#i think not being allowed to speak to the other survivors (and hunters though lucky hasnt interacted that much with them) is going to

[deduction-substitute]

Maybe the AU could be called “Birds of a feather” because of nightingales and the phrase being used to describe people similar/alike (and usually getting along as a result)! /Nf

-♟️

YOU 🫵🫵🫵 I LOVE YOU!!! CHESS PAWN ANON I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!/p

Official au name 🫡🫡🫡

I know I said that Lucky disappeared for a long amount of time but I dont have a reason as to why lawl

Maybe Lucky did try to escape the Manor, even though he's already made his deal with the Baron. Talking with the new survivors has made Lucky realize that maybe he couldve approached his contract a bit better

He ditched a few shifts, and at first Miss Nightingale didnt mind, until she found out that Lucky wasnt retiring to his room like he was supposed to. Instead, he was...fraternizing with the survivors? Who knows what kind of ideas of "freedom" and "escape" that those unruly customers could stick into her poor assistant's brain!

She must've been far too lenient, letting Lucky take over the shop without her watching over him. If this goes too far, then the Baron will punish Lucky. And her in turn, since he's technically her responsibility

Well. Lucky was due for a "short" break anyway. Maybe they can go over his training again. She can still remember the day Lucky completed his "internship" like it was yesterday! Yes, that would be a good idea.

Who cares if the Gardener no longer has someone else to take care of the garden for her? Who cares if the Doctor no longer has anyone to help her bring supplies to the infirmary? Who cares if the Lawyer scoffs at the sight of her in the shop instead of the freckled boy with the brown hair and wonky frames? Who cares if the Thief realizes that the prices have become steep, his special (not even approved by her) discounts now gone?

Certainly not Miss Nightingale! And certainly not her assistant.

[lyracasstuff]

!!!! could i please get hcs for naib and demi (separately) with a princess s/o (fem)? like her role is a princess and all that jazz :D (i recently made a main which is this one, im an idv blog myself i just like requesting things for other blogs :D)

I really really like this request..（・∀・）

Although, please excuse me if these headcannons are shorter for your taste,, I had been busy for quite a while,, and so my brain juices are a little drained...(⌒_⌒;)

Also,, hello fellow idv blogger!!（〜^∇^)〜

Naib and Demi x Fem! Princess! S/o👑✨

Naib Subedar🌛🌌

He would really be shocked and confused as to 1) HOW you got here? And 2) WHY are you here?

You, a ROYAL? Someone who's been sheltered and pampered ALL her LIFE, would PARTICIPATE in a gruesome game like THIS???

He really couldn't understand it..

Although he was very curious about you,, he *did* hold himself back from walking up to you and just bombard you with ALL sorts of questions..

So, it took the both of you some time to be acquainted with each other.. Naib started out small,, like greeting you with a rather stiff and rusty bow in an attempt to "match" with your own elegant courtesy whenever you two crossed paths..( ´ ▽ ` )

Or pulling your seat for you whenever you would sit down and prepare for a match..

To even lending you a hand in carrying your stuff when they were too heavy such as books, clothes, personal hygeine items, hair care, skin care, etc...

(Naib really wonders if you REALLY needed all of your 50 ballgowns and dresses...)

He just really wants you to feel at home despite being trapped in a manor..

On the topic of making you feel at home...

There's another thing aside from doing acts of service: protectiveness

He understands that you were most likely protected and guarded by knights before you went into the manor,, so you *probably* didn't know much about self defense...

So if anyone EVER tries to touch you, be it your hair, your face, your arm..

You can *BET* that Naib is going to be slapping said person's hand away while ushering you to get behind him..

He WILL do this to BOTH survivor OR hunter by the way...(｡･ω･｡)

You were very much pleased by Naib's protection and support,, he was just like your own personal butler and knight back home!!

Over time,, Naib's gestures had gotten bolder and bolder...

He went from doing acts of service, to teaching you how to kite, how to heal, how to rescue, how to vault windows, etc...

However,, you may or may not have teared up from the fact that you accidentally snagged a piece of your favorite dress from trying to put down a pallet...(^_^;)

Naib really panicked at that time.. He knows how to sew open wounds, not dresses and ballgowns!! (◎_◎;)

Nevertheless,, the both of you would still have fun by the end of the day..

Naib really couldn't help but be in love with you... How could he not though?? You were so sweet and elegant in everything that you do..

Even during the moments where you weren't the most elegant,, he still cherished it all the same..( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

Which is why he REALLY couldn't deny his jealousy and saltiness towards Wu chang, Joseph, heck,, even Mary sometimes.. Joseph and Mary are both nobles so OF COURSE you would relate to the aristocratic life,, and Wu chang were GUARDS before they got into the manor,, so OF COURSE they would serve as better protectors than he is..

Then, look at him,, he's nothing more than a man whose ENTIRE job revolves around killing targets that his clients propose.. Well,, at least that's what he thinks anyways..

Be that as it may,, Naib's mind would still be plagued by this thought.. So much so that He doesn't even notice that he's been distancing himself from you...

You aren't the same however... You KNOW that something's been disturbing him, you KNOW that something's upsetting him.. You can literally FEEL it..

And so,, in these times, you would decide to come visit him in his designated room,, all the while comforting him and telling him that while he may not be a noble or a guard,, you still love him regardless of his status and that you are grateful for everything that he's done for you..❤

Naib says nothing,, however, his body language and look of pure love and adoration on his face tells you everything you need to know..❤❤❤

That day has now marked an important event of your lives: the start of a new, blooming relationship..（⌒▽⌒）

First of all,, remember how I talked about his jealousy and protectiveness?? Well,, those just got amplified when you two are confirmed to be in a relationship now..

He sometimes does this thing where if someone wants to speak with you,, Naib would do either of these 2 things: either he asks you if you want to speak to them OR if he's feeling a little selfish with your time,, he just tells them to go "set up an appointment" with you...

He is really astonished at all the different kinds of spoons and forks, all the different etiquettes you follow, the amount of tiaras that you have...

And *especially* at how many relatives that you have.. Which was MUCH larger than the average family size...

((Fun fact: During the Victorian Era, the average family size was actually 6 children.. It had gone down by half by the end of said Era..))

I can't tell why,, but I have this headcannon in my mind that Naib actually prefers more simpler clothing on you.. He just doesn't like too much "eye clutter" per say...

That,, and there's just something so mesmerizing about your regal beauty meshing into the very simple clothing that Naib just finds so.. Heavenly..

All in all,, Naib is just dumbfounded and amazed as to how you had fallen in love with him and just how lucky he is at being with someone like you..

🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚

Demi Bourbon🍺🍷

Much like Naib,, Demi over here is confused as to what a royal is doing here...

Unlike Naib, however, Demi is more upfront and straightforward and would just walk up to you and ask you directly..

"Woah!! Hey there!! What's a cute lil blueblood doin here??"

You get this question a LOT.. It stuck around for so long that it became an inside joke whenever Demi sees you in the same room as her...╮(─▽─)╭

Now,, she may be a girl,, but don't be fooled... She's surprisingly strong for her physique... So she'll DEFINITELY help you carry your stuff...

Just be prepared to be bombarded with ALL SORTS OF QUESTIONS about your stuff..

"Daaammnnn~ You royals really love your fancy schmancy stuff,, do you??"

"Ooooohhhh~~ A diamond encrusted necklace?? Hey, you wouldn't mind me borrowing it right??"

"This ball gown matches well with one of my costumes! Hey, how about we both dress up? We would REALLY look great together~❤"

You're going to have to get used to these questions someday...（・∀・）

She DOES teach you the basics,, but in all honesty, she never really lets you apply the things that you learned when you're actually in matches...

A hunter is right behind you?? You can bet that Demi will chug down her D.U.P.H.R.I.N, run as fast as she could and sweep you off your feet in a bridal carry..（＾ｖ＾）

"It is I, Your Knight in shining armor!!"

This happens all the time in matches

A hunter is preparing to take a swing on you?? Well,, not on Demi's watch!! Before the hunter can swing their weapon at you, Demi takes one of her bottles and smashes it onto their head...

She DID lose some morality points for that though....

Eventually,, you had to tell Demi that as much as you appreciate her "support", you still have to stand on your own,, ESPECIALLY when Demi is not in the same match as you are..

Demi would *reluctantly* agree and say that she just can't stand the thought of you being hurt, she doesn't want you to be in harm's way because she knows that some survivors *probably* just see you as dead weight,, considering you've been pampered your whole entire life..

Demi would then go on and tell you that she had been taking a liking towards you, and is interested in being in a relationship with you..

"Listen, your highness, I may not be an ACTUAL knight in shining armor, or a prince from some far away land.. But, I'd still want to take a chance at persuing you.. So, what do you say? Will you allow me to take a chance at wooing your heart??"

You of course say yes,, besides, you don't really care if she is of noble blood or not.. Her bold and daring personality is what made you like her..

And thus,, your relationship has started!!

Demi gets a *little* protective over you,, ESPECIALLY when someone's trying to flirt with you..

"Ah, ah, ah, she's mine~~"

"Oi, she's already taken, you idiot! How about go flirtin with someone who's NOT TAKEN???"

Demi over here doesn't really have any problem regarding jealousy,, if anything,, YOU might be the one having some jealousy problems here and there..

Because Demi practically flirts with anything and everything..

Never fear!! Demi would ALWAYS be there to give you reassurance that you're her one and only..( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

After that,, she'll tone down her flirty nature by a couple of notches so as to not worry you too much...

Demi would also serve you drinks!! For FREE!!(ノ^o^)ノ

The best part about this is that,, not only are you getting it for free, but you're also getting the FINEST quality...

