#i known that in other versions he was dark and handsome

[alexisomnias]

— TELL YOU I LOVE YOU. . .

⤷ he'd be a pine tree (— pining trope)

featuring the OVERBLOT BOYS

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS         -  knees brushing against each other, leading to deep breaths and giddy feels.

riddle is hopelessly in love with you, to the point its distracting. seriously? how could he let his feelings grow this large to the point he can't even simply go near you without his mind running off to a romantic version of your real relationship. oh, how riddle hopes that daydream would one day become real, but for now. he needs to get back on trac-

"riddle? are you okay?" your voice raises, cutting through and silencing his voice playing loops in his head. he blushes, his hair color blending to his face as his breath catches. stomach churning nervously as he feels your skin brush against his, a blockage in his throat as his head pounds nervously. how much he really wants to hold your hand now, or wrap his arms around you... (when was he so touch starved...?)

"y-yes.. im perfectly fine. thanks for your concern." he nods, gazing away, afraid that even a few more seconds of meeting your eyes would cause the butterflies in his stomach to explode from inside out. why couldn't he just be straight up about his feelings...

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR        -  taking care of them in the shadows

leona was a blunt man. always straight to the point, and uncaring of others first opinions on him. but with you? oh it seems like nothing that ever comes out of his mouth is honest! its not like he lies to you, its just that he never finishes his full thought. "stop dragging me into trouble" i don't want to see you hurt, "why are you touching me?" you could've asked...

so, what better way of getting out his feelings to anybody but the true object of affection? well simply let himself lie in your shadow. for all those in front of you too gaze and know for, but for you? you won't see the slight affection and care that seeps into his gaze, nor will you know that behind the scenes he is ensuring your life upon arriving to Twisted Wonderland will be nothing but easy and like royalty. for he does not want to ever see you struggle.

so he'll be in your shadow. for him to follow you and love you, for everyone else to see that love except you... until he decides to appear before you once the sun comes out and he's ready to open himself to that level of vulnerability, to step out of the dark and show his face.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO        -  digging in their interests so that you have common topics to talk about

it was quite well known that azul has many connections, many ways to get information and to utilize it. his office is like an archive for all secrets and importance. but for that section of his brain, it holds everything about you. from silly daydreams, to just everything you like and what could make you happy. he truly had an entire library of thoughts and knowledge dedicated to you only with a key to those who break into his heart whether he'd like it or not. floyd and jade, being two, never left him alone about it.

it was no secret to his two friends that azul was a simp, he'd die before admitting it, but its true! he was utterly floored everytime you smiled at him, everytime you greeted him first. he was down-bad to the point he'd of made it to the bottom of the Mariana trench. Azul only wanted to make you happy, and get to know you better. even if he had no chance to call you a lover, this was far more than enough. so he got into all your interests so he had a common interest with you, no matter how wild, he'd end up loving it because you love it. and he loves you.

JAMIL VIPER        -  Instant butterflies when you call out their name

"jamil!" you called excitedly, waving him over with a beautiful, utterly handsome smile on your face.

jamil was used to his name being called. from Kalim to the servants in the house. it is common knowledge to know a servant would get his name called, for an order of sorts. to be told. but with you? oh it was so so different... normally everytime his name was called he'd be filled with dread. what would he have to do next? but with you? it is filled with such euphoria. your calling him, you want to talk to him, you want to see him. its such a strange thing to jamil on how his name being called could be so different. from just a simple tone, simple vocal difference. how is it so different everytime you call his name?

jamil would be ready to walk no mattered distance if he could meet you again. ugh.... how did he end up this deep in love? he's merely in high school...

VIL SCHOENHEIT        - having your every little thing memorized 

vil schoenheit was an actor. master of memorizing lines, and routines of all sorts. and yet, he is also a master of memorizing you. from your lovely smile, to your hair, to your hypnotic eyes. vil has it all remembered as if he's going to chisel an exact replica of you as a statue. this memory of his helps him realize every little emotion you have. your lips are a little bit more curved, are you okay dear? your hair is not in its usual style? what brought up this change? oh you must've gotten new clothes, he's never seen this outfit before.

all of which are in effort of loving you. he truly never thought he'd find the day where of he'd care so much for someone that every bit of them is put into memory. every touch, feeling of skin put into his mind like a note sheet. notes upon notes about every little thing he notices about you... and if you catch him staring..?

"vil? do i have something on my face? you've been staring for a while..."

"oh no, there's nothing there. just noticing the beauty that's made its mark."

IDIA SHROUD       - dropping everything at their messages

idia wasn't the type for social interaction, in fact any sorts of it he would immediately ditch on. for even if he gets a messaged it would be left on read for weeks, but with you? oh its like theres a personal alarm set for himself! every message, or call you make is received right away. like an update for a game or show, he sees it right away and it immediately leaves him feeling giddy...

for an introvert, anti-socialist, like him. it was unfamiliar to get such a wonderful sensation upon being talked to... being noticed... having someone contact him first, willingly? oh how it felt like the world flipped itself for him, and complied to his wills and wants. and those wants? oh its to call you his... but i guess he got too far caught into the selfshipping delusions for he doubts you'll ever love him above online friend (he's to nervous to meet you face to face. you're so ethereal).

when the notification goes off, the typing bubble immediately comes up. hes not missing your message for the world.

MALLEUS DRACONIA        - rambling about something you love and all they do is stare at them lovingly

malleus is completely, and totally infatuated with you. every word you speak, every breath you take it has him at the edge of his seat. ready to love and adore whatever you do next. he thinks everything you do is lovely, and worthy of adoration. he especially loves when you tell him about whatever interests you may have. Malleus absolutely adores listening to you.

please, tell him about anything and he'll listen so devotedly. how he loves knowing your comfortable enough around him to tell him and talk about your interests, whether from Twisted Wonderland, or from your world, "earth". anything and everything you tell him he is so ready to listen and learn. its coming from you, its something you consider important. so its only natural he listens.

and when you do rant, he stares and listens. looking at you like your the only thing in his universe, a beautiful sunset of which he's never laid his eyes upon before. a gift given by the world for him to love and cherish. and he'll learn everything about this treasure he has the pleasure of knowing. so... child of man, tell him more.

[writingforstraykids]

Loved the Chan Milan fic! What about a male reader version with him fucking Chan's brain out instead?

Right here with you, always - m!reader version

Pairing: Chan x male!Reader

Word Count: 2282

Warnings/Tags: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, sub!chan, mirror sex (partly)

A/N: Hope you like it, lovey. Framwork is the same, smut is changed ofc🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©writingforstraykids 2024-

fem!version here

The cobblestone streets of Milan seemed to sparkle under the golden hues of the early evening sun as you and Chan made your way through the city. Milan was pulsing with life, its vibrant energy matching the excitement in your heart. Chan had invited you to join him on this glamorous outing, blending the worlds of high fashion and intimate togetherness.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, admiration blooming inside you. He was dressed in a blue shirt that highlighted the warmth of his eyes and complemented his dark hair. Chan suggested dinner at a small, elegant restaurant known for its secluded ambiance and exquisite Italian cuisine. Over plates of creamy risotto and perfectly aged wine, you shared stories and dreams, his laughter blending harmoniously with the soft notes of a violin playing somewhere in the background.

As the sky deepened into a velvety blue, Chan took your hand, leading you out into the enchanting night. Milan at night was a different kind of beautiful; the lights of the city reflected in the gentle ripple of the canals, the air filled with the subtle aroma of blooming jasmine. Walking through this cityscape with Chan, you felt as if you were part of a living canvas, every step painting a stroke of memories in your shared story.

Eventually, the night led you to his hotel, a place of refined elegance. Inside, the world quieted down to just the two of you. You guided Chan to the sofa in his suite, a soft, inviting piece that seemed to echo the plush luxury of your surroundings. As you settled into the comfort of the sofa, you pulled him gently into your lap, a smile playing on your lips.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” you whispered, your hands tracing the lines of his muscular arms, feeling the strength that lay beneath his soft shirt. “This blue shirt… it’s perfect on you. It makes your eyes look like chocolate; deep and endlessly sweet.” At first, he blushed, a shy smile curving his lips as his gaze flickered away. It wasn't often that he heard such open adoration, even from you, his partner. Yet, the honesty in your voice and the warmth in your eyes encouraged him to accept your compliments. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your own confidence growing with the realization of how much he needed you in this moment.

“I love seeing you like this,” you murmured, your voice a soft rumble against his ear. Your hands were gentle but firm on his back, making every nerve in his body sing with a pleasant tension. The room around you seemed to fade, the sounds of Milan's nightlife a distant echo to the intimacy that unfolded between the two of you. “Love how handsome you look,” you told him, hands fondling up his thighs. “Love how your body always searches mine,” you confessed, biting back a soft groan as he pressed down against you.

Your lips met his in a fierce kiss, hand shooting up into his hair. Chan kissed back eagerly, grinding down against you with soft, needy sounds. Your grip on his hair tightened, your hips chasing his with a low groan.

As the kiss deepened, your senses overwhelmed by the gentle yet insistent passion between you, the world outside seemed to vanish completely. Your hands moved with a tenderness that contrasted and complemented the growing intensity of the moment. You were skilled, knowing exactly how to make him feel cherished and desired all at once.

Chan quickly got up, getting rid of his trousers and boxers in one go. After checking in with you, his shirt joined the rest of his clothes on the floor, and he stood bare before you. You lifted your hips, shuffling your pants down enough to free your aching length. Your hands found his hips, and you pulled him back into your lap, smiling at how thrilled Chan seemed. You made quick work of preparing him, stretching him out with your fingers and kissing down his neck hungrily. Chan sunk down on you soon, moaning out loudly as you stretched his fluttering walls just right.

Chan's hands found purchase on your shoulders, steadying himself as he began to move. His head tipped back, exposing the graceful line of his neck, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. You held him closely, guiding him with a gentle yet insistent rhythm. The soft sounds of his pleasure mixed with the distant hum of the city night created a symphony of intimacy.

"You feel so amazing," you whispered, your voice husky with desire. You increased the pace, each thrust meeting him with a perfect alignment that sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies.

Chan's response was to grip your shoulders tighter, his nails digging in slightly as the intensity built. His moans grew louder, more urgent, and he began to meet your movements with equal fervor. The connection between you deepened, a tangible thread of desire that pulled you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

In the mirror at the closet opposite the sofa, you could see your reflections entwined in a passionate dance. Chan's body was a perfect contrast against your own. His skin was bathed in the soft light that filtered through the windows, highlighting his features in a glow that seemed almost ethereal. The sight of your dick disappearing inside him made you moan loud enough to catch his attention. "Look at us," you urged him, wanting him to see the beauty of the moment as you saw it. Reluctantly, Chan opened his eyes, and his gaze met the mirror behind the sofa, seeing the reflection from the mirror across the room. The sight of the two of you, so closely connected, so lost in each other, brought a new flush to his cheeks, but his eyes shone with an emotion that was deep and raw.

"Fuck," Chan breathed out, his voice catching as your movements brought him higher. “Need more, please,” he whined, needily moving his hips. “Go rough on me, please.”

Your heart pounded with desire at his plea, and you responded by increasing the intensity of your movements. Chan's moans grew louder, filling the room with the sound of his pleasure. When his moans reached a fever pitch, you decided to change positions. Gently, you lifted him off your lap, only to flip him around, settling him back onto you so he was facing the mirror on the closet. The new angle made him gasp, his eyes widening as he saw the full reflection of his own pleasure. 

You wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him, your other hand coming up to cover his mouth, muffling his loud moans. "Shh," you whispered in his ear, your breath hot against his skin. "We don't want everyone to hear us."

The sensation of being silenced, coupled with the sight of himself in the mirror, seemed to drive Chan wild. His eyes locked onto yours in the reflection, his pupils dilated with lust. He started moving again, his hips grinding against you with a desperate urgency.

"Look at how beautiful you are," you murmured against his ear, your voice a low growl. "Look at how perfect we are together."

Chan's muffled moans vibrated against your palm, his body shivering with the intensity of the sensations. You kept your rhythm steady; each thrust hitting deeper, more precise, driving both of you closer to the edge. 

Your eyes never left the mirror, watching the way Chan's body responded to your every move. The sight of him, completely undone, his face flushed and eyes filled with raw desire, spurred you on. "You're mine, Chan," you growled, your grip on his waist tightening. "Only mine."

He nodded, his eyes rolling back slightly as another wave of pleasure crashed over him. His body trembled, his muscles tightening around you in a way that sent shivers up your spine. You could feel your own release building, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust.

You thrust harder, each movement pushing him closer to the edge. The mirror reflected the raw intimacy of the moment, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, the connection between you palpable and undeniable.

Chan's eyes were locked onto the mirror, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The sight of you behind him, your hands steady and confident, was overwhelming. His skin was flushed, his lips parted, and the tension in his body was electric. You could see every muscle in his back tense with each thrust, the sight of your reflection in the mirror making the moment even more intense.

"Fuck, Y/n," Chan managed to moan through your hand, his voice barely audible but full of raw emotion. The sight of his flushed face, the way his body moved with yours, was almost too much to handle. You could see the ecstasy building in his eyes, the need, the desire, everything laid bare in the reflection.

"You're close, aren't you?" you whispered in his ear, your voice thick with lust. "I can feel it, Chan. Show me how much you need this."

With another hard thrust, Chan's body tensed, his eyes rolling back as he almost reached the peak of his pleasure. His muffled moans were drowned out by your hand, his body shaking with every wave of ecstasy. You could feel the tightening of his walls around you, the warmth of his climax making you lose control as well.

With a final, powerful thrust, you buried yourself deep inside him, your release hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. Chan's muffled cries of pleasure filled the room, his body convulsing as he followed you over the edge. 

You held him close, both of you riding out the aftershocks of your climax. Slowly, you removed your hand from his mouth, pressing soft kisses along his neck and shoulder. "You did so well," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "So beautiful, so perfect."

Chan turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "You’re amazing.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. "With you, it’s always perfect," you replied, your hands gently caressing his sides.

The world outside the hotel room was a distant memory, the night in Milan a backdrop to the profound connection you shared with Chan. As he lay in your arms, the city lights twinkling outside the window, you knew that no matter where life took you, moments like these would always bring you back to each other.

-

Later, after you had both cleaned up and settled into the luxurious bed, the quiet intimacy continued to envelop you. Chan's gentle touches and soft murmurs of affection filled the space between you, making even the simplest moments feel special.

"Do you remember our first trip together?" Chan asked, his voice a soft rumble in the darkness.

You smiled, recalling the memory fondly. "Of course I do. How could I forget? It was magical."

"It was," he agreed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "But this... tonight... it's even better."

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light. "Why do you say that?"

"Because we're here together," he replied simply, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because every moment with you is better than the last."

Your heart swelled with love for him, and you leaned in to kiss him softly. "I feel the same way," you whispered against his lips. "Every moment with you is a gift."

As he drifted off to sleep in your arms, he knew that no matter what challenges or adventures lay ahead, you would face them together, your love growing stronger with each passing day.

-

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke up to the feeling of Chan’s fingers gently tracing patterns on your back, his touch a comforting presence.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you replied, turning to face him. His eyes were warm and filled with love, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Chan leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. “How did you sleep?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Perfectly,” you said, your heart swelling with happiness. “How about you?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he admitted, his smile widening. “Being with you always makes everything better.”

You snuggled closer to him, savoring the peaceful morning. “I feel the same way,” you confessed, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

As the morning progressed, you both took your time getting ready, enjoying the relaxed pace of the day. The streets of Milan called to you, promising new adventures and memories to be made. But no matter what the day held, you knew that the connection you shared with Chan would remain the most beautiful part of your journey together.

