in front of her, his face barely an arm's length from her as he hunched over to look at the scar. This one ran from her hip to mere inches diagonal to her navel. It was sharp, piercing, the work of something sharp and rounded - definitely steel, unlike the other. It was covered by a burn, almost hand-shaped in appearance, as if someone had placed their burning palm to her flesh to cauterize the first wound. 

Lana's skin was reddening under his gaze and touch, standing before him in her breast band and breeches. Her head tilted as she watched him stare at her scars, trying to figure out what the significance was as he gently took her hand and traced the scar on her arm - the one that gave her the most nightmares of them all. She bit her lip as he focused on that one, setting aside whatever feelings she had of it for the moment. Then his eyes shot up to her shoulder and he spun her with his hands. Her eyes widened as she stumbled to keep her balance from the sudden movement, making contact with Alistair's gaze as his brows lifted. Cullen was running his fingers over the burn on her right shoulder, and Lana and Alistair's heads tilted almost in unison as they heard what sounded like Cullen laughing. 

“Cullen?” His name was drawn out on Lana's tongue. Alistair sat up in his chair, craning his neck in order to see the Commander's face. His eyes were slightly watering, a look of almost disbelief on his face as he quietly laughed. If it hadn't been for the smile on his face, Alistair would have been more concerned. The two of them waited, giving Cullen a moment, before he finally spoke.

“You have scars.” The words left Cullen, and Lana felt the relief they carried with them. She relaxed instantly, smiling as she laughed as well. 

“It didn't have scars, did it?” She asked, and Alistair instantly slumped back in understanding.

“None at all.”

Lana's body was peppered with them: big scars, little ones, each telling their own story, and Cullen had never known. The demon had drawn on his knowledge of her, filling in the blanks as he would have imagined: it had been unmarked; flawless light olive skin that had matched her face, save for the nail sized nick just near her left eye. Each scar was proof that she was different, that she was her, the one who saved him from that terror all those years ago, not the cause. Each scar was proof, and of them she had many.

Cullen stood as Lana turned and took his hand, pulling him from the chair. She walked him towards the bed, her legs barely hitting the edge before he pulled her towards him and bent low to meet her lips. 

“Walk me through it.” Lana's words bounced off Cullen's lips between kisses. 

“Through…?”

“What happened next?”

Cullen slowly parted from her kiss, the reality of everything coming back to him. His cheeks flushed as he straightened, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he glanced at the bed. He silently kicked himself in his mind as he felt his nervousness setting in once more. 

“Well, I was… We were on the ground… You - I mean - It, r - removed my clothes, and its… Clothes...” 

“Do you want to change that?”

“H - How so?”

“It removed everything… How about you do it this time? Let it be your choice.”

Cullen slowly nodded his head as he considered it. His eyes wandered down to her breasts, barely covered by the cotton that bound it back. He averted his gaze as he felt his face burn, quickly deciding to remove his shirt first. He grabbed the hem, pulling it over his head and taking his time setting it to the side. Cullen could feel the burning traveling down his shoulders and across his chest as his hands found the laces of his trousers. Chancing a glance at Lana, he felt his stomach do a bit of a leap as he watched her teeth bite lightly on her lower lip - right on that callus - all the while her eyes were glued to his hands as they pulled at the strings. Maker, she wasn't trying to hide how much she wanted him, and it made him more careless as he let the trousers drop to the floor at his feet. 

As he tried to step out of the legs of his trousers, Cullen felt himself turn beet red as he realized one fatal mistake - his boots. He dropped down to crouch, sputtering apologies in his smalls as he tore at the laces of his boots and tried to kick them off as if doing so would curse their very existence. 

“Alistair didn't even get his boots off our first time, if that makes you feel any better,” Lana said with a light and understanding laugh. 

“Traitor, you're not supposed to tell people that,” Alistair scoffed, though the grin on his face gave his levity away. 

“Not just me, then?” Cullen mumbled. He tried to take a breath to shake the embarrassment. The feeling faded away soon enough as he saw Lana's feet stepping closer to him. 

“My turn, I believe?” She asked sweetly. Cullen slowly trailed his eyes over her form from where he was crouched, starting at her feet and moving up her cloth covered legs to the skin of her belly, all the way to her ocean blue eyes that sparkled down at him. Maker, he could crouch there all day, he decided. Boots shifted to the side and trousers with them, Cullen shifted to his knees as his eyes zeroed in on the laces of her breeches. He unconsciously licked his lower lip for a moment as he reached out to grasp the string. His heart was pounding, hand shaking ever so slightly as he pulled at the knot until it loosened, then placed a hand on either side of her hips, ensuring his index fingers were touching her skin to feel her as he pulled the breeches down. 

Lana stepped out of the breeches one foot at a time as Cullen pulled them for her. Standing, he looked around the room as if there would be instructions written on the wall. When he met Lana's eyes again she merely smiled in a manner that seemed almost mischievous.

“I believe I'm still clothed, Cullen.”

Maker, but she was. Two strips of fabric kept her from being known to him. Two simple, measly strips of fabric, one which seemed a miracle it was holding her breasts back at all. 

“Which… Um… Which one should I…?”

“I vote the breasts,” Alistair piped in suddenly from his chair. Lana shot a look at him that clearly told him to stop meddling, to which he threw his hands up in defense and added, “Just a suggestion. I apparently don't get a vote, sooo…”

“Whichever you prefer,” Lana cut in, turning her attention back to Cullen. Whichever he preferred… Maker, was there a preference to be had? In that moment, everything so very different from his traumatic past, it felt not unlike being presented with two gifts on Satinalia: two gifts which went hand-in-hand, each which would be opened eventually. Just… Which order?

Cullen let Alistair decide for him. It was simpler that way, though he wasn't sure he wouldn't have done the same in different circumstances. The grey breast band wrapped around her chest seemed to have a difficult task. It got the job done, if that job was only to hold her breasts in place long enough to get her armor on which would surely help with the rest. The world had seen plenty of advances in armor and weaponry, but, it seemed, these had scarcely seen an upgrade since the Exalted Age. 

Standing and stepping close enough to reach around her back, Cullen peered over Lana's head to eye the knot. He fiddled with it a bit, gritting his teeth at one point when it seemed the knot had possibly gotten tighter, when suddenly he felt it pop free. He gingerly took a step back as it fell to the ground, his eyes shamelessly glued to her breasts. Cullen could tell Lana was blushing, but, Maker help him, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He barely even registered the happy hum of approval from Alistair over in his corner, until Lana spoke.

“Would you like me to take care of this?” Her eyes were on his, watching his eyes follow her hand as she hooked her fingers in the corner of her smalls. Cullen managed a nod, and took a step back as she slipped them down.