And she serves your drink in the most dramatic way possible,, all accompanied by a cheeky wink at the end..😉

"Only the FINEST for your highness~❤"

Overall,, your relationship with Demi is surely an exciting and playful one! But don't let that make you think that Demi doesn't take you seriously..

Because she does!! And she will ALWAYS take your relationship seriously!!❤❤❤

🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷

Author's note: I apologize if these headcannons are shorter and a bit "lackluster" for everyone's taste.. As stated before,, I had been busy as of late, so I wasn't able to regain much of my brain juices to write properly like usual..

Nevertheless,, I still hope that you enjoyed reading these headcannons!! (⌒_⌒;)(*´∀`*)

Until next time!! See you all in my next post!!ヾ(＠^∇^＠)ノ💚

[psychicpersonlover]

Impossible Wishes

Authors Notes: 

This was a Antsy Xiefan book that I was going to make on Ao3, but I quickly lost interest in the idea as I don’t think I’m that good at writing angst. Anyway, I hope someone can find it enjoyable. (Also don’t comment about grammar on my posts please I don’t edit these properly because these works would normally just get deleted. This is just a way for me to not feel like writing is a complete waste of time). 

The game began as it always had. A loud alarm issuing us to leave the started positions.

The Minds Eye would surely begin decoding.

The Postman would do the same after sending a letter to The Mercenary making sure that he doesn’t panic about having to decode the machine.

Finally, The Batter, the new guy, wasn't told what to do.

It didn’t matter. We aren't told to care about that. All we have to do is find them. “Ready?” I ask the empty air around me. “Then let's go.” I began walking. Long legs carrying me quickly to a cipher machine. Gripping an umbrella in my hand I found a cipher machine. Looks like I’d catch the postman first. Dodging my weapon he jumped through a window his dog chasing after the fear-filled man. He was too far for me to catch him. At least on my own, I couldn't catch him.

I opened the umbrella throwing it in the air and felt my body dissolve into nothing.

Then it went dark.

It always went dark. I couldn’t see him. I just had to hope that he knew what was happening. We couldn't be together, at least according to the manor owner. Unless of course, they managed to impress the manor owners. If they could achieve a 4 man win 100 rounds in a row they could see each other again. Why else would they be so fierce to the survivors? They had to. They needed to see each other again. Survivors couldn't understand that. Hunters and survivors were forbidden to speak to the other. Hunters could talk to hunters, and survivors could speak to survivors. That’s all.

A feeling forced me out of my thoughts. He was done with his hunt. It was up to me now.

Closing my eyes and opening them once more I found myself back in the match. My other half seemed to have run into trouble. He had caught the postman, and he was halfway done with his time on the chair. Yet the mercenary had arrived to do his job, to save him. Forchanatly without me even thinking my soul catching ability activated and he was caught in illusions. Which caused him to collapse on the ground allowing me to hit him with the umbrella.

He was a fighter though and attempted to go back to the chair only to be hit again. Causing him to scream out. He fought. And he was determined to win. Managing to break the postman out of his chair's restraints before falling over. I managed to get a hit on the postman but with the help from the mercenary's fight, he was able to run off. Tide didn’t last long though. I chaired the mercenary and walked off after the other.

1 cipher remaining. That worried me. I had to find this postman. If they popped the cipher he could escape. He couldn’t let that happen.

10, they had a streak of 10 it was the closest they had gotten. It wasn’t much but it was close enough. They couldn’t risk losing this.

Luckily I was able to find the postman who was whimpering on the ground. The small dog seemed to cry to the man. Trying to help him. It was a rather upsetting sight. But it was one that I had gotten used to. It was hard not to feel bad for the blond man. He appeared to be kind. Hurting him made me feel like a monster. But rules were rules.

Slowly a bent down picking the man off of the ground. Just in time too as the last cipher popped. A mistake made by the batter no doubt. The mind's eye is far too experienced with the machines to do something like that. A smile emerged on my face. This would make things easier. Calmly I placed the postman on a rocket chair seeing sparks coming from the back of the chair where a large rocket was tied on the chair. One down. Three to go.

A noise alerted me that the mercenary was unable to escape his place on the chair, and was sent flying directly after the postman. Two to go.

Calmly I lifted my feet off the ground allowing myself to float over to an exit gate where the mind's eye was decoding. Noticing my arrival she began to run, however, she wouldn’t get far.

She was downed in moments due to an ability known as detention. She cried out for the batter to go to the dungeon. Leave her behind.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Quickly I picked her up and placed her on the chair. I had no clue where the dungeon or the batter could be.

So I threw the umbrella towards the opposite gate.

Fan can find him. I know he can. I felt myself fade back to nothing. He had to find him. I can’t keep on like this. I need him.

Time had passed. Lots of it. I had no way of telling if he had succeeded until we swapped places. Then I’d know if our win streak would continue.

Eventually, I felt myself being pulled back out. Closing my eyes I reappeared in a room. Our room. The walls of the room had white paint with black designs on them. There was no window in this room and it held a desk in the corner of the room. Over the desk was a large mirror. A large cabinet with all of our clothes inside. I sat on our large and empty bed my umbrella beside me as I looked forward. The match was over.

Slowly I stood up eyeing the room. Noticing a new paper on our desk. Or rather a letter addressed to me. “To Xie Bi’an” Written on the envelope written in rather neat handwriting. Fan’s handwriting. I knew it all too well. Whenever we weren’t in a match we would write and update each other on the situation. Slowly I opened the letter, being careful not to rip the envelope.

“Dearest Xie,

That was a close match. With the mind's eye decoding, the time was limited. Even more so than usual. We got lucky. I shouldn’t have taken so long getting that Postman. I’ll be better. Not that it seemed to matter. 4 men win. We are growing closer to be together again.

You not missing anything either. The manor was quiet as I arrived back. No one spoke a word to me.

Not that it matters. I only care for you, my dear.

I love you. Please do not be saddened by my words. We will be together soon enough. I know it.

Love always,

Fan Wujiu“

A smile appeared on my face. He always knew how to make me smile. I miss him dearly.

He has to be correct in what he said.

We will be together soon. Nothing can stop us. No one can stop us.

[gentlyquietly]

Can You Stop That? (It Makes Me Want To...)

***WARNING! Characters will be a bit OOC

Aesop worked on the cipher in front of his stiffly as he infamous photographer stood right next to him. His muscles ached from the amount of tension he was in right now. He could feel Joseph’s eyes roaming all over him, which did not help at all. 

“...You.” Joseph suddenly called out, startling Aesop and causing him to miss a calibration, the shock making him flinch.

Out of the corner of his vision, Aesop sees Joseph furrow his eyebrows, making his heart dropping to his stomach.

This was it. Joseph was done playing his little games and he was going to get chaired.

“...Can you stop that? It’s distracting.”

Aesop blinked, “huh?”

What?

...

Aesop sighed to himself silently as he left the match, it was a tough one, but thankfully they managed to get two people out. After giving each of his teammates a like and a nod, Aesop headed to the dining room, where Naib and Eli were seated. 

Naib seemed to be complaining about something, while Eli was trying his best to comfort him. 

As Aesop got closer, he could hear what they were saying. 

“---Old fart! I swear the next time I see him if I don’t kite him for more than 240s I’ll jump on Jack’s bed myself!!”

Eli paused, even though his eyes were covered with clothe, Aesop could still imagine the look he was giving Naib right now.

“...I wouldn’t easily promise things that you might regret.” Eli slowly warned. His predictions told him that in about 1 week, Naib would deeply regret those words. 

But of course, Naib was way too deep in his head to think about what he was saying. 

Aesop sat down in the chair next to him silently, pulling down his mask slightly so he could eat. 

“Aesop! You’re here! Listen to this, I don’t know what got into him today but that damn photographer is--” Aesop’s ears perked up when he heard the mention of photographer, but didn’t let it show. For the next 20 minutes, as Aesop ate, he listened to Naib complain about the last round he had with the photographer, and his ‘stupid goddamn 1.5 damage’. 

Aesop listened intently, nodding along to whatever Naib said. It wasn’t the first time Naib complained about hunters, but it was a first to see him angry enough to make a bet. 

Naib finally finished with a huff. Grabbing his cup and gulping down the remaining liquid inside.

“Anyways, just be careful of him today. He’s in one of his hissy fits again for god knows what reason.” Naib mumbled as he gathered his plate. Eli also stood as Aesop finished the remains on his plate. 

“Well then Aesop, I’ll see you in a couple of matches!” Eli waved to him as he and Naib walked off, leaving Aesop alone in the dining room. 

He checked the time, his next match was in 10 minutes. Gathering his stuff, Aesop headed to the lobby.

The first couple of rounds were okay, Michiko let them win a round since Helena was with them, Jack was too focused on chasing after Naib so they won that round. Wu Chang on the other hand did not go easy on them, and Aesop along with all three of his teammates were chaired, the gamekeeper’s match was a close one, but Patricia managed to get out through the dungeon. 

Then, there was the match with Joseph. 

The survivors in the match were Aesop, Kevin, Luca, and Lucky up against the Photographer, Joseph. The map was Arms Factory. 

Aesop had spawned in the corner near the ruins, he quickly took note of where the other survivors were and put down his coffin. 

Flash. Joseph had taken a photo. After a moment, the mirror image of Luca was knocked down. 

Surprisingly enough, Joseph didn’t rush to chair Luca, but instead downed Kevin, who was closer to where they were. Aesop mentally took note of where they were before focusing on the cipher at hand, he was trying desperately to finish it before the mirror world collapsed. 