-

Walking through the bustling streets of Milan once more, hand in hand with Chan, you felt a profound sense of gratitude for the love and happiness you had found. The city seemed to sparkle with the promise of new experiences, each moment adding to the rich tapestry of your shared life.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the same joy that filled your heart. “Ready for another day of adventures?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.

“Absolutely,” you replied, smiling up at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, you both stepped forward, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store, knowing that together, you could conquer the world.

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[hostilecandle]

This Truth Is So Well Fixed

Pairing: John Price X M! Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Gentleman Price and Male Reader in a Regency AU

Tags/Warnings: Mildly Suggestive, Age Gap, Light Angst, Time Period Accurate Internalized Homophobia, Miscommunication, VERY light religious symbolism/imagery (mentioned like once), Fluff

A/N: I wrote this with the reader being in his Mid 20s while Price is a little older than his reboot version and its in his Early to Mid 40s. Cross posted to my Ao3 Here. Fic below the cut! Enjoy <3

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” -Jane Austen

It’s late, no one knows you’re out here. You shouldn't be out here. The stars shine overhead and the whisper of the wind whisking through the trees sends a chill down your spine. You should be in bed, resting like the rest of the world. But your home itself haunts you, every time you step foot inside you think of your last encounter with the gentleman Mr. Price. A tall, wealthy, handsome man and friend of your late father’s.

You’ve known Mr. Price since you were quite young, a consistent presence in your life as you grew from a boy into the man you are today. A steady figure that has helped you navigate all this callous world has to offer. You’ve always held a great admiration for the man, he had an air of strength and dignity that rivaled no other. It was intoxicating to be around, to stand in his presence as he commands the attention of a room as naturally as breathing. Mr. Price had never married in his youth and while the notion had always intrigued you, you pushed the thought from your mind long ago out of respect for the man’s privacy. 

That respect and admiration you held for the older man had shifted over the years into something you’d never speak aloud. That didn't stop the thoughts that ran wild whenever he came near. Every visit was something you cherished, you coveted every gruff word spoken between you two, and replayed every brief touch made in passing.

Long past have the days of boyish naivety and now that admiration has turned into a man’s wanting. In the aftermath of those visits, the sound of his voice keeps you company in the lonely dark of your bedroom. In your privacy, you hold yourself in a firm grip as you imagine those hands that gripped your shoulder in the midst of laughter to be the very hands that touch you now. And when you are finished, you sit in your shame promising every time will be the last. And then like clockwork, Mr. Price will call for a visit and the cycle repeats.

For years this has been how it has worked. But a fortnight ago the two of you had shared a night of spirits and laughter. However, as the night wore on and the conversation shifted to more deep and intimate topics, the prospect of you marrying soon came about. Now, you have not set eyes upon any woman, too busy looking at the man across from you for several years. But you're aware what is expected of you, and naturally you looked to the older man for guidance.

Mr. Price seemed to have stiffened at the topic, looking off to the side, avoiding eye contact. Something that is very unusual for him. With the courage of alcohol and familiarity running through your veins, you confess you've never met a woman who has caught your eye. This catches his attention and he turns back to face you, this time making direct eye contact with you as you speak. Feeling anxious under his gaze you stand to pace the room, his eyes following you as you continue to air your fears of finding a lady suited to you. At some point he rises as well, coming to stand behind you, a solid presence at your back.

He places a firm and steady hand on your shoulder and you relax in the familiar gesture. After a moment of silence, his grip tightens and he turns you around before 

Gently pushing you against the wall to your back. He steps into your space, a leg pressed between yours and he looks into your eyes before glancing down at your lips. Your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest, you have spent years imagining this, and now here it is and you find yourself at a loss for words. 

He dips his head down and you lean in, smelling the scent of tobacco and the drinks you've shared tonight. He looks back at your eyes one last time before closing the distance. You can't help the small groan that escapes your lips and in return feel his hand grip the side of your neck and face like a man possessed. He kisses you like he’s dying of thirst and your lips are the only thing that can quench his ache. As the kiss deepens you roll your hips against the leg he’s had pinned between yours, and suddenly it all stops.

Price steps back, his eyes wide with horror. The coolness of the air in his absence raises bumps along your skin and you reach to pull him back, still confused as to why he disappeared. He takes another step back before turning sharply on his heel. Grabbing his jacket and hastily putting it on. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. If you’ll excuse me.” 

“Mr. Price wait-” you begin but he is already brushing past you and walking towards the front door. The sound of the door closing echoes down the hall and you can feel the dread seep into your bones at the finality of it. ‘What have I done?’

Shaking yourself from the memory, you find the night has grown colder still while you were lost in thought. Deciding enough is enough and clearly the night air isn't helping you clear your head any, you head back inside. After sneaking in quietly so as not to disturb anyone else in the residence, you begin to head towards your room.

Suddenly there comes a loud knock at the door, practically making you jump from your skin. Who could be calling so late at night? The knock sounds again and you rush back to the door before whoever it was woke everyone up and you’ll also have questions as to why you’re up so late. Opening the door, a tall man stood disheveled and shrouded in moonlight, hand raised as if to knock again. You’d know that silhouette anywhere, it's been haunting your mind for years. Once the shock wears off you begin to speak in a raised whisper.

“Mr. Price! What are you doing h-”

“John. Please, call me John.” He interrupts, uncharacteristically.

“John.” You whisper softly. “What are you doing here at this hour? People will most certainly talk. Come inside.”

You usher him inside and offer to take his jacket. Holding a finger to your lips, an indicator for silence, you motion for him to follow you to your private bedroom, away from any listening ears.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you, avoiding eye contact as you shut the door behind him.

Turning, you finally get a good look at him. He looks unkempt, bags under his eyes, and certainly not fit to be seen in any form of polite society and you begin to worry. Silence stretches between the two of you as he shifts his weight uncharacteristically from foot to foot. Deciding to break the silence first, “Mr. Price, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

He looks at you then and you remember his request at the door. “John.” You begin again and he snaps to attention as though you had burned him. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

He opens his mouth to say something and then closes it. This happens several times before he seems to lose his nerve. “I’m sorry.” He croaks out. “This- this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have bothered you.”

You reach out and grab his arm before he can walk out the door again. “John… talk to me. Please. If it’s about the last time you were here, Im sorry-”

This time, it's him that turns to you, his eyes incredulous. “Now why are you apologizing? That should be me. I should be begging you not to tell anyone, practically groveling for betraying you in the way I have. I should offer you anything you’d like and walk away so you never see my face again. Why are you apologizing to me?” He sounds confused and wrecked and this time you join in the confusion reverting back to the comfort of formality. 

“Mr. Price, I thought you were simply giving me what I have desired for so long now. Offering yourself to comfort me as I have longed you would, and I am so sorry to have tempted you so.”

As you’re speaking he runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh, almost self deprecating, before he speaks again. “You? You think you have tempted me? I am almost twice your age and you truly believe that you have wronged me, regardless of the fact that I forced myself upon you while you were in a state of distress and have betrayed any trust you may have once had in me?”  

“I'm sorry, Mr. Price. I’m afraid I’m not understanding. Were you not acting on my poorly hidden desires?”

This seems to level him in some way. His shifting has stopped and now he stands, back straight with leveled shoulders as he stares into your eyes. “Your desires?” He whispers before taking a step forward. Confused, you take a step back and feel the hard plane of the door against you. Taking another step forward he asks, “Am I to understand that you have desires for me?” 

You look away as your face floods with embarrassment. He takes a final step, this time crowding against you, pressing you against the door to your back. “I'm sorry.” You whisper as shame flows through you.

He shushes you as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “You haunt me.” He leans in close, your faces are almost touching and he grabs your chin. Running his thumb along your bottom lip and feeling your breath tremble beneath his touch. He forces you to make eye contact as his lips graze against yours, the touch but a whisper.

"I want to hear your voice catch in ecstasy, my love. Wanna hear you moan in my ear the way you did when I first kissed you. In my dreams whimpers fall from your lips, wet and hot. I want to catch your breath in mine and devour your sounds. I want to hold them between my teeth. I’ve wanted you for the better of five years now. From the moment I realized you’d grown to become a man I haven't been able to breathe right around you."

You can't believe what you are hearing. It seems too good to be true. He leans back to look you in the eye, you can see the seriousness and truth in the words he speaks. He means every word he’s spoken. "Do you understand what I'm saying, my dear? What I'm asking, no, what I’m begging for? Can you hear the pleas that fall off my tongue for your ears alone? Will you allow me to satiate the hunger that burns within me for you? Will you let me have you?"

You find yourself nodding under his intensity, trapped between his arm by your head and the hand holding your face a small “Yes, please” falls from your lips before he’s kissing you breathless, stealing the air from your lungs. Once he's had his fill of your lips, his mouth travels the column of your throat, across your shoulders and down your arm kisses every inch of exposed skin he can find.. He grabs your wrist and pulls back the sleeve that covers it as he presses his devotion against your knuckles and across your fingers. You're leaning against the door, still caged in by his arm and out of breath, light headed from the feeling of all his attention on you by the time he flips your wrist over to press kisses to your palm.

He pauses his ministrations, breath hot against your hand as he looks back up at you. “Have you ever kissed someone's hands?” He asks. Have you felt your very breath echo against their palm? Traced your lips along fingers and felt every divot and ridge that makes it so explicitly them? There is something so sensual about one's mouth meeting another's hand, of bowing your head and offering yourself, don’t you think?” He moves his mouth down to your wrist, placing a soft kiss at your pulse point, feeling the racing beat against his lips.

“Have you experienced the euphoric rush of your teeth grazing against the veins in a wrist, life-force itself flowing millimeters beneath your teeth? The knowledge you could bite down and fill yourself with them? ” He lightly nips before soothing it with his tongue and you have to place your other hand against your mouth to muffle the sound that is aching to come out.

He releases your wrist and stands back upright, towering over you as you now lean against the door for support. He reaches a hand out to you to help you up, and you reach out to grab it, a bastardization of The Creation of Adam. You find yourself laughing as he pulls you up and leads you over to the bed.

This night began the start of years of love and strife. A constant battle for secrecy and peace from the prying eyes of society. Several years later, late at night, John asks why you put up with it. You could've had anything you wanted and still you chose him. It was simple you told him, you love him. You could tell this wasn't good enough to sate him so you grab his hand and lead him to the window. 

“We are made of love, John. We are made to love. To love deeply, love passionately. We are made to love so intently it hurts and and love so softly there's no sweeter experience on this Earth. We are created to fall in love John, just a little, with every single person we come across.”

He huffs a bit at that and you smile turning to him as you place a hand on his cheek, “After all, how can one not fall in love with a masterpiece, every one of us handcrafted and designed with the utmost care and patience. We desire love so we make our own gods to devote ourselves to and ask they adore us in return. We seek love in friends and family and strangers.” 

You look back out the window to the stars that fill the sky. “We seek love in the oceans and stars, pleading with them to love us back. Staring at their seemingly infinite vastness, begging them to bare themselves to us the way we do to them. It's the same way with you, John. I would have given anything because I love you.” 

He places a hand against your cheek and turns your head to face him again. He kisses you softly and then pulls you away from the window and back to bed. As you lay back down, he pulls you against him as he kisses the top of your head. “I love you too” He whispers and you smile before drifting off, happy and content in the life you built together.

[Dividers by the-aesthetic-shop and firefly-graphics]

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the dark Phoenix

Chapter 20: Spilling tea

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"Um. Mister Janus?" Patton asked.

"Yes, little one?" Janus hummed, curling his arms a bit tighter around Logan's waist, practically resting his head on top of his travel companion’s. Roman couldn't help a bemused smile as he saw how hard Logan was trying to focus on the road rather than his own gay panic. Let’s see how well he fared with a handsome mage paying him special attention.

"Remus told us how he got his title. What got you the nickname Silver Tongue?"

Janus chuckled. "That is a very good question. It refers to... well, I was often trusted with assisting the king with, negotiations, of all sorts. Wearing different faces when needed. Only those who'd known me as a child knew my true face and only Remus and Virgil ever figured out how to spot me when I was wearing a new one," Janus explained as his face shifted through several other appearances before settling back to his own. Well, the one that resembled a mature version of the face Roman had seen in Virgil's childhood memory. Roman wondered if he was naturally tall or if he chose to be.

"Taking on a new face became as easy as putting on different clothes. They say that my voice itself became magical. The talent to persuade like no other alone could have gotten me the title, of course. But it actually came about after a nasty rumor took hold that I incited a coup using my skills, circumventing a sacred oath of loyalty by twisting words and identity," Janus said a bit too dramatic to sound sincere in his distress at the accusation.

"Thing with swearing an oath to the bloodline, it doesn't count when the king is not really part of that bloodline," Virgil joked fondly.

"And it wasn't my fault that some innocent jokes got twisted into a rallying cry," Janus added innocently.

"He was an entitled jerk anyway," Virgil recalled. Roman got the idea that Virgil might have helped with this coup.

"Another reason not to get involved in politics," Remus stated.

Patton was quiet for a moment.

"... Is night flame about something special, too, then? Because I figured it just referred to him being a dark phoenix..." Patton asked.

Virgil tensed, his dread and embarrassment, almost knocking Roman of balance.

"Oh, we all have a few, we just pick the one we feel fits us most as our official title. Virgil had a lot of titles over the years, though," Janus explained.

"That's what happens when you rub elbows with the right people all the time," Remus cackled.

"Night Flame is a bit of a reference to his guide yes, which is why he chose it. It’s one of the first titles they gave him and he is a stubborn fool who refuses to acknowledge that he’s a living legend no matter how hard he hides behind a name everyone’s forgotten the story behind,” Janus explained, sending Virgil a fondly teasing look before addressing Patton once more.

“Things got a bit unruly during our first few years as high mages. And Virgil, both out of concern for his family and general inability to stay out of a crisis, offered help to the people who might be part of the crossfire while the rest of us were busy with glorious battle or something like it. He was called night flame because in a dark time for them, he was hope,” he explained.

“Like Jani said, he had a lot. Like, he had a habit to pick out kiddies with ‘potential’ and ended up being in the middle of big events because of it. People actually started to believe that the gods gave him visions of the future so he could ‘guide those blessed by them on their path’,” Remus quoted haughtily. “For that, they called him Fate Walker," he revealed. Virgil groaned into Roman's shoulder. "Now they aren't going to shut up about it for hours," he muttered.

"Virgil, it is only fair for them to know what kind of person they travel with," Janus said teasingly.

"Yeah, they are allowed to know that you were the fabled Lunar Consort," Remus teased.

Roman blushed, wondering what that could mean. "No, I did not seduce a god," Virgil sighed.

"I made a tea that helped people deal with nightmares. A guaranteed good night's sleep. I called it: Moon's love, and rumors happened," he surmised.

“Oh of course. How silly of us. It is not as if you eased the suffering of a lot of soldiers and civilians alike. Not to mention the fact that it doesn’t work as a sedative. It only facilitates sleep in those who are already seeking rest. It is impossible to misuse. It’s not like that is a rarity or anything,” Janus scoffed.

“It’s not a big deal!” Virgil insisted.

"Whatever you say, Arachnid Armored," Remus shrugged.

"That one wasn't even wide spread... are you still upset that I wouldn't make you anything from my very limited batch of spider silk?" Virgil asked.

"It looks so sick dude! Why noooot!?" Remus whined.

"Because I am not wasting the most valuable type of fabric on a loincloth," Virgil huffed before explaining to the group.

