#i still feel bad about what i did to alistair he was such a golden retriever boyfriend

[corpocyborg]

okay yeah... as mind-numbing as all the side quests you have to do to "unlock" the main quests are, the actual main quests in this game are still pretty good... it was actually hard choosing between hawke & loghain...

[ram-de]

[read] all of our demise thoughts vomit

The last post is getting far too long so I'm making a new one. I'll be treating this like this is my private Twitter account whatever💀

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No way they're becoming a local teenage celeb, I guess it's not far too removed from reality that a murderer (no matter how justified) would gain some large number admirers😭

Sure the Grieves had it bad but man Gavin... HE'S GONNA WIN THIS GAME. (and by win I mean snatching Lowe and lived happily ever after somewhere in a place that does not send kids to murder games). The story too, surely he's not going to die at the end right... R-RIGHT....

When the characters written that they cried or teared up rather easily I felt like it's a nice reminder that beneath all that curses and fights they did they're still like 16 years old kid being put in a murder game which most of them participate by the nature of tradition...

Someone save my girlie Isobel from the harassment💀 AND THAT INCLUDES HER SLIMY FATHER... Wait. His father steals from small shop... That shouldn't surprise me since this family vultures on dead people's magick...

My girl Isobel is also quickly flippant and impulsive, now that's a good traits for a champion. She's so self-important and annoying hsgshsjsh

"Maybe it's because of the curse breaking," UGH SHUT UP FINLEY... MAKE UP A BETTER REASON... /something that's deviate from the rules happens/ "oh maybe it's" OKAY SHUT UP... I GET IT THE FIRST TIME AROUND... if they want to remind me of how everything can be explained with "curse breaking" then at least try to make it sound interesting wtf....

Hm.. They're pairing Isobel and Reid. I frankly did not care enough for both of them. It's eh I guess. Talk about Reid, I also think for how much they hyped Reid and made him so important in the first book, the way he's dragged to the tournament because Isobel maced him to the head when he sleeps is vastly underwhelming. What do you mean in this age and era they would set some kind of protection shield when they sleep with danger around.

Why do I feel like there's isn't gonna be any more champion death after this? Leave it to Darrow and Payne because they're not the main cast in the first book. The main four isn't gonna die for sure. Maybe Gavin. Okay, wait. HENDRY. He's gonna die (again), so that Alistair can properly grief, move on and stuff. Reid may die by the end since he tampered a lot, though a glimpse of his motivation, using high magick for the better of the living condition of the people, highly naive makes me think there's gonna be a background story and he's gonna live.

So who's dying?

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Alistair is gonna be fold again hsgshsjsh my man...

NOT AGAIN STOP WITH THIS PAIRING I DID NOT LIKE THEM ONE BIT STOP INTERTWINING FINGERS YOU HERETICS

Why did the "Heroes" faction kept thinking of themselves as victim, all of those three have doubted another champions, some betrayed (and Reid is just slimy). When you corner the other two to their limits, of course they're gonna retaliate. You guys attacked them for goodness sake don't act surprised when they hit back💀

Isobel's "Who did this to you?!" to Briony when just few hours ago she planned to murder her and Finley in their sleep. She's so, uh, I'm sorry but, fake😒

Finley as a character seems so flat hsgshsh he's like the golden boy. Perfect, charming and is Briony's boyfriend. He sticks to his values and that's it. WE NEED HIM AT THE STAKE... NEXT VICTIM.

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Another day another session of procrastination. IM SO EXCITED.

ALRIGHT. Briony is kinda real for her decision. They can break the curse /the wrong way/ although that'd means all champions will die. She's still a /hero/ through and through. When the hero complex paying off👍 The kiss in the rain is very dramatic lmao

"Don't die, I'm the one who gets to kill you, okay?" PEAK ROMANCE‼️‼️‼️

For such grave injuries, a single spell surely saved the day just like that. That was very, anticlimactic idk😭

Isobel/raid pairing chapter... Snooze... Briony/Finley however, is starting to grow on me.

How many times are they gonna kept reusing the same Isobel's betrayal plot again SIGH ITS GETTING TIRING NOW MAKE UP YOUR DAMNED MIND GIRL URGH the only one who actually cares ending the damn game is Briony and she's carrying a lot here💀

Briony is such a girlboss she's so cool

Reid is such a loser I NEED HIM GONE😭 HE KEPT STOPP LOWER I NEED HIM BURIED SIX FEET UNDER... SCREW U REID. Even I wouldnt pair this slimy ghoul with Isobel gosh poor her😭 I know he's probably gonna have another one of these "my childhood so tragic uwu" but I'd he's a slime

Hsgshsjsh the satisfaction I felt. The build up to that hammer slam is SO GOOD. there's so a fluff moment I'm cryinf😭 (they were about to torture a slime) oh goodness I should be sick but then again they're torturing a slime so I don't feel as bad

After a while I just realized Reid is written as a classic villain cartoon character, he's just like Spandam from OP hsgshshs

Another Isobel/Reid chapter and slime flirtation PACK IT UP I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THJS wait briony/finley is a power duo

"You're welcome," OH SHUT UP YOU SLIME ughj knowing he has a romance plot line soon makes me repulsed SHOVE IT AWAY KEEP IT HIDDEN GET IT OUTTA HERE

briony girlboss but also innes deathflag😭

STOP IT WITH ANOTHER SLIME GERMINATION URGHH WE NEVER REALLY NEED A REID MACTAVISH IN THE SECOND BOOK I HATE SLIMES URGHH ugh it's been like 2 pages but it felt so long IS THIS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU READ A BOOK THROUGH A CHARACTER YOU HATE

one good thing about this chapter is them picking up the pace. get over it whatever I'm tired of reading you slime ass flirting and calling eachother darlings GO MERGE SOMEWHERE ELSE

Huh at least the slime had some self-awareness. Good enough, I guess. Still a slime though. OH SHUT UP YOU DON'T GET TO WABBLE ABOUT DOING GOOD AND JUSTICE AND ALL SHUT UPPPP

Ugh when will this chapter end I miss my clumsy son Alistair

Okay finally isobel FINALLY SHE MADE UP HER MIND though she ended up confiding with a slime ykw good for her whatever PACK IT UP I WANNA SEE ALISTAIR

Now why is Gavin's chapter a measly 8 pages while Isobel got like 14?! I'm so close to doing a kpop stan ramble about song line distribution hsgzhsjsjhs but also only 4 chapters of Isobel left (which means less slime appearance and mention) I CHEERED

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O-oh... Gavin's family is TRASH. GARBAGE. UTTER STANKY PILE NON-RECYCABLE WASTE. I need them gone. I need Gavin to pull an Alistair....

Fergus you're in THIN ICE right now.

I teared up just a bit shgshsjsahah Gavin you deserve all the world and a half😭

I just realized Alistair (Cottage, Crown) have mismatched Relic and Landmark with Gavin (Castle, Shoes) THAT'S... THAT'S CUTE

Hendry's life wishes broke me too HELP ILVERNATH IS ABUSING CHILDREN SEND THEM ALL TO THERAPY (except maybe the slime he should've went to therapy FAR AWAY from the OG cast)

GAVIN IS CURED THSI IS THE BEST DAY EVER

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"The slime has changed" LMAOO just like all the other two pairs of course everyone changed once they meet their partner Isobel and the slime, Briony and Finley, heck even Gavin and alistair too (on progress) but WELL WHO CARES once a slime forever a slime, PLEASE PERISH IN THE NEAR FUTURE

I'm cryinf Alistair is such a dramatic guy😭 you've been in dungeon for like 14 hours my man hsgshshhs

HWNDRY😭 THE FAREWELL MADE ME WEPT it happened so fast shgshah I don't know what happened but ;-; PLEASE HAVE A GOOD LIFE YOU TWO 😭

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Each time the slime said the word 'darling' my will to read depletes by 1% SHUT UPPP

Briony's redemption arc is done so beautifully, she let go of the burden and her own expectation of being a /hero/😭

I really can't take anymore of the slime/sobel flirting scene... WRAP IT UP.... CRAFT THE DSMN CROWN‼️

I'll give them props for not putting the slime in a rosy tinted glasses through Isobel's perspective. YOU STILL MANIPULATED A LOT OF DESPERATE KIDS THAT'S ABOUT TO DIE YOU SLIME... like yucky murky mud slime.

I never want to read about slime mating ritual😭 please don't put that in the story ever again...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAH the fakeout death... I don't know if it's fake but I'm sure he's gonna heal one way or another. Alistair needs to LIVE...

ALISTAIR ON HIS TIPTOES... HES ADORABLE AND CUTIEFUL (he has a kill count of four people)

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Another day another aood reading sesh

IM SO WEAK WITH FAMILY REUNION AAHH it's fine Isobel hsgshsj now who invited her slimy dad to this party

Of course the slime will slither into the most slimy role at the end of the story. He's a slime guys... Don't trust slime... I THIS HOUSE WE DETEST morally ambiguous (not really but like u get it) character like REID MACTAVISH

Though if he actually commits to his slimy role and be the villain he ALWAYS IS I'll actually like him a bit better. Like, he's not halfassing things. If that's the case then he's cool. NO SILLY PLOTLINES LIKE isobel's convincing him out of love or like friendship power bullshit (that's only reserved for characters I like so that I can look past some plot conveniences like Alistair and Gavin hsgshsjsh love u two) alright give me the slime show reid I'm prepared

AUGH whatever he's not that interesting😒 he's not even deserving the title of slime anymore whatever

BRIONY SACRIFICE??? HWGATSGWHHWGSYSY THIS IS NASTY THAT was so grotesque😭 GIRLIE I'M SORRY AAAHH her whole story of being set up as a hero but when she ended up having a dream and wishes past hero complex, they killed her off like😭 I guess it's like thematic in how she's ended up as the hero, something she always strived and chased to be, who also sacrificed her life but come on😭 she's been the one who's actually working her ass off trying to end the tournament and like she deserves better, at least like SURVIVING

Omg fuck im not even attached that attached to her character😔

The funeral is is a nice closure😭

Ugh the slime is crying, fine, he's okay. That makes him a bit human. I'd pat his head once or twice. I'll probably still think of him as a slime the next time I reread but for now he's just a guy.

J-jawdrop... Am I not getting my Alistair/Gavin happy ending😭 O-oh a long distance is good enough I guess

THE ENDING😭 AHHHHHHHH MY HEART IS FULL THAT WAS A RIDE. I NEEDED A LONGER EPILOGUE because what was that shgshsjshhsh everyone sort of get their closure except maybe Finley because he's not the main cast. Grieve's parents not mentioned anywhere (as they should but also I need them gone), Marianne Jr. Sort of handled to Calista (whol also is a Grieve and she's been so shitty to Gavin this is like the least she could do to help him like seriously screw her and her parents SHE NEVER APOLOGIZED TOO I think or if she did it doesn't leave an impact coz I didn't remember). Then again Alistair does really need a thorough therapy away from Ilvernath (everybody needs to actually) and I doubt he can take care of a kid that reminds him of murder house sjgzhzjs

AHSGUSGSGSH ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I REALLY ENJOYED THE READ THAT WAS ALL OF US VILLAINS (I think the slime Reid is the only one deemed to be villain but he also switched lädt minute, the others aren't really villainy except when they kill. Alistair is a clumsy short king, Briony is literally a hero, Gavin brought up to be the sacrificial sheep, Isobel may or may not have a teensy bit of villainy a.k.a but also that's her being a survivor, Finley sticks to his moral code and even after abandoning it he's still a hero by Briony's side, Elionor is unhinged and a girlboss and Carbry I forgot about who are you son)

[cyber-skeletons]

Happy Friday!! I love hearing about everyone's wardens!! Would you be interested in a small tale of Alistair and Chao-Hui Tabris having a relaxing moment together during the Blight?

Decided to combine this with @contreparry's prompt of "You can sleep here." Set early in their relationship, soon after Lothering and Ostagar <3

CW: grief

@dadrunkwriting

**********************************************************************

Chao-Hui woke with a scream caught in her throat.

Choking on her own breath and shuddering, she snatched up her sword and rolled to her knees, opening her eyes wide and scanning the skies and treeline for the sickly purple glow of the Archdemon, her whimpers rapidly pitching down into enraged snarls.

“Bad dreams, huh?”

She snapped her gaze to Alistair where the man sat nearby.

Swallowing thickly, her shoulders heaving, she wearily replied, “...It didn’t feel like a dream.”

“That’s because they’re not. Not really,” Alistair explained, his tone as soft and gentle as his eyes were as he looked at her. Her hold tightened around her sword. “Nightmares are common for Grey Wardens. They’re really bad for new recruits, and even worse during Blights… I figured you might have a rough few nights.”

Looking him up and down, she slowly set down her sword so she could begin dressing in her armor. Stepping into her boots, she began fastening the buckles while asking, “You didn’t stay up to watch me sleep, did you?”

“No! No, no, I- not, definitely not, unless- …was that a joke? You’ve really got to tell me, Chao-Hui, because I can not figure out your humor.”

Looking up at him with a grave frown, she bluntly stated, “I never joke.”

Alistair grimaced. “Now see, is that a joke?”

“No,” Chao-Hui replied simply, and then shrugged on her cuirass.

“Well, you want to know what is a joke?” he shot back, wrinkling his brow as she continued to get dressed. “Getting dressed for the day at two o’clock in the morning.”

Chao-Hui paused.

“It cannot be that early,” she whispered.

“Oh, but it is,” Alistair said gently, gesturing with his hand towards Leliana’s tent, sealed shut in slumber, and towards Sten, where the Qunari laid sleeping in the grass. Even Morrigan, in her camp far away, could be seen sleeping in her lean-to.

After a long minute of pondering, Chao-Hui continued to get dressed. “If I cannot sleep, then I will stand watch,” she said quietly.

Alistair wrung his hands and began to worry at his golden token where he sat on his own bedroll, still in his smallclothes. “I guess that’s a better idea than just… sitting awake,” he said with a quiet laugh. “Maker knows I’ll feel safer with you watching over me than the other way around…”

Chao-Hui paused as she stooped down to grab her shield, her sword already buckled to her belt.

“...Why are you awake?” she asked, quietly.

Alistair worried at his token even faster.

“...You don’t have to answer if you don’t-”

“I want to,” he said quickly, glancing up at her a couple times before dropping his gaze. “Because you said that.”

Slowly, carefully, Chao-Hui crossed the distance between their bedrolls, settling down at his side. She looked at his face and waited, patiently.

Flip flip flip. Flip flip flip. Flipflipflip. “I dreamt about Duncan,” he confessed, his voice hoarse and strangled. Flipflipflipflip. “I dreamt I was there, in the infantry, fighting alongside him, and then everyone got overrun and I still couldn’t protect him… and he… was murdered… right in front of me… his blood…”

His token fell out of his shaking hand.

Chao-Hui grabbed it instead.

“When my mother was murdered by the humans,” she said quietly, “I had nightmares for over a year.”

Alistair’s lips parted and his eyes widened as she spoke.

“I dreamt I ran into the kitchen to her making breakfast,” she continued. “I cried out to her, convinced her murder was just a bad dream… when she turned around… drenched in blood, in slash marks… her eyes gouged out, her tongue cut…”

“Oh, Maker,” Alistair breathed, flipping their hands to twine their fingers together — his, warm and soft and bare, and hers, covered in cold, hard metal.

She bore herself to him in other ways.

“I could only fall asleep curled into the chest of my father,” she whispered. “Otherwise, I just… wouldn’t.”

They sat in silence for a long while, holding the other’s hand.

“I’m… scared,” Alistair said, slowly, quietly. “Scared that will happen to me. That I won’t be able to fight, if…”

Chao-Hui let go of his hand.

“You can sleep here,” she said quietly, unbuckling her sword from her waist, but keeping it near. “I will stand vigil for an hour or so, then… return to my tent. Try to get some more sleep.”

Slowly, Alistair nodded. “Guess I better hurry and get some shut eye, then,” he said with a wan smile. “Somehow I get the feeling I won’t have bad dreams with you watching over me. Over- over all of us.”

Chao-Hui heaved herself to her feet, unsheathing her sword and hefting her shield onto her arm before walking out to the perimeter of camp, keeping her head ducked and her hair down to hide her small smile and blush.

Alistair slept soundly behind her.

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Seven: Humanity

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, reader is a virgin.

Word count: 6,300>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Seven - Next

Max stood outside, his back pressed against his car. He closed his eyes as the morning sun warmed his skin - only it felt more like an unpleasant, burning sensation. He felt a fire of anguish rife within him. He was furious. How had he let all this happen? How had little Maxwell Lorenzano let this happen? He scrunched up his nose in disdain as a single tear slipped from his eye and rolled down his cheek. He had nobody to blame but himself, and that’s what hurt the  most. He had come so close to losing everything. He could still lose everything. You had preached to him about how Diana was symbolic of hope and that she’d never judge him, yet, Max couldn’t help but feel like she was judging him. When she told him that the consequences of his actions lay in his fate with Alistair. And in that moment, he felt so undeserving. He was a bad man who had done bad things and maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be a father. Maybe Alistair would be better off with Julianna. Maxwell found himself losing hope.

You were still inside, looking over some documents about Dolos’ dreamstone that Diana had been collecting. She explained to you that most of it had been provided by her old friend, Dr Barbara Minerva. Dr Minerva was a gemologist, according to Diana, who had looked into Romulus’ dreamstone just a few days ago. “Where is she now?” you asked Diana as your finger traced the sketch of the stone. At least you knew what exactly you were looking for. A gorgeous citrine stone with Greek scripture engraved into it.

Diana smiled faintly, but the glaze in her dark eyes were not lost on you. “She’s gone.” Diana whispered, looking into the distance. 

“Oh Diana, I’m so sorry,” you frowned, placing a gentle and comforting hand in the small of Diana’s back. “Did Max know her?”

Diana took a sharp breath. “Yes.” she said coldly, before spinning around on her heel and walking over to her desk. You wanted to prod further and find out more but you noticed how stand off-ish Diana had become over your brief mention of Max and his relationship with Barbara. You figured it might not be best to push it. At least not right now.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about Maxwell and you were aware that he had been standing outside for quite a long while. You hoped that he was okay. You sighed, taking Diana and Barbara’s research and composing it into a pile for you to take away. “I should be going then. If we want to catch the flight to Athens.” you shrugged with a caring smile. Diana glanced back at you. 

“Did my mother grant you permission to come here?” Diana asked, quirking her eyebrow.

You bit your lip nervously. “No,” you admitted. “Queen Hippolyta believed I was foolish for wanting to come here. I told her I had my calling but she didn’t care. My mother Hestia granted me a secret passage. Queen Hippolyta hasn’t been the same since you left.” 

Diana nodded knowingly before saying your name gently, almost cautiously. “My mother didn’t grant you permission to come to the world of man because you’re too powerful.” Diana informed you. Her face hardened and she had become incredibly serious. You knotted your eyebrows in bewilderment and slowly shook your head.

“I- I don’t understand.” you said weakly. Too powerful for the world of man?

“You are the daughter of Zeus and Hestia. You are a goddess,” Diana smiled, cupping your face with her hand. “I’m only a demi-God, I have half the power you have. I can be here. But to have a whole Goddess walking on this earth, utilizing her powers… you’re playing a dangerous game. I’ve read about this in ancient Amazonian mythology. It would lead to the world’s destruction.” Diana explained quietly. “I would never want to harm this world.” you reassured Diana, pulling out of her grip and narrowing your eyes in disbelief. 

“I know,” Diana hushed you. “I know you would never want to harm this world. But it’s not about what you want. It’s about the inevitable. Do you think Maxwell wanted to cause all the death and destruction? All the hate and war?”

“No of course not.” you replied.

“But he did. And now he’s… dealing with the aftermath. You might be here to help Maxwell and that’s okay. That is your duty. But you cannot stay. You must return to Themyscira once this is over with. You have to.”

“Yes but Max-” you began to protest but Diana cut you off.

“Once you fulfill your calling and bring him and Alistair together, you will have satisfied your duty as the goddess of home and hearth. You have no reason to stay, right?”

She was right. No reason to stay. But shit- you had become so attached to Max Lord and his son, you never even considered the fact you might have to leave them. It wasn’t even a ‘might’. You were going to have to leave them eventually and you didn’t have long at all. “Right,” you confirmed sadly, but trying to remain as composed as possible. “But I don’t even know how to get back to Themyscira.” you sighed.

Diana grabbed the rope of your lasso and traced the patterned ridges in between her father. “By combining both our lassos, I can create a one-way portal back home. When all this is over, you know where to find me,” Diana promised. Your heart ached. You felt nauseous. And you knew now you had to go outside and face Maxwell. You had to tell him. Your mind was racing as you wondered how he’d react to the news. “I know how you feel...” Diana said softly before looking out the window and into the sky above. “Once you’re back home, you’ll miss him. You’ll think about Max every single day. Just like I think about Steve.”

You didn’t even know how to answer, you were hurting too much. You knew Diana was only looking out for you and what was best for the world of man, but this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you stay? Why did you have to leave Maxwell? You picked up the papers and held them close to your chest. “I’ll see you in Athens, Diana.” was all you said, before leaving the Smithsonian.

Maxwell saw you approaching before you set eyes on him. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath before giving you a small wave so you knew where he had parked his car. As he caught your attention, a bout of relief washed over you. He was beautiful - his hair golden under the sun and the gold rings on his fingers sparkling as the rays of light bounced off them. He made you feel safe and happy. But as you got closer to him, you began to feel afraid. Leaving him was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

The car ride to the airport was difficult. Maxwell hadn’t put the radio on this time, and so the journey was filled with an unwelcome silence. Every few minutes you would take a shaky exhale and try and work up the courage to tell him what Diana had told you. About how you couldn’t stay. You had to leave. But even before you said anything, you could cut the tension with a knife. He wasn’t okay and you knew it.

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“Flight RD270401 from Washington D.C. to Athens, Greece, is now boarding from gate 8.” echoed the airport speakers overhead. With your hand pressed against the cold window glass, you looked in awe at the airplane. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before. You looked back at Maxwell, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, talking to one of the airport employees. She was clearly saying something he had no interest in hearing. He shook his head to whatever she had told him, and he wiggled his finger at her. The conversation ended with him signing an autograph for her and then sauntering towards you.

You had managed to swindle your way past passport security thanks to your trusted lasso of Hestia, but Maxwell was still anxious you'd somehow get stuck in Athens without a passport and wouldn't be able to return to D.C. back in time for the court hearing. You tried reassuring him that everything would be alright, but he had a stubborn mind and he was already worked up from what Diana had told him earlier. That the consequence of his actions lied in the fate of his and Alistair's relationship. He knew that couldn't be good.

“She changed our one-way plane tickets to return tickets, so we have two days to get the dreamstone and then we must head back to D.C.” Maxwell informed you with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. Only two days in Greece, and then it was back home to prepare for court. And then you had to go. He had barely spoken to you since the museum. You understood his stress and you missed hearing his sweet voice, but you didn't want to push him to talk about what happened back there if he wasn't ready.