A breath escaped Cullen as she stood before him. When first he had gazed upon the demon’s form - her form, twisted by what it had read in his mind - it had given off a feeling. Cullen couldn't explain it more than that. It hadn't felt right. It had felt conniving, eerie, like a dark, thorny path in the woods on an otherwise sunny day, riddled with tempting berries that carried an uncertain fate to whomsoever was foolish enough to pluck one and eat it. As Lana stood before him now, she seemed to glow in his mind. There was nothing eerie about her - her scars reminded him of that. And, Maker, she was perfect. 

“Almost.” Cullen stopped in his tracks as Lana piped in after he had taken one step towards her. He furrowed his brows in confusion, only to catch her drift as her eyes trailed downwards on his body with a sly smile. “Not quite fair… Is it?”

“I suppose not,” he chuckled as he flushed once more. Cullen slid his smalls down, pink spreading across his body as his cock stood at full attention in the cool room. 

“So…” Lana smiled, glancing eagerly at his length before looking back up at Cullen while she walked back towards the bed. She sat at the edge before sliding into the middle and patting the mattress as she continued to steal glances of him. “You were on the ground? I thought a bed may be more comfortable. I can move to the floor if you'd like.”

“No - No, you're right. A bed is… Better.” Cullen nodded as he followed her over. He slid onto the bed, suddenly aware of how strange the whole situation must have been. Here he was lying naked on a bed, with a naked woman, and her fully clothed husband sitting in the corner - and yet, there was a part of it that excited him, enough to keep him wanting to see how this would all play out. 

“What happened next?”

Cullen took a deep breath as he prepared to answer her question.

“It… Sat on my legs, and began to… Situate. And that… That's when it all ended. And became… Then it turned, and…” Cullen sighed shakily, closing his eyes as Lana ran her fingers softly through his golden hair. 

“We can take our time,” she said softly at his side. “We don't have to do this all tonight, Cullen. You're doing wonderful. If this is too much -”

“No.” Cullen said it firmly, shaking his head adamantly. He turned his head to the side to look at her, focusing on the scar on her chest, the top of the burn on her right shoulder, a cluster of freckles below her collarbone he had never seen before, all the differences. “I don't want to associate it with you anymore. I - I wasn’t certain before, but now... I want to do this.”

“Good.” Lana smiled, running her fingers through his shallow chest hair. “Because, I have to admit… Ever since you took your smalls off, I've been curious what you'll feel like…”

“Maker's breath.” Cullen nervously laughed, unable to say much else. He had never felt less suave in his entire life, he was sure of it. He blinked, watching as Lana straightened her body and slowly slid her leg over his side. Seeing her above him then, her hands on his chest, fiery copper hair in the candlelight, his mind began swirling. Lana watched as the color drained from his face, his hands gripped onto the blanket beneath him as if it were his only lifeline. 

“Cullen?” She spoke his name softly. Placing her hands on either side of his face she could feel him beginning to sweat. His eyes seemed to stare right through her, as if he were lost in a deep memory. “Cullen?”

Alistair got up from his chair when Cullen didn't move. Cullen's breath was heavy, his muscles tense as Alistair crouched down next to the bed and put his hand on Cullen's shoulder.

“Come on, Rutherford,” Alistair said firmly, giving him a good shake. Alistair's voice seemed to snap him out of it, his voice and way of addressing him not too different from how he had addressed him when they were both Templar trainees. Cullen swallowed as he met Alistair's eyes, then he turned and looked back at Lana.

“Do it.”

“What?” Lana was shocked at Cullen's request. It left him more like a command than a plea, determination coursing over his tongue. Alistair had backed off again to his chair, trying his best to let the two of them work through it now that Cullen seemed to be back.

“I want it to end. Please.” 

“Then end it,” Lana said. “You said this was where it changed… So change it. Take control. What do you want to do?”

It had never happened before. In his nightmares, reliving that hell he had been through, it played over just the same as he had experienced: everything but, her soft legs wrapped around his torso, melting away into purple and horror before he could even experience her. He knew exactly what he wanted to do to change it. 

Cullen grasped Lana by the waist, holding her in place as he rolled them until he was on top of her while she squeaked shortly in surprise. Lana hummed as his lips crashed to hers, whimpers bubbling in her throat as his fingers delved between them to test how wet she was. Maker, she was soaking, clearly having been ready for this since the moment she sat on his lap what seemed like ages ago to him. 

In normal circumstances, Cullen would have liked to have taken his time. These were anything but normal circumstances. Desperate to break the cycle, to have something new to add to the loop, Cullen slid up slightly, groaning low in unison with Lana's loudening whimpers as he rubbed his cock against her heat, coating it in her quim. He sat back just enough to glance between them, taking his hard cock in hand as he guided it to her entrance. 

Cullen's breath was loud, relieved as he felt her heat surround him. It was as if glass had been his prison and it had shattered all around him the moment her mouth hung open with a moan that echoed throughout the room. The sound made him shiver, and he watched Lana as her brow furrowed near her shut eyes, hands gripping the blanket as she fought the urge to roll her hips until he was ready. She was waiting for him to be ready. Cullen pulled back with his hips before gently thrusting back into her. His eyes rolled slightly at the feel of her, quickly opening again to watch as her chest arched slightly with each thrust. Maker, she was already making so much noise, and he was barely doing anything. The thought made Cullen feel warm, stroking his ego as he moved one hand from her hip to balance on the mattress near her face. 

Lana arched towards him, her mouth hanging open as her lips curled into a smile. Maker, Cullen felt different than Alistair. Alistair was gifted when it came to his size - she knew that from the few she had been able to compare by then. Cullen still filled her well, though, very well, in a way that didn't stretch too much for comfort. Oh, Maker, and that slight curve Cullen had to him - that was new, that was very nice. 

Her arms reached up, wrapping around to Cullen's back as he pressed his chest closer to her. Lana took advantage of Cullen's shoulder being level with her lips, pulling him closer to moan loudly against his skin as his thrusts became more purposeful. His hand slipped down to her thigh, pulling until her legs were wrapped around his hips. Cullen slid his hand over every inch of her he could reach, memorizing the feel of her, embedding the memory of her and this moment deep in his mind: he felt the difference between the soft skin of her breast to the scar his thumb ran over; the curve over the peak of her nipple, the way she shuddered and gasped as he grasped over it; the dip over her navel, down to the rough and smooth of the burn that lay over the bump of the long, deep scar just near her hip; and the sweet, sweet way his fingers could dig into the flesh of her bottom, the way her moans became louder and louder as he pulled her towards him while he became totally and incandescently lost in her. 

Time slowed down for Cullen, and at the last possible moment he suddenly remembered one of Alistair's rules. His abdomen was tightening, his body practically lifting as he felt his end near so soon after only just beginning. Grasping her legs Cullen peeled her from his body, pulling out of her and grasping his cock with his hand as he sat up on his knees. He groaned loudly, covering the tip with his palm as he pulsed and spurted into his hand. Cullen gasped, suddenly finding the room less than full of air to him. He gave himself a few hearty, slow strokes, ensuring that he had been emptied of every last drop before falling back to sit on the bed. 