...

“Let’s make a deal shall we?” Joseph wiped his sword as he eyed the two survivors in front of him. Kevin and Luca looked at each other, before eyeing him suspiciously. 

“...I’ll let all four of you go, if you give me Aesop carl for this round.” 

His sentence was not even finished before Kevin scowled at him, “And betray Aesop?! No way in hell!” 

Joseph raised an eyebrow, “Loyal, are we not?” He hummed, “I won’t chair him. I just want to talk to him.”

Kevin and Luca glanced at each other, then back at Joseph. 

Luca hesitantly called out, “...You won’t chair him?”

“A gentleman never goes back on his promise.”

“Just want to talk to him?”

“Oui.”

After a conflicting moment, Luca and Kevin agreed, running off to tell both Lucky and Aesop that the hunter would be friendly this round. Luca leading Joseph straight to where Aesop is.

‘...We’re sorry Aesop!!!’ Luca gave him a small two finger salute before running off, leaving them alone.

...

“Huh?”

“Stop doing that.” Joseph frowned at him, “It’s annoying, and it makes me want to...”

“I-I’m sorry Mr.Joseph, I...don’t understand what I’m doing that is upsetting you?” Trying his best to not run away, Aesop stole small glances at the taller male. 

“That.” Joseph pointed to him, “Exactly what you’re doing right now.”

Aesop swears he has never been so confused in his whole life, not even when Naib ate a cake 3 times his size without throwing up.

He decided that not speaking was his only option, so he just stared up at the hunter. Not knowing that the way his shaking form looked up at Joseph was very similar to how a baby deer would act.

“...Exactly that...!” Joseph was getting more and more annoyed, can he stop it?? Was it fun to make him so flustered??

He took a step closer to Aesop, who backed away a step. This continued until Aesop was cornered by Joseph, his back touching the wall. 

Tears were starting to well up in his eyes, not only because of his social anxiety, but also because of the frustration of Joseph just randomly accusing him of doing something he doesn’t even know he’s doing.

“...Mr.Joseph! Please don’t come any closer! I really don’t understand what you don’t like but--”

Oh, but the redness in his eyes only made Joseph want to bully him more, before he could think, he leaned in, ripping off Aesop’s mask and swallowing the rest of his sentence with his mouth. 

“...!!!!!”

Aesop took a couple of seconds to register what was happening, his face now bloodshot. 

“W-what...” He couldn’t even get a full sentence out.

Joseph tsk’ed, “You really need to stop being so cute. It makes me want to kiss you again.” 

“I...I...” 

“Mon Dieu, why are you so cute? Are you trying to seduce me? Do you know how hard it is to focus and do my job when you’re right there? And what is up with the adorable way you flinch when you get shocked? Do you want to get fu--”

...According to 3 eye witnesses, it’s said that Joseph was whacked in the gut with a makeup case, allowing Aesop to escape. Joseph spend the entire round trying to find Aesop but to no avail. For the next 3 days, Aesop refused to come out of his room, and refused to be in the same game as Joseph for 2 weeks.

...

Jack, who’s been matched with Aesop for 5 rounds : Heh, looks like someone’s having trouble finding their little embalmer~

Joseph, who has not seen Aesop in 2 weeks : I salute my middle finger to you.

[notes-from-sarah]

Scratched Mirrors

Link on Archive of Our Own

Link on Fanfiction.net

Rating: G/K+

Summary: The fighting is over, but that is only the beginning. A clone finds young Boba Fett in the aftermath of Geonosis as Jedi and clone alike come to terms with their dead. Features Original Characters. Set during Episode II. One-shot. Canon Compliant. 

Commander Mettle and the First One Hundred were sweeping the arena after the Battle of Geonosis. They were searching for survivors. Many Jedi, and more than a few clones had been grievously injured during the battle. Now that the enemy had been subdued it was time to clean up.

Bodies were strewn everywhere. Jedi, clone, droid and beast alike. Their corpses like so many hillocks scattered around the arena in the gloaming light. A slight movement nearby caught his eye. Mettle tensed and raised his blaster in case it was a half dead droid using the last of its strength to fulfill its prime directive. When no laser fire followed in the next few seconds Mettle cautiously moved forward.

As he drew nigh, he saw the movement came from near an armored body. With a jolt, he recognized the body as that of the clone template, Jango Fett. They had called him Stencil, he had worked closely with Mettle and the other troopers of the First One Hundred over the last ten years.

It was a shock to see him dead. He had been such a great warrior, teaching them everything they knew about being a soldier. He had almost seemed indestructible. Mettle noted that Jango had been killed by a Jedi. A small sense of relief twinged in Mettle when he realized that. Mettle didn't like the thought of Jango Fett being killed by a clone, or the disgrace of being killed by a droid. It was curious, though, that the Jedi would kill the man they hired to be the clone template. They must have been pretty confident that they wouldn't need any more clones.

Another small movement alerted him to a presence on the other side of Jango's body. Circling the fallen man he he knelt down next to the boy. Boba was laying on the ground near Jango's side. He didn't seem to be hurt, physically. He wasn't asleep, he just lay there, his eyes not really taking in his surroundings.

Mettle had no idea what to do. Stencil had taken his kid everywhere. Mettle felt completely at a loss. The child hadn't even reacted to his presence. Mettle couldn't imagine what it was like to lose a parent, but seeing a tough kid like Boba laying there so unresponsive told him more than enough.

Reaching out, he gingerly touched Boba's shoulder. "Hey there, Lucky." It was a name the clones had given him on Kamino. He had been the 'lucky' one chosen to be the clone template's son. Boba didn't respond. "Are you hurt?" Mettle tried again.

Boba's eyes flicked to look at him, but he still didn't move. Mettle took the boy by the arm and lifted him into a sitting position. Boba didn't resist. Mettle wanted to say something to make the kid feel better, but he couldn't think of anything. Removing his helmet he began checking  the boy over for injuries.

"No broken bones, don't see any blood." Mettle tried to keep his voice light. Grief was something he knew about, but not something he'd ever personally experienced. The First One Hundred had come through the day with no losses, other units hadn't been so fortunate. "Just a little dirt, and nasty touch of sunburn."

Boba automatically raised a hand to touch his burned cheek, he hardly registered the discomfort.

Mettle finished looking him over. "Lucky, it's starting to get dark," he said softly. "It's not safe to stay out here."

Boba kept his eyes downcast. He mumbled under his breath, barely audible, "I don't want to go."

Mettle swallowed. He'd never seen someone look so hurt before. In the most gentle tone he could manage, he said, "There's nothing you can do for him. You need to look out for yourself now."

Boba still kept his eyes down. All he could think about was all of the things he would never be able to do with his father again. He would never sit on his father's lap and read. They would never play pretend, or wrestle. He'd never steal food off his dad's plate, food that tasted better just because it was dad's. He'd never laugh at the silly jokes his dad told, or hear the Mandalorian lullabies his dad would sing. His dad would never hug him again, or whisper I love you as he drifted to sleep.

Boba sat there, stone-faced. He had nowhere else to go, and no one else to go too. His dad had been all he had. His chest and throat felt tight. No physical pain could hurt like this. He tried to speak, to tell the clone that he couldn't leave. He had to stay here. He had nowhere else. Words failed him. All he wanted was to wake up and find out this day had never happened.

Boba raised his eyes to look at Mettle.  Even in the twilight, his features were still clearly visible. The sight of the clone's face, his father's face, it was just too much. Feeling like a fool, but not caring, he began to cry.

Mettle didn't know what he was supposed to do. Clone were usually discouraged from such displays of emotion, but this case was different. He put an arm around Boba's shoulder. That was all he could think to do. Boba responded, feeling like the stupidest being in the universe, putting his arms around the clone's neck and clinging to him as he wept.

Boba felt his cheeks flush with shame. He felt stupid and weak. If he hadn't been such a dumb little kid maybe he could have helped his father. If they had been fighting side by side maybe the Jedi would be dead and his father alive. Boba knew he shouldn't have just sat in the cave where his father left him, he should have been out there with his dad. His dad had told him, "Stay here, don't move," but this one time, Boba knew he should have disobeyed.

Boba tried to stem his tears. His dad would have wanted him to be strong. Despite his best efforts, the tears continued.

Mettle let the child cling to him. He had never seen a person so hurt. He was a little bewildered by it all. The darkness continued to draw in on them, the shadows on the arena lengthened.

Through the gathering dusk, Jedi Master Adi Gallia walked across the arena. Her pace was slow, she was so tired. Today had been the worst day of her life. So many Jedi had been cut down today, and by mindless droids, no less. Her heart hurt. So much was lost here today. Echos of pain rang in her ears from Jedi, clones, and many others. There had been no victory today, they had merely managed to stave off defeat.

She spotted one of the clones, clones she hadn't known existed just a short time ago, kneeling, holding someone. The other clones in the area were doing triage, collecting the bodies and the wounded to be dealt with as appropriate.

Adi didn't want to be callous, but the clone needed to keep with his task. They had no time to waste. The mission had to come first. The Separatists couldn't be allowed the slightest advantage. "Clone," she said. She realized she had no idea what his name was, or if clones even had names. The clone looked over at her, and she noticed he was holding a child. She didn't know why there was a child in the arena, or even where the boy had come from. "Is the boy injured?"

The boy released the clone and stood, taking a step back and keeping his eyes averted. The clone stood as well, and replacing his helmet he stood at attention. "No, sir," he answered only the question asked.

When no further information was forthcoming, Adi asked a follow up question, "Why is he here? Where are his parents?" Adi tried to keep her voice even, but there was an edge to her words all the same.