"What did it cost you?" you asked hesitantly. 

"She just wanted an autograph and my number," Maxwell shrugged, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the airplane. He was trying to read the docking gate number. "Come on, that's our flight."

Even though Diana had clearly explained that the world had forgotten about the broadcast, he couldn’t shake his guilty conscience. It felt strange- people still approaching him and asking him for autographs, giving him attention. It only added to his feeling of shame.

Maxwell walked hurriedly and you felt like you were practically chasing after him. There was hardly a rush. The airplane had just landed. "Your number?" you asked curiously.

"So she can call me." Maxwell explained further, his voice stone cold and emotionless. His comment was abrupt and to the point. It wasn’t a big deal. She might have believed she had a chance to go on a date with Maxwell Lord, but she really didn’t, and Maxwell knew that. He had more important things going on, and besides, his mind was already unwillingly preoccupied with you. 

"Why would she want to do that?" you asked and Maxwell scoffed. He knew you weren’t accustomed to the nature of exchanging numbers and what that meant, but his frustration was increasing by the second. The thought of getting on a flight made him feel anxious and uneasy. He hadn’t been on a flight since he used the President’s chopper, Marine One, to fly to the bunker. Every little thing was reminding him of the incident and it was traumatic. Maxwell hadn’t even prepared himself for the chance of coming into contact with the dreamstone again.

"Jesus, do you have to question everything?" Maxwell snapped, abruptly halting in his footsteps and turning to you. You froze, your blood running cold as you sensed his anger. You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling timid, and ducked your head down. He shouted at you, and the ferocity in his voice made you feel small and vulnerable. "I'm sorry," Max sighed when he saw the change in your conduct. His heart sank in his chest, knowing that he was to blame for your demeanor. Just like he was to blame for everything else. "Let's just get seated, okay?"

You didn't reply, but followed him to gate 8 in silence as you queued up to get your tickets checked so you could board. Everything about this experience was brand new and awe-inspiring. You had watched many airplanes jet off into the sky and fly into the clouds above. Despite being so far away from home, you found comfort in knowing that both you and the Amazons were underneath the same sky. You had never felt so close to them.

Maxwell was truly more than happy to help you find the dreamstone. He knew it was something you needed to do, and after all, you were helping him with Alistair. You had warned him that if you didn't find the dreamstone, it could cause the world to end. The world had almost ended just a few days ago before Max had renounced his wish. It was serious. But to Max, all that mattered was Alistair. Even if you successfully destroyed the dreamstone, if he lost custody of Alistair then his life would be over. Alistair was his whole world. His only reason. He couldn't lose him. His life depended on it.

Just as you got strapped in, a flight attendant walked by. "Ah, are you two on your honeymoon?" she smiled, her blue eyes glittering. "Two seats in first class have just opened up, if you'd like." 

"Yes!" Maxwell exhaled sharply, unclipping his belt and then reaching down to your lap unclip yours and pull you up. He needed the luxury of first class. It brought him a sense of normality. 

“What’s a honeymoon?” you hissed, looking around the cabin.

“Just pretend we’re married, okay?” Maxwell hissed back before putting on a fake smile to present his charming exterior.

As the air hostess guided you to first class, she swooned over Maxwell.

“I love your infomercials,” she cooed, placing her hand on his arm and tracing the curve of his bicep. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in your chest. “The part where you’re on a yacht and you say that thing about how you don’t need a business degree to get started is so inspiring. And sexy.” she sighed longingly, fluttering her dark eyelashes.

Before Max could reply, you grabbed his hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. He looked at you, his eyes widening slightly with shock. Maybe he was always going to be taken aback by your touch. You made him feel a way he had never felt before. 

“Yes,” you smiled leaning over to take her hand off Maxwell. “My husband is very talented.”

There was no denying the way Max’s heart raced at your words. He swore he’d never remarry after Julianna. He’d also sworn that he’d never fall in love again. But then you came into his life and things changed. For a second, he actually imagined what it would be like to marry you. He imagined a life where he could show you off on his arm. He could treat you, spoil you, kiss you all day and all night. He imagined you looking over Alistair. He had already become familiar with the maternal side of you. As his mind wandered, he imagined the possibility of you giving him some more children. He cursed himself for letting himself get carried away; lost in thoughts that could never happen.

About an hour later, you were finally in the air and looking over Diana’s documents about Dolos’ dreamstone, provided by Dr Minerva. Maxwell was slumped against the blue velveteen chair, his legs spread as he nursed a glass of whiskey and picked at some peanuts. You sighed, feeling defeated. Your mind was overcome by all this new-found knowledge about the stone and you just wanted to relax. If you could do anything, you’d curl into Maxwell’s lap and fall asleep in his strong arms. But there was one thing preying on your mind. One thing you still needed to tell him.

“How are you feeling?” you asked quietly, and Maxwell looked up at you, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours.

“Better,” he admitted with a small smile. “Athens is very beautiful. I think you’ll like it,” Your heart warmed knowing that he was feeling better. It was probably due to his intake of alcohol but nevertheless, his anxiety had eased and that’s all that mattered. Maxwell took a deep breath and tried to repress the smirk that was threatening to play on his lips. “You’re beautiful. Come here,” he said, patting his thigh. You bit your lip and walked over to Max, sliding down and sitting in his lap. He wrapped his arm around your body and pressed a soft kiss into your neck. Whiskey always gave him a boost of confidence but nothing had ever felt so right. You belonged in his arms. You belonged with him. He dragged his tongue up your skin and pressed a kiss into your jaw, nibbling at you gently with his teeth. You hummed in delight, loving the way his lips felt against you. “I am so glad you’re here,” Maxwell admitted, looking into your eyes. “I’m so glad you came into my life. I don’t know what I’d be doing if you weren’t here. I don’t know how I’d cope.” he confessed before pressing another kiss into you.

Your blood ran cold at his words. He might not know what he’d do without you, but he’d have to learn. You couldn’t stay with him in DC no matter how much you wanted to and he was going to have to learn to accept that. You had to tell him. It was now or never.

You pulled away from his lips and smoothed your hands over his hair. You noticed the way his roots were a dark brown colour and thought about how it faded into a dirty blonde. Did he dye his hair? You remembered your vision of him when he was younger and he had dark brown hair. That was why you hadn’t recognised him as Lorenzano. You still had so many questions to ask him but so little time.

“Max...” you croaked as tears pricked your eyes. 

“Hey, what is it?” Maxwell cooed, rubbing circles into your back. You rest your head on his shoulder. You really were in love with him.

But you had to suck up your feelings. You closed your eyes. “I can’t stay,” you revealed, taking a deep breath. When Max didn’t reply, you managed to bring yourself to open your eyes and look at him, trying to judge his reaction. “Diana said I can’t stay.”

Maxwell was perplexed. He looked at you, then looked at his surroundings on the airplane and then looked back at you. “You can’t stay where? D.C.?”

“The world of man,” You sighed, playing with his hair. It was so difficult to read Maxwell’s expression. It felt like he was frozen in time. “She said I’m a goddess and I’m too powerful to stay. I could accidentally cause the world’s destruction.” you scoffed at how ridiculous Diana’s claim sounded, but deep down, you knew it made sense. She was your princess and you had to trust her, no matter what.

“But- what- how- what?” Maxwell exclaimed. He felt sick. He didn’t understand, but his stomach was in knots. There was a chance he was going to lose Alistair, and now you were going to leave him too. Maybe this is what he deserved, but he didn’t like it one bit. You had only just come into his life and you were like a blessing in disguise. Now you were going to leave?

“Max,” you whimpered, letting the tears drip down your face. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go back home. I want to stay here with you and Alistair.” you sniffed, pressing your palm flat against his chest. Seeing you cry was pushing him to cry.

“Don’t go,” he begged, shaking his head. “There must be a way you can stay. A loophole or something.”

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head in defeat. “I wasn’t even meant to come here. Our queen denied my request but my mother granted me passage to the world of man. She shouldn’t have, but she just wanted me to complete my calling and fulfil my duty as the goddess of home and hearth.”

“Hey, we’ll figure something out okay?” Max reassured, but his expression showed anything but assurity.

“We can’t,” you sobbed. Your tears were beginning to dampen his shirt but he didn't care. He held you close and tight as if it was going to be the last time. “I have to go.” you confirmed, hating the way the words sounded as they parted your lips.

“How long do we have?” Maxwell asked you, letting a tear slip down his cheek. You gasped and quickly wiped his tear away with your thumb.

“No longer than a week. Five days, maybe. As soon as the court case is over. As soon as you gain custody of Alistair, I must go.” you informed Max, exhaling shakily as you fought for composure. Max shook his head profusely in disbelief.

“I wish we had more time.” he choked out, resting his forehead against yours, his grip around you tightening. 

You stayed in Maxwell’s arms for the rest of the journey. You’d both even fallen asleep at one point. When you landed in Athens, everything still felt bittersweet. The sky was dark and it was in the middle of the night. The resort was isolated but Maxwell was right, it was beautiful. Pearly white stars pierced the sky and small waves rippled through the turquoise tranquil waters. You followed your guide group to the hotel in silence. 

“I don’t want this to ruin our trip, or ruin our final few days together.” Maxwell whispered as you queued in the lobby for the key to your hotel room.

“Me neither,” you hummed, resting your head on his shoulder and taking his hand. “I love your hands.” you whispered back, tracing his fingers and brushing over his knuckles.

“Yeah?” he asked, his breath hitching as you brought his hand up to your lips.

“Yeah.” you confirmed.

-----

“We only have five days until this is all over.” you purred, tugging on Maxwell’s shirt and falling backwards onto the bed. You giggled when you heard the springs in the mattress go as Maxwell hovered above you. Your hands found Max’s cheeks and you looked him in the eyes.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” Maxwell admitted although his tone was low, gravely and almost dark as he planted sloppy kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He never wanted this moment to end - or any moment that he shared with you, for that matter. Nothing had changed. You still revelled in the way he kissed you and the way his touch erupted a frenzy of butterflies in your stomach.

“Me too,” you huffed, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. “But all I know is that I want to make every second that I’m with you count. I never want to forget this, Maxwell Lord.” you smiled, pulling him down to kiss you again. He moaned as your tongues intertwined and he guided his large hands over your frame.

As you made out, you relished the way he touched you and your bodies moved together in sync. It was like they were made for each other. That Zeus had sculpted you to fit with Maxwell Lord; to be with him, guide him, and love him when he didn’t feel loved. Maxwell had always laughed off the concept of ‘soulmates’, seeing himself as nothing more than an independent, stone cold businessman. But maybe, after all this time, he was wrong. In the past week he’d learned so much about himself, and what really mattered. You were teaching him that it was okay to rely on others for comfort and affection.

You reminded yourself of the reason you were in Greece. You had to focus on obtaining the dreamstone. It was important, but with this clash of tongues and teeth and Maxwell Lord on top of you, it was easy to forget about why you had come to Athens in the first place. Sure, destroying the remaining dreamstone was important, but so was Maxwell.

“There’s something I want to know,” you huffed, drawing away from him for just a second to regain your breath. “During my time studying the world of man, I took particular interest in family and babies, probably due to me being the goddess of home and hearth. I spent a lot of time studying babies and… how they’re made. The history books describe it as beautiful. An indescribable pleasure that you know I’ve never experienced before. There are no men on Themyscira. But I want to feel it. I want to feel the pleasure and I want you to show me. Please Max. Show me.” you whispered, bucking your hips upwards and rolling yourself over his crotch. You’d thought about it a lot, maybe even just as much as he’d thought about you in that way. You already knew you trusted him, especially with something like this. 

His brown eyes turned a whole shade darker with lust as he slid his hands under your shirt.

“Are you sure?” he questioned, wanting to make absolute sure you certainly wanted this.

“I am,” you confirmed. “But only if you want to too.”

“I do,” Maxwell nodded, his lips curving into a smile. “Believe me, I really do.” 

You grinned ecstatically, kissing him again and moaning into his mouth when he squeezed your breast, just like he'd done the previous night when you were both making out in his bed. He knew you liked it. “Let me take this off,” Maxwell groaned and you nodded, stretching your arms in the air so he could pull your shirt off you. “Fuck, you're so perfect.” he whispered to himself, as he stared down at your bare chest. He leaned in and kissed between the valley of your breasts. He peppered kisses along the soft plushness and licked a stripe along your hardening nipple. As he cared for your breast with his lips, he fondled your other breast with his hand, squeezing it lovingly before switching it up again. He was so skilled at this. He knew all the right ways to make you feel good.

Soon, you began to feel that familiar fire heat up in your core. The same fire you had felt when you were kissing him in his own bed. Your new panties felt like they were soaked with your arousal as he peppered kisses down your stomach and to the hem of your pants. “How do you feel?” Max asked you, looking up with concern. He just wanted to make sure you were still okay with this. He cared about you so much.

"Nervous, but excited," you exclaimed. "Will- will it hurt?"

"It might, just a little. Might be slightly uncomfortable at first. But if it gets too much you can tell me, okay?" Maxwell reassured, kissing the lobe of your ear. "I'd never ever want to hurt you honey."

"I know," you smiled, running your fingers through his soft locks of hair. "But first, let me take care of you."

Unsure what you even meant, Maxwell doubled back. You were new to this, inexperienced, and yet he found himself intrigued by what you meant when you said 'take care'. You shuffled out from beneath him and kneeled on the mattress. You unbuttoned Maxwell's shirt and tossed it on the floor, and then unzipped his pants. As you pulled down the silver zipper, you noticed the imprint of his bulge pressed against the tight tailored pants. It was long, thick, and achingly hard, precum already beading at his tip. You subconsciously licked your lips and Maxwell chuckled over your eagerness. It was adorable. But his laughter was cut short into a choked moan as you traced the shape of it through the material, gently with your index finger. "You look so big…" you trailed off, biting your lip nervously. 

"Take off my pants and find out." Maxwell urged and you nodded your head. You pulled down his pants and his cock sprung free, bouncing against his tummy. The head was dark pink in colour and already leaking.

“Wow…” you gasped, wiping his precum and letting it wet your hand before wrapping your fingers around his length and starting to pump him. He tossed his head back and moaned wantonly, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

“You really don’t have to-” Maxwell stiffened up as you kitten-licked the tip of his cock. You let your fingers stroke the base and play with his balls as wrapped your lips around his thickness. “-I-fuck. This is your first-first time. I want to make you feel good.”

You pulled your lips off him with a pop and looked at him with doe eyes. “This feels good for me. Tastes good too.” you promised before sinking your mouth back down onto him, deeper this time. He stretched your mouth so wide your jaw began to ache and you gagged around him. You bopped your head up and down, loving the way his fingers tugged on your hair and the way he bucked his hips deeper into your throat.

“Won’t last,” Maxwell warned. “Fuck. Pull off.” he gasped for breath and you followed his instruction, removing your lips from his throbbing length. He wished he could’ve just spilled his seed down your throat but he wanted to make this as memorable as possible for you. It wasn’t just going to be a quick blowjob. You deserved more.

“How was it?” you asked, pouting your swollen lips. Maxwell leaned in and kissed you, tasting his own saltiness on your tongue.

“Perfect,” he sighed lovingly. “You’re perfect.”

Max gently pushed you down amongst the sheets and discarded the rest of your clothes so you were laying in bed completely naked. He pressed his hand on the apex of your thigh and opened up your legs. His cock jumped when he looked down at your glistening folds. You were already so wet for him and he’d hardly even touched you.

Maxwell kissed up the inside of your thighs, revelling in the softness of your skin. He knew he’d never be able to forget this. As he neared your core, your heart began to race with anticipation. Max pressed a soft kiss into your clit and you let out a gasp that you didn’t even realise you were holding back. You felt Max smirk against you and he separated your folds with his two thumbs. Now that you were completely spread open for him, he began to lick you up and down, his cock twitching as he tasted you. He’d eaten the widest variety of expensive desserts in his lifetime, but you were by far the most delicious thing he’d devoured. Everytime his tongue flicked upwards against your clit, your entire body would involuntarily quiver. He loved it. He loved watching you become putty under his touch. 

He decided to focus more of his mouth on your clit and began to quickly flick his tongue over your bundle of nerves before sucking on it. His moans sent vibrations straight through you and he noticed how your hole began to clench over nothing. He was desperate to fill you up. To feel you. But he had to prep you first. He didn’t stop with the licking, but he did nudge a finger over your hole. You pushed your hips closer to him, wanting more.

“I’m going to finger you now, is that okay?” Maxwell asked, pulling off you. His lips shone with your slick and you swore he had never looked so beautiful.

“Yes please.” you whimpered.

“If it gets too much, tell me.” Maxwell whispered before reattaching his lips to your pussy and poking his index finger into your entrance. He kissed your clit one last time before pulling away and pushing his finger deep into you. He flushed pink as your soft walls tightened around his finger, and he couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel if he replaced his finger with his cock. He watched you in awe, thrusting his finger in and out of you, experimenting and curling it upwards until he was satisfied that he’d located your g-spot. “Sweet girl,” he moaned, watching you intently as you brought your free hand down to rub your clit as he fingered you. “I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You moaned something incoherent but Maxwell felt his heart race as he took in your appearance. You were a sight he could never forget - all spread out for him, your back arched in pleasure. He pushed his middle finger inside of you, as well as his index finger, and you squealed with pleasure as he stretched you open.

“Oh Max, oh fuck Max.” you whined as obscene wet noises filled the room. He loved the way you said his name. He always had. This whole experience felt like a dream come true.

“So fucking beautiful.” he growled before ducking his head back in between your thighs and continuing to eat you out. With the combination of his tongue and fingers, it wasn’t long at all until your climax washed over you.

Maxwell pulled off you and reached down to stroke his own cock which was achingly hard, desperate for any kind of relief. “I want you inside of me.” you begged, reaching out to pull Max on top of you.

Maxwell leaned over you, propping himself up on his elbows and you shivered as his cock nudged against your entrance. He rolled his hips up and down, his tip rubbing against your folds. He was teasing. You grabbed onto his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin. “Please Max,” you panted. “Make love to me.”

Maxwell moaned at your words and pressed a quick peck to your soft lips before obliging and pushing himself into you.

"How does that feel?" Maxwell murmured, his breath fanning over your neck as he sat himself deep inside of you. You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock as waves of pleasure jolted through your body. You knew that the tales had described intercourse as pleasurable but you never imagined it could feel so good.

"I feel so full," you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as your walls adjusted to his length. Max knew the second he started moving he wouldn’t be able to last long. He’d imagined this so much. He’d gone so long without sex. And you were so fucking perfect. "Move, please."

"Ngh— fuck, are you sure?" Maxwell asked, giving your breasts a gentle squeeze. You nodded and Max doubled out slightly before pushing himself back in with a wanton groan. He felt your cunt clench around him. "So fucking tight." he whispered. You bit your lip, wondering what it meant to be ‘tight’ and hoping he was enjoying it as much as you were.

"Is that okay?" You asked, holding onto his bicep for support as he pushed a few shallow thrusts into you.

"More- more than ‘okay’ honey. You’re amazing." He mumbled, his eyes snapping shut. You gasped as you felt every perfect ridge and vein rub against the inside of your walls. "You feel so perfect, sweet girl."

Max brought his hand down to your cunt and began to circle your clit with his thumb, mirroring your own previous actions. The pleasure flooded through your body and you arched your back as he hit your sweet spot. "Mmm," you couldn't even find words. You found your toes curling and your mouth slack as he throbbed inside of you. His fingers worked at you like magic and it wasn't long until your legs began to involuntarily shake. Max could feel your oncoming high too, when your pussy walls squeezed his cock, aching to milk him for all he had. 

"Are you close baby girl?" Maxwell asked, his thumb speeding up and his thrusts becoming deeper and harder. “Oh you are, aren’t you?”

"Maaaax," you groaned, feeling your juices drip down his manhood as he fucked you faster, his balls slapping against your cunt.

"I'm close," He warned, gently biting down on your shoulder. "I'm going to count down from three and- and I want you to let go. Relax. Cum with me." Max ordered and you nodded your head against his sticky, sweaty skin.

"O-okay," you gasped.

"Three, two, one- fuck!" Maxwell exclaimed when your body limped in his arms and your pussy contracted around him, twitching as you reached your climax. He spilled his salty seed inside of you, painting your walls just like he'd painted the bathroom tiles when he'd masturbated over the thought of you previously.

“Oh my- Max, Max, Max,” you chanted as he slowly softened inside you before pulling out. You whimpered at the loss of his fullness and Maxwell rolled off you. You both spent a few moments to regain your breath and you felt his cum leak out of you. You curled up into his tan chest and pressed a kiss into his pink lips. “Thank you Max.” you whispered with gratitude, bumping your nose with his.

He was so in love with you, there was no question about it. If he could, he’d spend the rest of his life doing that. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. The thought of you leaving him was eating Max alive. Maxwell wrapped his arm around you and held you tight, just like he’d done so on the airplane. He wanted to tell you that he loved you, but if you were leaving, it might just make things worse. He leaned over to the nightstand and switched off the lamp.

“Goodnight honey.” he whispered as the room became enveloped with darkness.

“Goodnight Max.”

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[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 5

Skies finishes her mission with Wainwright and Hammerlock.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Chapter 14

           “Skies! Hey, wake up!”

           Skies forces her eyes open and sees the faces of the Vault Hunters staring down at her. She tries to sit up but immediately feels burning pain through her chest and a chill down her whole body.

           “Wh-what happened?” she asks, shivering.

           “We beat Aurelia,” Moze replies.

           “Oh, that’s right. That ice queen stabbed me and froze us. Where-?” She stops as she sees Hammerlock and Wainwright helping each other to their feet. Both have bullet wounds, but they seem to be okay.

           “Thank you, Vault Hunters,” Hammerlock says, “for giving her every chance and…for humouring a blinded fool of a brother.”

           “Your wounds. Are they dire?” FL4K asks.

           “We will survive the trip back to the lodge,” he replies, “it’s up to you to finish the task, Vault Hunter.”

           “Right, the Vault,” Wainwright croaks, “to reveal the entrance, you’ll have to solve some light statue-based riddles out in the gardens.”

           “You rich folk and your riddles and your puzzles and genuine mourning of dead family members!” Zane scoffs while the other Vault Hunters grumble with annoyance.

           “Oh! Oh, I do apologize! Are you hearing this, Alistair? The Vault Hunters’ lost all whimsical intrigue!” Wainwright replies facetiously.

           “Forgive Winny, he gets cranky when he’s been shot,” Hammerlock says.

           Skies chuckles then coughs painfully as she struggles up to her feet, leaning against Amara. “Wish I could join you guys, but I’ve got a horrible chill and a bunch of holes in my chest. You’ll have to continue without me. I’ll make sure these two get to the lodge alive.”

           “And yourself as well,” Amara adds.

           “Yeah, yeah,” she replies and stumbles over to Hammerlock and Wainwright. “Go on, you guys. And have fun with it.”

           The Vault Hunters head through the door into the gardens. Skies takes the men’s arms and using her ECHO device, fast travels away.