"I made my sister's wedding dress with spidersilk. It was supple, soft and very sturdy. I made myself a shirt with what was left. I wore it for the wedding and for a party a few years later. Someone got rowdy, and I ended up with a knife in my stomach. Except I didn't get stabbed. Turns out, spidersilk fabric, woven, dyed and sown together by a high mage is indestructible. My sister’s dress is still in the family as an heirloom. It’s survived anything you could possibly throw at it. And if it gets a bit too out of style I come by to make a few alterations to better suit the bride… I probably missed a few weddings…” a deep sadness rolled of Virgil in a few heavy waves before he pulled himself together. “Once I realized how durable it was, I made an undershirt for Arthur to wear whenever he felt unsafe. That should still be around as well,” he finished.

“He basically made fashionable, indestructible armor by forming a special trust with spiders. He won’t tell anyone how he did it. Those critters are skittish as hell. No one’s been able to do it since,” Remus offered.

“I did tell people. You just have to ask nicely,” Virgil insisted.

“Perhaps it’s easier for you because you spin and weave yourself?” Roman offered. “You understand and respect the craft better than most mages, so none of them will be able to convey a sincere adoration for their work the way you do?”

It was quiet for a little while. “That makes a lot of sense actually,” Virgil allowed.

“I suppose it does Virgil Master Brewer,” Janus agreed.

“For the love off… I can make a decent tea, how is that a thing that got me a title?” Virgil asked exasperatedly.

“It is true that I very much look forward to having tea at your home again. But that is not the only reason you were called that. It is more a footnote to that aspect of your legacy. There isn’t a potion in existence that hasn’t been improved upon by you in some way,” Janus argued.

“Patton’s was perfect just the way it was,” Virgil insisted.

“Aw, thanks Virgil,” Patton said cheerily.

Janus didn’t look impressed. “Usually I am all for some well-placed flattery, but not when it is so you can avoid praise of your own. That was a first trial and it wasn’t even for the potion’s intended purpose. I’m sure that if our scholar here were to drink it and get stabbed, he’d have a few notes,” he mused.

“I would rather not be the Guinea pig for this experiment. Besides I fully intend on ascending once we have explained ourselves to the king. So I won’t be a viable candidate for much longer,” Logan insisted.

“Do you now?” Janus purred, intrigued, but not quite surprised.

“It is most efficient,” Logan nodded.

“And you are jelly that your buddy did it first,” Remus teased.

Roman looked at Logan surprised… Logan, jealous? Of him?

“Ridiculous,” Logan huffed. “Roman’s improvement under Virgil’s guidance is remarkable. I don’t begrudge him the progress he made,” he insisted.

“Uhuh. So it doesn’t bother you that Pattycake also became a great wizard mage?” Remus taunted.

Logan flushed. “I am not that vain!” he protested.

“Hmmm, nothing vain about a little ambition,” Janus mused, resting his chin on Logan’s shoulder and talking into his ear. “On the contrary. I think it is rather attractive in a man,” he told him.

Logan flushed bright red. “Virgil, do all your friends tend to flirt with people they met five minutes ago?” Logan demanded.

“Well, it’s been a bit longer than that darling,” Janus pointed out.

“That was not the first ‘pass’ you made at me,” Logan pointed out. Janus smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

Virgil chuckled. “Well…” he said.

“Yes,” Remus cut in. Roman caught a brief flash of disappointment in Patton’s eyes. Remus clearly had no place making jabs at Virgil’s supposed lack of ‘game’.

“Only when they look appetizing,” Janus assured Logan. “Though I will attempt to reign myself in if it bothers you,” he promised lowly.

“Is that voice part of your namesake? There is something about it that doesn’t sound… I’ve heard you talk in Virgil’s memory, it didn’t sound like that,” Roman asked, struggling a bit with putting it all into words.

Janus chuckled. “Are you saying I am enchanting, father of the sun warrior?” he teased.

Roman didn’t answer that, guessing that Janus could probably dance around the question for hours if needed. From what he understood of him he was a politician after all.

Janus smirked at him. “It is indeed part of my magic. It is more obvious than Virgil’s mastery over his senses, but more subtle than Remus’ beastly mastery of Faunix’s realm.

But it’s come in handy,” he allowed.

“Mastery of Faunix’s realm?” Patton repeated confused.

“Animal. I got so good at transforming in all sorts of critters I don’t need any part of them to transform. I could become a unicorn right now if I felt like it. My fav is still my guide though,” Remus elaborated.

“Speaking of talents, I believe we were trying to get our Mystic of the Mist to admit to his extraordinary resume,” Janus grinned, making Virgil groan in frustration.

“I hoped the subject was dropped,” he grumbled.

“Not a chance,” Remus cackled.

Janus elaborated for them. “Have any of you ever been taught about the… What did people end up calling it… The age of winter?” he asked.

Roman thought back.

“There are some old legends and nursery rhymes that refer to it,” Logan informed his passenger.

Right, now Roman remembered something…

“Silver sky, cloudy land, passerby with light in hand. Stay the path, find the way. Spring might come some other day,” he sang softly.

“Why are they always so creepy?” Virgil mused.

He was ignored though.

“A long time ago, before the first king was crowned. The weather shifted,” Janus recalled.

“It was the last of fall, so we didn’t realize it right away,” Virgil recalled. “But when my windows couldn’t find a single bit of sunny sky in the whole territory that was under our protection for days, we knew something was wrong,” he said.

“But by then, finding the source and reversing it was no longer an easy task. The spell had taken a life of its own and even if the caster had changed their mind, they wouldn’t be able to control it anymore. Changing the weather should only be done very locally. This was a shift over the entire country,” Janus continued.

“We don’t know if it was an idiot who messed up an experiment, or if it was an idiot who tried to protect us in a way but got in way over their head, or someone from outside the territory who was trying to mess with us. No one ever claimed responsibility,” Remus informed them.

“And it would be fifty years before one of us stumbled upon the eye of the spell and called all of us to him to undo its hold on the local climate. Most people alive at that time had never seen the sun a day in their lives. Society had changed its rhythm and habits, life expectancy had shortened. We had to gently return them to the ways before the age of winter,” Virgil recalled.

“And Virgie spent most of those fifty years popping up wherever people were lost with Star to get them where they were going all safe and sound,” Remus cackled.

“He wore a hood an didn’t speak hoping people wouldn’t put together that it was him and not a weather god taking pity on them. Sometimes it was, they were really in a tizzy that this man made storm wouldn’t listen to them. But when your companion is a cosmic wolf, people are going to figure you out V,” he told his friend.

Virgil sighed. “Well, Stardust made it easier to travel from one side of the territory to the other,” he argued.

“I was a bit surprised to hear about how there were animal guides in the mountains helping travelers not fall off a cliff,” he added meaningfully.

Remus didn’t respond to that.

“Come to think of it, wasn’t it that spring that Arthur was born?” Janus mused.

“That very day actually. The stars that night…” Virgil smiled, nostalgic. “I can’t begin to describe how beautiful they looked after fifty years of not seeing them,” he mused. “You missed them too didn’t you Star?” Virgil wondered. Star let out a happy bark making the group chuckle.

“Those were all mushy domestic ones though. I like the spicy ones best,” Remus argued.

Roman felt Virgil tense.

“Remus, I think Virgil’s had enough for today,” Janus suggested casually, but Roman was looking at him and caught him glancing at Virgil worriedly.

“Oh come on! Ocean’s blade of fire is such a sexy one,” Remus insisted. Roman felt the dread, recognized it from when Virgil picked up his daggers. It was that but ten times worse.

He tried to let him feel that this didn’t change the way he felt.

“I never understood the whispered death though. I saw you on that battle, it was not quiet,” Remus giggled.

“Remus enough!” Janus exclaimed.

“The survivors called me that. Because I would ask them not to die for this. But I asked softly, a whisper," Virgil said. Voice hollow and sad.

“Shit, sorry V, I forgot,” Remus offered.

“How can you possibly forget such a thing?” Janus bit.

“Hey, you were there for the jerk kings and I am mad at myself for not punching their lights out for you guys. But I didn’t see that bit of it. Just occasionally the carnage when I happened to be close to the battleground, ah…” Remus seemed to catch himself, remembering there was an audience. “He only really fought foot soldiers when he really, really had to,” he told them. “If he could he only defeated a very cocky leader and that was usually enough to have the rest of the army run off grateful to be given the chance to live once they realized that the stories were true,” he assured them, hoping to fix the mess he made. Roman laid a reassuring hand on Virgil’s trembling fists that pressed into his stomach. Virgil relaxed.

“Say, Remus, what kind of animals do you like turning into?” Patton asked, distracting Remus so he wouldn’t mess things up more by trying to help and giving Virgil some space to feel his feelings.

“Janus, I would actually like to pick your brain on some things that historians seem to be in disagreement over,” Logan offered, picking up on the tactic.

Roman rode on, giving Virgil some time to be convinced that he hadn’t been scared off.

“What was that about your senses?” Roman wondered softly.

Virgil chuckled. He leaned back a little and pressed his fingers against Roman’s temples. Suddenly the world opened up to him in a new way. A little like when he ascended.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a few new colors,” Roman breathed in awe when it was over.

Virgil put his arms back around his waist, feeling a bit better. But not back to a good mood. There were many things on his mind probably.

Roman bit his lip. Most of all, he wanted not to be overheard right now, but to ‘talk’ with Virgil, it was much easier when they could see each other to add more context to their feelings.

He looked up and saw a bird pass over. Virgil looked up as well and a warm longing filled him.

Roman got an idea.

Virgil was hesitant, but clearly wanted to.

Roman reassured him. There was no rush if he felt like now wasn’t the time. It’d get their mind off of things, but it was true that this wasn’t something he wanted tainted by a bad mood.

Virgil pulled himself closer to his back. Soft excitement for the future starting to overtake the pain of the past.

Roman felt in his satchel and found the tea he’d packed. Logan was a bit of a tea snob.

The moment he brought it to the surface Virgil apparently could smell what he had in his hand because he definitely picked up on what he was thinking off.

The mix of excitement and nerves convinced Roman that this was supposed to be their first date.

There was a hint of uncertainty. He was asking Roman if he was really alright with it. With them going on a date now, in the middle of everything. If he wanted to die on their first date. Maybe a few other things. But Roman knew that the answer was yes. He let him feel how excited he was.

Relief washed over Virgil and then a hint of annoyance. Roman could guess what was bothering him. He took one of his hands and put it on his temple, the road ahead was straight so he could take a moment to show him right? He took a deep breath, felt Virgil breathe with him like when they shared dreams, and thought back to the moment he’d been so distracted by the relief of seeing Virgil, of feeling him again, that he didn’t even properly register that Remus’ blade had cut diagonally from his shoulder to his sternum. Looking at Virgil, despite his horrified expression, the adrenaline made it impossible for him to even think of death. The pain washed away and he felt warm and comfortable like in the temple when he’d ascended. And then he was back where he was before with some mild soreness and no clue what had happened.

Virgil felt a bit comforted. Roman imagined he hadn’t had that many opportunities to share a fellow phoenix’s first death with them. Let alone one he was courting.

“Almost forgot. J! Lucas had some tea for you!” Virgil announced after a few moments of gathering his emotions.

“The little Bosh boy?” Janus asked surprised, pulled from his conversation with Logan.

"Exactly that one. He's got a granddaughter now. Preserved them just like his mother taught him," Virgil explained.

Roman assumed that this method kept herbs from losing their flavor after 50 years.

"Oh. Anything for me?" Remus wondered.

"Downside of not being around people enough to make connections Remus. No presents when you get back from an involuntary 50 year sabbatical," Virgil shrugged.

Remus pouted.

"Remus, my tea is the result of a generational bond and many minds tweaking it exactly to my taste. Prefaced with a lifelong close friendship with one of their ancestors that made me a part of the family's history. I was not quite as beloved as Virgil. But still, very much welcomed," Janus relayed smugly.

"You have a personalized blend, too?" Logan asked out loud.

"Oh, I should have guessed you are a man of refined taste. You clearly knew how to appreciate the wine properly," Janus coed. "Perhaps we could share our blends sometime? You can tell a lot about a man by how he likes his tea," he muttered lowly.

"Well, I've got Logan's with me. It hasn't aged for 50 years, but it is to his taste," Roman pointed out.

"I should have guessed you brought it with you," Logan chuckled. "Roman has not had generations to refine the blend, and I have not had centuries to refine my palette, but this is as close as we could possibly get to perfection in this lifetime. Roman relished in the challenge to make me a special blend for my eighteenth birthday, and he tries something new every once in a while," Logan explained. Virgil leaned into Roman to whisper in his ear, listing the ingredients he'd managed to pick out from briefly smelling them earlier.

Roman chuckled as he got almost all of them right.

He sent him some fond teasing. Virgil felt a little sheepish at being called out for bragging again. Roman couldn't help laughing at that.

"Adorable," Janus teased.

"Aw cupcake, will you go on a tea date with me too? I don't wanna be left out," Remus pouted.

"Oh, um... well... ah..." Patton stammered.

"It is not a date," Logan argued.

"It could be, it isn't as intimate as dying together, but I assure you, I could make up for that," Janus mused. Roman was starting to see what Virgil meant when he said he was, in fact, taking things slow with him. His friends clearly wasted no time once they saw something they liked.

"Maybe we should tone down the flirting until we have spoken with the king," Virgil suggested, taking pity on the two great wizard mages.

"Hmmm. Not sure. I'd like to devour mine sometime this week actually," Janus mused.

"Devour?" Logan asked perplexed.

"Yeah, V. We both haven't has any fun contact with anyone in 50 years. You took a nap. Love ya man. But we are kinda starving for some tlc. Bonus points if it's with someone dtf," Remus pointed out. Roman supposed he had a point. He got a bit fidgety if he went a few days without a hug or something of the like, a rarity considering he was friends with Patton. He couldn’t imagine having to be isolated for 50 years.

"Besides just cuz your eye fucking and flirting is silent doesn't mean we don't get to play," Remus added for good measure. Roman really didn't need to think about That right now.

There was a hint of amusement in Virgil. "I suppose if they don't complain... but they have to be able to compose themselves by the time we speak to the king," he insisted.

"Oh! That reminds me of another one of your titles!" Remus gasped.

"Your majesty," he continued before anyone could stop him. Shocked silence followed.

"Only for like... a decade!" Virgil recalled.

"Thirteen years actually, if I recall correctly. With an average reign of 20, that could be considered a complete reign," Janus argued. "And you were one of my favorites," he added. Virgil blushed.

“You just had to remember that part didn’t you,” he huffed.

"There was an issue with succession. Everyone voted and only V didn't vote for himself as regent king," Remus grinned.

"It was very official. He swore in his council and everything. And of course helped raise the future Queen," Janus explained.

"I'd love to hear more about what that was like someday," Roman offered, hoping that would ease Virgil's embarrassment.

"What that's like is that he went from a respected mentor and friend to the royal family to an honorary member," Janus explained smugly.

"Yeah! You were basically the queen's father figure. She named her son after you didn't she?" Remus recalled.

"King Edward Virgil Pendragon," Virgil nodded a fondness in him that he managed to keep from his voice.

King Edward... "King Thomas' great -great grandfather?" Roman asked perplexd.

"Yeah," Virgil confirmed. "Queen Nathalie made some good strides towards better relationships with others. With a high mage in charge, the neighbors didn’t dare to risk provoking us. Tensions were still high when she took the throne though. But slowly she and every monarch since have been disarming the hostilities. A peace that was thankfully maintained the last few decades," Virgil explained, a pit forming in his stomach.

Roman squeezed his hand in reasurance. "A town is coming up ahead," he announced, getting everyone’s attention.

“The inn should be…” Virgil whispered.

“Halt! Who goes there!?” a knight declared. Crap.