The sound of Lana's happy humming made the corners of Cullen's mouth twitch into a lazy grin. He lifted his head to look her over, finding her still in the position he had left her: on her back, practically spread eagled with a wide grin on her face and flushed skin all over. As her eyes fluttered open and she met his gaze, Cullen felt his insides flip for what felt like the hundredth time that night. 

“How did we do?” She asked breathlessly, and Cullen couldn't help but chuckle. 

“I would say… We did a perfect job.” 

“Think you'll have better thoughts in your mind when you see me now?”

“I - Yes, I... I think I have quite the image to think of now.” Cullen flinched slightly as a cloth hit his shoulder. He looked down, picking up the light blue handkerchief Alistair had tossed at him before looking at the warden questioningly.

“I promise, it's clean.” Alistair winked as he lifted himself off the chair. Cullen nodded in sudden understanding, flushing as he used the handkerchief to clean his hand off. He looked up as Alistair approached the bed, watching as the man looked over his wife with a sparkling interest and a smirk that even made Cullen blush. “I hope you haven't been tired out just yet… My turn, yes?”

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Where the Moonlight Shines (Part Two)

Summary:  You’re a junior deputy in Hope County, Montana when things go to hell in a handbasket with the local cult. It’s months before help arrives in the form of the Avengers, taking you down a road you never expected.

Features: Violence; Depiction of torture; Murder; Mind control

Pairing: TBD

Series Warnings: Canon typical violence; depictions/mentions of torture; depictions/mentions of brainwashing; will add more as they become relevant

Notes: This part contains the death of a minor, mentions and depictions of torture, discussion of mind control, and canon typical violence

We meet the Avengers in the part while exploring a little bit of what Rook has gone through

This is a crossover between Far Cry 5 and the MCU

Word Count: 4302

You lost count of the days. They all blurred together. You had been taken by John first when you were stirring things up in the region. John Seed, the baptist, the one meant to make you confess your sins. You had refused time and time again, until one day you didn’t. It was torture, literal torture. While you healed at an accelerated rate compared to others, you refused to heal yourself, refused to reveal what they already knew. You had sacrificed yourself for Joey, day in and day out. You didn’t want her to suffer, not when you knew you could handle it, handle the pain.

“Are you ready to confess, Deputy? Ready to say yes, to be freed from your sins?” John asked, his tone calm. You glared at him. You hated him, hated how he drew out the word ‘deputy’ every time he spoke to you. It had become a routine. You had bruises still healing from where he hit you, cuts that were still bleeding, in spite of your accelerated healing.

“Confess what? That I was just living my life, doing my job until you and your family came in and fucked everything up?” you asked. You knew that would enrage him. You were past caring. You were chained to a chair and your words were your only available weapon.

“Your hubris, your pride, your wrath. I know what your sins are, my dear. But do you? I don’t enjoy hurting you. No, no. But I must. Because, you. Must. Confess. You must atone, and the path to atonement is paved with pain,” he said as he paced around. He went to his toolbox. You loathed it. You craved the sunlight, the fresh air, anything other than the dark bunker that stank of blood and death. You refused to flinch as he moved toward you with the ice pick. He had figured out you healed fast. As far as you knew, it was the one thing keeping you alive, the one thing that kept him from killing you outright aside from whatever orders he had been given.

You refused to scream as he drove the ice pick into your leg. He knew how to maximize the pain without causing you to bleed out. You refused to give in until he threatened Joey again. In the end, he marked you after you said yes to save Joey once more, ‘wrath’ had been tattooed across your chest before the flesh was ripped from you. You had forced yourself not to react as he did it, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you in pain. It took everything you had not to scream out.

The day you broke, the day you said yes, was burned into your memory like no other experience through all of the things that had happened since the night of the attempted arrest. It plagued your dreams when you managed to sleep. The scene twisting into something more horrific each time.

You almost wished to be back in the bunker now. You had figured you had been there for a month, maybe a little longer, before you ended up breaking out and getting away. You had spent time in John’s region stirring up trouble as a ‘fuck you’ to the man before crossing the Henbane River to deal with Faith and her bliss. Bliss. You hated the stuff. It was a potent hallucinogen.

She had ensnared you in it. You had almost lost yourself in it before Tracey found you. An adrenaline shot was the only way to get you out of it. Faith had shown you destruction, had shown you Joseph’s supposed vision. You still hadn’t been able to get Burke away. Part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to. You blamed him for lighting the powder keg that set it all in motion while Joseph insisted it was you, always you. You were the harbinger, the one who set it in motion with one simple action. You headed for the Whitetails after being pulled from the Bliss. You knew torture awaited you in Holland Valley and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you ended up deep in the Bliss again.

You met the Whitetail Militia when you made it to the Whitetails. You knew Tammy Barnes didn’t trust you one bit. Not at first. Not until you and Jess Black killed the Cook.

“That didn’t feel like I thought it would,” Jess admitted as the two of you scavenged the site where the Cook had set up shop. He had killed her family. Jess had suffered at his hand. You placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned toward you, not meeting your gaze.

“Look at me Jess,” you said. For a moment you thought she wasn’t going to, until she lifted her head up, her eyes meeting yours.

“I don’t know what I expected,” she said.

“Revenge rarely does what we think it will. You think you’ll feel stronger, that you’ll feel vindicated, that the suffering you went through, it won’t matter anymore because the boogeyman who hurt you is gone and can’t hurt anyone anymore. Truth is, revenge doesn’t change shit. You still went through hell, kid. You still have to heal. Maybe it’ll be a bit easier now. Maybe it won’t be. But he won’t hurt anyone ever again,” you said.

“I won’t rest easy at night until the son of a bitch responsible for this all is dead and buried,” she said.

“Which one?” you asked.

“All of them,” she said.

Jess was young. She was strong. She had seen far too much for her age. She was there when you had been caught by Jacob’s Chosen the second time. You had told her to run after Jacob’s warning came over your radio. For once, she listened to you. You had felt an arrow pierce your leg and the next thing you fully remembered was waking up to see bodies around you, blood on the ground at the bottom of a steep drop. It was the game Jacob played. You weren’t sure what it was then, but he triggered something in you, and after that things went blank. You never remembered what it was, not until you’d been in the Whitetails for long enough that it became clear. He let you go. You knew that. Of the three Seeds who ran the regions while Joseph hid away on his  island, Jacob was the scariest.

For the past three months, you had been at the mercy of Jacob. It had been five months since the botched arrest. He was your nightmares in human form. You dreaded seeing that music box. You dreaded hearing the opening notes of ‘Only You’. Whatever he had done to you, that song triggered it. You had learned to comply before he needed to use it. It was easier that way and you hated it. Absolutely hated it. He had toyed with you, letting you escape after each trial before bringing you back. He still used it when he had a specific task for you, one he didn’t want to risk your non-compliance on.