           They all arrive back at the lodge and collapse to the floor, groaning painfully.

           “You two sit tight,” Wainwright says as he stands back up. “I’ll get us some Insta-health.”            “Are you gonna be alright, Skies?” Hammerlock asks.

           “Ah, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” she replies, “ironically, the ice froze the wounds so I’m not bleeding. Hurts like a bitch though.”

           “I do apologize,” he says, “had I not held you back, we wouldn’t have gotten injured.”

           “It’s not your fault. It’s not a bad thing that you wanted to save your sister. At least one of you understood the importance of family.”

           “Yes,” he agrees. After Wainwright returns and hands everyone an Insta-health vial, Hammerlock takes his hand. “But I see now that family isn’t just about blood relations. And I intend to take care of the family I have left.”

           “Oh, Alistair,” Wainwright breathes.

           As the two of them flash bedroom eyes, Skies looks away awkwardly. “Really feel like I’m third-wheeling here. Just gonna-ugh- fix myself up over there.”

           She stumbles across the room and sits on a chair where she plugs herself with the vial. The holes scattered about her torso seal up, leaving behind blue tinted bruises.

           Skies sighs heavily as she leans back into the seat. “I’ve been getting my ass handed to me a lot lately. I must be losing my edge.”

           “You still seem pretty edgy to me,” Wainwright says as he walks over. “I owe you a great deal for all your help.”

           “Ah, I didn’t do much,” Skies replies as she stands up.

           “I disagree. Nevertheless, allow me to pay you back.” He hands her a rectangular gift box.

           “Oh, thank you, Jakobs, but I can’t accept payment. I only did this to help out.”

           “Then don’t see this as payment. See this as a gift from a friend.”

           She looks at him with surprise and smiles. “Ah, well, I guess I can’t say no to that.”

           She opens it to find a golden Jakobs pistol with a wooden handle and ornate carvings. Her eyes light up as she picks it up and shines it under the light.

           “That gun is one of a kind,” Wainwright explains, “only a handful of them were made because it was too expensive to make a gun out of pure gold. Fires just as well as any other Jakobs weaponry though. It’s called ‘Golden Horizon’.”

           “Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Skies breathes in awe. “Thank you, Jakobs-er, I mean, Wainwright.”

           He nods and smiles gratefully.

           “Are you gonna catch up with the Vault Hunters?” he asks, “they should be close to the Vault by now.”

           “Nah, I have no interest in actually opening a Vault,” she replies, “my work here is done. Time to head back and rest up for the next mission.”

           “Well then, it’s been an honour working with you,” Wainwright says and holds out his hand.

           Skies smiles and clasps it. “Same here.”

           After a quick goodbye to Hammerlock- with a promise to swap adventure stories later- she fast travels to Sanctuary III. At first, she starts to head down to the cargo hold, but decides she should report to Lilith first. She’s in the bridge, along with Tannis, Claptrap, and Ava.

           “Skies,” Lilith says as she walks in. “Wainwright told me you were finished. He said you were a big help. Excellent work.”

           Skies is stunned. “Uh, yeah…thanks-thank you.”

           She smiles and Skies’ chest heats up. “I know you don’t wanna help open the Vault, so you can go ahead and rest up now. Once the Vault Hunters have defeated the Vault monster, Tannis will head down to assist them. When that’s done, we’ll have a team meeting to discuss the next step. I’ll call you for it.”

           “Sure, okay,” Skies nods and takes her leave. As she heads down to the cargo hold, she can’t get Lilith’s smile out of her head.

           That was the first time she’s ever smiled at her.

           Skies looks at her new golden pistol and grins. “‘Golden Horizon’, huh? Yeah, the horizon is looking pretty golden.”

[lunarose-moonflower]

Me actually writing an au that I have an idea for?? More likely than you think I had this funny little idea about Ranboo's dad being Edward and I kind of ran with it

Also this is a Fix-It AU so Edward doesn't die and Ranboo doesn't die and it's a bit different from Canon so yeah Canon divergence, also I apologize for any bad grammar or spelling mistakes or lack of proper punctuation

A past regret you cannot heal

Chapter one

the end was a cold place. quite literally actually with no sun to keep them warm it was quite chilly so enderman developed thick coats of luxurious fur, usually this fur is black with a purple tint, but sometimes there can be deviations. and that's what drew Edward to Jonathan an enderman of lower class than Edward but his coat was a luxurious pearly white and it was the most beautiful one Edward had ever seen. not to mention this young enderman was so different than him, Edward was from a high class family he spent most of his days rereading every book in the library, he was learning and he was classy but Jonathan was quite the opposite. he was a bit of a street rat kind of going around doing whatever he wished didn't really mention a family and his prize possession was a Golden crown, he told stories of it being a stolen crown from a king on the overworld. Edward didn't think it was true but he couldn't help but laugh on how cocky and excited John was. he remembers the first day John started really talking to him.

he was in the library like usual, it was his mother's private library which means no one but his family had access to it or at least that's what he thought. "hey Eddie!"he still remembers that voice excitable but deep he remembers looking up and seeing John through the window tapping on it and he remembers getting up and confusingly opening the window to let the other in "Jonathan what are you doing here??"Edward didn't understand how Jonathan could possibly get here "oh you know I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to visit my handsome little book nerd"always with the compliments he was quite the flirt but Edward couldn't help but find that charming "you know you're not supposed to be here" John laughed that beautiful lovely joyful laugh "well I've never been one to follow the rules after all!"John didn't have much interest in books he just spent time talking with Edward in his mother's library Edward remembers what it was like to feel like he was falling in love he was young and honestly stupid but he didn't mind. as time went on they got married with Edward's mother's permission, turns out despite his street rat nature she didn't mind Jonathan and thought he was a fine husband for her son. and after a while they wanted to have a child usually enderman would reproduce by themselves as they are sexless species but two enderman can pull their power together to make a pearl. and that's exactly what they planned to do. "are you sure this is going to work?"Edward remembers being pretty nervous he knows if this kind of thing goes wrong it can be bad for everyone involved "my love it's fine! that's what my parents did and I turned out fine we can do this"that was John always so supportive always so excited. Edward took a deep breath and he and Jonathan put their hands together and focused their magic. and suddenly between their joint hands after they both put a little bit of themselves into it there was a pearl "we actually did it!"he was elated Edward couldn't believe that he and the love of his life actually created a little enderling well a pearl for an enderling but it was step one. "I told you we can do it darling, and look there's more than one color in the pearl"Jonathan was right the Pearl was mostly the typical dark green but half of it was lighter almost a mint green "we should probably think of a name before they form"John suggested and Edward agreed "maybe Alistair?"Edward suggested "too fancy how about rainbow!"Edward tilted his head at his husband's answer "rainbow?" "well yeah the Pearl has multiple colors after all"Edward thought about the name the endarian word for rainbow is Ranboo and it did sound like a nice name "Ranboo.. it's perfect"Edward smiled looking at the little Pearl he couldn't wait for his child to form.

Edward woke up from his dream/ memory with a start he was sitting in his boat and the blade was out for the day so he was alone he let out a soft sigh before leaning back and chirping quietly

"Ranboo is a nice name"

[jellydishes]

The first time Alistair met Bethany Hawke, she thrashed him so thoroughly that he saw enough stars to make a few new constellations.

Admittedly, he'd gone into the sparring session with a few preconceived notions. The Warden Commander had told him in confidence that Bethany was a green recruit fresh out of Kirkwall, and, well… He'd have never said so to her face, but Alistair may have pulled the first few couple blows, just to test her limits. Anyone who actually knew anything about circle mages -especially those from the Kirkwall circle- knew that they were deliberately taught weaker magic to keep them in line and under control.

In hindsight, Alistair suspected that maybe the commander was trying to get him back for something. Either that, or they had a very sick sense of humor, because that ‘green’ recruit of hers came at him like a… well, like someone who knew what she was doing. And what she was doing was handing Alistair his ass.

He began to suspect that maybe Bethany was working out some aggression the second time she twirled that imposingly bladed monstrosity of a staff and brought it down, sending out a ring of flames that forced him back on his heels. Maybe it was the battle cry, or the way she was glaring at him, or maybe it was the way she spat a few curses at him that he'd have to remember for later.

The woman was like a whirlwind. She threw out magic faster than he'd expected from a circle mage (and wouldn't he be kicking himself about that assumption later), and he had to act fast to lash out with his shield. She went skidding back, giving him some breathing room from that staff of hers. Even without her magic, Bethany was quicker with it than she had any right to be.

He'd muttered that last part to himself, resisting the urge to rub at a few sore spots as she shifted his feet wider to brace himself. He held out a hand to prep a dispel using his templar abilities, but before he had the chance to finish it she'd already closed the distance and swung the flat side of her staff at his legs, knocking his feet out from under him. Alistair yelped as he tumbled down in a flailing heap of arms and legs and clattering armor.

Maybe that's why he was breathless as he looked up into the closest thing he'd seen to golden eyes since the last time he'd locked gazes with Morrigan, and quite forgot what he'd been going to say. Something extremely suave and clever, obviously. Unfortunately, what actually came out was, “Oh, wow. Wow. Are you- wow!”

Bethany was panting as she pulled her staff back from where the pointier end had been aimed at his throat, and looked at him with a dumbfounded expression that twisted the birthmark stretching over her nose. “Did I hit your head a bit too hard?” She asked him. Now that she wasn't cursing, it was a lot easier to make out her accent. A Ferelden girl then, eh? Interesting.

He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until she started to laugh, probably at him. And he was very okay with that idea. He wouldn't mind hearing it again, actually, and again after that. Her laugh wasn't musical or like bells or however a woman's laugh was always described in the songs, he noted; Bethany Hawke possessed a deep, raspy chuckle that turned into a snort at the end, and he'd never been more enamored of a laugh in his life. He also decided it was a better and altogether wiser policy to stare admiringly at her face just now, not least because he wouldn't get beat up again. Not that he'd mind that so much. Something about being on the other side of a beautiful woman who could rip you a new one was very intriguing, and flames, had he said that last part out loud again?

She paused, making him nearly groan aloud. Then she held out her hand to him, clasping his forearm in the way of a fellow warrior as she pulled him to his feet with a strength that told him ‘apostate’ just as much as the callouses on her hands. “I don't know what I am anymore,” she said with a rueful expression that he understood very well. “I'd have said Fereldan not too long ago, but…”

He smiled at her, feeling some kind of pang in his chest that he decided not to examine too closely just now. “It's alright. You don't have to be anything but a warden, now. At least,” he added more gently, “that's what the man who recruited me probably would have said. I think he meant that you can decide who you are as you go along. The wardens are good for that, among other things.” She had a strange look on her face, one that made him feel a bit of that old self-consciousness. “Something I said?” He laughed, scratching at the back of his head.

“No, it's just… I suppose that I'm not really used to hearing that sort of thing. Everyone’s always been so certain of who they were, except maybe for my twin brother.”

“Sounds like we'd get along famously, me and this brother of yours. I hardly know who I am after breakfast, let alone in that big metaphorical scope of things. Soul searching is exhausting, and I get tired just from maintaining my train of thought!” He laughed at himself the way he always did, but she didn't match it the way he expected.

“I think you would have,” was all she said, and Alistair winced as he realized just how badly he'd put his foot in his mouth this time.

Good going, he thought sourly, but his smile was still in place as he rubbed a hand at the back of his head. Anxiety scratched, scratched, scratched between his ribs but he did his best to ignore it as he said, "I know what it's like to lose someone important to you," he said slowly. "It clings to everything you do, doesn't it? After a while though, it…" He laughed humorlessly, wishing he were anywhere half as talented at speaking his mind as somebody else he knew. "What am I talking for, you already know. Probably better than a lot of people think. The quiet types aren't underestimated at just the one thing, are they? Again, not like I would know… Can't quite manage the knack of keeping my mouth shut, can I?"

Bethany didn't answer, didn't seem to know how, and he supposed he deserved that. He gave another smile that hung at an odd angle and hoped to the Maker that it looked genuine, then made to go on his way. “Did you mean it?” She asked him just as he was turning away, and Alistair looked back with his eyebrows raised.

“Of course I did. But just in case I need to recall this for ah, posterity, what are we talking about?”

“When you called me beautiful.” That rueful look was back, and so was that twist behind his ribs. “I've been called that before, you understand, a lot. Usually when people say it they don't really mean it as a compliment. So I guess what I'm trying to say is… What did you mean when you said it?”

He hoped his expression hadn't gone as soft as it felt like it had, but his luck was predictably bad. He could physically see her drawing back from him again, and he hurried to say something, anything, to fill that gap in the conversation that somebody who was better at this than he was would have used slightly better. Slightly. As it was, he had no idea what he was going to say until he said it. “I suppose I meant that you looked like you shone brighter than that fire of yours. All passion and skill and… you know,” he added with another one of those laughs that didn't actually hold humor so much as uncertainty, “bravery.”

“Bravery?” She sounded skeptical.

“Oh, definitely. You might not know who you are in words, but you threw yourself at it anyway. That takes a lot out of a person, being angry. Not everybody's good at it.”

“And you think I am?” She asked with a twist to her mouth that could've meant a lot of things, most of which Alistair was familiar with from his own mirror.

“Wouldn't be brave if you were,” he lifted a shoulder and let it fall in a lopsided sort of shrug.

Bethany laughed, and he couldn't help watching it with a different sort of ache in his chest. “I'm trying to decide if that was a compliment or not,” she said.

“I do hope it was the first one but ah, let me know when you figure it out, will you? I'm always unintentionally insulting the wrong people and not insulting the right ones. It's a real problem.”

“And which one am I?”

“Oh, you're the right one. At least, I um… You know what?” He said instead of the words building up on the edge of his tongue, “I'm going to go be embarrassed over here for a few minutes and pretend it's official business with the warden commander.”

That earned him a startled burst of laughter. Bethany had a peculiar way of laughing behind one hand that made him nearly burst with the urge to tell her that she shouldn't have to feel like she had to hide her happiness from anybody, but i stead he swept himself away in a hurry. He was already blushing up to the tips of his pointed ears. No need to embarrass himself any more than he already had.

[echo-bleu]

all this time I had feathers

This is a fill for my @shadowhunterbingo square Christmas Fic. It's part of my map out a world series (with autistic Alec), but it should stand on its own. I only remembered I had a Christmas square on my Bingo yesterday, so this is written in two days and unbetaed!

Our boys run into some competing access needs over Christmas. I've given hints that Magnus has ADHD in this series and it's still not really explicit here, but I will write a fic more focused on that at some point.

The title is from a truly beautiful theater play that's unfortunately only available in French, Plume by Alistair Houdayer. The play uses a bird as a metaphor for autism and the full sentence is "All this time I had feathers and you lied to me?" (translation is my own). It's about discovering that you're autistic after years of being shut down and ignored.

Read on AO3.

-

Alec sighs internally as he opens the door to the loft and hears music. It’s been like this for days and he can’t take it anymore. Magnus has been hanging lights everywhere and blasting Christmas songs at every chance, and Alec’s headache hasn’t left him for days. Thankfully Christmas is tomorrow, so maybe it will stop afterwards.

Although that might be too optimistic. Alec has never really done anything for Christmas before, beside a quiet exchange of presents with his siblings, but he knows the decorations in shops don’t go anywhere until the new year. That’s one week away. He’s not sure he can do this without blowing up again.

He takes a deep breath. The last time he was here, this morning before his shift, Catarina and Madzie had dropped by to bake cookies with Magnus and Alec barely managed to contain himself until they left, exploding as soon as he and Magnus were alone. He said things he didn’t mean, and things he definitely didn’t mean to say in anger. He doesn’t even know where all that rage comes from – it’s just a deep, twisted feeling inside, his skin crawling until he can’t take anymore of the twinkling lights and the cheesy songs.

He stormed out and he and Magnus haven’t talked since, not even by text.

“Alexander,” Magnus says coolly when Alec finds him in the apothecary, bent over a potion of some sort. The smell coming from it is horrendously strong, though not bad per say. It smells like mint and maybe cinnamon – not that Alec is very good at identifying scents, but they’re ones that he usually likes.

“I’m sorry,” Alec forces out, even if the irritation is rising in his chest again. “I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t know what came over me.”

Magnus looks at him for a moment. “I have to admit I didn’t expect to spend most of Christmas Eve wondering why we’re even fighting,” he says slowly. “But you were obviously angry, and it can’t have been because of the flour all over the kitchen, since I cleaned that up straight away. Can we sit and talk about it calmly?”

Alec nods, breathing through his nose to avoid the now overwhelming smell of mint. “Are you nearly done with this?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll just bottle it up and then I can join you. Make yourself comfortable wherever you want.”

Alec breathes in relief that Magnus isn’t so angry that he’ll ignore their comfort for the sake of arguing. But it makes what he’s about to ask all the harder.

“Would you please turn the music off?” he asks as neutrally as possible. He knows it comes out monotonous and emotionless, and he sees Magnus tense at it.

But contrary to the expected retort, Magnus looks up and assesses him for a moment before he sighs.

“Oh, Alexander,” he murmurs, and the music stops. “Go. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Alec nods and turns on his heels. The sudden quiet in the loft feels like heaven, although he can’t look anywhere without being assaulted by bright and colorful Christmas lights. In the living room, he freezes for at least a whole minute, trying to decide between the comfort of the couch and the table where there are slightly few visible light garlands if he sits facing the windows. The choice feels too hard to make right now and—

Alec makes himself move and goes for the bedroom instead. Magnus said wherever he wants. They usually avoid having fights in the bedroom to keep it a sanctuary of sorts, but maybe this is a needed exception.

He flops down on the bed, looking in dismay at the fairy light garlands hung all around the room. He doesn’t hate fairy lights, he’s the first to admit that they’re pretty – when used with some semblance of moderation. Not when they cover every square inch of the walls. He sighs and closes his eyes, slipping under the covers despite the fact that he’s fully dressed. The weighted blanket immediately grounds him.

He hasn’t slept properly in a while. Maybe that’s what’s making him grumpy. There’s been a surge of demon activity in the city, on top of all the Clave ceremonies he has to attend this time of the year. That means he’s been on call or in Alicante almost every night, and sleeping during the day with this damn music on is near impossible.

When Magnus finally joins him, he’s nearly asleep. He presses his fists into his eyes, trying to force the tiredness out of his head. Magnus doesn’t say anything as he removes his jacket and slips into bed beside him. He still smells faintly of mint and cinnamon.

“Darling,” he says softly after a moment. He reaches out, but he doesn’t touch Alec, settling his hand an inch away from Alec’s arm.

Alec tries to make himself cross the gap between them, but it feels too big right now, his skin still crawling. He makes an aborted motion of apology.

Magnus picks up one of the long golden necklaces he’s wearing and offers it to Alec, without removing it. It has a pendant at the end, tiny intertwined circles that can spin around each other. Alec latches onto it without even thinking about it, finding comfort in both the stimming and the connection to Magnus.

“Can you speak?” Magnus asks. He soft, gentle. Not angry. Alec doesn’t understand – he deserves all of Magnus’ anger and more.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He’s not sure he can hold a long conversation, but here under the covers, the lights hidden by the blankets, he feels better, like a fog is lifting from his mind.

Magnus taps the mattress with a finger by Alec’s head. “Have you been overloaded this whole time?”

“I’m not—” Alec starts immediately, but he stops mid-sentence.

Oh.

That’s what it is. The irrational anger, the constant irritation, his inability to focus. His speech has been as unreliable as his sleeping pattern, but he’s long learned to make do with groans and looks. The constant buzzing in his brain, the exhaustion that only he seems to feel…

“I don’t know,” he amends. “Maybe?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Alec bites his lip, focusing on the necklace he’s fidgeting with rather than on Magnus. “I didn’t realize,” he says.

“Was it just the music?” Magnus asks, unclasping his bike chain bracelet to match his fidgeting. Alec shifts his stare from his own hands to Magnus’, the repetitive movement soothing.

He tries to think about the question, to push it through his mushy brain and figure out an answer. He really is tired, in that way that doesn’t make him want to sleep so much as hide in a quiet corner. He knows that he’s taking too long to answer, but Magnus waits patiently.

“The music...the lights, too. Everything’s too bright. And...too many people.” They’ve had someone over nearly every day, wether it’s Cat and Madzie or Dot or Raphael or Clary and Simon, and occasionally Magnus’ other Downworlder friends Alec has never met before. After whole shifts at the Institute, coordinating patrols and trying to stay on top of things, or fighting demons in back alleys, all he wants is some quiet and peace.

“Alexander,” Magnus buries his face in the mattress. “I’ve been overloading you this whole time and I didn’t even notice.” He turns back toward Alec, his voice no longer muted. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Alec says. “You didn’t know.”

“I did not, but you still deserve an apology. How did we let get so far?”

“I—” Alec hesitates. “You seemed happy.”

Magnus shakes his head. “My happiness cannot come at the price of yours. I want you to tell me when it gets too much. When I get too much.”

Alec catches Magnus’ wrist in his hand, intent overwhelming his touch-avoidance. “No. It’s not you. You’re never too much for me, Magnus.”

They’ve only spoken a few times about Magnus’ history with that phrase, about his own difference, his own deviations from the norm, but Alec knows it’s something deeply ingrained. Magnus has been told he’s too much too often in his life, and Alec will not let him belittle himself that way. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t realized it myself,” he says. “It’s like...background noise. After a while, you can tune it out and you don’t even hear it anymore, but it’s still draining.”

“But why would you tune it out, instead of just telling me to stop it?” Magnus asks, not moving his hand from Alec’s grasp. Alec releases him and intertwines their hands instead.

“I didn’t...think of it,” he tries. It’s not true, not entirely. He didn’t ask, because Magnus liked it. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to be a killjoy, as his siblings have too often accused him of being. He didn’t want to take this little bit of happiness away from Magnus because he’s an oversensitive simp.

He doesn’t voice that thought, because he knows what Magnus would think of it. And he supposes that’s progress, in a way.

Magnus understands anyway. “You’ve been so used to your perceptions being ignored that you don’t know how to set boundaries,” he says slowly. “Am I wrong?”

Alec shrugs with the one shoulder that’s not against the bed.

“You like the lights, and the music,” he says. “And the baking, all the Christmas stuff.”

“I do. But we could have found a middle ground. You can’t sacrifice your comfort for mine.”

Alec bites back that it’s what he’s always done. It’s not true. It used to be, maybe, with his family, but with Magnus, he’s never had to do that. Magnus is always so attentive, anticipating his needs before he can even ask.

So the least Alec could do is let him have this.

“Why do you like Christmas so much?” he asks softly, rather than dig further into it.

“It’s not really Christmas,” Magnus confesses. “I’m not religious, and I don’t care much about the meaning of it all. But it gives me an excuse.”

He pauses, and Alec simply waits, nodding encouragingly.

“I often get...sad, in the winter,” Magnus continues. “I don’t know if it’s what the mundanes call seasonal depression, or if it’s because I’ve lived so long and lost so many people during the winter months, but this time of the year is always hard for me. So I do everything to try and cheer myself up. I usually throw parties almost every night, just to surround myself with living, breathing people – and vampires, who thrive on the longest nights of the year.”