“Good evening. I am Great mage Roman, phoenix of light,” Roman announced, a bit miffed he couldn’t use his cool new high mage title. But it wouldn’t mean anything to the knights.

“We were informed that you would be traveling with a phoenix…” the knight said skeptically.

“If you look for a phoenix, then look at the sky,” Janus suggested, his voice honey sweet and bemused. Like an adult to a child. Virgil was amused, and a bit nostalgic. Roman guessed they were about to see the silver tongue in action.

“Ah, well, the report…” the soldier stammered, immediately unsure of himself.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Janus offered. “We won’t tell the king that you didn’t see the phoenix if you won’t,” he promised. “Easy mistake. We are all only human after all,” he pointed out.

“Yeah… Yes… Well, be sure to ah… Next town you should have the phoenix with you, the king wishes to be kept informed,” the knight insisted.

“Of course, we will keep that in mind,” Janus promised.

And with that, they were let through.

It was silent for a little while.

“Couldn’t help yourself could you?” Virgil grinned.

“It saved us a lot of time. I want to settle down with some tea and get properly caught up on everything I have missed,” Janus insisted. “I’m sure you won’t mind educating me?” he asked Logan, who blushed. “Yes, I ahm… I will inform you of the events that happened as best as I can manage,” he promised.

Janus chuckled.

“And I can tell you about the beasties on my mountain,” Remus promised Patton who seemed excited by the prospect.

“Let’s get to the inn without detours this time,” Logan suggested, a little nervous now that the king was clearly keeping an eye on them.

Virgil nodded. “This way,” he said, indicating the path. Roman guided his horse through the sleeping town. Occasionally someone would walk past them, but they never paid him enough mind to notice anything odd. Such as Remus still not wearing a shirt. Or Janus being dressed far too fancy for travel.

Roman felt a lot of tension fall away when they left the town.

“Honestly, I am surprised that the guards are only now paying any attention to travelers. We could have started some big problems if we’d wanted,” Virgil mused.

“I was wondering the same. Thomas was a trusting boy, but I would imagine even he would have caution over strangers wandering through the land,” Janus mused.

“Before the plague we used a lot of magic to protect the villages and find people with ill intent to make the job easier for the guards. If those wards haven’t been maintained since Gustav disappeared 30 years ago those probably haven’t been much help for a long time. But it seems there is a fairly good communication network considering they did spot our suspicious activity within a few days,” Virgil mused.

“Hm… I should probably check on my mountain after Tommy says we can go. Who knows how many unfortunate souls stumbled into my home,” Remus giggled.

“Well, we’re here. Let’s gather our bearings and then head to the castle,” Virgil suggested.

Indeed another deceptively small building was visible just a little way of the path. One could be forgiven for assuming it was someone’s home.

But Roman and his friends knew better by now.

They dismounted the horses and with a spell from Remus they took off, heading home on their own. “They won’t run into any nasties,” Remus assured Patton, ruffling his hair playfully.

Patton giggled and ducked away from the gesture, blushing just a bit… Roman wouldn’t have guessed that someone as… Brutish, as Remus would catch Patton’s attention like that, but it seemed that despite the wild mage’s missteps Patton was growing attached. He better not hurt him. Roman was a high mage too and he would gladly die a few dozen times if it taught the brute not to mess with his friend’s heart.

“Back again?” the inn keeper noted kindly as he opened the door.

“We just want to rest our legs and go to Mystica if that is alright,” Virgil offered, paying the man.

“We would like a kettle of hot water though,” Virgil added.

The man nodded and headed to the kitchen as the group settled.

“Me and Roman are going to need a bit of time alone. I don’t want to freak out the lady of the house by having two dying arch mages in her dining hall,” Virgil explained.

"Naturally," Janus said teasingly.

Virgil ignored him.

Remus clapped Roman on the back. "Go get some ass nephew," he cackled. Roman just rolled his eyes.

"Here you go," the innkeeper announced, bringing over a big kettle, steaming hot

"Excellent," Virgil smiled. He retrieved a smaller kettle from his satchel and filled it with water. "We will need a little time to meditate," he told their host, gesturing between Roman and himself.

"Of course," he nodded and led them to a room.

"You won't be needing anything else?" He asked.

"No, that will be all," Virgil assured him as he put the kettle down and set out two cups, and put a little bag with herbs in the kettle.

They were left alone, Virgil gestured for Roman to sit down with him. Which was a relief considering his legs felt like they were turning into jelly.

"How is it that you are more scared now than when you were nearly cleaved in two?" he asked bemused.

Roman blushed. "I didn't know what was happening at the time," he reminded him. "I was mainly relieved you were okay. Which is a bit stupid, but it was a scary sight," he explained. Virgil looked at him fondly. “This is different. I know what’s going to happen, kind off. I’ve never died on purpose before,” he added, eyeing the kettle where the means of his demise were difusing into the water.

"I developed this poison myself. To ease the passing of those who cannot or do not want to, be saved by healing. It won't hurt," Virgil promised.

And he was so certain that Roman found himself relaxing. Still nervous, but he assumed first dates usually had that effect on people.

Virgil smirked and poured out a cup for each. "It will take a bit of time to work. But it will be gradual and peaceful. Trust me, as poisons go, this is rather pleasant," he assured him.

"Speaking from experience?" Roman joked. To his shock, Virgil nodded. "I wrote a book on the effects different poisons had on the body. Some are very unpleasant," Virgil said with a grimace. Roman could feel his own stomach clench.

"You know this is going to be about more than just ensuring you know what to do next time you die," Virgil stated softly as he picked up his cup.

"Yeah," Roman said, picking up his own. Nervous for two reasons now.

"Listen, I know how you feel, and you know how I feel. We have gotten to know one another on a very intimate level very quickly due to our bond. I got to know you through how you felt watching your friends struggle and triumph. How you felt about your own accomplishments and in battle. And something similar goes for you. What I am trying to say is, I don't doubt that you understand who I am, even if you don't know all I’ve done, good or bad," Virgil explained carefully. Observing the surface of his cup.

"And you know who I am," Roman agreed. Virgil nodded.

"So... do you wish to see where those feelings take us?" Virgil asked. Roman nodded, letting his heart talk for him. Virgil smirked, though there was a soft giddy undertone to it. "To our collective health," he suggested before drinking his tea. Roman followed suit. He was pleasantly surprised. Nothing about this gave him the idea that he was drinking poison.

It was really good, actually.

"You are good at this master brewery thing," he complemented.

Virgil chuckled. "I wouldn't recommend it as an addition to your morning ritual," he teased as he got up. "Let's lay down. It'll start to drain us of our strength soon enough," he said, offering a hand which Roman took.

They laid down in the bed, facing each other, and Virgil cast a spell.

"Fireproofing?" Roman guessed.

"I'm pretty sure Arson is still considered poor manners," Virgil chuckled, taking Roman's hand and squeezing it. He was nervous.

"You'd think that at a certain point this would get easier. But it still feels just as queezy as the first time," Virgil mused displeased. Roman would've thought Virgil meant dying, were it not for how his eyes drifted to his lips as he spoke.

Oh.... oh wow... ok. Yeah... yeah he definitely would like that...

He frowned. Something felt off. That cold sensation was back. Like something had settled in his stomach and was draining the warmth from his body. Last time it had been in his shoulder, but it was the same feeling. Then he realized that was exactly it. He could feel the poison trying to kill him.

"Let it happen. You'll be ok," Virgil promised as he laid a hand on his waist and pulled them closer together, noses almost touching.

Roman tried to relax but flinched as the cold reached his heart.

"Shhhh," Virgil soothed, growing paler with the second.

He laid a hand to Roman's face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. Instantly, Roman felt better.

"May I?" Virgil asked, a slight tremble in his voice. From nerves or because the poison was getting to him Roman wasn’t entirely sure. Roman could feel the cold in his throat and a start of something warm in his chest. He didn't waste time on words, and laid his free hand on Virgil's face, and together, they bridged the gap.

The warmth started to burn, his heart was pounding. He didn't mind, though. He was kissing Virgil, and he was okay with the flames of his magic consuming them like this. He barely noticed Virgil's own flames joining in. He was kissing Virgil, and he didn't know where one ended and the other began.

And then the darkness came.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Let's Talk about Soda and Cherry As Foils

It's pretty widely known and accepted that Bob and Randy are foils to Soda and Steve, almost the soc version of them, something Hinton even named in her book. However, I think BECAUSE she named this foiling people overlook another pair of narrative foils who are a little harder to notice but ultimately very interesting to analyze. This may ruffle some feathers, but I'm talking about how Bob and Cherry's relationship foils Soda and Sandy's. Cherry and Sandy are narratively as different as they could possibly be. Cherry is the queen of socs, a cheerleader, at the top of the social totem pole, whereas Sandy is pretty enough and 'sweet' but still a loud and brash greaser girl, with very little social status. That said, both girls managed to pull boys who are viewed highly by their peers in their own respective circles, Bob who was 'charming and funny' and well liked by socs, and Soda who was 'handsome enough even soc girls went after him'. HOWEVER, in my opinion, this is a very surface level view of these characters relationships foiling one another- and that's because I don't truly think Chery and Sandy foil each other, or that Bob and Soda do. If we're looking at foiling through the lense of both problematic romances, which both end badly (albeit in different ways) I actually think that Cherry and SODA foil each other the best. They both fell for problematic people, but Soda was too blind to see it, and Cherry willing to ignore it. They're both very clearly upset when their relationships end, but Cherry develops through the story to the point where it's questionable she would have stayed with Bob had he survived, whereas Soda admits he was willing to stay with Sandy and marry her even though she cheated and was having another man's baby. Now, having looked at Chery and Soda as foils, we now need to look at Sandy and Bob as foils. This is difficult, as neither character gets a lot of 'screen time', but narratively speaking, they're not that different. Both were good looking, known for being charismatic, but they both clearly had a dark side, something neither of them are shown to ever have had much remorse about. We know that Bob 'was always waiting for someone to tell him no', and I think to some extent the same could be said of Sandy. I don't want to impose TOOO much speculation into what's supposed to be a cut and dry character analysis, but in my experience cheaters often want the next, shiny new person, when they get bored/feel a lack of attention from their new partner, and I think that's what happened to her when the Curtis parents died and Soda had less time to shower her with attention/love. One COULD argue that Sandy also has the INVERSE of Bob's problem, in that she's spent her whole life being told no and not having enough, so that when she has a surplus of boys who are after her, the first time she's had "too much" of anything, she takes what she wants from all of them, however, I think that interpretation comes with it's own set of problems. Either way you look at it, Bob and Sandy both end up being wolves in sheep's clothing, albeit in different ways, and Cherry and Soda end up being the idiots who fell in love with them, and ended up breaking their own hearts in the process but also learning from these failed relationship experiences.

But yeah. Just some Thursday night thoughts.

[vamp1reheart]

•°Shadow of light°• 02

Notices: This book contains violence, explicit sexual content, verbal and non-verbal abuse, war scenarios, Conflicts, depression and suicide, toxic relationships, obsessive themes, and others... This book is a Taehyung x female reader fanfic, However, I do not own BTS and I have no intention of offending anyone with this story!

Note: Initially this book was not supposed to become a fanfic, it is an original book of mine that is still being created. Turning this book into a Taehyung fanfic was a request from a friend of mine, so I hope you like it. I might be able to post the original version of the book, but it will all depend on how people react to this fanfic (the book is a bit different from the fanfic, don't worry ;)

Preview:"She was known as the sun, always with her bright smile and her admirable kindness."

"He was known as the moon, cold, dark and in his coat were the most precious stones."

"But the moon does not shine without the light of the Sun, and that is something he did not count on."

Have you ever dreamed that you were falling into a deep, dark hole?

That was the feeling I felt when I woke up.

I was in my room. The window was open and the sunlight lit up my room, like a cozy setting.

But then I remember what happened last night.

Was that a dream?

I'm not sure, but it seems like the man is just a distant memory.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by Aunt Miranda calling my name.

For the first time, I woke up after her. I think it's better not to tell Aunt Miranda about the dream I had, since she's paranoid she'll have me blessed.

Walking down the stairs in a fragile manner I see Aunt Miranda in the living room.

"Good morning aunt"

"Good morning dear, come with me to the city fair. I need some things..."

Leaving the house after that dream seems like a terrible idea, I don't know why I think that, but something tells me it's better not to go out.

Ignoring my thoughts, I decide to please Aunt Miranda and go to the fair with her. It's been a long time since Aunt Miranda and I spent time together, so I have to stop being selfish and please her at least a little. I curse myself for even considering the possibility of locking myself in my own house in order to hide from the dream I had.

I wish I could say that the fair is peaceful. But it isn't.

I feel watched.

Could it be because the fair was full of people? But it's not, the path to the fair was quiet, but the feeling that someone is watching me is constant.

I hate this feeling, maybe my subconscious was right...maybe I should have listened to my selfishness and stayed home.

Maybe I...

My thoughts are suddenly cut off when I see him in my peripheral vision. That's him, right there, in an alley, hidden in the shadows.

Without even realizing it, I stop walking, the pressure in my chest returning again, I can only look at him.

He was still frighteningly handsome. He gives me a smile, that same smile he gave me in my dream, and with his finger he calls me. He doesn't need to use words for me to come to him.

But what am I doing? I feel like I have no control over myself at the moment.

When I realized I was already very close to him, This makes me fear, my whole body trembles, with fear?

He grabs my hands in an attempt to stop them from shaking, and again comes close to my face to whisper in my ear.

"You look even more beautiful in the sunlight..."

He spins my body, making my back hit his chest. He brushes my hair aside and I hear a small chain noise.

Looking down I see a beautiful necklace, it was simple but certainly extremely valuable. It was golden like gold, and at its tip was a stone, Half bluish white that reflected the sunlight.

"Only the best jewels for my best jewel."

He says, caressing my arms gently, before his touch becomes like a ghost on my skin.

Turning around again, I realize he's already gone.

It certainly couldn't be a dream now.

In my room, I can't stop thinking about who he could be.

The jewel he gave me is definitely a diamond.

I may not know much about stones, but I know it's a diamond and its chains are gold.

This is not cheap at all, jewelry like this doesn't exist on this side of the wall.

He was rich, very rich. But how did he end up here on this side of the wall?

How did he find out about me?

Your appearance is raising more questions than answers for me.

The rich and the poor are not allowed to cross each other's side. This is one of the main rules that the former King Kim put in place.

But why is he here? If he's here, he must have a passage.

Looking at the photo of my aunt Miranda with a child me.

If he is a thief and got all this money, it means I can get money to give Aunt Miranda a better life. She always did everything to make me happy, even when she didn't have it. I need to give back, I need to show myself useful.

So if that scary man can help me make money, I'm willing.

When the sun is taken by the moon, my decision was already made.

Opening my window I don't think twice before jumping out, and heading towards the lake where I know I could find him.

I know he's dangerous, my subconscious says so. But I need to help Aunt Miranda.

Again I see the shine of the water reflecting the moonlight. Truly magnificent, but I have no time to waste.

Before I can fill my lungs with air and scream for the strange man, a voice is heard behind me.

"Don't you dare scream. Didn't I tell you that it might attract predators?"

I quickly turn towards him.

"You!" I say, pointing at him accusingly, realizing at the same moment that I hadn't planned what to say to him.

"Looks like someone needs me, were you looking for me dear?"

He says, approaching and circling me as if he were a shark about to devour his prey.

It's intimidating, and his gaze makes me shrink.

"Yes..."

His chest seems to swell with pride, or some similar feeling.

"You have no idea how good that makes me feel. Now tell me darling, what do you need me to do for you?"

He says with a strange smile, taking my hand and bringing it to his face like a loving hug.