"He's here because he was with his father when the battle began. His father was killed during the battle, sir."

Adi saw the boy turn his head to look at the body of the bounty hunter that had started all of this. "Doesn't he have a mother, or anyone else, another friend or relative?" Adi was exhausted, and this needed to be settled. Only after the living had been taken care of could the Jedi finally see to their dead. She could feel that the boy was hurt, but his pain only blended into all the other pain that saturated the Force on this day.

Mettle glanced at Boba, the kid hadn't even tried to wipe the tears off his face. "He's got no one else, sir."

Adi sighed. "It'll have to be an orphanage then." Adi gazed over the field, her heart ached as she spotted one of the fallen Jedi, a dear friend of hers. "Gather him up and find out where the nearest Republic orphanage is." Her voice trembled slightly as she said those words. After receiving an affirmative response, she moved on, more than a little distracted by her own grief.

Mettle turned back to Boba. Boba turned his eyes on Mettle, his gaze unflinching. Even though the light was waning, Mettle could still make out the expression of those dark eyes. He saw that behind all the pain there was a spark, an ember of anger that was sure to serve him well. Mettle placed a hand on Boba's shoulder. "You've got the blood of a warrior. You will make it through."

[alittlestarling]

Welcome Home, Good Hunter

Their quest into the Hinterlands to meet with the rebel mages doesn’t go as planned and an upsetting discovery brings Roz and Vincent closer.

Read on Ao3

Part 1

Part 2: The Hinterlands

“Can you hear that?” Roz pulled gently on the reins of her mare as they crested over the final few hills, dipping lower into the valley.

“Hear what?” Vincent asked, her ever-constant companion in the last week as they made their way from the mountain pass and into the heart of Ferelden. Where Roz was uncertain in her riding, Vincent was a natural, murmuring gently in a foreign tongue that she didn’t know to soothe his steed as they trekked onward. The mere fact that he was there, that this wasn’t a fever dream, was still hard for Roz to believe. Staring was hard as well and she had tried to keep her gaze from lingering too long on him.

Instead, she smiled as she gazed out along the vast expanse before them. “Quiet,” she replied after a moment, relishing the sounds of nature instead of fighting that had so often surrounded them in these hills. With the encampments gone for both warring sides, the survivors in the Crossroads could enjoy a little peace before they rebuilt their lives in the hills.

Patting her mare along the side of her neck, Roz couldn’t stop herself from giving what might have been a far-too-early sigh of relief. Fewer fires to put out, less time placing themselves into the crosshairs of danger and more opportunities to see exactly what the people needed here.

What they truly needed.

Leading the way, Roz glanced over her shoulder as they trekked down the steep incline their horses seemed to take with greater ease and confidence than she would have. Vincent had, of course, come along, but he wasn’t the only one. Iron Bull held up the end of the group, shooting the breeze easily with Varric and, right in the middle, Vincent’s older brother, Rolfe, had been flirting with Cassandra at a steady clip since they left Haven.

Though they had only just begun to grow closer, Roz could tell that, despite the rebuffs and irritated sighs, Cassandra wasn’t completely indifferent to the lighthearted teasing and flirting Rolfe offered. Resistant, stubborn to admit it, but Roz didn’t think anything with Cassandra came particularly easily. Especially when it came to close relationships, not just romance.

“Do you think your brother will tire of flirting with Cassandra?” Roz leaned in conspiratorially, glancing back a moment to let her gaze linger over Rolfe riding alongside Cassandra.

“I doubt it,” Vincent had leaned in close, the warm scent of cedar and salt making her dizzy a moment. She tried not to think too hard as the pair of them shared a moment; his laugh was low, rumbling from his chest while Roz stifled a giggling snort before straightening along her saddle again.

“He has his work cut out for him,” Roz shook her head with a little laugh. “She’s a tough one to crack.”

“And my brother isn’t so easily dissuaded, so long as she hasn’t outright rejected him.”

“It doesn’t seem that way,” Roz snickered lightly but leaned back away from him, straightening once more. “I wouldn’t discount his chances just yet.” Besides, despite her tough exterior, Roz had caught a glimpse of what she had discovered was a rather delightfully dirty romance novel during their first night on the road to Redcliffe, sworn to secrecy once Cassandra realized her secret was out.

Without the threat of attack looming over them, the people of the Crossroads looked a little less world-worn, the weariness gone from their postures. Tents had been set-up for those still transitioning and efforts to rebuild homes that had burned in the fires were underway.

Even with their need to reach the rebels in the village, Roz couldn’t just leave without making sure things were doing alright.

“Rosalind,” Cassandra gently interjected as Roz finished dropping herbs off with a healer that had finally taken up residence in the small camp (with a quick chat about some tinctures that could be brewed with spindleweed that grew in abundance along the creek nearby), “we should make our way towards Redcliffe.”

“I know, I know,” Roz blew a small strand of red that had strayed from her usual braid, the small wispy hair refusing to stay put, “I just have a few more things to look into.” The caches had been marked, food was being distributed and the land may have been safer to hunt on now, but Roz felt the itch to simply do more. Their worlds had been torn apart, flipped off their axis, and if she couldn’t help with the smaller things, how could anyone trust her to help with some of the larger, more overwhelming tasks that stretched before her?

As if to counter her thoughts, her mark sparked and she curled her palm tightly into a fist to extinguish the green light that constantly haunted her.

Her mood soured slightly as she passed along a letter from a templar; despite her own, personal feelings towards the establishment, she wasn’t about to let anyone’s last words to someone they loved go without remark. Vincent noticed, stepping into stride behind her after she’d finished recruiting Ellandra to their cause.

“You seem troubled.” It was a statement rather than a question, an opening for Roz to speak her mind if she decided to. Finding the words, however, were hard, especially when her own feelings were a mixed bag these days.

“I don’t understand how anyone in the Circle could have a romance with a Templar,” she began, dropping her voice low, pausing to pluck fresh elfroot from standing water beside them. “All the Templars I knew were…well, no, let me start again.” Frowning, she started over, trying to find any shred of tact she had left for the order.

“Not all Templars were terrible, but enough of them knew how to abuse and use their powers to benefit themselves. I’ve seen too many of them remain passive while others held the leash over mages tighter than necessary.” An image unbidden came to mind, those last moments before Alderis was dragged away playing before her. She shook her head, as though she might be rid of them if she tried hard enough. “Perhaps she was lucky. I just can’t understand it.”

“The more I hear about the Circle, the less I like it,” Vincent commented gruffly. “I can’t imagine spending my life living in fear of my gifts.” He glanced to her, holding her gaze a long moment as he added, “And neither should you have gone through such a thing.”

“I survived it. Not everyone did.” Perhaps it was easier in the long-run to lie about her involvement with the rebellion, especially when it helped gain allies to continue to help them seek to bring peace to the regions once more. But it still stuck to her tongue, the bitter pill she had to swallow after lying to Ellandra about exactly where she stood with the rebellion. It was the one thing she didn’t say aloud in those moments, glancing about the Crossroads once more.

Peace, relative quiet and stability. They’d be alright for now. “Come on,” She turned, Vincent falling easily into step with her again, “Cassandra’s been eager to get to Redcliffe. As am I.”

As they mounted back onto their horses, Roz sent a quick prayer to the Maker, her own quiet hope a burning ember in her chest.

Maker, please, please, please, let me find friends among them.

“Something’s not right,” Varric was the first to comment once they’d made their way down to the docks along the lake. Roz’s mind was reeling, piecing together information that didn’t quite make sense. From the first moment they set foot in the village, Roz could feel the unease rolling off the villagers. They whispered behind their hands, eyes wide with uncertainty but that was expected, especially when she considered that they hadn’t anticipated the Inquisition to arrive there at all.

“I don’t understand it,” Roz murmured, playing with the folds of her tunic, pacing back and forth along the shoreline. “We saw Grand Enchanter Fiona in Val Royeaux,” She shot a quick glance to Cassandra and Varric. “I’m not imagining that, right?”

“No,” Cassandra agrees, her own expression grim, sitting on a nearby rock. “I saw her, too. There is something afoul here.”

“If we believe the ‘Vint,” Bull interjected with a dissatisfied grumble, “magic’s to blame.”

Roz closed her eyes tightly, lips pressed together in a thin line as she let out a huffing breath. “Perhaps,” she murmured after a moment, allowing herself to catch her temper in time. Bull, she was realizing the longer they traveled together, didn’t have a high opinion of magic. While she couldn’t discount his suspicion towards the Tevinter mage who had just happened to be there with a far-fetched explanation, she knew better than to write it off completely.

Nothing felt right here. Tevinter was on their doorstep, had indentured the Grand Enchanter herself and, if she believed that time had been altered? Well, the implications were too vast for her to name. She felt a headache coming on, pressing the bridge of her nose with a muted sigh.

“I don’t think you’re going to like my decision, Cassandra,” Roz turned to face the Seeker, pulling her into private conversation as the others peeled away from them.

“Oh?” Perhaps she was gruff and a little too blunt, but at least Roz knew she could be honest with Cassandra, regardless if they shared the same viewpoint on the situation. “And what would that be?”

“I don’t think we have time to seek out the Templars.” It was a relief, in a way, knowing that she wouldn’t be walking into the viper’s nest. Even with support, Roz couldn’t shake the fears that rested in her bones, the knowledge that she had often known through her life with the Order. “With everything we’ve seen today, we have to act, and soon, before things spiral out of control here.” If things fell apart here, it would spread; all the good they had done would be destroyed and the people they had helped would have to flee for their lives once more.