“You haven’t thrown many parties this year,” Alec remarks.

“No, I know you don’t like them and I didn’t want you to feel excluded—”

Alec tenses. “You shouldn’t stop for my sake! Did I prevent you from doing something that helps you?”

Magnus shakes his head. “Only in the same way that I forced you to bear things that were too much for you. We neglected to talk about it when we should have.”

Alec sighs and curls up on himself a little more.

“Besides,” Magnus adds, “This year, I have you. My very own living, breathing Nephilim to keep me warm. I’m better than I’ve been every other year. I just...I got scared that it would happen again, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. So I went a little overboard with the Christmas cheer.”

“A little?” Alec gives a small laugh.

“Okay, a lot. You told me you’ve never properly celebrated Christmas before, so I wanted to give you the full experience, and keep myself busy in the process. I never stopped to think about how it could affect you. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Alec murmurs.

“Whatever for?”

“The...communication failure? I’m trying, but it’s not...easy.”

Magnus smiles softly, running his thumb over the back of Alec’s hand. “And that’s okay. As long as we’re trying. We just need to check in a little more often.”

“Okay,” Alec nods weakly. “We can try that.”

“No more music,” Magnus says. “I’ll dim all the lights.”

“Music is fine if it’s low,” Alec corrects. “And maybe not when I’m trying to sleep.”

Magnus closes his eyes in dismay. “I’m—”

“Stop apologizing,” Alec interrupts him. “Been there, done that. Let’s move on. I promise I’ll try to tell you if it gets too much again.”

“Okay. What do you want to do now?”

Alec thinks about it. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. He still feels slow and his head aches, though the worst is passing.

“Can I hold you?” Magnus asks.

Alec opens his mouth to say yes, but he’s not ready yet. He gives Magnus an apologizing look and a tiny shake of his head.

“I think I need to clear my head,” he says slowly. “Just...think. It’s not against you at all, I just need to be in my own mind for a bit.” He needs to center himself. He feels scattered, like he’s been open and exposed to the elements and he needs to just be himself again.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Magnus starts to rise.

“No!” Alec stops him. “I’ll go. Walking will help. I’ll be back soon, promise.”

He jumps to his feet, eager to go now that he’s made the decision. He forces himself to check that Magnus doesn’t seem too worried or angry, but Magnus simply nods, looking a little surprised but not overly concerned.

“I’ll be here,” he says simply.

*

When Alec walks back into the loft two hours later, he does it with a measure of apprehension. He feels better, but he’s not sure what to expect.

There is music coming from inside, but it’s different. It’s not a cheesy Christmas song, and not even one of the classical pieces Magnus tried that Alec enjoyed marginally better. It’s something modern but also slow, quiet even though it permeates the entire loft. It’s soothing.

The lights are out. That’s the first thing Alec notices, because everything has been so bright for so long. He thinks for a moment that maybe Magnus went out, went to celebrate with friends who actually enjoy the holiday. He feels a pang on guilt at that – okay, a whole bucket of guilt. He’s been a grinch, and he knows it. But he couldn’t think with all those lights and noises.

The only light on is a fairy light garland that’s magically running in a single thread over all the walls in the loft, casting a soft light without actually being bright. The rooms themselves are plunged in darkness, and Alec toes off his shoes and lets his coat and scarf fall to the floor and he pads over to the living room by feel, relishing the lack of pain assaulting his eyes.

The music is louder in the living room, but not so much that it’s painful. Alec blinks twice as he takes in the sight in front of him.

In the middle of the dark room is Magnus. He’s wearing nothing but a dark leotard, and his skin is lit by swirling strands of while magic, curling around his arms. He’s dancing.

Alec doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath.

Magnus’ face is briefly illuminated by his magic, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He hasn’t heard Alec come in. He seems to have banished all the furniture in the room, and he’s spinning on one foot, en pointe in ballet shoes. Small bursts of magic come out of his hands as the song picks up, swirling through the room like a wispy light whip.

Magnus starts moving faster, the ribbons of light following him. Alec knows very little about dance, but even he can tell that Magnus’ style is unique, not solely ballet but also not quite modern dance. Alec almost gasps as he does what he can only describe as a back flip and lands smoothly on his feet, spinning once more.

It’s an incredibly beautiful sight. Alec stands at the door, transfixed, until the song ends and Magnus ends the dance by lowering himself down to the floor, crossing his legs under him. The light around his body dims progressively – no, that’s not it. It seems to sink under his skin, until his whole body looks like it’s glowing. Magnus gracefully runs his hand down his arm, guiding the light inside him until it reaches the tip of his fingers and explodes in a shower of sparkles.

When everything quiets, Alec lets out the breath he’s been holding. It feels like he should applaud, but he’s loath to break the silence. Besides, he doesn’t know if Magnus would take it well, right now.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Magnus whispers, his eyes still closed.

So he did notice Alec come in.

“Magnus, it was incredible,” Alec murmurs, letting the quiet carry his voice.

Magnus opens his eyes and looks at him. They stay still for a moment, the dark room between them, eyes easy to meet in the shadows. “I like the lights and the sounds, but they’re just filling a void,” Magnus says in a soft voice. “I was trying too hard.”

“It’s okay if you need them,” Alec says. “We can find a way to meet in the middle.”

“But I don’t. I wanted to feel warm and safe, but I didn’t realize that I’ve never felt as warm and safe as when I’m with you.”

Alec smiles, the words seeping into him with their own warmth, after the cold of the streets.

“Dancing makes me feel alive,” Magnus continues. “And I’d forgotten that, too.”

“You were beautiful.”

Magnus stands up smoothly and extends a hand. “Do you want to join?”

“I don’t dance,” Alec says.

“Just let go and only look at me. My magic will help you.”

Alec tries to match Magnus’ light steps as he walks toward him. He feels a jolt when they link hands, almost like the first time, over that summoning pentagram. Magnus pulls on his arm and Alec lets go of his control, relinquishing himself to the light touches of magic he can feel over his skin.

The music starts again. Light ribbons swirl over them both as they spin together. Magnus jumps to his pointes and spins around in Alec’s arms, and their height suddenly match. The only light is the magic twirling around their limbs, immaterial and teasing. Magnus grips Alec’s forearm and lifts himself effortlessly off the ground, spinning around Alec’s body until he’s in his arms again, his back arched.

The light dims to almost nothing, sinking into their chest. Their mouths meet.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs.

Alec kisses him again.

-

I'm working on an illustration of the dance scene but I wanted to post the fic tonight while it's still Christmas!

Maybe it shows that I've been watching Tiny Pretty Things. The show is kinda terrible but I love watching people dance.

Magnus here is technically dancing the part of a woman, which is why I've use the GNC Magnus and Nonbinary Magnus (as he's nonbinary in this series). Pointe shows are also traditionally worn only by women. In my mind, Magnus trained for both roles at different times in his life and he's fine with dancing either part.

[laurelsofhighever]

Just the Place

Have a piece of Alistair x Cousland fluff! This is pre-relationship, set between chapters 26 and 27 of my longfic, The Falcon and the Rose, so minor spoilers I guess? It’s not much to worry about. Just a day out escaping the pressures of nobility and skipping stones

--

Alistair should have known better than to think a night’s rest against even the fluffiest of pillows would inure him to the uneasy feeling that had settled in his stomach the day before when he had first caught sight of Redcliffe’s keep through the trees. It was a place too familiar, too full of memories, of people who had known him before his title and even before he had made a name for himself under Teagan’s instruction, and before the sun had even poked above the hills he was driven from panicky dreams where Isolde laughed with the golden eyes of a witch. The connection his slumbering mind made to Flemeth unnerved him, enough that his valet remarked on his taciturn expression as he was handed his clothes to dress for the day.

Too queasy for breakfast, and unwilling to see the wariness and resentment in the faces of the servants who had once considered him little better than dirt, he took the guard route along the wall and down into the courtyard, thinking to head towards the stables. Master Dennet, Eamon’s horsemaster, met him with a nod of recognition but nothing more. Of all the people Alistair had known in his old life, Dennet alone had never bothered with propriety, or speculated about just whose bastard he was.

“Got no room for gawkers, Your Highness. Their Graces don’t much like being kept waiting for their breakfasts.”

“I’ll give you some help, if you like,” he offered, and got only a shrug in return. Still, it felt good to do honest labour, to use his hands for something other than swordwork or practicing his letters, and the friendly bumps the horses gave him as he doled out their morning feed made him smile.

Once they were all munching away, however, their contentment infectious and the quiet of their presence soothing, it only made him more reluctant to squeeze himself in between Cailan’s forced cheeriness, Isolde’s piqued formality, and Baudrillard’s determination to be a sycophant. Perhaps he should go to the village. It was unlikely he would receive much of a reception there, but as he stepped out from the gallery and through the gate in the curtain wall, the pre-dawn chill had already started to dissipate, the sky clear blue and cloudless. Birds would be singing among the trees, while the breeze that blew in off Lake Calenhad during every summer would keep the heat from growing truly unbearable. Sneaking a few hours of freedom couldn’t hurt, surely.

A thunderous bark stopped him in his tracks as he was walking under the shadow of the barbican. He turned just in time to stop himself go flying as a large brindle mass collided with his legs, with a rich echo of laughter following on behind. Cuno chuffed and turned to sit on Alistair’s foot so he would have better access for a scratch to the shoulder, his wide doggy grin and lolling tongue betraying his delight in the attention.

“Aw, who’s a good boy?” Alistair asked him. “Have you been for a walk?”

“We were just about to go on one.”

He looked up to find Rosslyn smiling fondness at her dog, with all traces of the previous days’ journeying scrubbed from her features and her usual attire traded out in favour of longer, more formal split skirts. Her gaze, when she raised it to meet his eye, skittered away in a blush and a self-conscious move to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

He swallowed. “Good morning.”

“And to you, Your Highness,” she replied, with the note of mirth she reserved these days for the times they could not forebear an audience.

Alistair’s mind stumbled on how to keep the conversation going. He wanted to, but he had been careful to avoid thinking about her at all since waking, since their parting the night before and the hours afterward while the memories lingered, denying him rest. The skin of her hand had been so soft under his fingertips, and he had focused entirely too much on the hushed part of her lips as he had pressed a kiss across her knuckles. He had wondered, in the darkness, what she had been thinking in the moment, whether she would chastise him on their next meeting once the shock of his forwardness had worn off. Now she stood before him, still smiling – not trying to run him through – he decided to take it as encouragement, or at least approval.

The guard on the gate coughed, and he blinked.

“I didn’t expect to see you so early, Your Ladyship,” he said, trying to ignore the sudden flare in his cheeks. “I hope you slept well?”

She nodded. “Arlessa Isolde is very generous in her duties as a hostess – I’ve wanted for nothing.” The wry smile faded. “I went looking for you, actually – to tell you the army won’t be arriving until this afternoon.”

“Oh, I’m sorry you missed me.” Of its own accord, his hand reached up to run through his hair, his mind preoccupied with deciding if it would be a step too far to admit the real reason he had gone to the stables and all but lurked there until it became weird. Helpless, he gestured to the broad stretch of the road beyond the gates. “Just thought I’d stretch my legs, you know how it is.”

“You’re going without an escort?” she teased.

“Only to the village! And it’s not like I’m unarmed.” He tapped the sword hilted at his side, and smirked. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you come with me? You’re practically an army unto yourself, after all. I could… show you the village? If you’re not already busy, of course.”

She smirked. “A chance to see all your old haunts? Cuno would enjoy the exercise, I suppose.”

The dog gave an excited bark.

“That decides it – shall we?”

They stayed comfortably close but did not touch as they followed the road that wound from the top of the hill down to the village nestled at its base, passing idle conversation back and forth as Cuno trotted ahead with his nose to the ground and then came galloping back to chide them for being so slow to catch up. The day rose with birdsong and dappled sunlight, and Alistair had to keep forcing his eyes back to the road ahead. Rosslyn clearly noticed; she kept peering at him strangely whenever he caught his eyes lingering too long, but didn’t comment, and he was grateful. Though the bite in them could last against such a bright day, Flemeth’s warning still preyed on his mind, worse for the truth he saw in it.

When they rounded the last bend and the first buildings of Redcliffe came into view, the windmill on the stream’s edge and the pub leaning its gables over the road, they stopped for a moment to take in the view.

“Did you miss it?” Rosslyn’s voice was quiet.

“Would it make me a bad person if I said I didn’t?” he shrugged. “I guess I must have been happy sometimes, but I don’t remember much. The revered mother was always kind to me. And Arl Eamon did look after me.”

He noticed the way her lips thinned at that, true thoughts held back for politeness’ sake. To cover, he cleared his throat and looked out over the tiny collection of buildings that had once been the farthest reaches of the world.

“What do you want to see?” he asked. “There’s the chantry, the smithy, the docks – it’s not market day so there won’t be much to see in the square, but maybe –”

“Where do you want to go?” She had linked her arm through his, bringing her face close enough, tilted up at him, that if he were to just lean forward…

“Um.” He turned away. Through the fog in his mind, he tried to work on the problem, to think of something that might hold her interest somewhere where they wouldn’t be fodder for the gossipmongers. “I know just the place.”

With a grin, he slid his hand into hers and stepped off the path to lead her down away from the village. Curiosity lit in her grey eyes as he glanced back to make sure she was alright, the dog at her heels brushing past to scout out the trail ahead. Over the years the vegetation had crowded in and frost-cracked boulders had broken from the cliff above, leaving only narrow deer tracks winding through the trees. He couldn’t really get lost, but more than once they had to double back when the questing branches of saplings condensed into thickets rife with brambles.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Rosslyn laughed when the ground finally levelled out beneath them. The path was wider here, more distinct, and he recognised the craggy face of the rock ahead, cut into the likeness of a horse’s head by the accidental work of time and weather.

He turned back and grinned. “Not much further.”

The last step was a steep climb down a narrow gully carpeted with old leaves, and a two-foot drop down a bank dotted with blue vetch and embrium. Cuno had already raced ahead and found the water, and was splashing through the curling edge of the small waves that washed over the shore.

“Well, what do you think?” Alistair asked as they made the final jump. “Do you like it?”

“It’s… Alistair, it’s beautiful.”

He beamed. The narrow strip of pebbled beach bled into sand towards the water’s edge, overhung with lush greenery that filtered the sunlight and offered hiding spots for the birds flitting along on their own business. Instead of the stink of fishguts that pervaded the village docks in high summer, here the scents of clean water and wildflowers filled the nose. A breeze stirred against his face and when he looked he found Rosslyn had turned her face into it and closed her eyes, a smile playing about her mouth. Their hands were still joined.

He ought to say something. Explain.

“I went exploring a lot. Being raised by dogs, you get a lot of slobbery love, but they’re not big on the child supervision. And sometimes the castle could get…” He had wanted to get away from thoughts of the castle, so he reached down and plucked a round, flat rock from the ground at his feet. “I used to spend hours skipping stones.”

“What’s your record?” she asked.

“Twelve.”

“Impressive.”

He tried to pout. “You can do better, can you?”

“Alistair, I grew up by the sea.” There was the flash of a smile as she let go of his hand and stooped to find a rock of her own. “I can certainly try.”

“Care to wager, dear lady?” he teased, to cover his disappointment.

With a lift of her chin, she closed the space, spinning the stone between her fingers as she weighed the challenge, but even though he tried to meet her gaze, he faltered when her tongue poked out to wet her lips.

“A drink in the tavern?” she suggested.

He managed to nod. “That sounds reasonable.”

Satisfied, she wheeled to face the water and took up a stance just shy of the waterline, wrist poised with the edge of the stone pressed against the tip of her first finger, but as she drew her arm back Cuno trotted over and butted his nose in polite enquiry against her hand, in case the stone was really just a treat for him.

“You know, it’s cheating if you wait so long I don’t even get a turn,” Alistair pointed out.

“So is distracting your opponent.”

“Are you being distracted by little old me?”

She merely rolled her eyes. A moment later, the dog went charging into the water after her cast stone, a great plume of white spray rising around him until he stood chest deep in confusion, trying to work out where his prize had gone. It made nine skips before being caught in the lap of a wave and sinking to the bottom.

“I do believe your technique is looking a little rusty, Lady Cousland.”

“Is my technique what you were looking at?” she asked lightly.

Alistair’s ears burned, but he ignored the flutter in his stomach as he stepped up next to her. “Among other things.”

He watched her reaction only long enough to make sure he hadn’t taken the comment too far, then let his stone loose with a flick of his wrist. Ten skips. When he glanced back, she was fighting to contain a grin.

“Well we can’t just go by a single result,” she said, as if it were unthinkable.

He laughed. “Perish the thought.”

Still smiling together, they turned aside to search for more stones. Most weren’t suitable, either too large or too thick or not circular enough, and so after a while the game became less about skipping than remarking on ones with interesting shapes or patterns, and throwing them for Cuno to hunt through the water.

“Alright, last one,” Rosslyn decided, lining up one final shot as the climbing sun loomed down almost directly overhead.

Alistair stepped close, one hand going to steady her lower back. “Go for it.”

She cast, and got fourteen.

“It looks like you win.”

“I don’t think I want to leave just yet,” she admitted, without moving away. “It’s nice here. The view is wonderfully free of Orlesians.”

“I always thought so – it does add to the charm.” He glanced further up the beach. “We could sit?”

Nodding, she followed him a little way to a bleached log that must have been deposited during a winter storm at some point after he had gone to Rainesfere, and together they made themselves comfortable against it. In the silence, the world surrounded them, the sound and smell of water and the slight dig of hard-edged stones against the backside.

“Is everything alright?” Alistair asked after a while.

“Hm?” Rosslyn blinked away from her contemplation of the horizon and sighed. “I was just thinking. This place reminds me of home a little. It’s not quite the same, but it feels familiar.” With a pink stain blossoming in her face, she ducked her head away. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Her hand lay between them on the shingle.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he told her. “I… you should get to be happy.”

The softness in her gaze nearly undid him, but then she dropped it to where his fingers had found courage to curl around hers, and his breath stilled in his chest as she pulled his hand into her lap, as her thumb stroked over his knuckles. She opened her mouth and drew in a breath. He waited, only for her to sigh again and shake her head in a self-defeated huff of laughter, and settle her cheek against his shoulder.

[souvcniir]

*   bopping  along  to  forever  by  drake  is  𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑  ,  the  twenty  two  year  old  cis  man  thrown  back  to  their  business  days  with  none  of  his   memories  .  voted  most  likely  to  move  out  the  country  ,  alis  was  known  for  being   resilient &   facetious ,  go  figures  you'd  always  find  them  being  threatened  to  be  kicked  off  of  the  football  team  ,  but  grew  up  to  be   audacious &  untrusting  .

what’s  happening  cuties  !   listen  ,  i  cannot  join  a  group  without  giving  the  fattest  and  biggest  warning  that  despite  being  in  the  rpc  for  a  minute  now  ,   i  still  suck  at  introductions  .  embarrassing  luv  ,  i  know  asdj  .  i’m  gi(anna)  ,  i’m  nineteen  years  old  ( a  big  old  baby   )  ,  i  go  by  she  and  her  pronouns  and  i  currently  live  on  the  east  coast  which  throws  me  in  the  est  timezone  !!!  this  is  one  out  of  two  of  my  children  that  i’ll  be  bringing  you  ,   and  um  can  i  just  say  im  obsessed  with  the  fc  pairing  i  got  going  on  for  alistair  .  aron  piper  and   giuseppe  maggio  ?   this  is  what  heaven  is   asdfgh  .    down  below  you’ll  find  a  little  about  alistair  !  and  if  you  want  to  plot  you  can  either  smash  the  heart  button  ,  send  me  a  message  ,  or  message  me  on  discord  at  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲#1776  .

*   𝐎𝐍𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒  .

a   black   eye   in   response   of   words   of   provokement   ,   lonely   nights   concealed   by   random   bodies   ,   gold   rings   sitting   on   bruised   knuckles   ,   calloused   digits   shielding   a   bright   sun   from   bloodshot   eyes   ,   distant   chatter   drowned   out   by   loud   thoughts   ,    salty  drops   gleaming   on   tan   skin   ,   enchanting   pearly   whites   ,   thunderstorms   singing   pretty   hues   to   sleep     .

*   𝐓𝐖𝐎                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

full   name.   alistair  aurelius  salazar  .   nickname(s).    alis  ,  ali  .   preferred   name.   alistair  .   past  age.   twenty  two  .   present  age.   thirty  two  .   date  of  birth.   november  first  .  zodiac.  scorpio  . gender.    cis  man .   pronouns.   he  and  him  .   sexuality.  pansexual  .   younger  faceclaim.   aron  piper  .   older  faceclaim.   giuseppe  maggio   .   character  inspiration.    hardin  scott  ,   niccolo  govender  rossi  ,  lip  gallagher  ,  and   bellamy  blake  .

*   𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒  .

(   physical  abuse  ,  slightly  detailed     )

    sorrows  and  raindrops     ,   remnants  of  a  first  breath  that  established  the  tone  of  the  upbringing  of  curly  locks  and  pearly  whites  that  never  flashed  for  too  long  .      he  was  a  prisoner  in  a  punishment  meant  for  another  .   he  was  a  prisoner  to  rage  .

   he’s  made  up  of  pleads  ,   and  sobs  that  still  haunt  his  childhood   .   neglected  of  forehead  kisses  and  bedtime  stories   ,  gifted  fists  against  previously  bruised  flesh  in  substitution  .    black  and  blue  decorating  his  body  so  frequency  that  for  a  while  he  forgot  what  he  looked  like  without  them  .   

   one  night  ,  he   held  his  broken  arm  in  his  lap  and  begged  her  to  tell  him  why  ,  why  did  she  hate  him  so  much  ?    she  never  answered  ,   didn’t  even  move  a  muscle  .   left  her  seven  year  old  child  to  pull  himself  off  of  the  floor  and  out  the  door  .  that  was  his  last  memory  of  her  .

    left  in  the  care  of  the  foster  system    and  a  year  later  was  put  into  the  custody of  a  man  who  was  suppose  to  be  his  father  .   a  politician  who  had  cared  more  about  his  image  then  his  own  blood  eight  years  earlier  .   not  an  excuse  ,  his  father  would  learn  that  with  the  help  of  guilt  eating  him  from  the  inside  out  .  did  everything  he  could  think  of  to  make  it  up  ,    not  an  easy  challenge  .  