"I need you to answer me, are you a thief from the other side?"

I ask him and his face looks shocked. But soon his expression turns into a mocking smile.

"Is that what you think?"

"Yes, that's what I think."

"And if I go, what will you do?" He says bringing our faces closer.

"I want you to teach me."

His face turns to shock again, and he lets out a loud laugh.

"My dear, I may or may not be a thief on the other side. But if you want to go to the other side, there is an easier way to do it."

How did he know? Anyway, it doesn't matter, he has the solution to my problems and that's what's important.

"As?" I ask distressedly, but I had already made up my mind.

"You can go to the other side, if you are mine..."

Continued :)

(Not reviewed! Sorry for any mistakes!)

[pillow-anime-talk]

Hi it’s me again 😅 can’t get enough, so I thought of Ayato and prompt 12 with fem reader!! Them being childhood sweethearts. Again congrats on 4000 followers, you deserve it :)

# tags: scenario; friendship; fluffy shit; flashbacks; childhood sweethearts; human!reader; sfw

includes: female reader ft. ayato kirishima {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hello once again! i hope it's the ayato from tokyo ghoul (not from genshin impact or diabolik lovers), based on your previous request :) thank you for this prompt!

12. “But we are not married.” “Then marry me.”

You and Ayato have known each other for over eighteen years. Now you are twenty-four and twenty-five, have enough knowledge about life and also many situations behind you.

Your friendship is a sequence of pleasant memories, it’s dozens of trips together outside of Tokyo, weeks without contact and months of living in silence, your long-hour quarrels, your live together for three years in small flat, your ‘on college’ chapter, his being a ghoul and all the bad things he’s done, your own first love and his broken heart after several relationships with women... It’s all your moments with a glass of wine or something stronger, it’s just watching horror movies together until dawn, running away from important meetings, also your first serious work and all the other things that have kept the two of you apart for almost twenty years, but also made your relatio stronger than ever before.

You understood each other without words, you understood each other through gestures, facial expressions and the way of breathing. You knew each other perfectly, you knew about all your failures and about every, even the smallest, situation that made you smile or happy. There was no taboo between you, no shyness.

And although Ayato in your eyes has become a really handsome and calm guy, still looking at him to this day you are able to remember his much younger – seven-year-old – version, who stole your favorite bucket from the sandbox and argued with you that he just found it and had to take care of it... At first your friendship was turbulent and full of contradictions; the boy took your toys, scared you and ran away from you, while you called him ‘nasty black cat’ and ‘big dummy’. His father and your mother looked at you with light amusement on their faces, wondering when you will finally come to an understanding.

To this day, you remember how – after almost a year of friendship and playing together in the sandbox – Ayato approached you with a paper bag filled with cookies in your favorite flavor. It was a kind gesture that put the most beautiful smile on your baby face at that time. The boy thought it was really cute. It’s cute to see you happy and looking at him as someone you really like.

“...You should give me a kiss as a ‘Thank you’. I made them with my sister.” He said then an you only giggled under your breath. The present Ayato looked at you with furrowed brows and you just shook your head. You were at the coffee shop.

“But we are not married.” You said seventeen years ago and he just stamped his foot.

“Then marry me.” His declaration was sincere and loud at the time, causing your mummy to giggle and his dad to laugh out loud; he almost dropped the newspaper from his hands.

The memory only made you smile more and more, the tip of your nose turning slightly red.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” The dark-haired man put down the mug with the steaming drink, and you sighed amused.

“I just remembered something...” You began mysteriously, causing another surprised look to be sent in your direction. “It’s a really nice memory.” You looked down at the surface of dark coffee and could have sworn that for a brief moment your reflection looked like a six-year-old version of yourself.

[juju-or-anya]

One question, no hate. Why do you say we don't know anything about Elia, Lyanna and Rghaegar? Could you elaborate on that?

When I say we don’t really know Elia, Rhaegar, or Lyanna, I mean that we literally don’t know much about them. Everything we know about Rhaegar is filtered through Daenerys’s limited memories of her brother; for Elia, we only have Oberyn’s perspective; and for Lyanna, we rely on Ned and Robert’s memories. But these are just third-party accounts: what Ned says about his sister—that she was kind and beautiful—might change if we heard it from someone from Dorne. The same applies to Elia and Rhaegar, whose image varies depending on who’s telling the story.

This narrative choice has a purpose. These characters serve a specific function in the story: their role is to set events in motion. They’re not essential to the story itself but instead act as catalysts. If George R.R. Martin had wanted Robert’s Rebellion to begin for a different reason, he could have used other characters or motivations. But he chose these stories to connect different houses and conflicts: the story of Lyanna and Rhaegar establishes a link between the Targaryens and the Starks, with the Targaryens resenting the Starks for helping dethrone them and the Starks resenting the Targaryens for abducting Lyanna. These characters are just a starting point; we don’t need to know more about them because their story only matters in this context.

I don’t deny that if they had more developed, well-written backstories, they could be fascinating characters. But, as it stands, they’re not fully explored. We only know that Rhaegar was the crown prince, handsome, skilled at singing and playing the harp (was it the harp? It doesn’t matter), that he was married to Elia and had two children. From Elia, we know she was from Dorne, married to Rhaegar, had two children, was frail, and met a tragic end. And with Lyanna, it’s the same story. In truth, we don’t know who they really were.

Perhaps what the northerners and Ned say about Lyanna—that she was kind, brave, wild, and beautiful—isn’t true. Maybe Lyanna was spoiled, difficult, or immature, but we’ll never know because we only get to see an idealised version of her, or sometimes a demonised one, depending on who’s speaking. The same goes for Elia and Rhaegar. Maybe Elia wasn’t as weak and frail as she’s said to be, but strong and dark-hearted. Maybe Rhaegar was a useless fool or a manipulative mastermind, or perhaps he was just a well-meaning man who made mistakes. We don’t know, because they aren’t three-dimensional characters; they’re “2D” characters who serve a single purpose: to set the story in motion.

This kind of character is common in fiction—those who give a reason for events and then fade into the background. In my previous post on Robert Baratheon, I mentioned Lily and James Potter from the Harry Potter series. We never truly get to know them. We know that Harry looks like his father but has his mother’s eyes; we know that Lily was talented and clever and that James played Quidditch and was a jokester. But beyond that, we only know what other characters say about them. Sirius gives us an idealised view of James, describing him as the best person he could have known, while Snape demonises him, calling him a coward and cruel. Lily and James are just like Lyanna, Rhaegar, and Elia: a starting point for situations that shape the protagonists’ journeys.

Everything depends on who’s telling the story—whether it’s Ned, Dany, Oberyn, or someone else—because each one reveals their version of who these characters were. But is that really the truth? We don’t know. And I think that’s what makes them even more interesting.

[escapingdestiny101]

I am fully in the Polin trenches so this is probably just the ramblings of someone who enjoys meta a little too much BUT-

In the Eros and Psyche comparison, Colin and Penelope both play both roles. Hear me out:

I took Latin Prose in undergrad and we had to translate Eros and Psyche. Here's a quick and dirty summary of what I remember from Apuleius's version of the story in Metamorphoses: Psyche herself doesn't offend Aphrodite but her parents and the people of her town keep saying she's more beautiful than Aphrodite. Her sisters are jealous of her. She's so pretty that people stop going to Aphrodite's temples and start worshiping Psyche instead. Psyche never asked for this; even though everyone thinks she's beautiful and worships/desires her, Psyche feels nothing for them and knows they don't truly love her either. Aphrodite gets offended of course so to appease the goddess, Psyche is thrown off a cliff and, assuming she survives, has to marry a monster.

Aphrodite enlists her son Eros to help with this plan. Eros sees Psyche and falls in love with her too, so when the townspeople throw Psyche off the cliff, she's caught by Zephyrus and whisked away to Eros' home. Eros only interacts with Psyche in the dark; she never sees him or learns his name, she just assumes he's the beast that the goddess declared she'd marry. Psyche is sad and lonely not being able to see her husband bc even though he's a monster, he treats her really well and she does like him. She's so lonely that she asks her husband if her sisters can visit. He thinks this is a terrible idea but agrees as long as Psyche promises not to be influenced by them. Psyche of course fails to heed that warning, her sisters mock her for not seeing her husband, and for having to fuck her monster husband in the dark bc if they turned the lights on she'd probably die of fright.

So Psyche, with this new brainworm thanks to her terrible sisters, decides to wait until her husband falls asleep to light a candle (or oil lamp) to see exactly what she's been sleeping with. If it's a monster, she'll kill him. Turns out it's the most handsome man in the world, she recognizes him as Eros and falls to her knees. As she does, a drop of hot oil from her light hits Eros on the back. Eros wakes immediately, sees the light, and flies away. His last words are that love cannot live without trust.

Psyche then goes to Aphrodite and asks her to intercede with her son. Aphrodite, who still hates Psyche, agrees to let Psyche undergo three trials to prove herself worthy of Eros. Obviously, Aphrodite isn't being fair and intends to use the trials to punish her daughter-in-law. Psyche succeeds in the first two trials with the help of animals, ants and an eagle. The last trial involves going into the underworld to ask Persephone to put some of her beauty in a box. Psyche succeeds without a hitch (katabasis) and Aphrodite is furious.

The other gods step in at this point. Hermes tells Eros what his mom was doing to his wife and he's super touched that Psyche would do all that for him. Eros and Psyche get married and Zeus grants Psyche immortality as a wedding present.

So what does this have to do with Colin and Penelope?

The obvious comparisons are that Colin, with his charm, good looks, and social standing, is Eros and that Penelope, with her terrible family and bleak prospects, is Psyche. If we look a little closer though, we can flip things.

Colin, like Psyche, has people flocking to him. Ladies want his attention, to be charmed by him. Gentlemen want his stories and his presence in their "revelry." Despite this, he doesn't really feel connected to these people. It's a facade that he's learned to put up. We learn in his journal that he desires a greater emotional connection with a lover specifically but I'd argue with other relationships in his life as well. Colin's siblings are not like Psyche's terrible sisters, BUT another thing Psyche's sisters were known for was that they both married kings. They married well. Daphne and Anthony also, famously, married well. Colin is described by Violet as the most sensitive of the Bridgerton children, always willing to put others above himself. Dutiful, one might say. Dutiful like Psyche, who agreed to marry a monster because the gods willed it and underwent Aphrodite's trials without complaint.

Penelope, nearly a spinster and nearly on the shelf, who does not fit the ideal body type of the ton, is certainly treated as though she's monstrous. Cressida and Penelope entered society at the same time, but no one shames Cressida for seeking a husband in her third season. We, the audience, know that Penelope isn't a monster just as Zephyrus knew that Eros wasn't a monster. Penelope's mother is definitely as shrewd and vindictive as Aphrodite. And Penelope also has an identity she wishes to keep secret.

I've seen some analysis of the candle going out before Colin heads to the ball to stop the proposal, linking it to a small spark of love that always existed and was just starting to turn into a flame. But here's the thing, the candle goes out. It doesn't flicker and come back. It does start small and get bigger. It shrinks and dies. I would argue that this is representing two things. One, Colin's fear that he is out of time and that Penelope will accept Lord Debley's proposal. He's run out of time, hope is extinguished, so what does he have to lose? Which brings us to point two: the dark represents trust in the Eros and Psyche myth. With the candle out, all Colin can do is trust his mother's advice and trust in his feelings for Penelope.

BUT BUT BUT we are only halfway through the season, and we the audience know that a rather important detail still needs to be revealed!!!

Here's where we get into my speculations for the last four episodes. I think Penelope and Colin's roles will begin to flip again. Like Psyche's sisters sowed discord in her marriage, I think that Eloise (either intentionally or unintentionally) will be a catalyst for Colin finding out that Penelope is Lady Whistledown. I don't think Eloise will tell him directly, but she'll definitely be involved. That's when Penelope will become Psyche again and have to complete trials to prove herself to Colin. Love cannot exist without trust, after all.

I hope Lady Danbury offers a bounty on the identity of Lady Whistledown like she does in the book. Lady Danbury being analogous to Persephone would be fitting in my opinion. Although the Queen could also fill this role. The ants and the eagle could represent the lowly and the great; Penelope could accept assistance from someone of low and someone of high status. For the low, I would guess her maid (though she makes a better Zephyrus) or maybe the modiste. For the high, another Bridgerton or maybe even Cressida.

Katabasis is a hero's journey to the underworld, when a living person enters the realm of the dead on a quest and returns to the land of the living. Psyche is granted godhood after her success. I think Penelope will have to endure something equally arduous, but her reward will match as well. It would be satisfying for her to gain the ton's acceptance and even approval of her marriage to Colin, and I would especially like Lady Danbury to be involved with that (she's so much more involved in the book). I'm partial to Lady Danbury, but if it's the Queen instead her opinion would go a lot farther in shifting the opinion of the ton in Penelope's favor. That might be appropriate though far-fetched given the games between the Queen and Lady Whistledown.

The only role I have little speculation for is that of Aphrodite. I can't imagine Violet putting Penelope through a gauntlet even after finding out about her secret. It would fit Portia's character, but even she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize her daughter's marriage to a Bridgerton.

I just re-watched the trailer before hitting post and noticed that in the trailer, the candle does indeed glow brighter rather than going out. I wonder how many more misdirections are in the trailer, like Colin kissing that other girl's hand or him alone in the hired hack. I could be entirely wrong about everything of course, I'm just very excited to see where the second half of the season goes!

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

Macaque: First Meeting.

Masterlist | Next--->

You didn't visit Pigsy’s Noodle Shop as often as you’d liked, but whenever you did, you heard countless and seemingly endless tales from Tang about either the Monkey King, which you already knew since you were there for them, or MK. It was a no-brainer that Tang had a thing for you and wanted to impress you with his vast knowledge, but sometimes it was too much. You were pretty sure everyone knew of it, but you never had the heart to shut him up and risk hurting his feelings. You were grateful that MK had Pigsy and Tang looking after him, but sometimes you really hated hearing Tang talk about the same things: how you had been, Monkey King and MK. 

You were proud of the kid, sure, but hearing about it every single time you visited reminded you quickly of why you barely ever visited in the first place. Thankfully, Pigsy was always quick to shut him up for you and reminded you of the reason you do visit; the mouth-watering noodles and homey atmosphere Pigsy and MK brought.  

At the moment, it was MK who was talking, mostly complaining, about someone named Macaque; someone that Monkey King apparently knew from way back. You'd never heard of such a name in the time you’ve known the Monkey King, which was a very long time, so he obviously piqued your interest greatly. 

“So, what's so special about this ‘Macaque’ person?” Your question made MK scoff and he seemed to be in his own little world as he ranted.

“Nothing. He just thinks he's all that because he’s all-powerful and stuff,”

“Uh huh…” you mused.

You listened to MK in silence as he told you of the times that he ran into Macaque… but from what you heard, the male didn't appear to be the bad type of person he seemed to be at the beginning of the Monkie Kid’s story. He sounded less like the villain after the Lady Bone Demon was terminated. Something you, unfortunately, hadn't been able to help with since you were abroad handling some personal business.

“Seems to me that you, despite stating he wasn't that great, actually learned a lot from this Macaque person,” you stated as you ordered another helping of noodles.

“Well… I guess,” MK rubbed the back of his head. “Looking back, I guess there were times he was an okay teacher, but most of the time it was just to get what he wanted!”

“Wow, you think I was an okay teacher?” a foreign voice startled you both from behind you. “I appreciate that, kiddo,” the monkey you guessed was this ‘Macaque’ person chuckled.

To put it frankly, the emo-looking version of Monkey King was rather handsome. His dark theme was truthfully very attractive; you couldn't help but look at your noodles to hide your blush. 