“I can see where you’re coming from,” Cassandra tilted her head, pausing as though to parse out a thought, “but I do not think we should act without the facts. And we do not have any facts from the Templars that abandoned their post in Orlais.”

“But how can they possibly help us close the breach?” Roz snapped back, “Shall we go chase down Lord Seeker Lucius, who I might remind you isn’t our biggest fan, and convince them to, what? Wave a sword at the breach? Compel it to close itself with the power of smite?” The comments clawed from her throat before she could stop them, pacing once again before the Seeker.

“I know what people say, how they view me and all others like me. They did in Orlais and they will do so again if I try to reach them. I know,” she held a hand out as Cassandra made a move to interrupt, stopping for Roz to continue, “not all of them, but enough of them seem against us. To them, we’re a danger that needs containing, a threat that needs to be brought to heel again.” Enough of them wanted to stop the Inquisition before Roz had found herself in the middle of it, never mind now that a mage had the gall to be “chosen” by Andraste.

“You should not judge the Order too harshly.” Cassandra added softly once Roz had finished rambling off all the reasons not to seek out the organization that did not want them.

“And yet that’s exactly what they do to me.” Roz offered a sad sort of smile, the truth of her words seeming to sink slowly into the Seeker. “I do not see that changing anytime soon, Cassandra, do you?”

Tense silence followed and, had they been given a moment longer, perhaps Cassandra would have come up with a different opinion, a new way of looking at things despite what Roz felt in her gut was true. The Templars weren’t the way to go and she just knew that it was a waste to leave things precariously as they were here.

Varric’s voice, however, broke the spell, calling out from down the shoreline. “Seeker, Rosebud, you two might want to see this.” Roz felt her own guard go up at the apprehension in his tone, taking careful strides away from the spot she’d been pacing to approach what she had assumed was an abandoned home along the water’s edge.

The moment she stepped inside, the very air seemed to change. Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer wrongness of it all. Magic rippled from the shelves, the strange whispering echoing in her ears that accompanied any discovery of the strange skulls in the countryside.

What she saw before her were those exact skulls. Dozens of them lining the walls, a few piled along the ground. A bundle of cracked and shattered skulls lay in the corner, abandoned in their lack of usefulness. A shiver ran down her spine, stuck in the doorway a moment longer before she dared to reach out. Her fingertips grazed across the nearby skull, snapping her fingers back quickly at a tingle that slithered down her hand upon contact.

Vincent wasn’t far, his own eyes gazing warily at the skulls before him. “Magic,” he muttered, their gazes meeting for a brief moment; Roz nodded in agreement, struggling to take another full breath as she turned.

“You’re right,” It was Rolfe, however, who found the answer, papers held firmly in his grip. “What do they mean by ‘tranquil’ in these papers?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Roz was dizzy, her stomach coiled and knotted, nausea rising up hard and fast along with horror and grief hot in pursuit. “No,” She whispered, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch the nearest skull. “Oh no, no, no, no.” Faces of those she had known flashed before her eyes, the unspeakable horror of this acting as a sinking pit in her stomach.

“Rosalind?” Vincent had a hand on her elbow as she swayed a moment. His touch was warm, grounding a moment as she turned to him, her mouth opening to try and find her words.

“Poor sods,” Varric murmured.

“Not like the Tranquil were doing much with ‘em.” Bull’s comment cut through the air and Roz felt all the breath leave her lungs with a sharp hiss. The grief, the sorrow, the anguish all burned swiftly into anger that she’d felt mounting since they arrived in the region. There was nothing gentle in her as she abruptly pulled away from Vincent and his comforting grasp on her. Instead, she whirled on Iron Bull with a snarl.

“You have no right to say those things,” Roz growled, heat rolling off her in waves. Despite their height difference, she walked to him, one finger against his chest, blue eyes hard as steel. “They were people. Their lives should have been their own. You do not get to judge them.” Her teeth gnashed together as she let out an angry huff, adding, “You are not better than them.”

Still shaking, she continued, “I’d think over my next words carefully, The Iron Bull.”

Tense silence followed and, had she been in a better mood, Roz would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. She was no match in height to him, aware that she barely came up to his chest. But he met her gaze levelly, his own expression hard (and, if she were right, a hint of surprise), neither of them moving from their spot.

“Boss.” He rumbled and the moment broke. Roz pulled away swiftly, turning on her heel.

“I’ve seen enough here. I’m done.” But there were words still unspoken, caught in her throat as she stepped back out into the open air. I don’t want to be here anymore.

For the first time in a long while, Roz let herself slump by the fire, the weight of the world pressing hard against her shoulders. Guilt and grief were warring internally as she wrapped her blanket tighter around her body. It didn’t fit all the way, made for a slim cot and not a plush body, but there was still something comforting in the act itself. As though she could make a cocoon of it, keeping the world at bay a moment longer instead of letting the chaos and the anger eat her from the inside out.

Exhaustion was a constant companion but sleep hadn’t come. Instead, Roz had pulled herself from her cot, slipping to sit by the fire. The sounds of Lake Luthias were almost comforting, the waterfall and chirping of crickets making the world seem a little softer and perhaps more peaceful than it felt in her mind.

Every single one of the skulls they had come across, each ocularum, was from a tranquil that had been killed. The thought made her sick, her stomach continuing to knot and roil in her gut. How many of them had they seen? How many had been lost when the Circles fell? Was he-

It was the one question she didn’t want to answer, squeezing her eyes shut to will the thought away. Spots blinked before her vision when she opened them again, disoriented for a brief moment. Any answer to her own lingering doubts would only add more guilt to her already troubled mind; no answer was better than the alternatives that were far more likely than the idea that he may have survived it all.

“May I join you?” Vincent’s voice murmured quietly from her side, causing Roz to jump. The blanket slipped a bit from her shoulders as she attempted to wrap it closer around her body again.

“If you like.” Running a hand across her face, letting the blanket slip again, she frowned into the fire. “I’m afraid you’re not seeing me on my best day,” Roz sighed apologetically, unable to lift her gaze from the fire. Everything felt like a constant fight the last few weeks, growing more and more apparent the last few days as the time to make a choice loomed ever closer on the horizon.

“You’re allowed to have feelings about it all, Roz,” Vincent reached out, a hand gently resting upon hers, “you’re only human.” The contact was brief, but she felt it again: a soft shiver rolled down her spine, but this was a pleasant sensation, as though stepping into a warm bath. It was gone as quickly as it came, her own expression confused before she shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s what they want from me.”

“Aye, but what do you want? It can’t just be about them and their needs. You’re the one they call Herald and you have more power than you think you have.”

Roz snorted, a ghost of a smile tracing her lips. “Don’t tell them that. I think the idea of a mage in power scares them, even if they don’t admit to it aloud.” She twisted, reaching for the blanket edge that kept slipping. Vincent reached for it instead, lifting it to her shoulder. The action paused in his hands, a frown shifting his features.

“They have you sleep with these scratchy things?” He questioned, experimentally rubbing the fabric between his fingers in obvious distaste. “How can you get comfortable with this scratchin’ and itchin’ at you all night long?”

“I’m certain they’re made to be more utilitarian than comfortable,” Roz commented dryly. “Honestly, I think the fact that we even have supplies really shows just how far we’ve- wait, where are you going?” Right in the middle of her sentence, Vincent stood abruptly. She watched with a strange curiosity as he moved away from the fire, all but stalking back towards the tent he had set up with Rolfe earlier in their evening.

Vanishing into his tent, he reappeared looking a little ruffled in the firelight, carrying something she couldn’t discern in his hands. “Here, this should be better.” He was careful with his movements, gently placing a sleek, soft pelt across her shoulders. Not before, he course, he helped pull the other blanket off of her.

“Oh.” Roz felt a sigh bubble up from her lips, marveling at the softness and the warmth that encompassed her effortlessly. “Maker, this is lovely.” She paused, adding softly, “Thank you. You didn’t have to-”

“Aye, I didn’t, but I wanted to.”

It was the earnestness that caught her off-guard; cynicism followed her every step when it came to anyone getting closer with her. The members of the Inquisition she was learning to trust, but part of her always wondered how much they wanted from her.

Roz pressed her cheek against the softness of the fur, closing her eyes again. “Still, thank you.”

The silence was interrupted only by the flowing water and crackling fire. Then, so softly, Vincent asked the question that had Roz’s stomach coiled in knots once again. “What does it mean to be made Tranquil?”

She didn’t speak for a few, long moments, eyes opened again as she stared into the fire. Her frown deepened as she tried to think of a way to explain it easily, but she knew there was no easy way to do that.

“If a mage is a danger to themselves or others, Templars have the choice to use the Rite of Tranquility upon them,” Roz murmured, bitterness lacing her words as she lifted her gaze from the fire, meeting his. “It means they are cut-off from the Fade. They become shells of themselves: docile, able to enchant, but unable to be who they once were.” She swallowed hard, adding softly, “Not all who are made Tranquil are dangerous. I’ve seen it used as punishment as well.”

“So those skulls belonged to-”

“Mages who had been made Tranquil, yes.” Roz paused, her face screwed up in an attempt not to weep at the fresh onslaught of emotion that welled up in her throat. It was a wound that she didn’t know would heal, a scar that kept opening every time she thought it was closed.

Vincent met the statement with horrified silence, his own expression darkening in the glow of the fire. He muttered what Roz could only assume was a curse in his native tongue. “To be cut-off from your true self,” he muttered, “must certainly be a fate worse than death.”

“Yes,” Roz murmured, her voice thick as she pulled the pelt tighter around her shoulders, “it is. And to see them and know that they’re not truly there, all of their light just…gone.” She swallowed hard again, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’ve known those made Tranquil.” Another statement of fact came gently from his lips and Roz swore she could feel his gaze on her as she stared directly into the fire.