*   𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 .

walked  hand  in  hand  with  being  difficult  .      labeled  the  broken  bird  .  the  dirt  bag  .   found  traces  of  himself  in  chaos  and  so  he  became  it  .    a  smart  boy  drowning  in  a  hurt  he  had  not  fully  recovered  from  .    got  better  as  the  years  went  ,   and  twenty  two  was  his  golden  years  of  doing  his  very  best  to  not  self  destruction  .  

kept  himself  busy  ,  but  that  does  not  mean  he  kept  himself  out  of  trouble  .  a  smart  boy  who  had  the  ability  to  stumble  into  class  with  black  rims  covering  regrets  from  the  previous  night  .   cannabis  was  the  best  form  of  therapy  and  getting  blacked  out  on  weekdays  was  his  favorite  sin  .   

careless  and  impulsive  ,  everyone’s  favorite  partner  in  crime  .  bruised  knuckles  and  a  fat  lip  were  the  consequence  of  a  insolent  mouth  that  never  knew  when  to  stop  .   smiled  with  blood  dripping  from  his  mouth  and  returned  to  his  dorm  with  bruised  knuckles  ,  now  he  remembered  what  he  looked  like  .    

charming  words  and  wandering  hands  might’ve  fooled  you  ,  but  commitment  for  him  was  unreachable  .   he  was  stuck  in  the  mindset  that  he  was  too  fucked  up  for  someone  to  love  him  and  it  showed  in  every  relationship  he  had  ever  had  .   he  was  the  heartbreaker  ,  or  more  so  the  cold  hearted  .  used  others  to  silence  the  demons  in  his  head  and  left  before  the  sun  crept  through  curtains  .  

*   𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓  .

ten  years  formed  a  new  label  ,  the  phoenix  .   the  businessman  .    moved  around  until  he  settled  in   san  francisco  where  he  soon  opened  up  a  bar  with  his  business  partner  .   successful  ,  finally  funded  his  own  life  with  money  that  he  earned  .  but  there  was  more  to  him  then  just  expensive  cars  and  days  being  referred  to  as  boss  . 

healed  in  more  ways  then  he  had  been  ten  years  ago  ,  thanks  to  the  help  of  actual  therapy  (  though  cannabis   was  still  a  friend  )   .   greatest  achievement  was  finding  forgiveness  in  his  heart  for  his  father  and  building  a  normal  son  -  father  relationship  .    

decided  early  he  didn’t  want  kids  and  instead  adopted  a  pitbull  named  kyson  .   his  best  friend  and  as  those  around  him  joke  ,  his  son  .   is  his  background  a  picture  of  him  and  his  dog  ,  yes  .  mind  your  business  .

now  a  known  playboy  ,  though  most  aren’t  surprised  .  says  he’s  too  busy  for  relationships  but  it’s  just  the  fact  that  some  things  never  change  and  commitment  was  still  a  scary  thing  .  

recently  ,  as  in  the  last  three  years  ,  moved  to  riccione  ,  where  he  opened  up  his  fourth  bar  .   lives  in  a  house  on  the  beach  and  only  returns  home  every  few  months  (  plus  the  holidays  )  .  has  become  a  big  beach  bum  ,  but  he  likes  the  environment  .  does  the  whole  beach  life  activities  too  ,  the  hiking  and  the  surfing  (  though  he’s  not  very  good  )   .  

no  longer  a  fighter  ,  and  instead  is  the  one  breaking  them  up  .   realized  there  was  one  thing  he  never  wanted  to  be  ,  his  mother  ,  and  so  he’d  never  resort  to  using  his  fist  unless  in  the  act  of  defense  and  even  then  he’s  had  a  good  job  of  walking  away  .  

*   𝐒𝐈𝐗                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓   .

back  to  square  one  .  no  memories  of  who  he  grew  up  to  be  ,  just  the  old  feeling  of  anger  and  hurt  .   sad  to  see  his  process  thrown  out  the  window  ,  his  healing  cracked  open  .  the  biggest  question  ,  is  will  he  get  to  his  end  point  once  again  or  will  a  second  chance  be  his  downfall  ?

*   𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒  .

has  always  taken  very  good  care  of  himself  in  the  sense  of   what  he  puts  into  his  body  ,  even  in  college  he  paid  important  attention  to  diet  and  exercise  .  

doesn’t  speak  of  his  mother  ,  or  at  least  he  didn’t  .  you  asked  a  question  and  got  silence  in  return  .  most  never  actually  knew  what  the  first  seven  years  of  his  life  was  ,  which  left  many  in  shock  when  he  finally  decided  to  open  up  about  it  .

he  doesn’t  like  nicknames  and  prefers  to  be  called  just  alistair  ,  though  some  people  do  get  a  pass  ,  even  if  that  pass  comes  with  a  hard  look  .

his  drink  of  choice  is  bourbon  but  he  hasn’t  been  a  bigger  drinker  since  his  college  days  ...  his  friends  would  joke  it’s  because  he  overdid  it  too  many  times  in  his  younger  years  . 

*  𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  .

*   these  are  simply  just  ideas  to  give  us  something  to  start  with  ,  i  am  open  to  anything  that  is  not  mentioned  as  well  am  completely  and  totally  okay  with  switching  things  around  and  adding  things  to  these  ideas !!!  i  love  plotting  and  bouncing ideas  off  of  each  other  so  don’t  be  afraid  to  stray !

                    YOU’RE  BAD  FOR  MY  HEALTH  ,  YEAH  YOU  SHOULD  HURT  SOMEBODY  ELSE  (  PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN    )  .    he  was  bad  for  their  health    ,   a  rollercoaster  that  consisted  of  too  many  downs  .  toxic  ?  yes  .  in  love  ?  in  denial  .  but  whatever  was  between  these  two  ,  it  kept  them  at  each  others  throats  and  in  each  other  bed  .   this  was  not  the  one  who  got  away  ,  it  was  the  one  he  needed  to  stay  away  from  . 

                   WILL  HE  ALWAYS  BE  MINE  ?   ( PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    his  first  adult  relationship  ,  and  like  alistair  himself  it  was  not  always  easy  .  long  nights  ,  busy  days  ,  sometimes  this  relationship  felt  like  it  was  set  up  to  fail  ..  and  then  they  got  their  moments  where  butterflies  flapped  their  wings  and  rose  spreaded  to  cheeks  and  it  really  seemed  like  it  would  work  ...  but   good  moments  ,  they  come  and  go  and  this  relationship  leaves  the  other  thinking  how  long  they  might  have  alistair  . 

                  I  GOT  A  BAD  IDEA  ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    he  looked  to  his  left  and  saw  them  ,  and  when  he   looked  in  front  of  him  he  saw  the  bars  and  regrets  forming  .   these  two  were  a  duo  that  wreaked  havoc   ,  being  around  them  meant  cop  sirens  and  bad  decisions  .  these  two  were  ,  what  do  they  say  ?  young  and  dumb  .

                  WHOLE  SQUAD  MOBBIN  EVEN  THOUGH  WE  ONLY  SIX  DEEP  ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    his  best  buddies  (  that  i  manage  are  still  apart  of  his  life  in  present  time  )  made  up  of  two  to  three  others  .  they  are  his  people  ,  his  picked  family  .   

                I  SWEAR  IF  I  EVER  LEFT  YOU  IN  THE  COLD  ,  IT’S  CAUSE  IT  WAS  COLDER  INSIDE   (  PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .   a  old  friend  who’s  no  longer  that  ,  a  friend  .  i  picture  this  to  be  more  complicated  then  what  it  seems  ,  but  picture  these  two  going  from  being  attached  at  the  hip  to  not  speaking  to  one  another  .

                  CAN  YOU  IMAGINE  ?   ( PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   ) .    that  one  person  who  badly  wanted  something  more  from  alistair  and  got  exactly  the  opposite  .   lovers  in  the  way  of  intimacy  but  one  sided  emotionally  .  

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Hunting A Dragon

Didn’t have a chance to post this yesterday, so here it is!

“I’ll pay you handsomely if you get rid of the dragon that lives on the edge of my kingdom,” king Crowley said from his throne.

“How handsomely?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Enough to own your own small castle,” the king replied.

“I guess you got yourself a deal. Any reason you want it gone?” Dean asked, not that he actually cared. He was only concerned with the small fortune he was about to make.

“That’s none of your business knight. I’m not paying you to ask questions, I’m paying you to get rid of dragons,” the king snapped.

Dean ground his teeth together in agitation. He plastered a fake smile on his face. “Of course, your majesty. I shall return when the deed is done.” Dean turned on his heel and walked from the throne room.

He hurried out the castle, hating the stuffy feeling that palace life always gave him. He enjoyed wide open spaces and freedom rather than gold and finery. He walked out the doors and took in a deep breath of fresh air. He grinned when he heard Chevy’s whinny at seeing him. He walked over to the large black mare and petted her forehead affectionately. “Hey baby, you miss me?” He asked as he pulled a few carrots from his saddle bag and fed them to her. Once she had eaten the last bite, Dean untied her reins from the post and hoisted himself into the saddle.

He patted her neck as she started walking out the courtyard back to the inn. He would need to grab his supplies and gear from his room before starting on his journey to the outskirts of Crowley’s kingdom. He knew the area well and internally moaned at the five-day journey ahead of him. He decided to stop by the marketplace as well to stock up on provisions.

After enjoying one last hot meal and flirting with the bartender, Dean headed out on his trek. Thankfully, the weather was mild this time of year and the days weren’t overly hot, and the nights were clear of rain. He made good time and ended up arriving to his destination a day earlier than planned.

The sun was setting by the time Dean stopped and he decided to explore the area tomorrow. Within the hour, Dean had a fire going and a freshly caught rabbit roasting over it. Chevy grazed a few yards away; Dean completely at ease with letting her roam free. He took a gulp of water from his canteen and stilled as heard the crack of a stick.

His hand dropped to his sword as he scanned the area around him. He was surprised when he saw a man walking towards him in the fading light. When the man stood just outside the glow of the campfire, he came to a halt. Dean looked him over and was stunned by his beauty. The man had thick, messy black hair and the most astonishing blue eyes Dean had ever seen. His skin seemed to be glowing and Dean assumed it was because of the campfire. He had a light stubble covering a strong jaw. Dean let his gaze wander down the man’s body and was just as impressed. The man wasn’t overly muscular, but Dean knew he had strength in his limbs.

“Hello there,” the man replied with a soft smile.

Dean eyed him curiously. “Who are you and what are you doing out here?”

The man walked closer and took a seat opposite the campfire. “My name is Castiel and I live here.”

“You what?” Dean asked incredulously. “Dude, there’s a dragon that inhabits this area.”

Castiel smirked. “I’m well aware of the dragon. I have no fear of him; we are friends of sorts.”

Dean’s mouth fell open. “You’re what? Why in the world would you be friends with a murderous beast?”

Castiel’s lips turned down in a frown and his eyes hardened. “Oh, and I’m assuming to a hunter like yourself that all dragons are murderers.”

“Well, aren’t they? I mean they kill and plunder for fun! If that’s not a monster, I don’t know what is,” Dean growled as he crossed his arms.

“I’m not saying there aren’t bad dragons; I’m just saying not all of them are bad,” Castiel snapped. “The one who lives around here has never killed or plundered anything. He lives out here because it is deserted, and it gives him the privacy he so desperately wants.”

“Well, I’ve never come across a nice dragon,” Dean retorted.

Castiel narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin slightly. “And just how many dragons have you come across?”

“Three,” Dean answered quickly.

“What were their names?” Castiel asked.

“What does it matter?” Dean argued.

“Just tell me their names hunter,” Cas growled.

“Dean, my name is Dean,” the hunter said angrily.

“Fine, Dean, tell me their names,” the other man insisted.

Dean scratched at the back of his neck as he tried to remember the names of the dragons he had struck down. “There was a big red dragon named Alistair. Another was named Lucifer; a big black brute that took me ages to finally bring down. The last one was a golden dragon named Naomi; she was a bitch that one.”

Cas relaxed visibly. “Well, it seems all the dragons you’ve killed were rather nasty and deserved to die. They cost many humans and even a few dragons their lives. I’m sorry for accusing you of wrongful murder.”

“Thanks. Believe it or not, just because I’m a hunter doesn’t mean I kill every monster I come across. If they haven’t hurt anybody, I let them go. It’s just every dragon I’ve come across and every story I’ve heard about them depicts them as murderous beasts,” Dean explained to the man.

Cas sighed. “Yes, well most of them are of the murderous beast variety, but not all of them. There are a few who just want to live a peaceful life.”

“Well, if what you say is true and this dragon has never hurt anyone, I won’t kill it. I’ll just ask it to leave the area,” Dean said as he stood up and removed the rabbit from over the fire.

Cas looked up sharply. “If the dragon has done nothing wrong, why must it leave?”

Dean pulled out a knife and started to cut the meat from the bones. “King Crowley wants the dragon gone and is going to pay me a small fortune to make that happen. If I can finish this deal, I’ll have enough money to travel overseas to be with my brother. Unlike him, I’ve never been able to get out of the hunting life even though I despise it.”

Cas tilted his head. “Why have you never been able to quit?”

“I’m not smart like my brother; I’m just a grunt. Hunting things and saving people is all I’m good for. My dad was a hunter and he forced both of us to follow in his footsteps. Sam was never cut out for the life, so he packed his stuff and got on the next ship to America. I’m hoping to be able to join him soon,” Dean described. He moved closer to Castiel and handed him a few strips of the rabbit meat.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said softly as he took the meat.

“Don’t mention it. So, you really think the dragon won’t leave even if I ask it to?” Dean asked as he took a bite of the rabbit.

“Would you leave the only home you’ve ever known just so somebody can make a fast coin?” Cas shot back before taking his own bite of food.

Dean stared at the ground as he slowly chewed. “I guess not, but it never hurts to try. If the dragon says no and he hasn’t hurt anybody, then I guess I will go back to the king and tell him I am breaking his deal.”

“But if you don’t get the dragon to leave, you’ll be separated from your brother for even longer,” Cas pointed out.

Dean shrugged. “Yeah I know but getting to see him isn’t worth killing an innocent for. I’ll figure out another way to make the money.”

“You’re the most honorable hunter I’ve ever met Dean. Most would only be concerned with stuffing their own pockets and wouldn’t care about the creature they are hunting.” Cas fell silent as he took another bite of rabbit.

“Yeah, what can I say? I’m a hunter with a conscious,” Dean replied with a chuckle.

“You certainly are.” Cas finished his rabbit and stood to his feet. “Well, I must be going. I hope to see you again before you leave Dean.”

Dean looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, you too Cas. Tell your dragon friend I said hi and I’d like to talk to him tomorrow.”

“I shall relay the message,” Cas answered before walking off and disappearing into the night.

Dean didn’t stay up much longer once he finished his dinner. He checked on Chevy one last time before curling underneath his furs and going to sleep. His sleep was haunted blue eyes and a deep voice.

Dean was startled awake when the ground beneath him shook violently. He jolted from his furs, his sword already in hand. He froze when his eyes came to rest on the giant creature in front of him. “Oh shit,” he cursed as he stared at the dragon.

The beast was easily five times Dean’s height and nearly ten times as long. The scales were a deep blue and they shimmered in the early morning light. A large pair of leathery wings were folded against the dragon’s sides. He had a large sail running from the top of his head down to the base of his neck, thick spines every few feet that the skin of the sail attached to. He had a large pair of horns that started just behind his eyes and pointed straight back.

Dean swallowed thickly before saying, “So, I guess you’re the dragon that lives around here.”

The creature nodded his head once. He slowly laid down, wrapping his tail around himself. He lowered his head until it was level with Dean. The hunter stared into a large pair of sapphire blue eyes.

The dreams from the night before rushed to the forefront of Dean’s mind. His eyes widened in shock. “Cas,” he said, voice full of surprise.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel replied.

Dean’s legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the ground. Immediately, a clawed foot was reaching out to help him back to his feet. Dean was still shaky and leaned against Cas’ foot for support. He continued to stare, not knowing what to say.

“I did tell you the dragon and I were friends.”

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “I would say you’re friends. I didn’t even know dragons could shapeshift.”

“Most don’t anymore, saying that our human form is weak and unbecoming. I love both of my forms equally.” The dragon paused before adding, “I meant what I said last night Dean. I’ve never hurt anyone. Crowley doesn’t want me here because I’ve made my home in a mine full of gemstones. He and I have a blood contract that states he will not kill me, so he is trying to find another way to get me to leave.”

“Why do you have a contract in the first place?”

“My brother Lucifer used to inhabit these lands and I managed to defeat him and run him out,” Cas explained.

“Shit, Lucifer,” Dean exclaimed.

“It’s ok Dean, I’m not mad that you killed him. He was a horrible being and deserved his fate. I feel no sympathy or remorse for him. The world is a much better place without him, Alistair, and Naomi,” Cas said with a firm finality.

“Ok then.” Dean looked at his camp and then back to the dragon. He slowly pulled himself away from the warm scales and walked over to the campfire. He kicked some dirt on it and watched it splutter out. He started packing his supplies and whistled for Chevy. He heard a nicker in the distance, her signal that she heard him.

“Dean, what are you doing?” The hunter turned around to see Cas in his human form, staring at Dean with confusion. “What’s it look like Cas? I’m packing up.”

The dragon shook his head. “Why? Do you not wish to be around me any longer now that you know what I am?”

“What, no! It’s just I need to return to the castle and tell Crowley that I won’t be the one to force you to leave. I could come back for a few days, but I’ll have to leave to find work. If I’m not hunting, I’m not getting paid,” Dean explained as he started saddling Chevy.

Dean looked up when Cas’ hand grabbed his own. “Dean, did you not hear me when I explained where I lived?”

“Yeah, a cave full of gemstones. What does it matter? You said last night you wouldn’t be willing to leave this place and I wouldn’t ask that of you.” Dean pulled his hand free and finished saddling his horse.

Cas rolled his eyes. “Are you always this dense?” Dean glared at him. “Dean, I can give you some of the gemstones from the cave to sell to earn enough money to go to your brother.”

“What, no, I would never ask that of you! They are yours,” Dean argued.

“Honestly, I’m not a collector of gems. I prefer my books and souvenirs from my worldly travels. I chose the cave because it looks pretty, but I’m not unwilling to part with some of the stones. Besides, I’m not sure how much longer I will call it home.” Cas dropped his gaze to the ground.

“Why would you leave this place? You said last night you wouldn’t,” Dean stated. “You also said you enjoyed your privacy.”

“You’re right. Never before have I considered leaving my home because I never had a reason. But now, I might,” Cas said as he lifted his gaze back to Dean, his cheeks stained a bright red.

“Cas, no, you don’t want me. I’ve got nothing to offer you. I told you, I’m just a grunt. Sam’s the smart one of the family,” Dean said as he backed away.

“Don’t say that about yourself. I have the ability to see souls and your soul is the brightest I’ve ever seen Dean. It attracts me like a moth to flame. I have lived most of my life alone and I’ve grown incredibly lonely. Last night, you proved you’re not like other hunters. You could have killed me and yet you haven’t even attempted to do so.” Cas stepped back into Dean’s personal space. “I’d really like to get the chance to know you Dean.”

Dean huffed. “I would be the hunter who falls for a dragon,” he muttered before leaning forward and lightly pressing his lips against Cas’. That was just the start of Cas and Dean’s love story.

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @starrynightdeancas @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 6

The Fall of Fabian Seacaster

OK, let’s do this.

We pick back up with Kristen and Riz who are still outside Garthy’s room. Kristen’s Detect Good and Evil from last week pings Garthy as well as the general aura of the Golden Gardens which is protected in the way a sanctum sanctorum would be but with celestial energy. Riz and Kristen improvise a not super cogent plan that involves ribbon dancing and knocking over barrels before Riz just decides to cut to the chase and ask Garthy’s guards to send for Sandra-Lynn. Once she comes out (still looked sexed up and pretty annoyed) they’re not quite sure what to ask her and Riz wants to bail but Kristen (who has cast Zone of Truth, tried to muscle into Garthy’s house, and gotten smacked down physically by Sandra-Lynn) says that she’s worried about Sandra-Lynn because she’s “not poly but [she’s] acting poly.” Being directly called out is enough to snap Sandra-Lynn out of it (and to think about Fig’s reaction) so she agrees to get her stuff and come back to the gang’s suite.

Meanwhile, Fabian is hanging out with Bill’s cult of 20-ish warlocks. They’re all super glad to see Fabian--who they assume has been sent by Bill to help them--and they want him to regale them with the tale of how he slew his father in battle. Fabian tells them the story which, as you all know, isn’t a story about besting his father in a hard-fought battle so much as it is about a story about bittersweet mercy killing. They are less than impressed, especially considering they want Fabian to defeat Captain James Wicklaw who has promised to kill all of Bill’s followers. Ego stung, Fabian says that he may not have bested his father but he did (help) kill a dragon and, more importantly, he’s gonna lead them into an ambush against Captain Wicklaw (who he sees, presumably looking for him, with 30 men).

Oh boy.

Fabian telepathically alerts the Hangman that he’s about to get into a big fight before slamming down a door and full-out attacking Captain Wicklaw. He’s able to get a good couple of attacks in and Wicklaw misses his first couple of attacks but then Fabian fails an intelligence save with a Nat 1 and gets stunned while Wicklaw tries to open his skull and eat his brain.

Meanwhile with the rest of the Bad Kids, the Hangvan alerts Gorgug that the Hangman has sped off and everyone assumes Fabian is in trouble. They all do their best to get to him as quickly as possible and, even though these scenes are intercut with Fabian’s I’m going to summarize them all at once:

Fig (w/ Gorgug in tow) Dimension Doors as close to the Hangman as she can. Then, Gorgug has the idea to try the classic pirate move of grabbing a rope, cutting the weight, and instantly flying to where on the ship you want to go. They try that and begin flying towards Fabian at terminal velocity, both dislocating their arms. Fig passably disguises herself as Jemina Joy (even with quadruple disadvantage) and tries to get a wizard to teleport her to where Fabian is but they’re going way too fast for anyone to hear her. Gorgug (also with quad disadvantage) tries to throw a hand axe and, on a nat 1, almost cuts the rope they’re swinging on.

Gilear is fully passed after a back-slap from Fig.

Adaine casts fly on Riz (because his rogue speed means he can make the most use of it) so he can go get Garthy to see if they have any teleport spells. Then, she gets on Baxter with Kristen and Sandra-Lynn (plus Tracker who follows in spectral wolf form). Kristen tries to bring up Sandra-Lynn’s relationship stuff again and Adaine casts Tasha’s Hideous Laughter on her. Adaine tries to pull from the jacket to get something to help her get to Fabian faster and she gets a Razor scooter.  

Ragh drives the Hangvan towards Fabian’s.

Riz finds Garthy who takes him to a room, pops out neon angel wings, and does some kind of teleport spell that almost seems like it moves the space closer to them rather than the reverse.

But, none of this really matters because Brennan says none of them will be able to make it to Fabian before 22 rounds of combat. Woof.

Still in the first round of combat, 2 of the warlocks manage to hit Wicklaw and break Fabian out of his grapple (right after Wicklaw says that he’s eaten many of Fabian’s siblings but let’s put a pin in that because we have so much to get through here). Fabian declares that all spells are on him for the remainder of the fight (which is maybe the last funny thing he says all night). Then, 6 of the 20 warlocks on Fabian’s side die to gunshots from Wicklaw’s men. Fabian sends his men forward then falls back and attacks with his crossbow. Wicklaw mocks him for abandoning his crew so viciously that I feel like he should have spontaneously taken a level in bard. Brennan rolls for the ten still living pirates who never got names and only one survives. Then he rolls for the named pirates (Alistair and the three I haven’t mentioned yet because this episode is A Lot--Chungle-Down Bim, Old-Young Benjamin, and Creaky McBarrel) and only Creaky dies. In two rounds, Bill’s cult is down to four (plus one guy who peaced out after Fabian said he didn’t actually brutally murder his dad).