“What are you doing here?!” MK questioned as he got over his brief scare.

“And who’s this little one?” he asked MK, ignoring his question as he looked at you with interest. “Oh~ I see, you must be the famous (Y/n) I heard so much about.”

“Pity that, before today, I've never heard of you,” you glanced at him then slurped your noodles as he chuckled. 

“Ouch,” he said, “then let me officially introduce myself,” he said as he held out his hand to you with his other hand in his pocket. “The name’s Macaque. Well, Six Eared Macaque… is my full name.”

“Hm,” you had to admit, the slightly shy way he said his full name was very adorable. You sighed softly and shook his hand. “(Y/n) (L/n),” you introduced yourself before going back to finish your noodles. Macaque stared at you with a small smile for a good while before he looked at MK as he finally answered his previous question. 

“I wanted to check on my favourite student, is that a crime?” he mused. 

“I'm not your student,” MK stated, which made you look at him with a raised brow. 

“I'll see you guys next time,” you said and paid for the meals you had. 

“Awe, leaving already?” MK pouted as he looked at you disheartened, but you knew he was trying to guilt trip you.

“Yeah, plum, stay a while,”

“Yeah, don't call me that,” you said as you looked at him with an unamused look. Internally… it made you scream and made your heart beat faster. It sounded much better than Wukong calling you Peaches… maybe just a little bit. Maybe it was because of his voice? “I got stuff to do,” you smiled at MK with your usual smile. “I'll visit again soon, I promise.”

“Yeah, last time you said that, you didn't visit for two months,” Pigsy huffed as he called you out.

“Well, I was busy,” you blushed as he called you out like that. “But, I'm not as busy as I was before, so I promise I’ll visit more often than before,”

“It was nice meeting you, plum,” he tilted his head a bit to try to see your face.

“Uh, yeah, you too,” you said but tried your best not to look at him, you couldn't bear to see that look again or risk him seeing your flustered expression.

“I hope to see you soon,” he said.

“Mhm…” you nodded and quickly made your exit. You could feel his eyes on you as you left the noodle shop up until you made a right.

“She's nice,” Macaque looked at MK in amusement. MK looked at him with an unamused expression… but he had to admit that that was the most he’d ever seen you talk to a stranger. He was impressed yet clueless, but Pigsy was suspicious as he looked at Macaque.

“Now, what do ya really want?” He folded his arms.

“Nothing,” he chuckled and shook his head as he passed his hand on his jaw and mouth to find he was smirking. 

“Nothin’, huh?” Pigsy didn't buy it for a second, but he recognized that dazed expression of a man anywhere.

He did lie though… but it wasn't that he genuinely came for nothing. It was that he couldn't exactly remember what his reason for coming to the noodle shop was in the first place. Maybe it was to check on MK? He did say that, right? Or maybe it was to annoy him a bit? Macaque couldn't remember… you had plagued and completely taken over his mind. 

“Things just got a bit more interesting,” Macaque mumbled to himself with a smirk of disbelief at your effect on him. He’d just met you yet this was the effect you had on him? Interesting indeed.

“Huh? What do you mean?” MK looked at him in confusion.

“Nothing,” Macaque chuckled and shook his head. “I'll see you later, kiddo,” he looked at MK before he disappeared through a portal he opened below himself. 

[aethon-recs]

So I saw that someone requested Professor Tom but what about Professor Harry? Shouldn't we give him some love to😏😉

Thanks for the ask! I also love the Professor Potter trope. I think Harry would have made a great Hogwarts instructor, whether for Defense or Quidditch coach or even Muggle Studies.

See below for a list of some favorite Tomarrymort fics featuring Professor Potter, arranged by alphabetical order. Here is a link to my previous rec list of Professor Riddle fics.

*

Professor Potter Tomarrymort Recs

Altered Course by @crowcrowcrowthing (T, 12k, complete)

Tom Riddle has a problem. He has so many plans, so many things to learn and accomplish during his time at Hogwarts, but one professor—one charming, talented, maddeningly handsome professor—is determined to get in his way. 

Being seen & being known by Baryshnikov (M, 2k, complete)

Harry had no intentions of being seduced by his student; Tom had every intention of seducing his professor.

Costumes (part 1) / Gowns (part 2) by @neurowriter14 (E, 7k, complete)

Tom has been absolutely and utterly obsessed with his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor since his first year.

Invisible Man by RenderedReversed (T, 10k, complete)

Harry doesn’t need the Invisibility Cloak to be invisible. With an unblemished forehead, he fades into the background—utterly ordinary. Voldemort begs to differ.

I'll Eat Your Heart Out, Sir by @katsitting (E, 18k, complete)

“You smell divine, Professor,” Harry heard Riddle growl, his eyes fluttering open to stare intensely into Harry’s own, breath fanning across Harry’s lips. And then Harry recalled just what the potion was meant to do.

Life tempts, but she is ever sweeter by SpitFire97 (E, 17k, WIP)

Harry Evans, their newly annointed Defense of the Dark Arts Teacher, gets under Tom's skin like no others. It is bitter-sweet, when she learns that she does, too. Quite literally.

Muggle Studies is Economics in Disguise by May_May_0_0 (M, 12k, complete)

Dumbledore acquiesces when Tom Riddle asks for the defense post. Harry stumbles into this AU version of Hogwarts hoping to teach defense. But there is only teaching one spot available: Muggle Studies. Chaos ensues as Muggle Studies becomes everyone’s favorite class. Tom Riddle is enraged, concerned, and… turned on?

My Beloved, My Only by @neurowriter14 (E, 3k, complete)

After a few months, Harry and Tom are professors at Hogwarts. Harry sneaks down to Tom's rooms in the dungeons and soon finds herself there for the night.

Seduction by any other name by Baryshnikov (M, 6k, WIP)

Tom might finally have met his match—his professor.

the eternal flame by @duplicitywrites (E, 25k, WIP)

There’s a well-dressed older man who enters the orphanage asking after Tom Riddle. “My name is Harry Gaunt,” the man says, the tenor of his voice soft and faltering, a reflection of Tom's deepest, most secret anxieties, “and I’m here to adopt you.”

To Sir, with Love by ShizukaU1 (M, 2k, complete)

Tom is devoted to the Greater Good. And what is greater than the goodness of being bed by Professor Potter himself?

Under the Mistletoe by Anonymous (T, 1k, complete) 

When the entirety of the Hogwarts populace just wants the oblivious Professors to kiss and get it over with, Scorpius, Albus, Rose, and Molly decide to take matters into their own hands.

you alone of all creatures by @duplicitywrites (E, 3k, complete)

There is no place for us in the light, where my robes bear a Prefect’s badge and you are addressed as ‘sir’, and so I have been cornering you, for weeks now, in darkened corridors and dusty, abandoned classrooms.

*

[suusoh]

I love your “johan fortner” being an actual unbelievable sweetheart but i want you to know that you’re absolutely shattering normal Johan’s sense of self. Finds out he’s a person, finds out he can get horny, has the lamest kink known to man, AND he’s not even the scarier monster out of the twins. He’s so LAME god what a LOSER suso ur a genius

So here's the thing, before I started writing about Johan (hell even before I started this blog even) I'd watch a lot of those charisma videos (not the goddamn modern day charisma on command 48 laws of power kind), but like those vintage charisma videos on manners and etiquette.

So I think a lot of what Johan presents as in munich arc (or in general) is that "pleasant polite disarming young college man" thing which is why people are so generally charmed by him. Because they remind him of a timeless and reliable kind of demeanour.

Old people like him because he's an ideal son, men like him because he's the ideal friend/pal, women like him because he's the ideal boyfriend, teachers like him because he's the ideal student so on and so forth. (speaking in 90s terms of course.)

And I think this is intentional on urusawa's part, because again i keep remembering what he said about monster being a comedy actually, a dark comedy.

So what's more comedic than the most gentlemanly, polite, soft-spoken, well mannered, handsome, classmate or person you know in your life; actually being THE MOST fucked up, nihilistic, human-life disregarding, sociopathic person on this planet. It's like saying:

"Meet Robert! The most criminally delightful young man you've ever met. Robert is your neighbor who helps out at the local senior citizen's home and he's your classmate who is at the top of his class too, such a sweetheart with you on top of it all"

and then telling you "Robert actually made all the senior citizens kill each other in the local massacre last Friday, also he pushed one of your classmates into oncoming traffic"

So when I mean by reverse au Johan, what I mean is— he carries through with all that timeless, classy, passed down for generations and ol reliable manners and etiquette but in a genuine and authentic way because he is truly a sincere and kind young man at that. Reverse au Johan is the real version of what monster johan uses as a facade,

If we're going with that scene again the "why are you crying" part in rurenheim arc (I think we've all read that whole theory analysis on how it was johan crying when nina got back and she's the one asking him "uhhh why are you crying?")— it would prove your point anon that he is a crier. Along with that he is a sensitive soft spoken boy!! who can't help but feel empathy for everyone around him, even for yes, even criminals (using canon johan's appeal to making criminals belong and have a purpose in life. also uh... jesus analogy making a comeback? 💀dining with everyone sinners and all that oop)

Like that one scene in the rooftop with karl, to this day it's debated if those are actual tears or not. Reverse au johan would truly cry for others when hearing such a sad and heartfelt story!! he's a boy who lost his sister! he's been ingrained with being altruistic and keenly aware and astute of the emotional feelings of others and he's been loved! He's a gentlemen, and he's an actual literal gentle man. soft spoken and sensitive to others always. he is a sweetheart!!!!

so that's why I say in my prev post that since we all agree that reverse au anna is ultimately worse than canon johan.... then shouldn't we also say that reverse au johan is ultimately nicer than canon nina/anna?

look at this boi!!! imagine if this shit was sincere!!

[flowerandblood]

A Winter Beauty (20)

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]

[warnings: masturbation, smut, so much fluff]

[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

_____

Aemond watched his firstborn son lay in the cradle with a feeling he had never known before. The boy squirmed in his bed, making squeaky high-pitched noises, clenching his little hands into fists, kicking his legs. In just a few days of his life, he turned out to be the most active and joyful child he had ever seen. He hardly cried at all.

The trauma of what he saw the day he was born, gave way to great relief and happiness. His wife was alive and, most importantly, feeling better now. Even though he asked her not to, she was already getting out of bed and taking their son in her arms. He'd seen their son literally tearing her flesh apart, and he was staring at her with even more admiration than before. He thought that she herself was a real dragon.

Beside the cradle stood a large vessel with a lid, under which was a dragon egg, constantly heated. Aemond mentally prayed for it to crack, for a dragon to emerge. He wanted for his child what he did not have.

He looked up as he heard his wife's footsteps. She was wearing a nightgown, which she often wore now, without leaving the chamber. She smiled at him and he remembered it was their bath time.

They made a ritual out of it. He knew he couldn't touch her yet, she was sore all over and her wound was still healing. Even though she resisted it and didn't want him to do it, he convinced her to let him put an ointment on her cracked entrance every night, before going to bed. It made her scar heal over.

Although Lady Stark recovered quite quickly and still had a nice, shapely figure, her belly and thighs were scarred from the enormous effort she had made. When she saw the scars for the first time, she cried. He then knelt in front of her, looking pleadingly at her.

"Every warrior returns from battle with scars. My dragon cost me mine. You gave birth to my heir, sweet wife. I will kiss your scars every night, remembering how much you sacrificed for me." He whispered, kissing her thighs, pressing his lips lovingly to each of the white lines on her skin. Lady Stark stroked his hair, deeply touched by his words. She swallowed softly, lowering her eyes.

"Forgive me for not giving you a son with your beautiful, white hair." She whispered softly, ashamed. Their son, Vaegon, was born with his mother's dark hair. He had his father's eyes, so fortunately no one in the palace questioned Aemond's paternity. Their son was a beautiful child, but she felt that somehow she had failed. Aemond looked at her in surprise.

"You gave me a healthy, beautiful son. You survived the childbirth. That's the most important thing for me and I've never been happier. Besides, he'll be a handsome young man with your beautiful, black curls." He added, smiling slightly.

Since then, their closest moment of affection, apart from falling asleep in each other's arms, was their baths. A tub full of hot water and oils was waiting for them every day, so they could relax a little.

He watched his wife as she undid the ribbon from her nightgown, its fabric falling to the floor, leaving her naked. She didn't mind it, stepping lightly into the tub, after his words she regained her former self-confidence. Aemond noticed, looking at her with delight, that her breasts were bigger now, her hips fuller.

He began to undress slowly, looking at her submerged in the water, her eyes closed in pleasure. Their baths always brought her relief. Aemond slid into the water, sitting across from her, looking at her expectantly. She smiled at him, placing her slender, beautiful feet on his chest. He took them in his hands and kissed them tenderly.

"How was your day, sweet wife?" He asked gently. Although he had cut back on the amount of training he needed, to spend more time with her and Vaegon, he had to attend increasingly lengthy councils, as his father became ill and had trouble concentrating on what he was talking about. Lady Stark sighed softly.

"Good, thank you. Vaegon is such an easy-going boy. He eats, falls asleep, laughs and squeaks, then eats and falls asleep again. I don't know from where his character come from, but it's definitely not from you." She said with amusement. Aemond raised an eyebrow, rubbing her leg up and down.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked with feigned resentment. His wife laughed slightly.

"That if he was born with your attitude, he'd probably be frowning all the time." She said lightly. She squealed as Aemond pulled her hard against him with her leg, she had to catch him to keep from slipping and falling backwards into the water.

Her wet hands were on his chest, their faces inches apart. Her fingers touched his cheek lightly, his eye challenging her.

"I might think you don't like my character, wife." He spoke curtly, but she could see his lips twitch. She moved closer to him, their faces practically touching.

"The characters of the largest dragons are probably not easy by nature." She purred sweetly, her other hand grabbing his swollen, throbbing cock hidden under the water. He inhaled sharply and moaned softly, not expecting it.

"Fuck." He whispered, squeezing his eye shut as she began massaging him. They haven't done this since she gave birth.

He didn't touch himself, wanting to wait for her, to give her the feeling, that he was also capable of sacrificing himself for her. His hips involuntarily responded to her movements.

"Are you enjoying yourself, husband?" She whispered, looking at him tenderly. "Do you want your wife to take care of you?"

Aemond began to pant as he felt her speed up, squeezing him at the bottom each time. She knew exactly what movements gave him the greatest pleasure.

"Yes…yes, relieve me, wife" He whispered, looking at her with his mouth slightly parted. "It's been so long since I fucked you."

His wife moaned softly at his words, obviously feeling the excitement herself. She massaged him in a quick, intense rhythm, his cock throbbed hard in her hand. She knew they hadn't done it in a long time and that he was about to come. His hand moved to her thigh, squeezing it lightly.

"Can I touch you there? It still hurts?" He whispered softly, looking pleadingly at her. He longed to enter her, to fuck her hot, wet cunt again. Lady Stark pursed her lips.

"A few more days, my dragon. A few more days and I'll give you what you want." She whispered, putting her tongue in his mouth. He moaned loudly, pulling her to him, holding her hair, caressing her mouth with his, sucking it and biting it with a wet sound.

They licked each other with the tips of their tongues, panting heavily, his hands tightening lightly on her soft breasts and began to massage her hard nipples.

"Gods, they're so big now. I love them." He purred, moving his hips rapidly as he felt his fulfillment finally approaching. He threw his head back and moaned low, his cock throbbing all over her hand, his cum spurting into the water. His wife kissed his cheek tenderly, waiting for him to calm down.

"I missed you too." She whispered.

They both got out of the tub, covering and drying themselves, putting on their sleep shirts. Lady Stark flinched at a sound from their son's room. She was sensitive to it now.