Eli was one of those tasks. Eli led the Whitetail Militia. The militia were a key part of the Resistance in Hope County. Jacob had intended to kill you after you killed Eli, but he had changed his mind. He had called Eli your sacrifice. But he wasn’t. You were a means to an end. The only one in his mind who could kill Eli. What better way to demoralize the Whitetails than to lose their leader, demoralize the Resistance than to have their savior, their leader be the one to pull the trigger.

The real test came with Ryan. Sweet Ryan. Your baby cousin, the son of your aunt, Rae-Rae. You wondered if having you kill Ryan was some sort of sick retribution. You swore you’d die to protect Ryan. He had been holed up safely with some Resistance members after the death of Rae-Rae at the hand of some Peggies who wanted Boomer, their dog.

Ryan was barely a teenager. Where Eli was a sacrifice, Ryan was the true test once Jacob decided he still had a use for you, that your purpose hadn’t just been to demoralize the Whitetail Militia, that you were not as weak as he had thought once Eli was out of the picture. And that was a dangerous thing for you.

“Cull the herd,” Jacob said. You stood, your body not your own. The only thing you saw was a faceless body, almost like a mannequin. A target. You didn’t hear the screams. You didn’t hear Ryan’s happiness at seeing you turn into horror as you turned your gun on him. One shot.

As he hit the ground the red haze receded. Your eyes widened when you saw him. You ran toward him, tears stinging your eyes.

“Good job, pup. I’ll be calling for you soon,” Jacob’s voice came over your radio. You sobbed as you held Ryan, his breathing slowing to a stop.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you cried, his blood staining your clothes and your hands. You found a shovel by the garage. You had swung by Rae-Rae’s on your way from checking in on the Rye’s. Kim was pregnant and you worried about her, especially when they decided to stay in Hope County. Rae-Rae’s had become a have for you. Your haven now became your hell, a reminder of what you did. You buried Ryan next to his mother, moving a heavy rock to mark it,  along with a piece of wood you carved his name into with your knife. Boomer found you there, along with Sharky Boshaw, who was one of your closest allies.

“Shit Dep, what happened?” Sharky asked, kneeling beside you. You just shook your head as he pulled you into a hug.

You knew you could no longer go to the militia after that day. They understood it wasn’t your fault, but you knew your continued association would only put them at risk. Tammy had tried to talk you out of it, mentioning her distant cousin, that despite what had been done to him, he was still a hero. For all the suspicions she’d had about you at the start, Tammy Barnes trusted you, even after everything. But you didn’t trust yourself.

You stopped trying to escape, trying to run. You had learned the consequences after the first few times you attempted escape, attempted to assert yourself. It had taken weeks for the bruises to fade and the injuries to heal. Your accelerated healing could only do so much, especially when you were being starved. No food meant little energy, and it took a lot of energy to heal.

Jacob knew what your powers were and you were always by his side. You hated it, hated him. A few run ins with the Resistance had you healing him, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do. You were determined to make it out of this, no matter the cost. Jacob had you go with a patrol that morning and you took your chance to run after wrestling a weapon away from one of his Chosen, his most trusted soldiers. You found a car that worked and sped off to Rye Aviation.

You felt relief as you saw the familiar sign. You pulled up and parked the car. The sound of you arriving had drawn someone out of the house.

“Dep? Oh my god, Dep it’s really you!” Nick said as he approached the car with a gun drawn. Nick Rye was an ally, a friend. He owned the airfield and provided air support for you, when you weren’t being held captive by the Seeds. You knew it wasn’t a fluke that let you get away. If you had managed to get away, it was because Jacob let you. The realization didn’t sit well with you.

“It’s me. I’m home,” you said softly. You knew you looked beat up and broken. There was no way you didn’t. It seemed like everyone was there. Kim was there, looking like she was going to give birth any day now. Hurk was there with Sharky Boshaw. Sharky. One of your favorite people since everything started. Even if he was a wanted pyromaniac before everything kicked off, he was a useful ally, funny too. Grace Armstrong, the army sniper you’d helped out. Adelaide, who was Hurk’s mom stood with her favored boytoy of the moment.

“Good to see you Rook,” Grace said.

“Good to see you too,” you said. You found yourself pulled into hugs, saying hello to the people you hadn’t seen in so long. You were home.

“Had me real worried for a second amiga,” Sharky said.

“Yeah. I know,” you said, taking a sip of the beer that had been handed to you once everything settled. It may have been the end of the world, but damn, if there wasn’t a stockpile of alcohol to throw a party at the end of it.

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

One month later, Upstate New York

The Avengers were gathered in a conference room. Fury had arrived at the compound that morning with an urgent briefing.

“We’ve received word from the US Marshals that one of their agents, Cameron Burke, has been reported missing. He was meant to arrest Joseph Seed six months ago,” Fury said.

“Five months and they haven’t heard from him? Why are they only now doing something about it?” Natasha asked.

“That’s where things get strange. The Marshals received his resignation two days after the arrest was supposed to happen. Burke had been insistent on bringing this Joseph Seed in and then wanted to drop all charges and resign. The Marshals office is such a mess and Seed considered such a low level threat that they brushed it off. Until now. New information has cropped up,” Fury said. The team looked at the information in front of them. Profiles on the brothers, on people associated with the Project.

“Where do we come in?” Steve asked, arms crossed. This didn’t seem like something that warranted the Avengers involvement.

“Records show Hope County has become a dark zone. No communications in or out of the county except by specific encoded communications locations in four different locations. After the Marshals requested the help of the Avengers, we tapped into the communications and we’ve been able to intercept radio traffic. There’s a war going on in that county and Joseph Seed is determined to win it. Project at Eden’s Gate is a doomsday cult with Joseph Seed as their prophet. We have reason to believe he has gotten his hands on weapons of mass destruction with alien origin,” Fury said.

“There’s a catch, there has to be,” Tony said.

“From what we’ve gathered, Joseph’s brothers are his so called heralds, along with a young woman by the name of Rachel Jessop, who now goes by Faith Seed. According to intercepted transmissions, youngest brother John is called the Baptist and is responsible for getting confessions out of converts, whether they’re willing or not. We don’t know what that entails.

Oldest brother Jacob is former army, served in the Gulf War. He runs their defense and we have reason to believe he’s using some kind of mental conditioning.

This so called Faith is manufacturing a potent drug called Bliss. We have no idea what it’s effects are. When you enter the region, you will need to proceed with caution. Radio chatter indicates they have an enhanced individual in the region. They call her Rook. We don’t know much, whether she’s working for the Project or the Resistance. The messages are confusing. But treat this Rook with caution,” Maria said. The team sat in silence, contemplating what they had just been told.

“Do we know if Hydra is involved?” Natasha asked.

“We don’t know for sure. They had to get those weapons from somewhere. If not Hydra then there is another threat we need to be on alert for,” Fury said. The team sat in contemplation for a moment.

“What do we need to prepare for? Do we have a contact?” Steve asked.