Fabian’s tactical retreat shakes the confidence of everyone but Alistair who stays loyal (even as he gets wrecked on his next attack on Wicklaw). Chungle-Down Bim is so disgusted by Fabian’s cowardice and performance that he tries to Eldritch Blast him and misses. He says, “Yeh ain’t no pirate and Bill would spit in yer eye.” Fabian has to hold back tears. He, with a heartbreaking mix of trepidation, reluctance, and resolve, asks if there are any ropes he can use to escape. Roll a perception check. He does.

Natural 1.

Sure, Brennan says. There’s a rope that looks like it will 100% guaranteed hold Fabian’s weight. Fabian goes for it--leaving behind a stunned and crushed Alistair--and finds that it’s actually a clothesline. He goes plummeting down a quarter-mile towards the ground but, before he actually hits, he hits a bunch of other ropes and, on his last possible chance, is able to save from splatting and taking max fall damage. Lou opts to take some damage anyway because he’d feel like he was cheating otherwise.

The rest of the group shows up through their various means and all immediately assume that Fabian got jumped. Fabian is meek in a way we’ve never seen before. I’m talking Adaine with Jawbone in Prompocolypse meek. He doesn’t tell them what happened and he answers all the questions with short yesses or no’s as much as possible. The healers heal him (plus Fig and Gorgug) up and take him back to the suite. The Hangman asks if he’s alright. “No Hangman,” he says. “It’s all bad.” Cathilda brings him kippers but he feels like he doesn’t deserve them.

Garthy has a little tete-a-tete with Fig about their tryst with Sandra-Lynn. Garthy is all about getting down but not if that person is in a monogamous relationship (even though they’re against them on principle). Fig (who has been avoiding her mom since the top of the ep) says she’s only mad at Sandra-Lynn (she says Sandra-Lynn, not Mom--oof) since Garthy didn’t know better. It just sucks that this happened to Jawbone. Jawbone as in Jawbone O'Shaughnessy? asks Garthy. Turns out he’s visited (many times) and they’ve boned (super hard) which, honestly, totally tracks.  

Because she didn’t get a full night of sleep, Tracker can’t keep the Moon Haven spell up all night which isn’t great. Kristen can also gather than she’s too tired to remember anything that happened earlier in the night (ie: things about Sandra-Lynn and Jawbone). Fig, concerned that she might get mind controlled again without the Moon Haven up asks Adaine to tie her up (this actually happens before the above conversation with Garthy).

Sleeping arrangements are Fabian, the Hangman, and Riz as a bodyguard in one room and everyone else in another. Adaine trances a little early so she can regain her spells and be awake in case anything happens. Brennan makes everyone do wisdom saves. Kristen and Adaine roll high and Adaine gives her TWO (2) NAT 20 portent rolls to Fig and Gorgug. That leaves Riz and Fabian, but we’ll get to them in a minute.

Adaine wakes up from her trance and she sees Ragh get up early as well. He says he’s going to get some food. Adaine, vigilant as ever asks Ragh who his first kiss was. Ragh acts confused for a second, and then screeches and attacks her, waking everyone up. He’s been dominated. Adaine goes for a Tasha’s Hideous Laughter and subdues him. Also Fig is able to escape Adaine’s magical ropes so maybe she’s not the best person to do that next time.

Meanwhile, Fabian is having a nightmare. He dreams of Wicklaw trying to eat his brain and Chungle-Down spitting in his face and his betrayal of Alistair. He sees the ghosts of the warlock  cultists entering hell and his disappointed father. And then, he’s approached by a man. A man with a familiar, non-threatening sounding, yogurt-offering voice. Fabian, like Adaine before, feels very strongly that if he looks at this man’s face, something terrible will happen but he does take the offered yogurt and agrees to go with him without looking at him. He’s taken to a lovely, sunny, kind of museum area dedicated to Bill Seacaster. Fabian thinks it’s very nice but he starts to notice that though there are many pictures of Bill and Hilariel, there are none of him. He asks why. The man says that Fabian needs to look at him. Fabian is hesitant. The man says that Fabian really needs to look at him. The yogurt in Fabian’s stomach curdles, weakening him (and me because yogurt grosses me out on the best of days and this is not the best of days). The man turns Fabian’s face to look at him and Fabian finds himself looking at a doughy, middle-aged Fabian Seacaster. He laughs hysterically and Fabian wakes up, plunged into the sea.

Elsewhere, Riz wakes up in his room. Fabian is gone, he’s paralyzed, the Hangman has been stabbed through by Fabian’s sword and is leaking oil, and Kalina is sitting on his bed. She was able to get in with the Moon Haven spell down. She speaks to him unsettlingly casually. She sounds almost friendly as she demands Riz and his friends stop looking for the Nightmare King’s crown on the pain of their lives. Riz, a grizzled old knight to his core like all of Murph’s characters, can’t wrap his head around why she would be doing this. It’s simple. Power. She psychologically toys with him, saying that Riz throws himself into his cases (which she seems to know quite a bit about) to distract himself from how sad he is about his dead dad. Then, she says that Fabian is in massive danger and if Riz doesn’t play ball (pun not intentional but it’s staying in), he’ll die. Riz assumes she knows where the Nightmare King’s crown is and she asks why he’s sure she knows which makes him think she actually doesn’t know. Riz, who sleeps with his sword because he’s rightfully paranoid, uses it to Misty Step outside but he’s still paralyzed so he just hits the ground and breaks his arm.

Kalina meets him outside, tells him Fabian is long gone, and tries to bargain with him: information about his dad for information about what he knows. Riz counter-offers that he’ll tell her about where the Nightmare King’s crown is if she guarantees his friends’ safety. She doesn’t care about the crown. She wants to know what Riz knows about her. Riz agrees (to save Fabian) and tells her everything he knows except that he withholds the information about Adaine’s mom being involved and tries to withhold the information he got from Ragh but he accidentally gives himself away without saying Ragh’s name. That’s enough for her to put two and two together though and she leaves to kill Ragh’s mom.

Back in the sea, Fabian has to make three Constitution checks. He rolls two nat 20s in a row for the first two and is rescued two flying imp monsters (presumably sent by Kalina) who drop him off at the edge of town. Fabian, absolutely destroyed, rips off his eyepatch and takes off his Owlbear jacket as he makes his way back. He rolls one last Constitution check. Nat 1. He’s got pneumonia. Cathilda shows up in the Hangvan to pick up Fabian.

The rest of the group is still shaken up by Ragh’s attack. They snap him out of it and someone gets Garthy. Post Riz’s encounter with Kalina, Ragh bursts in, devastated and says that someone from home called and said that his mom died. The whole group is immediately suspicious because--post Gorgug/Zelda debacle--they know they shouldn’t have signal. Ragh tries to call another number and all he hears is laughing on the other end. When Riz (healed up by Garthy) looks, he sees that his phone shows 5 bars for a second. Riz, Tracker, and Sandra-Lynn also see the flicker. Possibly illusion magic. Tracker and Garthy can also now suddenly see the Shadowcat in the picture (but it doesn’t seem like the rest of the Bad Kids can). Riz thinks Ragh’s mom is in serious danger but not dead yet.

Garthy has the idea to send the group to the Leviathan Library so maybe Adaine can learn a Sending Spell to communicate with their various parents and allies in Solace. They give Adaine a note that says to let the group safely use the library addressed to one Aida Aguefort.

Fig checks in with Sandra-Lynn to see if maybe she was under the influence of something more malevolent than alcohol when she cheated. Sandra-Lynn cries, and admits that she just F’d up but that they should deal with the problem at hand for now and that’s where we end, with the bulk of the group en route to the library.  

Detention

Fabian for Everything

Oh Fabian.

Fabian, Fabian, Fabian.

I don’t think I have ever seen a series of events so driven by a single character’s careless actions.

Truly, almost every single bad thing that happened in this episode can be traced directly to Fabian losing his entire chill at the worst possible time.

All those warlocks, dead (And Alistair either dead, seriously hurt, or set on the path to show back up with a vendetta later on down the road).

Because Tracker didn’t get her 8 hours, she couldn’t do the Moon Haven properly which is why Ragh got mind-controlled, the Hangman got stabbed, and he got brain-jacked and dumped into the ocean.

It’s why Kalina got to Riz. It’s why Lydia’s in danger.

And it wasn’t just that what he did was dumb, it was also completely unnecessary. There was no plot reason for what he did and he wasn’t forced into it. It was a completely character driven decision and it was bad, y’all. It was pretty much an absolute fail parade.  

Honor Roll

Brennan and Lou for Absolutely Stellar Roleplay

Everyone had their moments this episode.

Siobhan and Zac made some clever choices. Ally brought some needed levity. Emily subtly continued her emotional threads about Fig’s relationship with her mom and her distress over her actions while mind controlled. And Murph had that absolutely stellar scene in the back half of the back half of the ep with Kalina.

But Brennan and Lou 100% carried this episode.

Brennan is such a good DM that I feel like it’s almost easy to take for granted. Like, if you visit a town, you’re gonna talk about how how cool the shops, and food, and events were. Not about how well the roads are paved. But if the roads are all janky and potholed and stuff then it’s a big issue.

This episode clearly took a major turn from whatever was supposed to happen but Brennan deftly kept pace with all of Fabian’s wild choices and made sure the roads were paved before he got there.

So much of this episode was just Brennan talking to one other person (Fabian and then Riz during the Kalina scene) and he nailed all of it. The disgust from Chungle-Down. The betrayal from Alistair. The concern from Cathilda. The quiet but sinister lilt of Nightmare Fabian. And the affable, dispassionate, Just Business evil from Kalina.

And Lou. Everything Fabian did this episode was an extremely bad idea but it is exactly what Fabian would do in the situation. Lou played him completely consistently, even when it clearly pained him to do so. 

When Lou rolled a nat 1 on his perception check for an escape rope, Brennan essentially handed him a fully loaded gun and said shoot yourself, and Lou grit his teeth and he did it.

Mad respect to both of them for keeping the tension and gravity going for a full three hours basically. That was lightning in a bottle. D&D is an amazing game.

Random Thoughts

I know there’s a significant chunk of the fandom that ships Riz and Fabian and, can I just say, RIP to y’all.

It really was narratively cool that we started out with the Sandra-Lynn plot in this crazy, over the top, comic scene and then ended with the quiet conversation between Fig and her mom on the same topic. It really was a through line throughout the episode without over-shadowing the main drama. This episode had a clear A and B plot just like a scripted show.

Also if Garthy is a powerful as Brennan is making them seem, wild that the NK and Kalina were able to bust through what is supposed to be super sanctified ground, especially since Tracker--a jr. cleric--has been keeping them at bay by herself.

Zac: This is a real Axford move.

Also Zac: I don’t understand what’s gonna happen if this goes well.

Riz and Murph Equally: We’re so stupid.

I think it’s funny how players in D&D tend to treat Zone of Truth like it forces them to spontaneously say things that are true rather than just preventing them from actively lying.

The kinda wild thing about how this whole mess started is that Fabian’s character development is part of why it happened. When he told the warlocks about the dragon and his dad, he gave everyone else their due credit, didn’t hog the spotlight, and didn’t lie/embellish the truth to make himself sound cooler. That in turn disappointed them which made him relapse into S1 Fabian who attacked Gorgug on the first day of school for absolutely no reason. I was actually going to give him major credit for that before he, you know. Made some other choices. He absolutely gushed about how cool his friends were and then invited exactly none of them to his terrible plan.

Lol at Lou being like, “I rolled to get Alistair to make a better speech?”

Bill’s cult of about 20 guys has collectively sent him like 350k gold. That’s insane! They’re all so poor!

Lou playing Fabian very confidently making an absolutely suicidal decision, and then surfacing to laugh hysterically for a full thirty seconds out of character about how he’s for sure gonna die, was such a mood. It was like Lou was being held at gunpoint by Fabian for the entire first half of the session.

Big props to Zac for trying to get everyone in on the action by suggesting the Hangvan would see that the Hangman was gone and let the group know.

OK, so now let’s talk about that line about Wicklaw having eaten many of Fabian’s siblings. Hoo boy. You know this episode was wild because that line was said and never followed up on. What might have been a headline in a different episode was a footnote in this one. No big surprise that Bill would have fathered a ton of kids. That pretty much tracks, as Adaine said last ep. I feel like this was something that was going to come up regardless, Fabian just forced it to be right then and there. This dude hates Bill so going after his kids seems like an obvious move (unless he’s bluffing I guess, but I doubt it). But, like, did Bill know about these kids? Was he fully ignorant? Willfully ignorant? Did they know they were Bill’s kids? Are there any left? Can Fabian please have a little pirate sister because I would love that so much you don’t even know.

You think Lou expected to say (loosely quoting), “I try not to cry in front of Chungle-Down Bim,” when he woke up that morning? Idk but I can tell you that I didn’t expect to hear it and feel strong emotions about it.

Chungle-Down Bim, which is short for Bimothy.

Lol, Brennan makes Emily rolls with Quadruple disadvantage and she still gets a 15 because she has a plus 11 to persuasion. No wonder she’s so quick to slam the disguise self button if there’s even a sliver of a chance it’ll work.

Adaine getting a useless Razor scooter on the way to try and help Fabian and then being like, “Well, I’m still gonna keep it,” was such a funny beat during the tenseness of that fight scene.

I need you guys to know that this is a mindflayer ability: Extract (Ex): An Illithid that begins its turn with all four tentacles attached and successfully maintains its hold automatically extracts the opponent’s brain, instantly killing that creature. Truly what was he thinking? You’re gonna eat his brain? Go ahead because he clearly isn’t using it!

You know the part of Princess Bride when Wesley is giving the “To the Pain” speech to Humperdinck? I feel like that’s what Brennan did to Fabian this episode. “Oh you think I’m going to kill you? No, that would be too easy. This fight is to the pain. You will watch your allies get slaughtered until you are forced to betray them or die. You will escape but in the most clownish fashion possible after breaking your most loyal ally’s heart. You will be beset by your concerned friends and forced to either own up to your horrible life choices or stew with them and lie by omission. You will be the reason your ultimate enemy is able to break in and attack your friends and you will be forced with your worst nightmare before being unceremoniously dumped into the sea. You won’t die. You’ll just wish you had.” Absolutely brutal.

Anyone else feeling a possible villain turn from Allistair? Dude’s a warlock so he’s already prone to dabbling in questionable power sources. And Fabian really did him dirty. I was hoping he’d at least get Kristen or Tracker to try to see if he was around anywhere for a heal but he just went into shellshock shutdown mode and they bounced. We didn’t see him die on screen so I feel pretty strongly that we’ll be seeing him again in some form.

Also, maybe I’m way off, but did you guys feel like Fabian missed a clear opportunity? I thought he was gonna ask his dad for help. Or, at least try and talk to him before the fight. Clearly it’s possible because the warlocks are doing it. Just pray for some infernal intervention or guidance or powers or something? Worth a shot when you’re in such a bad situation anyway.

Fabian never did tell the party what was going on. They all still think he was ambushed and forced into a fight somehow. I really can’t wait for the truth to come out. I wonder how long he’ll sit on that info. He better tell them before they fight Wicklaw again and they find out that way.

Every single player playing up their concern for Fabian and making a point to presume he was in the right and that it had been a wrong place/time situation to make him feel even more like garbage was *chefs kiss*.

The Hangman basically acting like a big metal dog and pressing itself up against Fabian to comfort him is weirdly adorable.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go get tied up.”/“What?”

Also I love Adaine’s reaction to being asked to do it. She’s like, “What? I mean, I’ll do it but, what?” Sidenote, Fig said she was gonna ask Riz as her first choice but that’s also a terrible choice! He has like a minus 2 strength modifier I think. Ask Gorgug!

Truly, the entire episode can be encapsulated in the fact that Siobhan was sitting there with two nat 20 portent rolls but sidelined and useless because Fabian decided to go completely rogue.

I have to give Adaine big credit for checking to see if Ragh was mind controlled because whenever I’m watching a show where a bad guy can shapeshift or possess people, I always think, “Why don’t they just have a codeword or something?” This is one of the few times I’ve seen it properly executed. Genre savviness saves lives people.

Fabian’s rolls really matched his decisions this week. It was like the dice were punishing him with all those nat 1s on crucial checks.

Also, Brennan being like, “You get pneumonia” was lowkey hilarious. Just like, insult to injury. What’s next? He’s gonna die on dysentery on the Oregon Trail?

I wonder if Fabian is considering chronomancy-ing this away? The thought for sure crossed my mind. Also, everyone was joking about everything being all a dream, but that’s something that could happen in this campaign without it being cheap because it’s been set-up that that’s the kind of bad guy they’re up against so I’m staying vigilant.

Ragh coming into the room and, voice cracking, announcing that his mom was dead cut me up so bad. And I thought it would be not as bad on my rewatch. Nope, still awful. I can’t believe I like him so much now. This is like a Steve from Stranger Things level turnaround for me. Also, the chat was absolutely blowing up when Murph was like, “I tell her everything,” without excepting Ragh’s info at first. Brennan is a nice DM for reminding him about that (despite the absolute ravaging of Riz and Fabian otherwise this ep).

Also gotta give a shout out to Murph this ep for playing Riz so well during the confrontation with Kalina. His steadfast, simple, “We can’t stop. It would be wrong. Fullstop,” mentality is so pure. Riz is such an interesting character. When he tried to withhold info, Murph said, “I have low deception.” That’s who Riz is. He’s a rogue with low deception. He’s sneaky but only in pursuit of justice. No guile at all. Kalina, who is as casual as he is wound up and amoral and he is knightly is such an interesting foil for him. I’m very intrigued to see how this develops.  

Like I said in the recap, Garthy and Tracker can now see Kalina in the picture, even though neither of them saw her when she broke in (that they know of) so the plot thickens there. I’d go into it more but I really don’t have any new theories off the top of my head and this was honestly the least of my worries re: this ep.

Also, she says that all of her abilities come from serving the NK, and she had the abilities since she was working with Pok so this doesn’t seem to be a new development. I will say though, based on the info the group got, I really thought she was gonna be a more ancient being, you know? Maybe it’s just a title and she’s just the latest tabaxi to serve him and get it? I dunno.

Truly the mood for this episode was dawning horror. Things just got progressively worse in new and interesting ways every single scene.

Speaking of, let’s talk about Fabian’s vision. First of all, Brennan did a great job real-time DJ-ing that scene. The switch to that creepy music was very unsettling. Second of all, the chat exploding when Brennan started doing That voice and everyone for a brief moment thought that maybe, Maybe, Gilear was the Nightmare King, was delicious. But, on to the important stuff: When this happened to Adaine, my guess was that if she had looked at figure, it would have been a representation of her anxiety which I think was like 65% correct based on what happened to Fabian. Her worst possible future for herself is probably herself ruled by anxiety to the point of uselessness so she would have seen that version of herself. Fabian’s worst possible future self is essentially Gilear. Which, on behalf of Gilear, ouch. But, yeah, I see why it would be. And, honestly, NK-Fabian was worse than Gilear. Gilear is pathetic, sure, but he’s pathetic in pursuit of his own goals. To be stuck in his dad’s shadow, devoid of any other purpose is the antithesis of Fabian’s whole making a name for himself thing and a sick twisting of his very real pride in his dad. It’s a real raw nerve to hit, especially right after his colossal failure that left him feeling unworthy of even his favorite snack.

I’m really glad Fabian looked at the face of his nightmare. Brennan pushed him a little (in that fantastically unnerving, cajoling yet demanding voice) but I think he would have done it anyway. Like, it’s good information for the team to have and, if anyone was gonna get hit, it made most sense for it to happen right then, when Fabian was already at basically his lowest point. Both Adaine and Fabian felt like something horrible would happen if they looked at their nightmare and I’m wondering if there’s a mechanical effect to that or if it’s just psychological. I feel like there might be some not yet revealed mechanical effect going on but, when your players are as devoted to the RP as Lou (who, again, asked to take damage from his fall even after Brennan was gonna let him off with just the shame) you can get away with just giving the character trauma and having the player hinder their own actions based on it.

Titles for this recap that I rejected include Actions and Consequences and Keyfish 2: Pirate Boogaloo (because the first part of this episode truly felt like the CritRole Keyfish incident but spread out over an hour and a half).

Yet another thing that would have been a headline item in another recap but is just a footnote here: Aida Aguefort. That’s gotta be a sibling, ex, or parent (in my order of probability). What is an Aguefort doing running a pirate library? Are they as chaotic as the other Aguefort? I think it would be very funny if Arthur is this dude in a high position in a “normal” town who is just feral and Aida is living on this insane pirate island but, like, a completely normal librarian.

Oh, speaking of Aguefort, Kalina called him out on his child soldier factory and, listen, I know she was just trying to hurt Riz but she doesn’t not have a point.

Kristen was able to discern that Tracker probably won’t remember what happened with Sandra-Lynn but I hope she keeps track of that info because if Tracker rolls high perception and finds out that she semi-willfully kept that information from her, she might be miffed.

Are all of Bill’s dead warlocks gonna work on his hell ship now? Didn’t they become warlocks specifically because they were bad at being pirates?

I notice the group didn’t wait for Fabian even after Riz presumably told them what happened. I also notice that Cathilda was able to find Fabian right away which is interesting.

Adaine solemnly Razor scooting at the front of the party towards the library is low key hysterical.

Fig better hope it doesn’t get back to Jemina that she was being impersonated.

Also, that plan was crazy but super not the craziest thing Emily has ever done and Brennan backed her up on that. He was like, “This is good. This isn’t Hilda Hilda,” which is where the bar is because Emily is crazy.

Fig: We’re gonna fail./Gorgug: We’re gonna die./Adaine: And, more importantly, we’re gonna fail school.

Riz’s “How about no dead friends,” one-liner was so good. Unfortunately, it didn’t do anything to stop his paralysis. Ouch.

I’m assuming Kalina was asking what he knew to see if there was anyone she needed to kill because they knew too much about her? Because, otherwise, it seems like unimportant info for her. I was thinking when it was happening that she needed him to give her that information so they could take it from him and he wouldn’t have it anymore, like in a weird Fae way, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s probably just the simple thing.

Garthy doesn’t leave the Golden Gardens which is probably good for game balance. You don’t want to give the players a super powerful ally who has no reason not to help them at any given time. That’s rife for PC abuse.

I have to say, after last week, I was hoping we’d be done with the pirate stuff halfway through the ep and en route to Falinel but this was such a turn. I was saying to someone last week, it’s very tempting to try and predict where a D&D game is going by using typical narrative structure as a guide but that only halfway works because you really can’t account for the improvisational nature of it. I absolutely could not have guessed that this is what this episode would be and I’m glad.