"Did you hear that?" She asked quietly. Aemond raised his eyebrows.

"What?" He asked surprised.

She moved forward, through the entrance to the second chamber, where the wet nurse of their child slept. She took care of their child in their absence, but Lady Stark decided that she wanted to nurse her child herself. She looked around for the source of the sound.

She finally approached the covered vessel, hearing something inside crack loudly and burst.

"Aemond!" She squealed excitedly. Her husband came in quickly after her, thinking something was wrong. When he saw what she was pointing at, his mouth opened wide.

"It broke! I heard it myself!" She said happily.

Aemond stared at the lid pale, his lips quivering. She saw his eye turn red, his body tremble. He walked over to her and grabbed her in his arms, lifting her up. They hugged each other tightly, rejoicing together. A new dragon has just been born in the palace.

_____

If you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know. ~

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96

Others: @dreamlandcreations @darkenchantress @moira-strangle-me-please @yentroucnagol @cloudroomblog @thehumanistsdiary @a-beaverhausen @avadakadabra93 @sirenangelroyal @aonungs-tsahik @xmaiaaa @writingaboutlove1998

[connorswhisk]

Ima need me some more sexual tension with Miguel O’Hara 🙏🙏

ready and waiting for you sir🫡🫡🫡

struck blind - Miguel O’Hara x Transmasc!Spider-Man!Reader

You did not expect to finish out your day fighting a giant mechanized rhinoceros, but since becoming Spider-Man, you haven’t known what to expect anymore.

This version of the Rhino isn’t what you’re used to, though. He’s steam-powered, covered in little bronze gears and cogs. Instead of speaking, his roars come out in a garbled mix of bells, whistles, and clangs, making for a fairly creepy cacophony every time the mech opens its mouth. You’ve never seen anything like it, and you’re pretty sure this guy isn’t from around your part of town.

And he just had to attack during the beer festival, didn’t he? While everyone’s having too much fun to know what to do with themselves and no one’s reaction time is up to par. You suppose you should be grateful for the festival taking place on the outskirts of the city, but still…

“Come on, run!” you yell frantically as you usher civilians out of the fray. When Rhino tears a newspaper stand out of the ground and chucks it in your direction, you have to bat it away from a pair of open-mouthed pre-teens. You try to ask the kids if they’re all right, but they turn tail and race in the opposite direction. When you glance behind you, it’s to see the machine barreling at you full-speed. Usually, you would have picked that up, but you were so preoccupied with saving people that you hadn’t sensed anything.

It’s too late to move. You screw your eyes shut and brace for impact -

Something warm collides into your side, and suddenly, you’re swinging through the air. Your savior is - well, there’s no other way to put it - your savior is Spider-Man. Not you, of course, but his suit doesn’t look all that different from yours, and the strand of web he’s got clutched in his hand as he pulls you both to safety is unmistakable.

Other Spider-Man sets you down. He’s taller than you, more muscular. You pretend like you weren’t just nestled into his broad chest and step away from him, eying him warily. “Who are you? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m Miguel,” he says. “You’re Y/N. We don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t have - ? How do you know my name?! Hello?!?”

The back of your neck prickles.

Other Spider-Man curses under his breath. “Shit - Jess!” He grabs you again, this time more by the waist, webbing the pair of you away. A ginormous bronze horn smashes through the concrete wall you’d been standing against not moments before.

“You know I can web myself, right?!” He’s pulled you behind a big oak tree now, his large hands pressing you firmly against the bark. He ignores you completely and says, “I’ll explain everything in more detail later. For right now, Jess will distract the Rhino.”

Sure enough, the giant beast is currently preoccupied with a woman on a motorcycle, whirling around and roaring with frustration as she zips all around him.

There’s way too much going on at one time for you to keep up with it all. When you look forward again, it’s to see Other Spider-Man reaching up to pull off his mask, and oh, shit.

Other Spider-Man - Miguel - is hot. Like, to a ridiculous degree. His hair falls nearly to his shoulders, swept back behind his ears to frame a handsome face, long nose, strong jaw, dark eyes. And he looks at you so intensely while he speaks that you feel a pink flush blazing through your cheeks, heating your entire body.

Timelines, multiverse, canon events, your head is reeling. But deep down, somewhere in your core, it makes sense. You’re not the only Spider in existence. You are not alone.

“Ok. I understand.”

Miguel nods. “We’ll take you back to HQ once we’re finished here.”

You pull your own mask off for a gulp of fresh air, breath hitching slightly as you inhale. You can’t help but look at Miguel again - your eyes meet his accidentally and Miguel stiffens, his gaze roaming over the plains of your face. “What?” you ask breathlessly, but you think you might know what.

“…Nothing,” Miguel says, and then he pulls his mask back on. “Sit tight, Jess and I will handle this.”

He webs away. You duck into a crouch, heart racing. You’re not sure what just happened - or what’s going to happen next - but you’re so caught up in everything you haven’t even put your mask on again. There’s a lot of questions you have, but currently, the thing at the forefront of your mind is the image of those dark eyes meeting yours, and what you saw inside them.

[rubin-therubix-loverofblorbos]

Dog Fortress 2: The First One: Electric Boogaloo

🪴🕷️🪶🦘Sniper🪶🦘🕷️🪴--- Australian Staghound AKA Kangaroo Dog

The Australian Staghound is not recognized as a breed, but is a type of sighthound that is used to pursue (course) a variety of quarry (game). Although it is not recognized as a breed, some "lines" have been bred together longer than some recognized modern breeds. The best way to visualize the Australian Staghound is to blend together the characteristics of the Scottish Deerhound with the Greyhound. This is a running dog with the physical characteristics that would be referred to as the Greyhound prototype. It has long legs, a deep chest, and strong muscles. The Staghound has great visual acuity, and some have been bred for some scenting ability while on course. 

Staghounds are very fast but are not hyperactive. To some people, the Staghound even appears to be a bit lazy around the home once mature. The coursing instinct in the American Staghound is unsurpassed, so anything that runs may be considered quarry. Males stand at a maximum of 32 inches at the shoulder.

🎞️🌀🦎🕴🏾Spy🕴🏾🦎🌀🎞️ --- Beauceron

These dogs are muscular, rugged, and large, standing as high as 27.5 inches at the shoulder, yet graceful and in all ways balanced. The Beauceron is imposing and powerful, but also remarkably smart, spirited, and a versatile herder. Their dark black coats feature handsome squirrel-red accents, including the red feet that give the breed its French nickname Bas-Rouge ('red stockings').

The long head is well chiseled, and the dark brown eyes project expression breed fanciers describe as frank and confident. They're not for novice owners, who might end up being owned by their dominant dog instead of the other way around. That said, well-trained and socialized Beaucerons are levelheaded watchdogs and guardians, especially good with the young, the small, and the defenseless. I Just got all that info from the kennel club website btw.

❤️‍🩹🫀🩸🕊️Medic🕊️🩸🫀❤️‍🩹 --- Giant Schnauzer

The Giant Schnauzer is a large and extremely intelligent dog of German decent. They are territorial, yet good with people. The males stand at a minimum of 25.5 inches at the shoulder, and are expected to be a larger and more powerful version of the Standard Schnauzer. For some reason, there was not much information on these dogs.

🌭🌪️🐜🐆Scout🐆🐜🌪️🌭 --- Wolfhound {Juvenile}

Wolfhounds are sweet, loyal dogs. They love to be around their family and enjoy plenty of affection. Because of their strong prey drive, only let them off-leash in a securely fenced-in area.

Otherwise, they may take off after something and get into a dangerous situation. The defining characteristic of the Irish wolfhound is its imposing height, as it is the tallest breed of dog. But a good wolfhound is more than just a tall dog. It is a sturdy, yet swift dog, capable of running down and killing large animals. It has a general greyhound build, only larger and stockier.

The legs are long, the body comparatively narrow, the loin slightly arched, the chest deep and the waist moderately small. Like most sighthounds, the tail is long and carried low. These dogs can run at 30 to 40 miles per hour and they are definitely not snap-to-it obedience prospects. 

🪵♟️🔫🪨Heavy🪨🔫♟️🪵 --- Caucasian Shepherd Dog

The Caucasian Shepherd dog is a serious guardian breed and should never be taken lightly.

The Russian Caucasian is bold, fearless, self-confident, and fierce when a threat is present, but he is soft, devoted, kind, and endearing to his family, including other family pets.

The Caucasian Shepherd dog is known for its strong protective instincts and intelligence. They are independent and can be highly intelligent, but they also have a strong will and may require consistent and patient training.

🍾🧨🍻💥Demoman💥🍻🧨🍾 --- Bloodhound

This Scottish breed is reported to be gentle and is tireless when following a scent. Because of its strong tracking instinct, it can be willful and somewhat difficult to obedience train and handle on a leash. Bloodhounds are known to have an affectionate and even-tempered nature to humans, with them considered to be excellent family pets.

🧠🌻🌾🦾Engineer🦾🌾🌻🧠 --- Miniature Bull Terrier

This dog is so fucking small it's not even funny anymore I'm crying. Anyway, onto actual information.

Like Bull Terriers, Miniature Bull Terriers are loving and, like many terrier breeds, they can be stubborn at times; but despite this they make great dogs for people with limited space.

Miniature Bull Terriers are known to be stubborn and courageous. Despite their diminutive stature, they will readily challenge larger dogs. However, as with any dog, owners can reduce the likelihood of confrontations by providing appropriate training. They are very energetic and playful and love people, but care must be taken as they are variable around other dogs.

Miniature Bull Terriers require little grooming. A quick brushing once a day or a few times a week is sufficient. Sunscreen must be used on any sparse white sections of fur around the face, ears, hindquarters or stomach when outdoors (especially in summer between the hours of 10am and 2pm) to avoid sunburn and cancer.

💢🥀🦴💥Soldier💥🦴🥀💢 --- Cane Corso

Smart, trainable, and of noble bearing, the assertive and confident Cane Corso is a peerless protector. The Corso's lineage goes back to ancient Roman times, and the breed's name roughly translates from the Latin as 'bodyguard dog.'

At nearly 28 inches at the shoulder and often weighing more than 100 pounds, with a large head, alert expression, and muscles rippling beneath their short, stiff coat, Corsi are at a glance intimidating creatures. Their imposing appearance is their first line of defense against intruders. As one writer put it, 'An understated air of cool competence, the kind of demeanor you'd expect from a professional bodyguard, is the breed's trademark.'     

Corsi are intelligent, loyal, eager to please, versatile, and intensely loyal to their humans, but are also assertive and willful, and can end up owning an unwitting owner. As with any other big guardian dog, responsible breeding and early socialization with people and other dogs is vital.

💥🔥🌈🌻Pyro🌻🌈🔥💥 --- Xoloitzcuintli

Taka the fire dog is there because they are my scar guide for dog Pyro. Arguably the most unique-looking dog breed out there, the Xoloitzcuintli is generally known as an intelligent, alert, and affectionate breed with an unyielding loyalty to their owners. The correct Xoloitzcuintli pronunciation is “show-low-eats-queent-lee” but they can also be known as the Mexican Hairless Dog or “Xolo” for short. This show-stopping pup is an ancient breed, with origins dating back to over 3000 years ago.

🧠👁️🏵️💃🏼Ms. Pauling💃🏼🏵️👁️🧠 --- Parti Poodle

Like all Poodles, these dogs are highly intelligent. They require daily exercise and interaction in order to be happy and well-mannered. A bored Poodle is likely to become destructive or show unwanted behaviors such as separation anxiety or reactivity. Poodles tend to be a “nervy” breed, meaning they can easily develop anxiety.

It is extremely important to brush your Poodle’s coat several times a week and have it trimmed and bathed every one or two months by a professional groomer. Matting can happen quickly in their dense, coarse coat, and it can become so bad that the dog needs to be shaved down to the skin.

BONUSES!: MEDIC'S PIGEON-DOVES!

Fancy 🕊️Jacobin Pigieon Archimedes🕊️ Because why is this pigeon slayin' so hard. He Is The Substitute Flock Leader Because He is So Dramatic And Mean And Beautiful and Has The biggest Ego A Creature Under Two Pounds Can Obtain. He is Stained with blood but I Couldn't Find a Photo To Show That.

Cutie 🧠Old German Owl Pigeon Elucid🧠 because JUST LOOK AT IT. The Lovey Dovey One that Would Kill Everybody Else Viciously but is a Sweetie Pie Bean Potato That Can Do No Wrong to Medic

Adorable ✒️Bokhara Trumpeter Aristotle✒️The One that Medic Thinks could Learn to Write If it Wanted To AKA The Second Most Dramatic One {Achimedes can NEVER be Beat}

Precious 🥀Saxon Fairy Swallow Pigeon Vesalius🥀 The One That Keeps Trying to Kill Itself by Messing with the Medical Supplies

Sweetie 🍯Fantail Pigeon Ambrosious🍯 The Little Fuck of the Flock

AMBROSIUS SHAT ON SNIPER TODAY SO HE ONLY GETS ONE IMAGE {I reached the thirty limit but had to sacrifice Sniper's Rough collie to get the last two in there 😔}

[arthrmorgann]

chapter summary: at an unassuming inn, the party assembles. series warnings: mature (ish); canon typical violence, gore, horror, swearing. more severe warnings will be listed if and when we reach it. a/n: and here's the first proper chapter! later chapters will probably be a bit more sporadic in the future, but I thought it would be better to get this out close to the prologue

CHAPTER I

Fen’an

From out of the gloom, the brightly lit inn emerged. Many of the other buildings in the village of Red Oaks had been hard to discern out of the dark, stormy weather. The earlier heavy rains had doused many of the fires or torches that lit up the streets, and the lights from inside of houses were dim and barely visible until you walked up close. The inn, however, stood out like a proud beacon through the dark.

As the elven man drew close, laughter and singing could be heard from inside. Fen’an found it hard to imagine that anyone could be so merry so soon after a Blight, but here they were, proving him wrong.

Walking into the small foyer, Fen’an wiped his muddied boots on a small piece of a rough rug spread out on the floor. He did not usually wear such boots, preferring the open-toed shoes that most elves, Dalish or otherwise, seemed to favour. Since he was due to mingle with humans, Fen’an had opted for the boots but had grumbled to himself for much of the journey, missing the feel of the earth beneath his toes.

Pushing through the front door, Fen’an was caught off guard by the warmth that instantly rushed out to greet him. After trudging through rain, howling wind, and hail, he was glad for the warmth. He took a moment to allow himself to adjust to the temperature change, before lowering his hood, and looking around. The inn was crowded, every table heaving with humans, elves, and dwarves, all drinking, laughing, and being otherwise merry. Some younger people were dancing, whilst a bard strummed out a lively version of “Empress of Fire”. It seemed an odd choice for a Fereldan inn to play an Orlesian song but no one seemed too bothered by that fact.

Despite the eclectic mix of patrons, Fen’an was dismayed to discover he could not find his contact. As he was mulling things over, a human woman approached him from the bar, carrying a tray of drinks with her. Fen’an did not have many experiences with relationships - or flirting for that matter - but even he could appreciate she was an attractive woman. She was rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, and though she had made an effort to tie up her dark brown curls, a few strands had fallen out of place. The barmaid was wearing a tight, burgundy dress with an apron, and despite the weather, she had let the dress slip from her shoulders, which left very little to the imagination.

Fen’an must have been staring because she gave him a coy smile when she finally spoke. “Can I get you anything, handsome?”

“Ean’tusahnelan?” He said in Elven. Messenger bird. According to his contact, a few of the staff should have known the code word.

Her coy smile faded, and she gave him a curt nod. “One moment please,” She said, before returning to the bar, setting down her tray and returning with a key. “Follow me.”