“Be prepared for anything. You leave in three hours. We have a contact in the region, Hurk Drubman Junior. He’s a little...rough around the edges but he’ll be able to give you a run down if you can find him,” Maria said. Bucky’s head snapped up. Drubman, why did that name sound so familiar? A photo of the man in question was brought up on the screen. Bucky squinted at it. He cursed under his breath when he made the connection. Of course it was him.

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

The Avengers touched down at an airfield. A man greeted them with a gun that he lowered once he saw who they were. He still kept his guard up as the group approached. Steve introduced himself and the team.

“Nick, Nick Rye,” the man said.

“Do you know where we can find Hurk--,” Steve was cut off by the sound of an explosion and laughter.

“Drubman? Yeah, he and his cousin are here. What’re you looking for him for?” Nick asked as they walked toward the house.

“We were told Mr. Drubman would be able to assist us,” Natasha said. She was taking in the surroundings. Smoke rose in the distance as a statue stood smoldering. They were led into the house. It seemed like a party was going on.

“Some might says it’s distasteful to celebrate the death of someone, but they’ve never met those damn Seeds,” Nick said.

“They’re dead?” Natasha asked.

“John is, the so called baptist. Dep killed him today after...anyway, the important thing is that fucker is dead as dead can be and the people he was keepin’ prisoner are free. Joey Hudson is restin’ up. Damn Peggies had her for months,” he said.

“Peggies?” Wanda asked.

“S’what we call members of the Project. Project at Eden’s Gate, PEG, Peggies,” Nick said. The group looked at Steve. Realization seemed to cross Nick’s face.

“Aw hell, your lady back in the 40s was--” Nick started to say before Natasha cut him off.

“Agent Carter was named Peggy yes. And she was a hell of a lot more than the Captain’s lady,” Natasha said.

“Right, right, sorry,” Nick said, looking properly admonished. He led them to where everyone was gathered and made introductions. It was time to plan.

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

You excused yourself from the room, feeling overwhelmed by how many people were there. You knew it was only a matter of time before Jacob was going to call you back. He was bound to be furious. You knew when he let you go he didn’t think you’d get that far, didn’t think you’d kill his baby brother. You may have escaped but you knew it was because he let you, a sick game of cat and mouse. You jumped when you heard a floorboard creek on the porch. It was Wanda Maximoff.

“Sorry, I did not realize someone was out here,” she said.

“It’s fine, you’re fine. It was just...overwhelming in there,” you said. She nodded.

“You...you are not okay,” she said.

“My home is under siege by a murderous doomsday cult. I’ve been tortured, shot at, almost killed, and held captive by them and I’m currently engaged in a cat and mouse game with the Project. Yeah. I’d say I’m not okay,” you snapped. You took a breath. She had nothing to do with it. Guilt set in.

“Sorry...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” you said. She touched your arm and you flinched. Touch that wasn’t inflicting pain was something you were adjusting to.

“You are dealing with a lot,” she said. You nodded. The two of you sat in silence for a bit. Your thoughts drifted to that morning. John had crossed the line and you made your final move against him. You had hoped you could subdue him, take him alive, make him face justice for what he’d done. But that wasn’t how things went.

“Face it, Deputy. Joseph is right. You cannot change that,” John taunted over the radio. You were chasing him down in a plane. You knew it was only going to end one way.

“Want to bet?” you asked. You managed to damage the wing of his plane enough that it went careening out of the sky. You hadn’t anticipated him having a parachute. You landed Carmina and took off on foot in the direction you’d seen John descending in. A firefight ensued and he was leaning against a car while sat on the ground.

“I never thought it would go this far, you know,” he said, his breathing labored.

“Is this your deathbed confession?” you asked, your gun trained on him.

“We both know...if you wanted to save me right now...you could Deputy. You’re just...as much of a monster...as I am. At least I acknowledge my sins,” he said.

Wanda sat beside you, a comforting hand on your back, rubbing circles as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You glanced at her.

“What if, what if there are no winners here? What if we’re all just monsters masquerading as heros?” you asked her. She tilted her head to the side.

“You worry about the destruction and pain caused by your hand,” she said. You nodded. She sighed.

“I’ve been there too. If we don’t do what we do, the outcome may be worse than if we do something. It isn’t you’re fault you’re in this position,” she said. You nodded. The two of you sat in silence for a while longer before standing up to go back in the house.

You walked into the house to see an interesting scene. Bucky Barnes and Hurk were stood in opposite corners. Bucky had a gun aimed at Hurk, who just had a wide smile on his face. Clint Barton had a bowl of popcorn he was sharing with Nick, Jess, and Grace. Kim was glaring at both men. Steve had stepped between them while Natasha and Tony seemed to be taking bets on what would happen.

“I knew it! I knew the Winter Soldier was after me!” Hurk yelled. You wondered what you had missed while you were outside talking with Wanda.

“What the hell is going on in here?” you asked. Everyone turned toward you.

“Hurk being Hurk,” Kim said. You sighed.

“Hurk go...blow something up with Sharky. Stop agitating someone who probably knows five hundred different ways to kill you without using a gun,” you snapped. You loved your friends, you did, but god, did they do stupid things sometimes. You smiled a little to yourself. A small shred of normalcy in the chaos.

After getting the Avengers set up and settled, you gathered the Resistance core around the fire outside. The Avengers were surely resting or making their own preparations. You’d be discussing a game plan come morning.

“What’re you thinking Dep?” Nick asked.

“We need a contingency plan. There’s no way Jacob doesn’t call me back. Sooner rather than later. For our sake, I hope it’s before we make any plans with the Avengers. I don’t know what I’m like when I’m under, not fully. I remember bits and pieces,” you said.

“What are you getting at Dep?” Grace asked.

“If it comes down to it, you need to take me out. I won’t be in control. I try to fight it, but it’s hard. I haven’t been able to snap myself out of it,” you told them.

“No, not happening amiga. We’re not killing ya,” Sharky said.

“Sharky. You may not have a choice,” you snapped.

“There’s always a choice!” Jess yelled.

“Would you keep it down? We don’t need to be alerting our guests to our plans here. Not this one,” you said, glaring at her.

“Rook, what you’re asking us to do,” Nick said.

“It’s a sacrifice. I’m a weakness. You need to cull the herd,” you explained.

“Cull the herd? Sacrifice? Weakness? For fucks sake Rook, do you hear yourself? You’re spouting off Jacob’s rhetoric!” Jess said. You ran a hand through your hair and started pacing, unaware of the person listening in to the conversation going on. Bucky Barnes lurked in the shadow, eavesdropping on what was going on. It wasn’t that the Avengers didn’t trust the Resistance. They wanted all the information they could get to plan their attack. They knew there was no keeping the Resistance out of the fight. This was their fight, not the Avengers. They had been the ones keeping hope alive for six months.