Goes without saying, this ep totally snatched the crown for Most Heart Attacks Given To Me By BLM from Family in Flames.

“The game isn’t about what you plan; it’s about what happens,” sounds like a line from an inspirational Ted Talk, and not from a man who, minutes later, said that a pirate named Chungle-Down Bim wanted to use a teenager’s mouth as a toilet.

“I feel drunk from anxiety.” Same Ally.

You wanna know how many pages of handwritten notes I have for this episode? If you guessed 16, you’re right. And I was so into the ep, I forgot to keep track of crits, which is why I had to watch it a second time.

Emily proposing “felettes” as the feminine version of fellas.

“How many HP you at?”/”I’m not telling you.”

Just, the idea of this warlock drawing on Bill’s power to try and attack his son is so raw.

Brennan, being asked by Zac if he can help with Emily’s crazy plan: You absolutely may not and, in fact, take five points of damage.”

Siobhan: What do you have to lose?/Gorgug: *Rolls a nat 1 and almost severs the rope he and Fig are holding on to*

Garthy plays the harpsichord (I have in my notes harpsichord and not harp so I’m going with that) post-coital which is definitely a choice.

The shot of levity that Brennan injected between the big fight and the NK invasion by having Garthy know Jawbone was great. I knew it was coming as soon as Fig said his name, but the comic timing was still perfect. Apparently, Jawbone’s stories are crazy even by Garthy’s standards, which is wild.

Also funny, Fig being tied up as combat started. It didn’t end up making a difference but, at a certain point, when enough bad things have happened, piling more bad stuff on top just becomes funny like, yeah. Of course. That tracks.

Ally: Sleep when you’re dead, which might be this episode.

Riz and Gorgug (and Allistair) each roll one nat 1. Kristen rolls a nat 20. Adaine has 20s for both of her portent rolls (which she gives to Fig and Gorgug). And Fabian rolled an amazing 2 Nat 20s (in a row) and FIVE nat 1s.  

Edit: Oh, forgot to say! Next week there won’t be a game because Thanksgiving is happening in the States. Early Happy Thanksgiving for y’all in the U.S. who are celebrating. I’m thankful for a week off to recover after the ordeal that was this episode. 

[Footnote: This ended up cracking 6000 words, in case you’re wondering about the ways I choose to spend my time. Shoutout to y’all for reading these and justifying the dissertation length brain dumps my dumb, former English major brain compels me to produce for absolutely no good reason.]

[maudus1]

14 Days of DA Lovers prompts from @scharoux

Read my series on AO3!

Day 8: Patching Up

Pairing: Alistair/Morrigan

Fixing a Hole, Building a Bridge

“’Twas a foolish act, Alistair.” 

          Morrigan scowled at the copper-haired warrior sitting cross-legged in her tent. The evening beyond it was silent and still but for the low hum of insects and soft, intermittent rolling roo-roo-roo of a nocturnal bird nested in a tree nearby. And here, within the worn and weathered canvas, the panting and pained grunts of her… her… that man. 

          “That’s me, the idiot who – what was it I did again? Oh, yes.  Saved your life .” 

          “I did not need your help,” she hissed.

          His shoulders shook as he chortled, but he flinched when the arrow protruding from one of them shifted with the movement. “I think the proper response is ‘thank you’.”

          “Thank you? For accidentally getting skewered and prolonging our travel time by several hours? Perhaps even days? Unlikely. How one even manages such an injury in so much armor is beyond me.”

          En route to Denerim to restock on supplies and search the Chanter’s board to make some quick coin, they’d been ambushed by bandits. Alistair took an arrow to the shoulder, and they were forced to set up camp. Knowing they were low on herbs, she sent Leliana and the other Warden off to gather more, leaving her alone to tend to the insufferable oaf in front of her. The oaf with radiant amber eyes that all too often followed her; on the battlefield, on the road, and here, at this moment. 

          Surely, those looks were not what they appeared. How could they be? The man hated her, and she him... Yet his alluring gaze, his presence, and every rare, oft accidental, touch sent a strange, unfamiliar sensation deep into the pit of her stomach. Not quite repulsion, nor entirely unpleasant, however-

          “Who says it was an accident?” he said, interrupting her thoughts with a lopsided grin stretched across his lips.

          Morrigan knelt to the ground, muttering and rummaging through her pack. “Why would anyone purposely allow themselves to be shot? What a ridiculous notion.”

          “Oh, I don’t know. To save damsels in distress, perhaps?”

          She flashed him a withering glare. “I am no damsel. And certainly not in need of saving! Least of all by you.”

          Alistair belted out another laugh and immediately winced in pain. The imbecile. He looked ill; grimacing, left arm crossed over his torso to hold the opposite one tightly to his side lest it move too much and drive the arrow deeper. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his pallid skin, though at present she knew not whether it was merely from the effort exerted getting him here, or fever. The latter would be an ominous sign indeed.

          The knot in her gut that had formed upon the moment of his injury twisted tighter. A sense of foreboding, like that which she experienced as the sky clouded over and thunder clapped in the distance during one of her many solitary outings in the Korcari Wilds, descended. In those moments, the search for shelter was imperative. In this situation, it was not the security of her own wellbeing she desired, but his. How strange… 

          Before joining these young Wardens on their quest, she’d never known concern for others to ever exceed that which she felt for herself. One did not survive in the Wilds, or with a mother such as hers, for long without putting oneself first. Survival, that was important. Power. Not… not… She wracked her brain for the proper word, the label one would typically use. And the word that crossed her mind first was entirely unexpected. Friends. 

          She shuddered and pushed the idea far and away. Focus, Morrigan. Now was not the time to sit and wax philosophical, much less get… sentimental. Ugh. 

          “You will make it worse if you keep moving so, Alistair,” she said, her voice wavering slightly on his name. “Lie down.”

          With one hand behind his neck and one steadying the injured shoulder, she helped him ease gently down onto the bedroll she laid out when they set up the tent. He bit his lip to hold back a cry. Much as she teased and taunted, called him weak or childish, the man did have admirable stamina, skill, and a high tolerance for pain. With heavy armor, injuries such as this were usually rare, but the steel-tipped bolt had found a gap and shot straight through the chain mail beneath. And she knew not how far yet, nor how bad the damage was.

          “Drink this,” she ordered, handing him a small, clear flask. “It will… ease some of your pain.”

          “Oh, ho! Is that concern I hear?” Alistair smiled, weakly this time as his energy waned. “I’m touched. I might even cry.”

          “W-what?” Her pale cheeks grew warm. She was not one to easily fluster, but somehow the royal bastard always found a way to get under her skin. What was it about him that irked her so? “Shut up, you fool. Clearly you have lost too much blood and it has robbed you of your senses.”

          When he made to speak, she interrupted with a slender finger against his lips. “Cease your prattling and do as I say!”

          Sighing, Alistair downed the potion in one gulp, face puckering immediately after from the bitter taste, and laid his head back down. 

          “Let’s…” He paused, seemingly out of breath, and swallowed thickly. “Let’s get this over with.”

          “This will be... quite unpleasant. Here.” Morrigan produced a thick strap of leather from her pack. “Bite down on this.”

          He nodded and she leaned over him to place the leather between his teeth. She caught his gaze as it moved lazily from her barely covered chest back up to her eyes, and the crimson blush that stained his cheeks. She rolled her eyes. The Chantry boy probably would not even know what to do with a woman given the chance. 

          Unfortunate, really. He was not… bad looking. Quite the opposite. After traveling together and occupying the same camp for so many months, she’d seen her fair share of the man. Having grown up in Templar dormitories with little privacy, he was far less shy about walking about in minimal clothing than he was with seeing the women bare their skin - almost as if he did not equate the two things in his mind! She and Leliana had made a game of it recently, to see how red and flustered Alistair could get. She smirked while the memories flitted through her mind.

          Alistair growled below her. “Mmmph,” he said, voice muffled as he tried to get her attention back to the task at hand. 

          She shook her head to clear it and reached for the arrow. “Ready?”

          He closed his eyes and grunted. With one hand on the shaft and the other upon his chest to hold him down, she yanked on the arrow. It came free with a sickening squelch. The leather muted Alistair’s shout and his face visibly paled. Breathing a sigh of relief that the arrowhead hadn’t broken off within his shoulder, she tossed it to the side and immediately began working at the clasps of his armor. Opening his eyes, he turned his head and spit out the leather, panting to catch his breath. 

          “Now sit up,” she said.

          Alistair struggled a moment before propping himself up on his elbows, jaw clenched to fight back the sounds threatening to tear from his throat. He was clearly too weak. Wrapping her arms around his broad figure, she pulled him up the rest of the way and let him lean on her while she undid the buckles at his back. She had to twist herself over his lap slightly to avoid bumping the wound. 

          The sheer size of him nearly enveloped her, and had he not been sitting and hunched over, he could easily crush her with his weight alone. She breathed in the earthy aroma permeating from his sweat-drenched skin. It was a heavy, heady blend; earthy, like leather and fresh soil, salt and musk. Not at all putrid as she’d so often teased. They’d never been close enough for her to take in the various notes, nor had they ever touched so intimately. 

          Head lolling against her shoulder, he moaned into her neck, breath warm on her chilled skin. Pulse racing, heat flooded her cheeks again and gooseflesh prickled up her arms at the amalgamation of feelings their contact stirred. It had been a while since she’d been with a man…

          Focus!

          Hastening the pace of her skilled fingers, she undid the remaining clasps and gingerly wiggled him out of the armor and mail. After setting each piece out of the way, she reached for the hem of his shirt and began dragging it up over his stomach.

          “Not even going to buy me dinner, first? Or even a glass of wine?” His voice was softer than usual, its timbre lower. He chuckled feebly, lips whispering close enough to tickle the dark hair dangling at the nape of her long, slender neck. 

          Was he… no, surely he was not implying anything untoward between them. Not the shy Chantry boy. But the moment she thought that, one of his hands settled upon her bare back. She stilled. He’d lost too much blood, that was all. He was merely steadying himself. Yes. Nothing more.

          “Ugh… Enough of that. Your blathering is most annoying.” 

          “Wynne will have my hide for ruining another shirt.”

          “And I will have it now if you do not hush,” she chided.

          She pushed him off, though gently so as not to aggravate his injury, and slipped his shirt over his head before easing him back down to the pallet below. Her golden eyes drifted down his tanned body, over the sculpted musculature of his chest and abdomen, the powerful arms and shoulders built by years of dedicated physical training.

          “There really is no getting on your good side, is there?” he sighed, interrupting her train of thought yet again.

          Morrigan turned sharply away and set to work pouring water from a flask into a wooden bowl, heating it with a conjured flame. Somehow, even that warmth compared little to that which had steadily been filling her in the short time they had spent alone. She soaked a clean rag, wrung it out, and began cleaning Alistair’s wound. He hissed at the first swipe, but held his tongue thereafter, watching her carefully while she worked.

          “Let us assume that this imaginary good side exists. What exactly would be the benefit for you to ‘get on it’?”

          “I’ll settle for a smile, actually.”

          “Oh?” She smirked. So typical of a man! That was all she was good for, then. Smiling and looking pretty for his enjoyment. 

          “Not like that. A  real one.”

          “Do I not smile enough to suit you? How very negligent! Shall I bat my eyelashes as well?” 

          Placing one hand over his now clean wound, the pale green glow of magic flowing from her palm filled the tent. It washed over them both, delicate and ethereal and cool like moonlight on a snowy winter night as she channeled soothing coils of Fade energy through his raw, tender flesh to stem the already-waning flow of blood and seal the wound. 

          “Oh, come on, Morrigan. I don’t mean it like… I just want...” He hesitated, briefly met her eyes, and turned his head away to stare at the canvas wall painted with their shadows. 

          “Let me see. I would expect favor to come with a price. Perhaps you would be willing to pay a compliment? Is that too much, hm?” Undoubtedly, he’d fail to come up with anything, and this would put an end to his shenanigans. 

          Instead, he took her free hand, still damp, and whispered her name. Meeting his eyes, now on her again and heavy with exhaustion but no less bright, she paused her ministrations. The glow faded, bathing them in darkness save but for the lit candle in the tent's corner. 

          Alistair took a breath. “I think you are brilliant. Strong, and powerful… and more than a little terrifying.”

          He didn’t laugh this time. Instead, his expression shifted. Amber brown eyes passed over her slim body, kneeling in the dirt beside him, the sweat and grime and blood of their recent battle still painting her porcelain, candle-lit skin. But his expression was not one of disgust… it was the look of desire. And when those eyes returned to hers, the passion within them sent a pleasurable chill up her spine. 

          “You are beautiful, Morrigan. We may not always get along, but I wanted you to know that in case… well. You know.”

          Her eyes grew wide as she absorbed his words. He - of all people - thought that of her? That was not at all what she expected. Yet the admission seemed genuine. Mind suddenly blank, she froze until the light squeeze of her fingers brought her back to the present.

          Cocking her head, she smirked and rewarded him with a sultry and suggestive gaze. 

          “I suppose stating the obvious will have to do,” she said. He grinned back and released her hand. “Very well, then. You are on my good side. Best watch your step that you don’t fall off.”

          “Morrigan, you do realize you’re telling the clumsiest man in Thedas not to fall. How could I ever live up to such impossible standards? You’re not even giving me a fighting chance, here.”

          She rolled her eyes, but the smile remained on her lips. “You really are a fool.”

          Alistair laughed. It was a strained, pitiful sound, so unlike his usual sarcastic chuckles and boisterous guffaws. Weak and hoarse, it filled her with regret. Regret that she had not been stronger, faster. Though he had put himself in this position, perhaps if she’d seen the arrow coming, he would have never been struck. 

          Then again… that also meant he might never have made this confession. And she wouldn’t have realized not only that his feelings for her were not at all what she imagined, but that she felt a similar attraction to him. Despite her attempts to deny that the disconcerting tension between them indicated something other than mutual contempt, she had to admit he’d earned her begrudging respect… and more.

[griffinsandpeacocks]

GET UP & WRITE! Section 3: “It’s a genetic trait, but it’s exceptionally rare.”

Vararis was used to the staring. Even his own clanmates had. Apparently his father had been like him, the pale skin and white silver hair with the striking lavender eyes. He wished sometimes he’d gone to his father’s clan... He wanted to know if his father’s father or mother had the same thing. He wanted to see if he still had family that were alive that shared his looks. He had never seen anyone with his appearance and it bothered him at times. He was an oddity even among the Dalish that reveled in their self chosen outcast lifestyle. He missed his clan though. At least though at times new comers and children would stare at him at least after a time it stopped after some time. 

He was an accomplished clan hunter. He’d chased countless threats off hunted dangerous wildlife and brought in as much as any other hunter as far as food and leathers if not more. He sits on the log looking out over the forest on the small cliff they’d made camp at. It offered a great vantage one way up and it was easy to see the path even in the moonlight. Well... For him at least. The humans might struggle with it. The dwarf would period given he was drunk if he could help it. He tilts his head and keeps watch.

“Can I help you, Crow?” He asks softly and Zevran chuckles behind him.

“I got closer this time.” He teases and Vararis chuckles.

“So you did... Now the question is was it by my grace or by your skill? Even should you come into knife range, you’ll struggle taking me out without a fierce fight. I’ve been on a buck’s horns Zev, even a poisoned blade will not help you against me if my life is on the line.” Vararis says staring out into the night the other taking a seat by him on the log looking out over the trees in curiosity.

“What do you see?” He asks and Vararis smiles softly.

“Freedom.” He says softly a found light in his eyes as he looks over to Zevran.

“In a wild land?” The golden elf asks curious and Vararis smiles and looks back at the camp. He sees Shale watch the path and stands.

“Follow me, I’ll show you.” He says and Zevran trails after him as he walks down the path waving at the golem as he goes past. Shale watches curious but says nothing and keeps watch. The elves go down the path and Vararis takes a deep breath smiling as they enter the tree line. 

“The wild has no humans or any other to tether you by petty laws, the only law in places like this are the laws of the wild. You have no one to master you here, and more often than not it is your skills that keep you alive. This is freedom, dear crow. No cage to cull your wings, no leash keeping you in arms reach. Just trees and the wild beasts under them. No concerns but those of your own.” Vararis says looking up at the moon in a break under the branches of the oaks and pines. His skin and hair glow in the pale light his eyes seem to gleam like a cut gem and Zevran feels a shiver run through him as those eyes meet his.

“You’re coloring is rare, I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you, pale as moonlight with eyes like belladonna.” Zevran purrs moving closer and Vararis laughs softly.

“It’s a genetic trait, but it’s exceptionally rare. My father was like this. I never met him, thus like you I have never seen any other that shares this oddity.” Vararis sighs looking back up at the moon and stars and Zevran hums as he moves closer. Vararis doesn’t tense nor does he so much as flinch when Zevran curls his arms around him. 

“Oddities are not always bad... In this case you are a rare beauty.” Zevran purrs and Vararis tilts his head slightly to look back at the taller elf.

“Bold of you to flirt with someone who has enough reason to hold you at knife point.” He says watching the other gasping as hands slide down to his hips. He can feel the blush rising to his face but keeps focused on the caramel face with wolfish amber eyes.

“Is that a promise, my dear Warden? I would not turn down you holding one to my throat as you put me in my place...” The Crow purrs and Vararis shivers and growls lowly at the other uncertain of what to do. yes Zevran was clearly advancing on him. He’d flirt with Alistair but... He sighs and shakes his head and pulls away he looks at the other elf confused.

“You heard the flustered gush Alistair babbled when he realized I’ve been flirting?” Vararis is confused the other had been flirting with him on and off but it was clear he did that to everyone there’d never been any straightforward advances like that one until now. Zevran tilts his head smirking in that devilish way of his and cocks his hip hand resting on it as he gestures vaguely.

“You mean the poor attempt to let you down gently?” Zevran asks and Vararis sighs and shakes his head.

“He did more damage to his own ego than mine. He just struggled to word it in such a way as to not offend either of us. As he said, I’m pretty but he’s never thought of other men like I have. I can respect that, but now I’m curious, Crow, why are you showing such advances now, rather than before, after seeing I was in fact rather willing to flirt with those of my own gender?” Vararis asks and he circles the Crow who watches him turning his head rather than turning to keep his eyes on the pale shade. 

“You were quite enamored with our other Warden. Who was I to object?” Zevran asks and Vararis stops behind the Crow surprised when Zevran just looks up and doesn't turn to look at him. He creeps closer silent and wonders at Zevran’s trust. He had plenty of reason to kill the assassin, after all who knew if h wouldn’t try again?

“Why do you trust me? I have no reason to fully trust that you won’t try again.” Vararis says softly smirking at the slight jump in the blond’s shoulders. He still had it then.

“You’re too kind in heart.” Zevran says simply and Vararis paused. 

“What makes you say that?” He asks and Zevran look down and at the smaller elf who looks off balance and Zevran knows Vararis is aware of the reason Zevran thinks that way.

“Not only did you spare me, when faced with your old clan mate you couldn’t hurt him. We nearly lost you to an elf falling to The Blight’s madness.” Zevran says softly and Vararis paused and blinks feeling tears start up. He still struggled with Tamlen’s death Zevran had pulled Tamlen off him it had been Zevran who’d killed him but Vararis had been shaking and unable to even speak properly until the day after that night. He’d been silent for a whole day. He’d mourned before but to have seen how much suffering Tamlen had gone through... It was something he’d been unprepared for.

“I never thanked you for saving my life.” Vararis says trying hard not to cry. Zevran shakes his head and lifts his chin.

“Don’t. I had to kill someone you cared about.” Zevran states and Vararis looks away.

“You put an end to his pain when I could not. I do not say thank you for killing him, I say thank you for helping end his suffering when all I could do was cry as I only saw my lost friend. You helped him when I faltered, so thank you. Thank you for doing what I could not.” Vararis says softly and Zevran sighs and places a gentle kiss to the smaller elf’s brow. He had been shown a world of kindness by this smaller elf, who showered him in the same affection and attention as the rest who followed him. Vararis was a fountain of compassion and care though when his ire was stirred his wrath was like a storm. Yet when he was calm he was a passionate care giver. He saw to others needs long before his own. It was intriguing to Zevran who only knew others to be cruel masters holding keys they’d never release. Yet this elf held out his key waiting for him to take it. Yet the decision he would make was still his on how to implement that key.

“You would have died, my life was at stake.” Zevran shrugs looking to the side to divert the tension building. The elf smiles.

“No, Alistair would have let you walk away. I asked him. He admits he would have let you walk away, with the warning that should you try a second time he’d be less merciful. If you think I’m soft at heart Alistair is a damned puppy. Speaking of, hello Fen.” Vararis turns and crouched as his mabari comes trotting up a rabbit clamped in his jaws his stump of a tail and entire backside wiggling as he happily drops it for Vararis and wiggles as he’s given attention. The silver grey dog snorts and trots off with his rabbit directed back to camp by his master.

“So I’m underestimating the bard.” Zevran chirps and Vararis tilts his head and laughs.

“You’ve a point there. I didn’t think about Morrigan nor Leliana. They might not be forgiving, you’ve a point. Yet again, why are you suddenly taking your flirting further? I’m confused. I am not exactly a prime choice, I’m a moody and easily riled wild elf with few manners.” Vararis asks and Zevran chuckles and circles the pale elf and Vararis gets the sense of a wolf again but he’s faced full packs alone and thus this single winged predator does little to phase him he merely watches.

“I enjoy pretty things... Dangerous things... You fill out both of those quite well so consider myself as quite enthralled now that I’ve a glimmer of a chance since your fellow Warden is no longer a competitor as it were.” Zevran says and Vararis wonders at everything. He’d never done anything. Dalish custom was rather strict on such things but he really, really, did not want to die a virgin.

“So now that you don’t have to fight for my attention you’ve swooped in to see if you might get to ravish the pretty little nightshade flower?” Vararis asks and there’s a gleeful flash in those amber eyes.

“Why my dear Warden, if a flower you are, then I am more than entranced! It’s always sweeter to make them melt as those petals fall.” Zevran purrs and Vararis looks away. 

“I do not want to die a flower. Yet I do not like the idea of being that vulnerable... It is something new to me. Being among the trees on my own with wolves on my heels I know full well but this... I am uncertain if I can make such a jump. At least not all in a single leap. If you’re looking for an easy catch I’m afraid I’m not going to be easy to convince to lay down and take it.” Vararis states blushing but Zevran finds he likes the way it looks on the Warden, it highlights the twisting branches in amethyst purple that mark him as devote to Mythal. 

“Then perhaps I could convince you to press me down and let me take it?” He asks and Vararis blinks at him in shock. The confidence and sultry behavior makes the dalish elf off balanced. He thinks about it. Would this even be a good idea? If this was a ploy could he escape it in time? Should he be selfish?

“Perhaps...” Vararis says softly walking further into the woods wondering if the other will follow. Hearing his steps Vararis smiles softly as he twists through trees to a meadow he recalls them passing by. When he breaks the tree line having worked up to a slow jog as he kept just ahead of the assassin. When he breaks the tree line he slides into the grass and wild flowers almost vanishing but breaking Zevran’s sight of him just enough he looses track.