“Yes,” She whispered, blinking back tears unsuccessfully. “Some I didn’t know very well, but others…” She trailed off a moment, brushing a hand across her cheek with a sniffle. “Someone I loved was made Tranquil.” It was the one story she had never truly told amongst her new companions, uncertain how to even begin. But Vincent reached out, tentatively, his hand resting over hers.

“You don’t have to tell me,” He reassured her gently, “if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Roz gave him a watery smile, “but I think I want to.” The truth was a hard burden to bear alone and, even though she knew this changed nothing of what had happened, there was a small part that needed to simply speak the words into existence.

“His name was Alderis, and I loved him desperately.” And so she spoke, weaving the story in soft tones about her mentor who had turned into her dear friend and then lover. How smart he had been, how passionate about their freedoms, how kind he had been to her and others.

“He wanted our freedom as much as anyone in the Circle,” Roz confided, “and perhaps not all of his methods would have been viewed upon with kindness from the Chantry.” Blood magic never was, but that was part of her story that she kept tucked away. “Suspicions were flying and everyone was tense in the Circle in the weeks leading up to it. In the end, I think it was easiest to make Alderis an example, if not to stop him from preaching of just what we might gain from autonomy and life outside the Circle.”

Those last moments Roz knew she’d never forget. The classroom where they were working with a few of the newly Harrowed students before the door was shoved open. Alderis had been smiling a moment before they grabbed him, the Templars showing no mercy as Roz surged forwards. She’d been stopped and charges were laid at their feet.

“I don’t know why I was spared yet he was not.” Her voice dropped so softly, shaking her head as a few errant tears slipped down her cheeks. “None of it made sense.” She had her suspicions that her mentor, Lydia, had kept her from the same fate, but that had meant little when faced with the results of the rite done on Alderis. Blank eyes, a monotone voice and the mark on his forehead for everyone to see.

Taking up his mantle in the search for their freedoms had seemed easy comparably. Her grief had turned to rage and resolution in the face of rebellion.

“I heard few survived the uprising at Ostwick. I don’t know if he or the others found their way out.” Roz had planted the seeds, pulled away to the Conclave when her friends and comrades in arms rose up against the Templars. The story had been spun to sound peaceful, as though a compromise had been sought by both sides. It was an effort to keep the peace; Roz knew the truth, though, clutching tight the hope that her students and friends had made their way from that place in one piece.

His hand squeezed hers, fingers gently lacing between hers to hold tightly to her. “That sounds like it’s been a heavy burden to carry, Rosalind.” And that was the truth, murmured to her by the campfire, thousands of miles from the only place she had known as home. She let out a sharp, soft laugh, bitter and sorrowful as she sniffed hard again against more tears.

“Sometimes I prefer to think he died that day when they cut him from the fade,” Roz admitted, her features twisted again in grief as she continued in a broken whisper, “It was kinder to me, as selfish as it sounds. I’d rather remember him with life and passion. I can cherish his memory of what was rather than what they made him.”

“If you found him tomorrow, would you still care for him the same way as before?” He asked her and the question had her pause, deep in thought as she stared at the fire.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Or maybe not?” There were too many factors at place in her mind, wondering exactly how she might react to finding him again after all that had happened. “In the end, I feel he was a dear friend to me, a companion to share ideas with. If he were alive, if I found him, I would want to make sure he was safe and cared for, not left to the whims of the world and those who would exploit him.” She swallowed hard, adding softly, “I’d owe him that much.”

Alderis had given her hope, a spark that had grown into a fire that burned inside her. There would always be an ache for what could have been or what she could have done, but nothing could change that. And, while she wouldn’t say it aloud, Roz had long since come to peace that nothing could sway her from the path she walked now. She had been willing to die for the rebellion, yet she had been offered the chance to live and see parts of it some to fruition.

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but it was a start.

They sat in quiet, his hand still intertwined with hers. His thumb rubbed soft, soothing circles along the back of her hand, a gentle comfort that left her with feelings she couldn’t quite put to words. And maybe now wasn’t the time to do it, not with her emotions raw as they were.

There was relief in having shared though, a wave of it washing over her with a suddenness. There were tears again as she leaned against Vincent’s shoulder, her cheek pressed against him, but there was no sorrow in them this time. His hand slipped free and Roz nearly pulled back, afraid she’d overstepped, but instead he tucked her close, an arm resting gently at her shoulder.

“Thank you for listening,” Roz murmured thickly against his shirt.

“Of course, Rosalind,” He whispered against the crown of her head, “of course.”

Roz didn’t remember going back to bed, but she woke with the pelt still tucked gently around her. She pressed her nose against it, breathing it in, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months. The sounds of the camp waking up and the scent of rashers being cooked on the fire were enough to draw her from the tent at last. An idea had struck her late in the night that wouldn’t leave her alone, swiftly rubbing the last winks of sleep from her eyes as she exited her tent.

“Iron Bull,” Roz called, arms wrapped tightly around herself, “can you come with me?”

They walked in slightly awkward silence; it wasn’t a long trek back to the ledge, but the moment seemed to linger on and on. Roz knew she didn’t want to apologize for getting mad, but she didn’t want to leave things as they were. Instead, she had a different idea.

The skull sat upon the strangely carved pedestal at the edge, the faint whisperings of magic brushing against her ears.

“What do you need, Boss?”

Roz tilted her head a moment, gesturing to the skull. “I need you to help me get this unstuck.” She blew a strand of hair from her face, adding quietly, “I don’t think I’m strong enough physically to get it to move without a little help.” When she used them, they only rotated so far and never had she been able to shift and adjust it. With her smaller hands to pry it a bit and Bull’s strength, she assumed they might make a go of it.

The request seemed to surprise Bull, who raised a brow and then nodded. “Sure.”

As she had predicted, the effort took both pairs of hands to remove it. Roz whispered some ice magic into her fingertips, turning the base brittle in an attempt to get it off without completely shattering the skull. There was a small crunch before Bull had it in his hands, finally, after a few minutes of their work.

Bull held the skull aloft a moment, the light filtering through it a moment, magic slowly dissipating from it once it had been removed from its place. Only when it dulled again did he hold it to her, letting her gently lift the skull from his palms. Roz wished she knew how to describe how she felt to him, the hurt that came with the discovery, the pain at knowing that she may have known these people. She swallowed hard though, cradling it close to her.

“You told me about Seheron,” she began softly, meeting his gaze with misty eyes, “and the people you lost. Know the pain that you felt, the kind that led you to the Re-educators, is the same pain I’m feeling right now. I wish I didn’t know this, but I do and I have to live with it.” There was no turning back from this new information, no pretending it didn’t exist or changing how they discovered the cabin. Now she knew and she could try to do something good with it.

“I get it, Boss,” Bull rubbed the back of his shaved head. But even the spy didn’t have the right words to truly encompass everything Roz was feeling or to untangle the complications that surrounded her heart in that moment.

“What’s done is done,” Roz intoned gently, “and now we can move forward.” She gazed back out to the expanse of the land that stretched out before them from the spot. “I don’t want their deaths to be in vain. We continue to pull the shards from the field, but after we’ve marked their locations we take the skulls and give them a proper burial. They deserve that.” She didn’t know how or where, but they would be laid to rest.

Bull had a hand resting between her shoulder blades, a weight that pulled her from the depths of her emotions. There was a moment, soft and quiet as she smiled at him sadly. “Some of our brightest were made this way. I hope something like this doesn’t have to happen again. I hope to change it.” Perhaps the pair of them would never see eye-to-eye, but an understanding passed between them as she walked back into the camp, finding a spot for the skull and a map marked with the locations of the others in the region.

“I’ll only be a few moments,” Roz argued with Cassandra as the pair of them trekked up the sloping incline to the top of the lake, “I don’t need an escort to gather spindleweed and blood lotus.” They’d be leaving the region soon enough and Roz already knew the Adan would appreciate more stocks to add to his stores back in Haven. She had her own concoctions to test out, but first she needed ingredients to work with beyond what they’d already gathered.

“It’s no trouble,” Cassandra followed dutifully behind Roz as they crested the hill. The banks of the lake were teeming with plant life and Roz was careful each time she stepped further to the water’s edge to gather what she needed.

Lost in her own thoughts, Roz hummed gently to herself as she plucked and picked and moved closer to the edge of the waterfall. Their camp was well within sight and there was a soft swell of encouragement to see most of their party relaxing in the late morning sunlight.  And then her gaze drifted to the lake below.

“Oh.” Nearly dropping her satchel, Roz felt all the breathe leave her lungs, eyes wide as she caught sight of the brothers below. The mist and water kept much shrouded from her eyes, but there was quite a lot for her to see. And, Maker, it was a sight that she couldn’t help but drink in.

Both brothers, swimming and splashing in the lake below. Completely and utterly naked.

“Roz, what have you-” Cassandra began but Roz grabbed the Seeker’s arm to tug her down and out of sight before they could be spotted in their peeking.

“Shh!” Roz jerked her head down, unable to stop the rising heat in her cheeks as she glanced back down at the bare forms of Vincent and Rolfe in the water.

To her surprise, Roz caught Cassandra blushing when she realized exactly what they were watching. “Oh!”

“Yes.” Roz let out a slow, shaky breath, her eyes tracing the whorls and tattoos that decorated Vincent’s chest and shoulder. She had seen some peeking out from under his clothing, but nothing with quite so much detail as she saw in the moment. Water dripped down Vincent’s shoulders, flexing and stretching as he swam away from Rolfe’s splashing. It was innocent, playful as the brothers sent water flying at one another, Rolfe’s baritone laugh and an undignified squawk from Vincent when he was dunked under.