“It doesn’t matter. If you don’t take me out...I don’t see people, Jess. I see targets. I see targets I need to take out. I don’t...I can’t hurt you, any of you. And if you don’t take me out the first chance you get if I’m not in control, I will hurt you, or worse kill you,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I’ll do it,” Grace said.

“Grace,” Nick said sharply. She held her hand up.

“I’m the best shot we have. I don’t want to kill Dep. But if we have to take her out. We have to take her out. She’s right. You have all seen and heard what Jacob does to people. Once he hooks his claws into her, getting her back will be damn near impossible if she can’t fight it off,” Grace said.

Later that night when you were patrolling the perimeter when you heard it. The opening of ‘Only You’ before you heard Jacob telling you to return to the Whitetails. You had no choice but to listen, finding another car and driving to where Jacob was waiting.

[western-writer]

The Most Loyal Traitor

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Warnings: slight gore, blood, swearing, mentions of sex and suggestive speech

A/N I had no idea how to tag this so I just tagged it to the best of my ability. 

Summary: (Y/n) was one of the most loyal fighters for the Resistance. That was until she was blamed for deaths that weren’t her fault. When the Resistance turned their backs on her, she did the only thing she could to survive.

The Junior Deputy rounds you like the wounded animal you are. One of Jess’s arrows sticks out of your leg as you sit against a tree. A hard boot connects to your face which lands you in the dirt. You laugh, pushing yourself off the ground to sit against the tree again. 

“Did you think you could really get away?” Rook questions you. 

You grin up at her, blood spilling from your nose and staining your teeth red. “Nah,” you mutter. “I like a good chase.”

“You think this is a game, traitor?” Jess barks at you. You chuckle at the nickname you’ve managed to coin over these past few months. “What’s so funny?” 

“Ignorance,” you answer flatly. “You and the whole fuckin’ Resistance.”

Rook kicks you again, now staining her boot with your blood. “We’re not the ones that turned their back on the Resistance.”

“There you go again makin’ accusations without knowin’ the whole story. Seems like you Resistance fighters are real good at that,” you spit.

“The fuck are you goin’ on about?” Jess growls, stalking toward you. 

“Does it really matter, Jess? Whatever I say won’t change anything and definitely won’t make the Resistance change how they feel about me.” 

Rook comes and kneels on one knee next to you. She grabs your face, seemingly examining you and chuckles suddenly. “And here I thought lust was a sin,” she mocks you, turning to Jess. “Looks like Eli was right. She’s a little more than just Jacob’s favorite soldier.” Rook flicks what looks like to a hickey on your neck and gets back to her feet. “Does Joseph know? I can’t imagine what he’d do to you both if he knew.”

You roll your eyes. “If that’s your way of trying to scare me, you’re doin’ a horrible job.” 

Rook shakes her head, twirling a knife in her hands dangerously. “Nah. I’d be a bit disappointed if that scared you, to be honest. See, the reason we tracked you all the way out here is because Jacob has really pissed the Resistance off. Why doesn’t really matter, but they left it up to us to try to get it through his thick skull that he won’t win. What better way to strike fear into the heart of a cold-blooded killer like Jacob than to mess with what he values most? Obviously, we can’t get to his brothers, or even Faith, easily. So you’re the next best thing-his little play toy.”

Suddenly, Jess grabs your left wrist and pins it to the tree you sit against. Rook walks over and places her boot close to the wound on your leg, creating agonizing pressure as she goes to work cutting your left pinky off. You scream, struggling against the two women, but are no match for the both of them. The sickening crack as Rook cuts between your top and middle knuckle makes you dizzy and seeing your severed finger in her hand only intensifies this feeling. 

She presses the severed finger into the palm of your injured hand. 

“You make sure Jacob understands that if he ever does anything like that again, we will find you and we will cut off all your fingers until he finally does understand. Got it?”

You nod slightly, glaring up at the deputy. 

A small, satisfied smile graces her lips as she looks down at your bloody hand clutching your own finger. 

“If you’re lucky, they may be able to reattach it.” She nudges your jaw with her fist and stands up. You watch as they leave you alone to bleed in the middle of the woods. You cut off some of your shirt and wrap it around your finger. 

“Jake?” you say into your radio. “Jacob, I need some help here.” 

No response.

“I’ll be honest with you,” the doctor says. “I don’t know if reattaching this will work. And if it does, it may not be for the better...” you wince as he moves the finger. 

Jacob stands by, arms folded over his chest with a hard, blank glare on his face. Deputy Pratt stands by, unable to comprehend that Rook, the new deputy he had known, did this to someone. This was different. Very different.

“Leave it off,” you say, surprising the doctor a bit. “Statistically speaking, I’ll probably only get half the use out of it anyway. It’s not even vital to my hand.”

The doctor stares at you for a second. “Okay, if you insist. Let me fix it up so it won’t get infected. Jacob’s eyes focus on the bloody stub and he turns abruptly. He speaks into his radio, rather harshly from the looks of it, and you only realize what he’s saying when a few days later the deputy turns up in one of the cages. 

Every time you see her in one of those cages you can’t help but laugh a little bit. It reminds you how easily Jacob could end everything for her. 

“Well, well, well,” you say, walking up to her cage. “Seems you forgot how easy it is for Jacob to have you here.” You kneel in front of the cage. You’re vaguely aware of Pratt walking up behind you. 

“If it isn’t the traitor in her natural habit, being Jacob’s little bitch.”

“I think that title is reserved for your colleague over there, don’t you?” you question, looking back at Pratt. Truth is, you actually get along with him quite well and you keep Jacob from injuring him too much. You just want to get under her skin, and from the look on her face, it worked.

“Traitorous bitch,” Rook spits at you, literally. A bit of saliva lands on your face and you wipe it away with your left hand. Her eyes lock onto your wrapped finger. 

“You keep callin’ me that...” you start, wiping the spit on your jeans and making eye contact with her. “but have you ever had the intelligence to investigate why I’m a traitor for yourself? No? Didn’t think so...” You chuckle to yourself and pull up a chair. Leaning over, you stare at Rook. “See, at one point, I was one of the Resistance’s most loyal fighters. Even before you stumbled into the picture. I was always out there stickin’ it to the cult,” you laugh, gesturing with your arm. “I was so trusted that Mary May and Pastor Jerome would let me lead groups to go gather supplies and such. 

Rook’s eyes stay focused on you. 

“I warned them to not go after that stash. Told ‘em that it’s too suspicious, that it’s too out in the open for the Peggie’s to not be planning an ambush. Low and behold, they didn’t listen to me. One of ‘em hit a trip wire which caused smoke bombs to go off. Peggie’s shot ‘em up, bullet’s rippin’ holes through ‘em like Swiss Cheese. I didn’t even recognize the people I called my friends.” 

“Why didn’t they kill you, too?” 