“Ah a test then, my dear Warden? Hunt and be hunted?” He asks and Vararis chuckles having slowly worked his way around he pounces surprised the other turns, though Vararis still won the fight pinning the other elf down with a soft grin on his face.

“You still played it, My crow, and won in a sense. You felt me coming at you and reacted quicker than I thought you would. If, well... If you don’t mind walking me through it I suppose I wouldn’t mind getting a lesson, Master Arainai.” Vararis is bright pink and Zevran chuckles and grins.

“Are all southerners so shy with these things? Though if you would like to call it a lesson I suppose I shall have to be quite thorough, and hands on, yes?” He asks and Vararis coughs softly a blush on his pale face and it stands out starkly in contrast to the pale skin. Which explains the cloth he often has covering most of his face now that Zevran thinks on it. Such pale skin must burn so easily.

“I am not acustomed to talking about it we’ll be among a clan soon and you might see why. It’s a bit... Well to put it plainly no one does anything til they marry alright? I have not a clue what I’m doing, not for lack of trying mind you. I heard you laugh at a few attempts.” He mutters glowering at the elf under him as Zevran cackles head thrown back as a grin makes his face light up in warmth.

“I’m so sorry, my dear Warden, you call those attempts. ‘I admire many things about you...’” Zevran cackles and the other elf rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, yes, pick on me all you like I got my point across. As well as turned down, moving on.” Vararis says and Zevran chuckles and gently traces his hands up strong thighs to run over slim sides to tug the other down to him.

“Shall I walk you through how to take me or shall I lay here and let you ride me?” He asks and the other blushes and wonders what he wanted from the golden temptation he has pinned.

“I’ve never done this, what do you prefer?” Vararis asks and Zevran blinks at him confused.

“I like to take and be taken, lovely Warden. So long as both limp away satisfied I mind little the means to do so.” He answers and Vararis is still pink he leans down feeling hands weave into his hair he closes his eyes and sighs before kissing the Antivan. 

“Just stop teasing me and show me whatever it is I’ve supposedly been missing.” Vararis teases and Zevran smirks.

“Gladly.” Zevran purrs as his hands slide to the ties and clasps of the armor. Vararis paused and leans back.

“This might be a better idea in a tent at camp... We’re too far out to be safe.” Vararis is nervous and he’d admit he might be stalling. Zevran hums softly and nods.

“You’ve a point.” The antivan sighs and Vararis stands and pulls the other up with him. When they get back to camp it’s with no incidents and Fen plops down outside the tent flap and Vararis feels shivers as he sets his boots aside and removes his armor going through the motions. He jumps as a hand trails down his back.

“Quite flawless... I see no scars yet, fascinating...” Zevran purrs and Vararis goes tense he looks back at the bare chested elf. Tattoos swirl over him and they draw in the Warden’s attention.

“I have several they’re at my chest though. One from a buck that charged me and several others from the arrows that nearly killed me in that forsaken tower at Ostagar. You really find the flawless skin that attractive?” He asks feeling oddly nervous and now shamed. Zevran chuckles.

“Scars or no, both hold their own cahrm after all these are scars.” Zevran explains taking the pale hand and placing it on a tattoo showing the raised skin. Vararis traced them, full well understanding the marks.

“Mine are the same... Though we call them something different. Blood writing in common. So... Am I in the lead or are you?” Vararis asks uncertainly. 

“I can, or I can teach you to master me, what do you desire?” He asks and Vararis caves then, the needy side to him he constantly ignores rears it’s head. He doesn’t want to give any more, he needs a reprieve.

“Take me... I want to submit for just a night and forget everything just a moment.” Vararis says softly and Zevran smirks and tugs the smaller elf close and kisses him distracting him so he can unties their pants. 

“Shall we get rid of these then?” The assassin purrs and Vararis blushed but stripped, he isn’t certain he enjoys the oddly vulnerable feeling but forgets his nervousness as Zevran guides him down onto his back and nips at his neck grinning at the soft hiss and slight sting of nails at his shoulders.

“Don’t mark where armor won’t cover... I rather not here the clan berate me...” Vararis growls and Zevran chuckles eyes flashing at the challenge. He nips down along a collar keeping note of the softer pleased sounds and the sharper pained whines as he picks the Warden apart as he explores and teases him. Vararis keeps himself in remarkable control biting his knuckles to silence the most of his sounds and muffle the others.

“Zev... If you don’t do something more than tease soon I’m going to lose my mind.” Vararis gasps after some time of squirming under the crow that teases him. Zevran chuckles and beckons with fingers he’s steadily worked the other elf open with making the man under him twitch with a gasp as he writhes seeking more.

“See...? It’s not that hard, my dear, just give in and let me please you, yes?” Zevran purrs and Vararis gasps just nodding with an eager acceptance. He whimpers and muffles it again wincing as he arched into a sudden warm heat he looks down his face a bright blush as he watched Zevran suck him off.

“If you keep up I won’t be able to... Gah, Creators if you keep that up...” Vararis hissed shivering a hand shakily threading into blond hair. Zevran pulls back chuckling. 

“Alright my dear Warden... I’ll give you what you want.” He purrs and Vararis watches with hazed lavender eyes and Zevran has to admit the Warden looks good tussled up like this littered with bright marks from teeth marking him up. He wants to tattoo the elf mark him deeper than his teeth can. For longer. He is glad that his oil works for this and cleaning his gear and weapons as he slicks his cock and slowly slides into the smaller elf who tensed gasping as his eyes close his brow furrowing as he fights the bodily instinct as Zevran hissed next to his throat about needing to relax. Vararis let’s his nails bite into caramel tan shoulders and he leans up kissing the other needing a distraction gasping at something in his sends out a sudden wave of sensation that catches him off guard.

“Creators...” He whimpers as he tucks his head against the nape of Zevran’s neck gasping softly as he wraps his legs around the slim waist and he bites low on the other’s neck barely where armor will cover moaning softly as that earns him a buck from his bed mate. It dissolves to soft requests for more and soft whines as Zevran encourages the other to bite and claw to his heart’s content. Vararis enjoys it waking up Zevran’s gone already and the pale elf sighs softly having not expected more he was after all not one for attachment. 

He smiles as he dressed even so, he had some bruises he was going to enjoy quite a bit. He skips out and acts like nothing is different even if everything does feel different. 

[mandoalorian]

Return of the Jedi [Max Lord x gn!Reader]

Summary: You and Alistair are heartbroken when you find out opening week tickets for Return of the Jedi have sold out. So Maxwell calls an old friend and organises a special surprise for his little family.

Warnings: food mention

Word count: 2000>

Author’s note: I received a request to write a Maxwell Lord x neurodivergent!Reader from @smoldjarin . They provided me with so much information in regards to autism, stimming, hyperfixations and more. I had so much joy writing this and I hope you find joy in reading it too. I couldn’t have done this without Melissa. I just hope I done it justice. (PS— I wanted to include Melissa’s love for Star Wars in this. I think we all, as Pedro stans, love Star Wars).

Maxwell wanted to pull his hair out. He had no idea what you and Alistair were yapping on about, but, evidently, it was something you both felt very passionate about. He’d seen you enthusiastic like this before, sure, but this was the first time he’d ever seen Alistair so hyped up. His brown eyes were gleaming as he hopped up and down.

“He literally said ‘I am your father!’ you laughed and Alistair let out a long groan.

“Yeah but he’s the bad guy! And the bad guys always lie,” Alistair explained — and that statement alone was enough to make Maxwell frown. ‘The bad guys always lie’ ... Ironic, to say the least. But, Alistair did make an excellent point. “I don’t trust him.”

You giggled and pulled Alistair into your lap. You’d never found it easy, touching people and being so close to them, but Alistair has grown to be an exception. He was like a son to you.

“Well, I suppose all will be revealed next week.” you told the ebony haired boy, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You and Alistair got along really well, and Maxwell couldn’t be more grateful, but it was the moments when you both babbled on about Star Wars that had him feeling the most clueless. Granted, he hadn’t found the chance to sit through the movies, but he wanted to because he knew how much it meant to you and his son.

He was also made blissfully aware that the third and final instalment of the trilogy was being released next week, because you and Ali couldn’t stop talking about it. Even in the moments when Alistair wasn’t there, you expressed your excitement to Maxwell. He found it endearing though. He loved it when you talked about your interests and current hyper-fixations. Which is why his heart broke when you read the Friday morning paper and found out all the tickets for opening week were sold out.

Max, despite having no interest in Star Wars, was devastated when he saw the look on your face. He especially didn’t want to be the person who had to break the bad news to Alistair.

“I was really looking forward to it.” You mumbled sadly, your eyes fixated on your cereal. You only had a little left to eat, but truthfully, you’d lost all appetite. These movies and this franchise meant the absolute world to you, and now no doubt you’d have the final movie spoiled for you at work or by the television.

“Oh darling,” Maxwell hummed, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you tight. You relished in his warmth and found yourself getting lost in the comforting scent of his sweet musk cologne. “I know. And I’m sorry,” the silence between you both broke his heart. “Don’t worry honey, I’ll fix this.”

You weren’t sure how he could possibly fix this. There were simply no more seats available in the movie theatres. He couldn’t just spawn in more seats. What Maxwell Lord did have though, was power, influence and money— and when he put his mind to something, he was sure to get it done. You had never met anyone more determined than him.

He didn’t want to leave you that morning, but duty called and he had to go to work. You tried your hardest to push through the day, ignoring this morning’s revelation. You opted to meet up with a friend at the park, and got ice cream. But when you’re friend told you they’d got tickets, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. You deserved these tickets. It just wasn’t fair.

Maxwell was struggling to focus on his work too. He was running out of bright ideas, but he didn’t just want his statement from this morning to be another empty promise. He actually wanted to fix this. He’d do anything to make you and Alistair happy.

Then it struck him. If his life was a kids cartoon, an illuminated lightbulb would’ve popped above his head. He buzzed his assistant, Raquel, into his office.

“Mr. Lord?” she smiled, walking towards his pine wood desk. Maxwell combed his fingers through his golden locks of hair and looked up at the blonde girl.

“Do I know anyone who is in the uh— the new Star Wars movie?” He inquired.

Raquel was expecting some question about the latest oil numbers, or a request for more supplements — so to say she was taking aback by her boss’ query was an understatement.

She thought for a moment. “Well, Harrison Ford has been a long time investor for Black Gold. He attended last year’s charity gala. Do you remember?”

Of course Maxwell remembered. How could one forget about being in the presence of Hollywood A-Lister Harrison Ford? “Harrison’s in Star Wars?” Maxwell quizzed, trying to hide his piqued curiosity. “Bring me his number. I have to make a call.”

———

Maxwell was so excited to get home and share the good news with you and Alistair. You greeted him just as you normally did, with a loving embrace and a gentle kiss.

“How was your day sweetheart?” your boyfriend asked, smoothing out your hair.

You shrugged. “Fine I s’pose,” you told him. “How was work?”

Maxwell’s grin only grew. “Bring Alistair in.” he beamed.

You called for the boy who had been playing with his action figures in his bedroom. His mom had dropped him off about an hour before Maxwell got home. You and Ali snuggled into each other on the crushed velveteen sofa as Maxwell paced backwards and forwards. It wasn’t nervous pacing though, he was bubbling with anticipation.

“I hope you’re all excited for tomorrow night,” Maxwell began, before flashing three pristine Return of the Jedi tickets before yours and Alistair’s eyes. “Because I met with my good friend Han Solo for lunch and he has given us access to a private screening on Sunday night. So we get to see the movie before the rest of the world.”

You felt like you were in a dream. He’d done it. He’d actually fixed it. You didn’t know how and you knew better than to question him, but it didn’t matter because he somehow managed to fix this and it was all to you and Alistair. You’d found it so hard to find someone who loved you for you, who didn’t mind your stims and who encouraged your hyperfixations. But Maxwell was that man and you couldn’t believe how lucky you had gotten.

Alistair bounced up and jumped on his dad, almost knocking him over in the process. Maxwell wrapped his arms around the six year old and picked him up.

“Daddy! Thank you thank you thank you!” he squealed, unable to contain his ecstatic grin. “I had no idea you were friends with Han Solo!”

Maxwell smiled. “Oh yeah, me and Han go way back. I used to co pilot with him on the—“ Maxwell paused for a second as he tried to recall what Harrison told him. He had to get this right. “—Millennium Falcon?”

Both yours and Alistair’s jaw dropped. Gods, he was good at this. Maxwell may have been a brilliant businessman but he was an even better father.

“Does that mean you know Luke and Leia too?” Alistair asked.

“Oh yes.” Maxwell nodded, despite having no idea who Luke and Leia were.

“And Chewbacca?”

Chewbacca? Maxwell thought. What kind of name was that? Never the less he smiled and nodded. “Absolutely.”

“And Artoo and Threepio?”

Maxwell blinked. “Yep.” he replied through gritted teeth.

“Wow daddy,” Alistair hummed, snuggling into his dad’s chest. “I’m so excited.”

Maxwell dropped Alistair the ground and kneeled to his level. “You should put on your jammies and have an early night. That way, tomorrow will come around quicker.”

“Okay!” Alistair agreed enthusiastically before running back into his bedroom.

“And remember Ali!” Maxwell called. He cleared his throat and pointed his finger. “I am your father.”

That was it. That was the last straw. You’d tried your hardest to hold back your laughter as Max humoured his son, but seeing your boyfriend do a Darth Vader impression was something else.

Max sighed and sat down next to you, pulling your body into his lap. “I love you so much, my dear.”

You grinned and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you too. I can’t believe you did all of this.” you revealed.

“I always keep my promises.” he replied with the most genuine smile.

———

The movie was a success, and even Maxwell enjoyed it, which was very unexpected.

“I can’t believe Darth Vader was telling the truth,” Alistair sighed, exasperated. It had been a long day for sure, and his cheeks were still rosy with excitement. “I’m so glad Darth Vader isn’t my dad.”

Maxwell tutted.

“But he turned good in the end,” You smiled, taking Ali’s hand. “He saw what truly mattered. He had to save his son.”

Yeah, the parallels between Vader and Luke and Maxwell and Alistair were interesting to say the least.

“Daddy, who was your favourite character?” Alistair asked.

Maxwell thought for a moment. “I liked that guy in the green armour, he was cool. He sorta reminds me of, well, me.”

“Boba Fett?” Alistair quirked an eyebrow. “Oh daddy, no one is as cool as Boba Fett.”

Maxwell feigned a gasp. “Not even your old

man?”

Alistair giggled and rolled his eyes. “I liked the Ewok!” he announced and then tugged on your hand. “Who did you like?”

“I like Leia,” you beamed. “She’s strong and beautiful...”

“Just like you.” Maxwell whispered, brushing his

lips against yours.

The night came to an end and you couldn’t have been happier. As you lay in bed, you thanked Maxwell for all he had done. He was truly the best boyfriend in the world. He loved you so much, and he swore in that moment, as you fell asleep in his arms, that the next promise he’d make would be a promise to himself.

He was going to marry you.

———

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[pretty-thoughts-and-a-pen]

Dark Feathered, (1)

A boy, a demon and a mystery box left on his doorstep with a cool surface and an aura of mystery. Such is how the stories of Cyan Archer begin.

Demons were majestic, alluring creatures that appeared in your living room at the call of a symbol and finished off your plate of cookies. As Cyan watched the darkness spread and thicken under the flickering lights of the room, he was reminded once again of how he did not ask for any of this.

An inky black cloud hovered over the red circle painted on the floor, with two lines slashed through it making a cross. No, it was not blood, simply red paint. Cyan didn't know why he bothered. It was impossible to scrub off afterwards, and it wasn't like demons demanded the summoning symbol look like it was drawn in blood - they could make do with chalk, no problem. But Cyan could be whimsical that way, and whatever little things he could take pleasure in from time to time, he wasn't going to give up so very easily.

A shape started to form in the mystical cloud that was only getting more and more compressed. A vaguely humanoid figure could soon be discerned, and when the lights stopped flickering, the sound of two feet gently tapping onto the floor followed the image. Cyan blinked and rubbed his eyes. It was easy to get caught up and disoriented during the summoning. Nevertheless, he quickly clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head, training his gaze onto the pointed, black shoes that stood on the edge of the circle.

He kept his tone low and respectful. "I, Cyan Archer, welcome you into this home-"

The shoes were gone.

Cyan's head snapped up. Against the backdrop of his white ceiling, two large, feathered wings, black and shining as if they were a piece of the midnight itself, fluttered away in the direction of the kitchen. A moment later, a crashing sound indicated the box on the counter had been knocked off. Cyan's body relaxed then, and a suffering sigh ripped from his throat. It wasn't one of the higher ups then - the more dangerous ones that required Cyan's full submission. No, it was HIM.

Good news...mostly.

He jogged over to the kitchen and there he was. Lounging on the counter with his back against the wall, the young man could've been mistaken for a normal teenager, if not for the wings that protruded from his inhumanely pale skin, so intensely dark they seemed to absorb the brightness around them. The rest of him - small, brown eyes, hair that was just a slightly darker shade of brown, and a fit, tall stature- was incongruently ordinary when put together with demon wings. Even the symbols and words that adorned his neck, chest, and arms in swirling, dizzying patterns, could've been mistaken for tattoos by someone who didn't know better.

But Cyan was not fazed by the abnormal, and instead focused on the fresh batch of cookies he had left out, which were being devoured. He had seen it coming; he had known Alistair Shade long enough to not be surprised. And annoying as that was, he would take one of the friendliest of the demons he knew over the other, less amiable, members of his species any day.

"Ally." He strode forward and tried to hop onto the counter across from him. Alistair, however, quickly stretched his legs out over the whole thing and flippantly kicked him off. "Hey, what the hell?"

The demon smirked. "No space on my throne for people who call me 'Ally'."

He took several seconds, then, to chew two cookies at once. Cyan huffed. Filling up the time, though, he bent over and picked up the box from the floor. The rectangular-shaped piece of polished wood was no bigger than his average school textbook, and no heavier either. As he dusted it off, a familiar prickling feeling arose in the back of his neck. He could've sworn the wood got colder under his fingertips the longer he held them there. Its gleaming surface reflected his face, but not correctly. Distortedly. Cyan knew a thing or two about having his worldview turned upside down, bent and distorted beyond belief, and it had made him forget who he was before his mother and sister had decided to change everything. He did not appreciate a bent image of him staring up from a box that probably contained nightmares inside.

He decided he hated it.

So, naturally, he plopped it onto Alistair's legs.

"Rude." Alistair put the plate away and ran his appraising gaze over the object. "Certainly very pretty, Cy. What's inside?"

"I'm not entirely sure I want to know." Cyan pursed his lips, and settled for glaring at the lid, so that it would come off on its own and save him the trouble. It didn't. "Kind of why I was summoning one of you guys. I thought I could get some information, or someone would just confiscate the thing. Stolen demon property, sir." He made sure to make his voice thick and ridiculous, for the impression of a certain demon named Viktor he wasn't particularly fond of.

Alistair just stared at him for a long time, his stoic expression revealing nothing. He couldve just been contemplating. And then...

"Fallen angels."

He said it matter-of-factly. Cyan just waved his hands around. "Oh, come on! Everyone says 'demons' when they see black wings, and creepy symbols, and-"

Alistair leaned forward and wrapped a hand around his mouth to shut him up. "And you're not everyone. No 'demons'. No 'Ally'. Now," he lightly tossed the box in the air and rattled it, revealing a clinking sound that indicated numerous tiny objects bumping around inside, "are you going to open this? Preferably while we're still young, please."

So Cyan took his sweet time. He pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, wiped off his sweat multiple times, paced the kitchen a little, and shoved Alistair every time he laughed, or shook the box pointedly, or snapped his fingers and dyed Cyan's light blonde hair a horrendous shade of red. The two of them only stopped when it became clear that the box was, in fact, getting colder with every passing second.

"Is it just me," Alistair wondered, blinking, "or were those icicles not there under the lid before?"

"Not there." Cyan marched over and took the cursed thing, firmly putting it down on the counter after Alistair vacated it. The demon stood nearby, still and steady, and Cyan found himself hiding halfway behind his outstretched wings, while leaning as far away as he could from the box whose lid he was prying open.

Finally, he flicked the lid aside. Quickly, he jumped completely behind Alistair and ducked behind his back, settling for peaking over one broad shoulder. The boys waited with bated breath - for smoke, hellfire, booming laughter. Nothing.

Cyan leaned over, holding onto Alistair's shoulders for support. He looked into the box to see...

...coins?

No ordinary coins, either. The wooden hollow was brimming with intricately carved, golden coins that shone with an unearthly light. Against all expectations, that didn't seem dangerous. They were very clearly beautiful and valuable.

Cyan stepped out of hiding and reached out to take one. "Well, this isn't so bad."

Alistair grabbed his hand in mid air.

The demon's face was always pale, but now it looked sickly and etched with fear. He pushed both of Cyan's hands down and away, then, slowly and carefully, plucked something out of the box with the very tip of his fingers. Not a coin, but a note, which had been buried amidst the gold. He smoothed it out on the counter, and Cyan couldn't help but note how much distance he had suddenly put between himself and the box, where previously he had been standing directly in front of it and been the human's shield.

Only three words on the paper, written in block letter. HIDE IT, CY.

Cyan grabbed Alistair's arm as support. "Ally, what's wrong?"

Alistair threw his head back and breathed in deeply. "Those coins, with purple carvings instead of black? And creating ice out of thin air? I'm pretty sure they belong to...an Elder. And not just any one." He fixed his eyes on Cyan's face, and his usual cool and calm expression mostly returned, except for his irises getting darker and darker progressively, which ruined the image. "He is famous for conjuring ice for his work, and to enchant his property and protect it from intruders. I think," he turned to look at the dreadful treasure once more, "those belong to Lord Julius."

If there was one thing Cyan did not want to face, it was an Elder. There were demons that were considered young, who had died and turned recently, and these could be reasonable. One of these was Alistair, and he was an outlier case altogether. Cyan even knew that these young ones were called Saplings, as a result of some inside joke that had apparently lasted millennia.

A testament to how chill they could be.

But then, on the other hand, there were the Elder demons. These had been around since the dawn of time, and they were everything Cyan feared. Powerful, ill-tempered, and full of pride that you had better not wound, and on top of that these came with a variety of unique flavors of powers. Ever since his mother, Rose, and his sister, Bethany, had decided to dabble in the occult, one of the most unfortunate consequences had been this - their family's entanglement with Elder demons.

Cyan tried very hard to keep the tremble out of his voice. "So," he pretended his hand wasn't shaking as much as it was, "I'm assuming Julius didn't mail these as a nice gift, did he?"

"No." Alistair was too grim for Cyan's comfort. If he would just make another snide comment, or do something silly, the teen's world would turn slightly more right. "We might have a big problem here. Rose and Bethany..."

Seeing no escape from this predicament, Cyan chose to bury his face in Alistair's shoulder. Casting a weary look at that dreadful treasure again, he nodded.

"...they stole an Elder's gold."