She swore softly, swallowing hard. “I…Andraste’s frilly knickers, we shouldn’t be doing this, should we?”

“Probably not,” Cassandra muttered, though she made no move to leave just then. Despite her own apparent indifference towards Rolfe when they were together, the Seeker was very quiet now, her eyes fixed on Rolfe below. Roz glanced to Cassandra and then back down to the lake below.

There wasn’t any harm in this. It wasn’t like they planned to do it again. She cleared her throat, settling down, allowing herself a few moments longer to enjoy the view and the wild workings of her imagination. Cassandra broke the silence with a gruff murmur.

“We’ll never speak of this to anyone.”

“You have my word.”

[casino-lights]

OCs as Companions - Eva Lee - Fallout: New Vegas

(This is based off @instishoot‘s wonderful template, found here!)

Basic info:

Race: Hispanic Gender: Female Affiliation: New Canaanites Role: Freelance treasure hunter Location: Courtyard, Sierra Madre Villa / The Strip Base SPECIAL: [S: 5] [P: 7] [E: 5] [C: 5] [I: 7] [A: 7] [L: 10] Tagged Skills: Speech, Energy Weapons, Lockpicking Perks: Black Widow, Fortune Finder, Miss Fortune Companion Perk: The Midas Touch - while Eva is a companion, the Courier finds twice the normal amount of bottle caps in containers.


Eva Lee can be encountered for the first time in the courtyard of the Sierra Madre fighting a pair of Ghost People near a Sierra Madre Vending Machine. She is essential until the quest “Curtain Call at the Tampico” begins, at which time she will become hostile if Dean Domino is killed. If she is not killed, she will help the Courier escape with all thirty seven gold bars from the Sierra Madre Vault by adding a temporary perk that offers them unlimited inventory space for the duration of the “Heist of the Centuries” quest. Upon completion of this quest, she and Dean will be found talking by the fountain. Eva can now be recruited as a follower.


Companion Comments:

Use Melee: “Getting personal, are we?” Use Ranged: “They’ll never know what hit ‘em.” Open inventory: “Don’t take too much. I earned this.” Stay close: “I’m right behind you, don’t you worry.”
 Stay close: [already doing that]: “Any closer, darling, and we’ll need a room.” Keep distance: “I’m starting to have serious doubts about our relationship.” Keep distance [already doing that]: “How far back do you want me, exactly?” Be Passive: “I don’t mind letting you take the lead for a while.” Be Aggressive: “Don’t mind if I do.” Wait here: “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Follow me: “Aww, I missed you too.” Sneaking: “I knew I should’ve worn my other shoes.” “Let’s travel together”: “Finally! I’ve got some heists I saved just for you.” “Let’s travel together” (already have a companion): “No offense, but I’m none too keen on being your third wheel.” Leaving companion at the Lucky 38: “As long as it isn’t full of toxic mist and immortal freaks, I’m good.” “I wanted to ask you some questions”: “What’s eating you, darling?” “Tell me about yourself”: [First time] “Interested, are we?” [Subsequent asks] “I’m all yours.” “What do you think of the NCR?”: “Hah. Buncha kids playing soldier in everyone’s backyard. Can’t say I look on them too kindly, what with their taxes. Lost a good bit of treasure to those goons before I figured out how to dodge ‘em.” “What do you think of the Legion?”: “I suppose they’re the big bad boogeyman of the West, but some of those crimson fellas I’ve met seem downright pleasant. Seem to like pretty girls, at least, so they’re human enough. Could use a couple lessons on respect, but otherwise I don’t mind them too much.” “What do you think of Mr. House?”: “Ooh, the Mojave Mystery Man. [laughs] I can’t say I have an opinion. Long as he doesn’t try to run my life, I don’t much care about his.” “What do you know about Benny?”: “Seems like a strange one. But how can you not be when your boss and your best friend are television screens?” “What do you know about the platinum chip?”: “Sure is a pretty thing. I’m surprised I didn’t find anything like it in the Sierra Madre, but your man House said it was one of a kind. Don’t suppose you’d let me, ah… hold onto it for a while?” Death: “Blood… is that... mine...?”

Trivia and additional information:
 Eva is scaled at 0.9 instead of the normal 1.0. She can be flirted with by male characters with or without the Lady Killer perk, though she will respond differently. Without the perk, she’ll remark that the Courier is “cute.” With the perk, she will find the Courier charming and will adopt a flirtier tone in future conversations. While she can be flirted with by a female Courier with the Cherchez La Femme perk, she will reply that she “never thought of [the Courier] that way,” but she respects the Courier regardless.
Because of Eva’s relationship with Dean Domino, she will often reference him in her idle dialogue. When dismissed, she can occasionally be found wandering the Strip at his side.

Personal Quest Triggers: 

1. The California Sunset Drive-In: “I wonder if they played Love Sets Sail here. I’d like to see it someday.”
 2. The Aces Theater: “Vera Keyes used to sing on a stage like this one. She had a beautiful voice.”
 3. New Vegas Medical Clinic, surgery room: “Vera Keyes was in so much pain before she died. And Dean never knew. She deserved better.” Giving Eva either Vera’s Dress or the Starlet Wig will trigger additional dialogue: “This… this belonged to Vera Keyes, didn’t it? Either that, or it looks like something she’d wear. I don’t know why you gave this to me, but… thank you.”

Personal Quest Description: Upon finding all three of Eva’s quest triggers, she will approach the Courier and sheepishly admit that she’s worried both she and Dean Domino are still clinging to Vera Keyes. She will ask the Courier to speak to Dean on her behalf, since he refuses to discuss Vera, saying, “He tells me she doesn’t matter as long as he has me, but the way he says it… I don’t know.” The Courier is then instructed to speak with Dean, who tells the Courier that Eva’s the one who can’t let go, saying, “She’s convinced she has to become Vera.” The Courier then faces a Speech check and a Perception check. Regardless of which is chosen, Dean begrudgingly admits his true feelings for Eva if the check is passed, effectively bypassing the next step of the quest. If neither check is chosen or successful, Dean brushes the Courier’s questions off and tells them to “show Eva Vera’s last bow,” which triggers the next phase of the quest. The next step in the quest, unless the Courier passes one of the dialogue checks above, directs the Courier to an abandoned movie theater in Outer Vegas where Love Sets Sail was about to premier. Souvenirs and memorabilia of Vera Keyes’ Hollywood career litter the theater in honor of the film, and Eva will collect all she can in awe. Once the location is cleared, Eva confesses that she feels like she left a part of herself in the Sierra Madre and has been trying to fill it with Vera, whom she so closely resembles. She asks the Courier for advice, and regardless of how the Courier answers, they return to Dean at the Lucky 38. Depending on how the Courier helped Eva, she and Dean will either reconcile and stay together or argue and drift apart.

Personal Quest Outcomes: The Courier can respond to Eva’s request for advice in one of three ways:

1. They can convince Eva that she never lost herself and should pursue her love of her role model, Vera Keyes. Eva’s default outfit will become Vera’s Dress and she will gain the perk “Beginning Again,” which grants her a bonus to defense when her health is below 50%. Her general tone in dialogue becomes more light-hearted and flirtatious, and she is found with Dean far less frequently if she is not the current companion.  2. The Courier can alternatively advise her that she doesn’t need to hold onto Vera Keyes just because of their resemblance, and that despite her traumatic experience in the Sierra Madre, she can heal and move on. The Courier can offer their support in the recovery whether or not either dialogue check with Dean Domino was passed, but if neither Dean nor the Courier support Eva, she will default to the previous outcome. If the Courier succeeds in convincing Eva to move on, her default outfit will become a unique version of gambler attire, and she will gain the perk “Letting Go,” which grants her an additional +10 to all damage resistances. 3. Lastly, the Courier can tell Eva that Dean is the one confusing her, not Vera, which leaves her conflicted and emotional. Her dialogue begins to sound more distant and sad, and she gains the perk “Clouded,” which gives her a 10% damage bonus and immunity to getting knocked out/dying while fighting ghouls. 

Game Endings

Killed with Dean: Despite Eva Lee’s efforts to keep Dean Domino alive, the Courier got the better of them. Her last breath in the Sierra Madre was much the same as her first there: unfamiliar, choked by the Cloud, and tasting of bitter copper. Died elsewhere: Eva Lee, treasure hunter extraordinaire, survivor of the Sierra Madre Resort, companion to Courier Six, met her end in the Mojave Wasteland, surrounded by desert warmth and sandy winds. The final beat of her heart fell with pride, and she knew she would rest easy with her memories of the Sierra Madre.  NCR Victory: As the NCR marched through New Vegas, Eva Lee knew her short time at the top was over. She left her suite at the Lucky 38 without a single item, preferring instead to rebuild her life from the ground up in a new land far from the government’s reach. Soon afterwards, rumors of a treasure hunter brave enough to conquer any pre-War ruin could be heard as far east as the Mississippi River. Legion Victory: Thanks to her quick thinking and clever tongue, Eva Lee managed to retain control of the New Vegas Strip as long as she gave Caesar’s Legion preferential treatment inside its walls. For Eva, the trade was more than acceptable, and she lived out the rest of her days in ultimate comfort at the top of the Lucky 38 as crimson banners flew beneath her windows.  House Victory: No longer welcome in the Lucky 38, Eva Lee was forced to seek her home elsewhere. Rather than remaining in New Vegas, she decided to wander home to New Canaan... only she returned to find them slaughtered by the White Legs. Upon seeing this, she began roaming aimlessly, and she eventually met her death alone and unknown.  Independent Victory: Eva Lee was allowed to keep her suite in the Lucky 38, and her fame skyrocketed thanks to her affiliation with the Courier. She loved having her name in lights, and she became one of the most influential figures in New Vegas with her shrewd communication skills and her quick thinking. Personal quest, Beginning Again: As Eva embraced her connection to Vera Keyes, her relationship with Dean Domino grew strained. Eventually, it shattered completely, leaving them both frustrated and lonely. Though bitter, Eva drew comfort from Vera’s strength in her final days, and made sure to live her life as she thought Vera would have wanted: to the fullest, with no regrets. Personal quest, Letting Go: With the help of her lover, Dean Domino, Eva finally began to heal from her traumatic experiences in the Sierra Madre. Unbeknownst to Dean, she helped him move on as well, and the duo grew ever closer as they shot to the top of the New Vegas social scene. Personal quest, Clouded/incomplete: With her heart still torn between her reverence of Vera Keyes and her love of Dean Domino, Eva never felt whole. One day, she simply vanished into the wasteland wearing Vera’s dress… and was never seen again.