“Ah, yeah, that... See, I never killed the Peggies if I didn’t have to. One of the people I spared was there and decided to spare me. Imagine this. Me, a little younger, stumbling back into Fall’s End covered in the blood of my friends, only for Mary May to scream at me for not being a better leader. I tried and tried to explain that I warned them and that they didn’t listen, but she, much like them, didn’t listen either. And then, she banished me. Kicked me out of the Resistance.” 

You lean back in your chair and look up at the sky. 

“I stumbled around from one Resistance post to another only to be threatened and sent away. I begged and begged for them to listen, but no one cared. Not even your beloved Dutch. I was thinking about just getting the hell outta town, but then you just had to start the fuckin’ reaping and I was stuck.” You lean forward, glaring into her cage. “I did the only thing I could do to survive.” 

“You... joined the cult.”

You huff out a humorless laugh and lean back again. “I still remember the look on Joseph’s face when I limped my way into the church. I was...” you look back to the sky, your voice softening. “I was days away from death. I barely made it onto the church pew, even with John helping me.”

“I can’t believe it. The Resistance’s most loyal fighter comin’ in here,” Jacob said as John set you down on a church pew. 

Joseph stepped down from the small stage-like area. “What brings you here?” he questioned. 

“Survival,” you answered, only continuing on because of the confused look they gave you. “The Resistance kicked me out,” you continued weakly. “I figured I was dead anyway, so why not?”

Joseph looked at your fragile state. Your eyes were bloodshot, your skin was pale and sickly looking, you were thin-too thin. He knew just by the looks of you that you were telling the truth. 

“You wish to join us?” 

“Don’t make me say it.”

Joseph gave you a small smile, walking over to you and gently pulling you to your feet. “You are safe, do not worry.”

“After I was nursed back to health and formally accepted into Eden’s Gate, I went to Jacob. And I guess you know what happened after that.” You shoot her a sly smirk as you lean back for the last time. “So yeah, call me a traitor all you want, but it wasn’t me that turned my back on the Resistance, it was the Resistance that turned their back on me.”

“And you just expect me to believe you? Why should I? Your whole story could be bullshit.” 

“Believe me or don’t, I don’t really give a shit, especially because I’m on this side of the cage with Jacob in my corner. It’s the truth, though.” You stand and turn, seeing Pratt coming closer. 

“It’s true, Rook...” he mutters meekly. He begins to talk more, but you walk away. Unsure of where to really go, you make your way up to Jacob’s office and are slightly surprised to not find him there. You sit down on his desk and clutch your finger, the pain still radiating through the severed digit.

“Still hurts?” Jacob says, entering the room silently. You head snaps up at him. 

“My finger was cut off, Jacob. Of course, it still hurts.”

Jacob cocks an eyebrow at you. 

“That came out harsher than I meant. Sorry,” you mutter, looking down at your hand. He walks over and forces you to look up at him before pressing a kiss to your lips. He starts off soft before gradually becoming rougher. He cups your face, deepening the kiss even more. “Wait, Jake, is now really a good time for this?” You look behind you to see that the sun is setting.  

“Yup,” he answers, sucking on your neck. You groan, grabbing his bicep. Suddenly, he lifts you and walks you both to his bed. He drops you and gets on top of you as you both undress each other.

There you both lay, bodies naked under the sheets of the bed. Jacob’s arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. Your head rests on his shoulder with your left arm on his bare chest. You stare at your hand, still unable to believe that your finger is gone. Jacob reaches up and grabs your hand, pulling it to his mouth to kiss the injured finger. You smile slightly and press kisses to the side of his neck. 

“This is the first time you haven’t kicked me out of your bed right after...” you mumble.

“Maybe I’m goin’ soft,” he mumbles back. 

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that,” you tease him. 

He sighs. “Never did I ever imagine us endin’ up like this when you stumbled into that church. I had my doubts about you, but you proved your loyalty.”

You laugh a little bit. “I’m the most loyal traitor.” 

Jacob laughs, which takes you by surprise. Then he rolls over and kisses you once more. “Round two?” 

[catgirlxox]

Forgot to include in my response, but OV + UAF introduced TOO MANY love interests. I wanted to see a (final) girl that could actually connect with Ben while having an interesting and likable personality and a unique design to boot. Personally I feel like Ben shouldn't have gotten romantic subplots if the writers weren't going to handle them properly. Or, they could have done it like Jake x Rose and actually develop his romances without relying on tired tropes.

I don’t personally like the idea of the harem either.

and neither did Ben in canon 

But, what I think was worse was that almost all of his relationships with girls ended up abusive, if not borderline abusive.

They were teenagers, and, realistically, teenagers sometimes date a lot of other teenagers throughout their youth, even if those relationships aren’t extremely serious. I didn’t find any of them to be that great for various reasons, but at the age of sixteen, I also wouldn’t expect them to be great and serious relationships.

I can understand, as fans of fiction, to want the hero or protagonist to be given a final love interest to sum up his story and fill every spot. But, I also feel like that idea reinforces all the restrictions of this “destiny” or “fate” that is being forced upon him.

It makes it seem as though, at the young age of sixteen, every part of his life had to be set in stone already, with no freedom to explore other possibilities in the future.

I liked that Omniverse left off open ended in every other sense aside from the forced “endgame” romance. And on the topic of said forced romance, it really showed how uncomfortable it made those involved.

Something I kept hearing being said after Omniverse had ended was that now Ben and Kai were an official couple, even though it was never really officially acknowledged by the characters themselves. 

Yeah, we were shown that future where they were together, but the fandom seemingly forgot that, according to Omniverse itself, there is a Multiverse. And, by that logic, every possible scenario for Ben Prime’s life is just another branch off the tree. Spanner then came from the future which happened in that particular branch.

Every decision Ben has made which has led him to become the character we know today was made on his own free will. He should also have the freedom to do what he wants with his future and romance situation.

I say this because, returning to what I have stated in the beginning, almost all of the canon love interests ended up borderline abusive because they seemed to want to chain him down. Kai, however, was the only one who didn’t really want to chain him down. And that was because she didn’t want him at all, and that is damaging in it’s own way.

Elena’s case is unfortunate because I’m not sure if I’m supposed to attribute her actions to mental illness or not, but it is definitely still unhealthy to end up with the mindset that if the object of your affection cannot be yours, nobody can have him. And therefore he must die.

Julie started off sweet and innocent, but her outlook on her Boyfriend’s life and responsibilities turned into more of a “it’s either your job or me” attitude. That’s no fair when Ben actively encouraged her own career and let her have her space.

Ester also seemed to have a good friendship with Ben in the beginning, but very quickly, she began pushing him into being more romantic with her without communicating properly. And when he did something (such as bringing Rook along to the Museum literally because he thought he was being a good, thoughtful friend) to further hinder her advances unintentionally, she just got all mad at him with no explanation. It’s no wonder he was confused.

Do I even have to go over Kai?

In other words, they made engaging in a romantic relationship more difficult than fighting dangerous aliens and risking his life every day.