The barmaid led him through the bar, deftly weaving before the patrons with ease, whereas Fen’an was jostled and grabbed by at least five different people. At the back of the bar, next to a warm hearth, was a staircase which took them upstairs. There were more patrons upstairs, though they were more restrained than their counterparts downstairs to Fen’an’s relief. The barmaid led him past two private function rooms before stopping at a third. She knocked once, waited a few seconds, and followed it with three knocks in quick succession. Not long after, two knocks came from the opposite side of the door, to which the barmaid finally took the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

She held it open for him to step inside, making eye contact with a burly Qunari woman inside, before looking back at him. “Good luck,” She said.

“Ma serannas,” He responded, dipping his head. My thanks.

Clearly, the woman also understood this part of the Elven language too, for she gave a small smile before locking the door behind her.

Fen’an turned away from the door, finally taking a moment to take in the appearance of the room. A very small bar sat on the left side of the room, manned by a silent bartender, who was currently cleaning a glass with a cloth. Behind him were various glasses, mugs, and flagons for serving, as well as a variety of drinks stacked on the shelves behind him. On the right-hand side of the room, sat opposite the bar, was a small hearth, where his Qunari contact was moving to stand over, outstretching her hands to absorb the warmth of the fire within. At the back of the room, facing nearly exactly opposite the door he had entered, was a large latticed window. Red, velvet curtains had been partially drawn, but remained open a crack, allowing those within this room to see the darkness outside. In front of the large window, was a long flat table, with five high-backed chairs dotted around them. Only one was currently occupied, being held by a squat, dwarven man.

“Fen’an,” The Qunari woman turned away from the fire. “I didn't believe you would actually come tonight.”

“You requested my aid, Shrike. So here I am.”

“That hasn't stopped you from ignoring me before.”

“Your letter was very insistent this time.”

Shrike snorted. “If you say so.”

“So, what is this all about?”

“Not yet,” She cut him off, moving away to the bar. “Not all of us are here yet.” Fen’an was going to say something when she put an arm on his shoulder. “Go and mingle.”

Rather reluctantly, and with further encouragement in the form of a shove from Shrike, Fen’an took a seat in the chair opposite the dwarf. The elven man sat quietly for a moment, the only sound being the crackle of wood in the hearth, and slurping from the dwarf, who was drinking from a flagon that had to be as big as his head.

Hazel eyes studied Fen’an from over the rim of the flagon. The dwarf lowered it before asking, “Drink?”

“I don't drink alcohol if I can help it,” Fen’an answered, assuming that was what the dwarven man had been drinking.

The dwarf narrowed his eyes. “Ye don't drink?” He repeated, sounding a little astounded by this revelation. “What kinda man doesn't drink?”

Fen’an narrowed his own eyes at the dwarf, though he seemed notably more aggressive in his stance than the stranger. It felt like minutes passed before the dwarven man broke the tension by throwing his head back in laughter and slapping his knees. “I’m only jokin’ with ye, lad,” He assured him. “I’m not one for alcohol anymore, it gives me bellyaches. This is actually tea.”

Fen’an scoffed in disbelief, to which the dwarf held out the flagon towards him, imploring him to take a sniff. He did so and was surprised to not detect a familiar tang of alcohol and instead something quite minty and refreshing.

“What is that?”

“A Rivaini tea blend,” the dwarf explained, moving the flagon back to take a sip. “Good for headaches.” He paused and set the mug down on the table in front of them. “I always get a headache during storms.”

Fen’an nodded in understanding, recalling how ferocious the weather had been earlier in the day. The dwarf held out a hand to shake, which Fen’an did, only to feel as though his fingers had been broken thanks to the dwarven man's strong grip. “Name’s Rogir Warreck, and who would ye be?”

“Fen’an.”

“Fen’an…did ye parents name ye after Fen’harel?”

“No!” Fen’an bristled. “I was not named after him.”

“Sorry, lad,” Rogir hastily apologised. “I meant no offence.”

Fen’an looked away, struggling to hide his frown. “What would a dwarf know about the Elven god of lies and betrayal anyway?”

From out of the corner of his eye, he caught Rogir giving him a bemused look. “Are ye jokin’ lad?” When Fen’an’s expression remained stern and serious, the humour in the older man's face faded. “Ye do know I worked for the Inquisition too? Mind ye, I knew ‘im best when he still called himself Solas.”

“I didn't work for the Inquisition…” 

“Ye wouldn't be here otherwise,” Rogir pointed out. 

For Fen'an, the truth was more complicated than that, but since Rogir had left him with a bad impression following this first meeting, he wasn't about to admit that, too prideful in his way. Instead, Fen’an crossed his arms and turned in his seat so he was facing away, deciding to pass the time until the others arrived in silence.

—

Rogir

Well, he had to give it to Shrike, she sure knew how to pick them. The elven fellow was turning out to be a real charmer, glowering in silence and looking like a petulant child rather than the grown man he was. Rogir knew he had likely put his foot in it by mentioning Fen’harel but he had apologised for his mistake. His wife had always told him he had a tendency to speak without thinking but he had been mindful to not offend when he did so.  It wasn't his fault this elf was so stubborn!

Hopping out of his seat, Rogir made his way to the bar with his flagon. As he stood beside Shrike, he handed the bartender his flagon and asked for another cup, requesting it be served cold again.

“Headache still bothering you?” Shrike asked, peering down at him.

“Mhm,” Rogir confirmed, scratching his greying beard. “Passin’ a bit now though.”

“That's good to hear.”

“Charmin’ friend ye have back there,” Rogir said, gesturing with a flick of his head to where Fen’an was sitting. To Rogir’s amusement, he was still glowering but had reverted to sitting forward instead of facing the side. “He always like that?”

“What, grumpy and quick to take offence?”

“Yes.”

“Since I’ve known him he's always been like that,” Shrike confirmed. “I swear he has the emotional range of a slab of stone.”

“I’m sure he can’t always be like that…” Rogir mused. In some ways, the elf reminded him of his younger son with his mannerisms. His son could be temperamental at times too, but it was possible to crack a smile from him if you knew the right words. “Maybe I can win him over?”

Shrike smirked into her cup. “Good luck with that.”

Not dissuaded by her words, Rogir attempted to try again with Fen’an. When the bartender came back with his drink, he requested something for Fen’an too, opting for a hot chocolate since he recounted that he didn't like alcohol. The bartender apologised for not being able to offer much in the way of toppings for the hot chocolate, which Rogir waved off calmly, stating it was understandable given the circumstances. Grabbing his flagon and the smaller cup of hot chocolate, Rogir made his way back over to his seat, putting Fen’an’s cup in front of him. The elf gave him a questioning look, to which Rogir smiled sweetly, “It's for ye.”

Fen’an stared at the cup for a minute or two, before finally reaching forward and tentatively picking it up. Rogir watched as the younger man sniffed it, perhaps thinking it was something untoward, before taking a sudden, hearty gulp. Judging by the relaxed expression on his features after taking a sip, Rogir assumed he liked it. In fact, upon seeing how relaxed he became, he finally braved speaking to the elf again, glad to find his questions being answered by short responses, instead of straight up ignorance like before.

Unfortunately, the relaxation of Fen’an did not last for long. His frown returned when the third of Shrike’s people entered the room. This time it was a pretty elven woman with light brown skin, and dark brown hair held up in a messy updo. She was wearing a long, plum-coloured, riding coat, which she unbuttoned upon coming into the room. The woman had a wooden staff on her back, which if not for a very faint glow emanating off of it, Rogir would have taken for a regular tree branch, when in fact it was actually a staff.

Rogir did not know why Fen’an seemed so displeased to see her, but was slightly amused at the other man's expression, finding he looked as though he was going to violently throw up for some reason.

“Freya!” Shrike greeted warmly, as she led the woman from the doorway to the bar. “Glad you could make it.”

The two women talked at the bar for a little while, before Freya made her way to where Rogir and Fen’an were, and sitting in the chair next to Fen’an. The elven man stared at her coldly, to which Rogir coughed, drawing the man's attention away from her for a moment. 

“It's nice to meet ye, Freya. My name's Rogir Warreck,” Rogir greeted, holding out a hand for the woman to shake. “Don't mind our grumpy friend there.”

Fen’an sniffed. “I’m not-”

“It's alright, I have dealt with my fair share of difficult spirits, this is nothing,” Freya told Rogir with a smile, as she shook his hand.

Rogir quirked a brow. “Spirits?”

“I’m Mortalitasi,” She explained. “An archivist to be exact. My main job is to record new deaths and help maintain the old archives in the Grand Necropolis rather than dealing with the undead, but as I said, I have dealt with my fair share of cantankerous spirits gone astray.”

Rogir nodded in understanding. He didn't fully understand how the Nevarran mages operated but he had heard rumours of their strange ways and fascination with death. Perhaps that was why Fen’an had glared at her coldly - he could smell the necromancy on her. Rogir hoped it wasn't simply because she was a mage. Mages were generally more tolerated now in Ferelden since the Divine had abolished the old circles, though some still held old beliefs about mages.

Just as Rogir was about to ask something else, there was a fourth and final knocking at the door. Shrike moved away from the bar to respond to the knock. The door opened and another tall figure stepped into the room. The figure was wearing a black cloak with a hood drawn over their head. The hood was pointed at the back and had a small, silver headpiece at the front, which gave it a sort of bird-like quality. 

The figure stood in the room, looking around quietly. As their head moved, a strand of blonde hair peeked out from underneath the hood.

Shrike moved towards the figure and Rogir noted she had a scowl on her face. “So, you finally decided to show up did you, Zev-” Shrike paused when the individual pulled down their hood, revealing a young woman underneath. “You are not Zevran Arainai.”

The young woman gave a throaty laugh. “No, I am not. I’m Zora.”

“Impossible!” Shrike exclaimed in disbelief. “Zora was a child the last time-”

“It has been nearly a decade since we last saw each other, Shrike.”

Leaving Shrike with that little nugget of information, this Zora woman joined the rest of the group, dropping into one of the empty seats and crossing a leg over the other. Despite the confidence she exuded, Rogir was surprised at just how young she actually looked. If he had to guess, she was of a similar age to his sons, which would have put her in her early twenties at least.

Shrike finally came over to join the four of them, though instead of taking the remaining seat as Rogir expected, she stood in front of the window instead. As Shrike looked out through the crack in the curtains, she put her hands behind her back. “Zevran did not inform me he was not coming,” She grumbled. “Where is he?”

“His Warden called,” Zora responded. “He does, however, send his regards and humblest apologies for the change in plans.”

Shrike scoffed, and Rogir got the impression she wasn’t entirely thrilled with how things had turned out. The Qunari woman turned away from the window but kept her hands behind her back. “Well, I suppose it is only fair that I share why I summoned you all here,” She began. “To cut to the point, the Inquisition needs you.”

Fen’an crossed his arms with a huff. “The Inquisition disbanded a decade ago. It doesn't exist anymore.”

“Formally, yes,” Shrike conceded. “But you know that it still exists in some capacity, Fen’an.” Based on his reaction, the elven man clearly knew but had returned to his earlier stubbornness by refusing to admit he was in the wrong. “What, did you think the requests for information from Sister Leliana were out of the goodness of her heart? Maker, you are more dense than I realised if you believe that.”

Fen’an huffed and looked away. Despite his bravado, Rogir did note his expression drop.

“What does the Inquisition require of us?” Freya asked politely. 

“As you are all aware, Ferelden has struggled following this double Blight,” Shrike continued. “We all played our part in enduring what happened and helping those we could to survive.” Rogir did not know what role the others played but could attest to helping feed people and provide supplies to the armies of Ferelden trying to push back against the Blight. Most of their crops had died when the Blight had begun to spread but Rogir and his family had long ago been maintaining stores on his farm. They had enough supplies to survive for years and had shared a good quantity with the Inquisitor’s armies when they had requested aid. “The fight is no longer in our hands but a new threat has arisen.”

“Don't tell me it's another corrupted elven god,” Zora quipped.

“No, no, nothing to that extent,” Shrike assured them. “However, we have recently become aware of an unknown group, using the destruction to spread discontent in some villages. We assumed them to be bandits just trying their luck but it has become apparent they have been looking for something. The ‘Teliorlin’, if that means anything to any of you?”

Rogir did not know what it meant but had heard enough Elven in his life to surmise it was an Elven term. Freya and Zora did not seem to know what it was, though Zora confirmed it sounded Elven to her too. 

“Are you sure they said ‘Teliorlin’?” Fen’an asked, looking at Shrike.

She shrugged. “Not for certain, no. The name was repeated to me by another agent I trust.”

Fen’an seemed to consider this for a moment before speaking again. “Well, if it is accurate, it seems more likely that this group is looking for a person, not an object.”

“You are certain of this?” Shrike pressed.

“If you took its literal translation, it means ‘a person who does not belong’,” Fen’an explained. “So, yes, I am certain it seems more likely they are looking for a person.”

Rogir considered this quietly. Someone who didn't belong… was this group looking for someone who had wronged them perhaps?

Shrike had gone quiet for a moment, moving her arms from behind her back, and scratching her chin idly. “It's possible that could be the case,” She conceded. “Although that does not quite explain why this group has been raiding libraries and ancient monuments…”

“Maybe they're not the only group looking for something?” Zora suggested. “Maybe this teliorlin is also looking for the same thing and that is why they do not belong?”

Rogir had to admit that sounded a little plausible, especially if they were raiding places of historical note. 

“Forgive me for the interruption to our theorisin’,” Rogir said, jumping into the conversation. “But I have to ask - why us? Surely there are better folk to deal with these people?”

Shrike smirked. “Oh, believe me, there were better people, but unfortunately a lot of those people have been displaced because of the Blight nor are they fit enough to deal with this group,” She explained. “If I am being honest, none of you would have been my first choice for this mission. Maker, I'd be hard-pressed to say any of you would be my second choice either…save for you Rogir.” The dwarf smiled a little at that, slightly smug about the compliment. “However, the four of you are dependable, willing to help, and more importantly you are fit, able, and you are here.”

“This almost sounds like we don't have a choice,” Fen’an mused.

Shrike cut him a look. “Of course, you have a choice,” She corrected. “However, the fact that you of all people came here, implies to me that you already made your choice, Fen’an.”

“Well, you were very insistent,” Fen’an said. Rogir chuckled when he heard that, recalling the conversation he heard between the two of them when Fen’an had first arrived.

“What about the rest of you?” Shrike asked.

Freya gave a light shrug. “As I mentioned to you in our letters, there is no hurry for me to return to Nevarra, so I am happy to pledge my assistance.”

“I can tell you I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to help,” Zora said coolly. “Just make sure I go home in one piece and my parents will have no issues.”

“Who are ye parents?” Rogir asked, suddenly curious by this remark.

Zora’s deep brown eyes flicked to him and she winked. “That's a secret,” She responded, tapping her nose knowingly.

“And what about you Rogir?” Shrike asked. 

“Well, I always did want to help save the world, so count me in,” He answered, giving the Qunari woman a hearty grin. 

With all answers given, Shrike nodded, content in the knowledge she had acquired the people she needed. “You will set out tomorrow, once I have gathered up the last of my notes,” She explained. After saying this, she began to move towards the door.

“You aren't coming with us?” Fen’an asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” Shrike shook her head. “I am needed back at Skyhold. If you need me, you need only send a raven.” Clearly, despite the supposed threat, it wasn't so pressing that she needed to accompany them, nor did she need to send any additional soldiers. “Eat and drink to your heart's content, my friends, the Inquisition is paying. Don't stay up too late though, tomorrow is the start of a big journey for you.”