It’s no wonder so many people prefer to ship BenRook because, even though I still don’t find it ideal, Ben and Rook had that basis for a good friendship that the love interests skipped. A friend wouldn’t ghost you if you picked up a phone call while distracted by a video game. Best friends should know all your faults and shortcomings and still be your friends and care about you enough to see your potential. It takes vulnerability, understanding and forgiveness. 

If your significant other can’t be your friend, how can they be your girl/boy friend?

I agree that if Ben is going to have an “endgame” love interest, it definitely should be someone who is unique and can connect with him. But while that is true, maybe it just doesn’t happen during the events of Ultimate Alien or Omniverse.

And that’s okay. He still has a “glorious future” ahead of him. There’s still time for that.

No need for this clown to force it down his throat. 

[cryptidwizard]

can i get uhhhhhhh some zak and ben being bros??? u the man

marzi i know thats u but thank u for my life heres some good bro bondingAO3 VERSION full fic under the cut

Ben flopped onto the couch, letting his face rest againstone of the cushions, not caring that some fur he could only assume belonged to Fiskhad been shed there. Zak watched with amusement, rolling his eyes and gentlynudging Ben over so there was room for him to sit on the couch. Ben compliedand scooted over, not bothering to move his face that was buried in the furry couchcushion. Zak stretched, his joints popping and offering some relief to hisaching back. He sighed contently after sitting down, couches always felt greatafter a mission or just some regular butt kicking. 

He had stopped by Bellwood to invite Ben and Rook to hang out, having justreturned from dealing with a cryptid in Egypt. Somehow during the short amountof time that they stopped to get smoothies some weird alien chicken who wassome D-list villain of Ben’s had robbed a bank nearby and they went and put astop to it. Zak for once had forgone his battle armor for a regular Saturdayuniform, hence his aching back from a few lucky hits from the chicken guy. Thankfullyhe carried the claw with him everywhere so at least he was a help in the fight.Rook volunteered to fill out the paperwork and take the alien into Plumber custody,Ben promising to buy Rook a meatball sub in return. That left the two of themtaking the Griffin back to his home the Saturday HQ for some well needed relaxation.Zak looked over at Ben, “Dude, your bad guys are always wild. Who even was thatchicken guy?” He asked.Ben spoke, slightly muffled from the cushion. “Yeah that’s Liam, he’s been pullingminor jobs in Undertown for a while now. I unlocked Kickin Hawk from him butother than that I don’t know much about him aside from he’s a huge pain.”  Zak laughed, “Kickin Hawk? I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that’s your anthropomorphichawk alien, right?” Ben nodded, still resting his face on the couch, ignoringFisk’s fur tickling his nose, he was tired okay he stayed up late watching aSumo Slammer’s marathon. Zak muffled a yawn, he was tired too for entirelydifferent reasons. Mainly he was pretty jet lagged from the time difference inEgypt. “Hey, you wanna get some snacks or something to drink? We never reallydid get to finish those smoothies.” He offered.Ben perked up, lifting his head from the couch cushion to grin at Zak, slightlyinterrupted by wiping Fisk’s fur from his face. “Yeah dude sounds good, youknow I never pass up the opportunity to raid you guys’ fridge.” He replied. Zaksnickered remembering the first time Ben met Doyle he had been hanging out andwent to get something from the fridge when Uncle Doyle had broken in to do thesame thing (despite the fact Doyle has had a key for years now).“Yeah trust me I remember. You thought Doyle was hot and choked on some chips,the Omnitrix thought you were dying and turned you into an alien.” Zak saidwith a laugh, forcing himself to stand despite how much he wanted to be lazyand nap on the couch. Ben faked a pout, “It’s not my fault your family is hot Zak stop bullying me.”He replied, outstretching a hand, Zak on instinct took it and pulled him upwith an exasperated smile.“Yeah, yeah you tell me every time my parents do something cool. C’mon once weload up on snacks we can grab Fisk and play some video games.” Zak replied,gently tugging his friend towards the kitchen, Ben following without complaint.Komodo, who had been curled up on the tile floor of the kitchen relaxing raisedhis head with a low hiss as he saw the two approaching. Ben tensed, havingconvinced himself that Komodo was out to get him after the lizard almost bithim when in a bad mood one time. Zak put a reassuring hand on Ben’s shoulder, “Don’tworry he’s just grumpy we woke him up.” He replied, removing his hand from Bento give the genetically altered Komodo dragon a friendly scratch which Komodoseemed to enjoy. Ben gave the lizard an awkward wave, remembering how Zak toldhim Komodo was smarter than the average Komodo dragon. Komodo blinked slowly atBen as a greeting before finding a comfortable spot on the floor to relax on.Zak noticed this and grinned, pausing from fishing out snacks, “He likes you.”Ben looked at him, “Okay he didn’t try and bite me, but we definitely aren’tbest friends yet.” He replied with a laugh. Zak rolled his eyes with anexasperated smile before returning to finding snacks and drinks, once he wassatisfied with his haul and had gained an approving thumb up from Ben he wentover to Komodo.“Where’s Fisk?” He asked the sleepy lizard, Komodo gave a soft hiss in replyand pointed with his tail towards Fiskerton’s room. Zak thanked him promising toplay with the ball Komodo was so fond of, his hands too full to give more petsat the moment. Ben watched the interaction, grabbing the drinks while Zak tookcare of the snacks. Zak gestured for Ben to follow him as they walked down thehallway, he gently knocked on the door to Fisk’s room with some difficulty dueto all the snacks he was carrying. The door hissed open and a sleepy Lemuriangreeted them with happy mumbles, pulling Zak into a quick hug and ruffling Ben’shair. The phantom brightened at the offer to play video games and practicallydragged them both back to the living room, as Ben and Zak sat down their haulof snacks, Fisk pulled out the controllers and set up the console. Zak sat back down on the couch watching Fisk before opening a bag of chips, hisbrother had good tastes in games, so he trusted him to make the pick. He’d beenmeaning to check out one of those Sumo Slammer games Ben really liked so theycould play together sometime. Meanwhile Ben was just pleased to be indulging insome mindless fun with the Saturdays.After about an hour and a half of snacking and playing video games, Zak silentlyvowing to vacuum any leftover crumbs later, they were all getting a lot justa little bit tired. As fun as playfully arguing that Fisk had cheated at MarioKart was, Zak was pretty jet legged still, Ben was sleep deprived, and Fiskertonwas more active at dusk and dawn anyways. Somewhere along the line Zak hadfallen asleep against Fisk, he couldn’t help it, his furry brother was just toowarm and cuddly. Ben hadn’t noticed and after yawning loudly a few times had driftedoff on Zak’s shoulder. Fisk noticed the two and gave an amused murmur inLemurian before shutting his eyes and getting some rest for himself.They would awake in the morning after the impromptu sleepover finding a warmblanket had been put over them and the lights had been turned off along withthe tv. The Saturdays were just awesome like that.