[wingsandwant]

There is something to be said for those who can live without letting the world scar them. Those who can remember that happiness will eventually come, that light will always remain at the end of the tunnel no matter how dark it gets. At one time, she had been one of those people. There was a smile to be worn on every occasion, a way to pull joy from the silver linings of every storm cloud that had the audacity to rain on her parade. So what changed?

The reckoning changed. The supernatural should have stayed a secret, because even humans were never quite powerless, despite the common misconception that they were harmless. They were violent, and when they were scared..well, they were malicious. Fear motivated some of the most heinous crimes no matter what the species, and Simone had lived every one of them.

She’d seen in, the beginning. The part where people started to go missing, when her neighbors all of a sudden seemed to move overnight, and then when her father had declared they were moving. Their clan, their people had lived there for longer than anyone else, and just like that, they could and they would give it all up. They hadn’t moved soon enough though, and the night before, they were found.

Nothing about it was subtle, there were no more courtesy disappearances, no more missing, just slaughter. There’s something about seeing the dead for the first time that sticks with you, something about watching your mother bleed out from between your own fingers, covered in whatever was left of her life force, while you desperately tried to help. That was what did it, that’s what changed her. The world finally won, the world finally found a way to make her ugly, to force her to be cold.

It was after that she had learned to fight, that her father had taught her, the two of them left as the only survivors of it all. The ability to protect herself wasn’t enough though, that desperation from before had birthed a need, a demand for power that would promise she’d never be so helpless again. That’s what forced her hand, what taught her to collect the abilities of others, that made her a little bit more of a monster each time.

It was on one of these trips, one of these self serving missions that her father was finally found again. This time they’d taken him, promising to drain him dry from nothing more than the magic in his veins, and they did. They killed him like a hunter would an animal, and then used him for parts, as if he didn’t mean anything to anyone at all. It’s them, all her family, that are forever commemorated over her heart. Each time it beats, it’s like touching them one last time, like what it could have been to say goodbye.

It was after his death, after the dust had settled over the final burial, that she decided it was time to join the war. It had claimed everything she’d ever loved, it was only right, fitting almost that it claim her too. After all, she’d never be as soft and delicate as she once was, because that kind of vulnerability bred a weakness she could no longer afford. The fight was the violence that her bones now craved, that she needed to quell that urge to spread her own pain far and wide. Revenge was an addiction for which there was no cure, but it made no difference.

She wanted to take it, and she did. For years they would celebrate both victory and the losses that paved the way, until that lucky streak finally ran out. Their crimes forced them into the ugliness of the underground, a sort of forced prostitution to pay off the debt they owed, to pay back some semblance of the lives they’d taken. It was all checks and balances, a theory she could understand - but never respect.

Even the brothel taught her things, and even the brothel brought her new power. After all, it wasn’t just the humans that frequented it, and everyone wanted to touch, to see, to feel the fight under her skin, or the sting of her teeth, most though? Most wanted to know what it was like to be owned, and she, she would have gladly taught them, one by one, second by second, until they couldn’t remember anything, wouldn’t remember anything but her.

A decade, maybe two, dragged by until her penance was considered paid. It had been enough, just enough to teach her one thing - that she wanted, she needed to stop running. There was some tall tale of safety, whispered in the dark, and it had a name: Folie a deux. While Simone had learned long before that safety, complete safety was just a children’s lullaby, she knew that something, was better than nothing, and so off she went.

Pride wouldn’t let her share her memories though, wouldn’t let her label herself as some sort of sorry little rescue. Rescue, it implied she’d needed saving and she’d been far beyond that for centuries now. So, she’d played the game, paid, found the right people to make her into a sponsor with a half hearted promise of what she could, or what she would do, for the town.

After all, if she’d been so good at finding power for herself, she certainly could do the same for this place. A scout, but always just this side of self serving. She was dangerous, but dangerous in the way that fire could destroy an entire existence, but we still craved its warmth. Whatever the reasoning the council had, this was it. This was where, who, and what she was now.

The problem was getting close enough to find that out, and considering she’d never bothered to share her memories, who really knew what exactly that was? Some days, she certainly didn’t.

Details..

She has a black and grey tattoo of her family’s crest about her heart on her chest, it has the initials of her two deceased siblings, her mother, and her father.

Simone speaks with a distinctly French accent, despite the fact that her mother was Irish. The accent is something she’d learned from her father before he passed, and while she was growing up. While the years have allowed her to learn to hide it, she often doesn’t bother, and instead uses to pay homage to her father.

Simone’s power includes the ability to leech powers from other beings (fae, or otherwise), or mimic powers she’s seen, experienced, or heard about in the past. She’s a particularly gifted fae, and before her family passed, they were held in a very high regard because of this.

There is a scar that runs the length of her left side from the battle her army had lost, the one that ended in them all being sent to the brothel. While it’s been something many have asked about, she’s never told the story, not even to those that have offered money and other goods in exchange for this.

Simone is well known in the town as someone to go to if you want to check up on someone in the outside world, or if you want them found and brought into town. Granted, this is usually a service the council with provide, but chances are, if you ask her - you have an increased level of effort and skill going into it, that, and she’s definitely willing to take an offering or bribe for it.

What’s hers is hers, this rule applies to people, places, and things.

There is another scar at the base of her neck from where a client threatened to slit her throat if she wouldn’t agree to marry him, which, well...let’s just say only one of them is still breathing.

She wears her mothers wedding ring, but won’t explain the significance beyond the fact that she, herself, is not married. She often turns it out of nervous habit, or the need to keep her hands busy.

Suggestions..

Someone who taught in the war either alongside her, or someone on the opposing side if you’re feeling real nice and nasty. Here’s a little more breakdown on what I’m seeing for either one:

Same side: This would be a particularly close connection, perhaps even a romantic one (but platonic is fine too). They were essentially her second in command, and one of the only people who knew why she joined the war to begin with. Their intimacy doesn’t stop there, it’s written in all the little things the two of them do together, whether it be the way she looks at them just a touch softer sometimes, or the way that only she seems to know how to talk them off the edge. Separate, they were always missing something, but together, they were finally whole. After they lost the battle, the two were separated and now will finally find one another in folie.

Opposing sides: This could be a good love to hate kinsnof opportunity. They two of them were in talks to negotiate, for their side to surrender or even team up with Simone’s army, but it fell through for one reason or another. Whatever that may be, it ends up being the same reason they lost the battle that landed her in the brothel. Again, they can be meeting up in folie, or she can be sent out to get them, unknowing of exactly who they were until she gets there.

Someone from the brothel, be it another warrior that was sent there with her, or clients. Personally, I think the client angle would be very interesting to explore, especially if we throw some drama or feelings in there - considering she had a strict no getting involved with the clients rule - or they could have helped pay off her debt sooner so she was released, honestly, there are a bunch of options here. I’m also cool with something just simple, plain as a one night thing, whatevs.

Someone that asks her to go find something, or someone for them. Alternatively? Someone who has been scouted and brought to the city by her. They could have had quite a far journey, so they became close on the way, or a few close calls (fights, other scouts, armies, weather related things) together, bonus points if its weather or enemy related and they had to spend long amounts of time “cooped up” together.

If you’re interested in plotting with my girl here, just like this and I will message you.

[semirahrose]

The Winchester Brothers and “Starvation Eating”

And why the theory that Dean has been starved (inevitably followed by the assumption that Sam has obviously been well-fed his entire life) is not adequately supported by canon or by published studies of the short or long-term effects of starvation—but that was too long to put in the title.

So someone reblogged my post on Sam’s eating habits to add a link to their own analysis, which made some wonderful points but also some that I strongly disagree with and needed to talk about. In short, their analysis implied that Dean showed evidence of having been starved as a child and Sam didn’t and that Sam’s eating issues and need to control what goes into his body are somehow evidence of class issues, which I don’t think is the primary cause.

I won’t be addressing the second bit, since I sorta made my case here (and foolscapper wrote some amazing analysis here), but I freaking need to talk about the way-too-common and unfounded assumption that Dean starved (usually “for Sam”). Not only is that a selective and way too narrow interpretation of canon, but the “evidence” people use to support the starved!Dean theory often contradicts canon and/or published studies on the effects of starvation.

BUT before I begin, anyone who has also heard “evidence” that the discrepancies in the brothers’ heights implies that Dean starved should read this awesome blogger’s great rebuttal.

Okay, back to eating.

All the pieces of analysis I’ve seen that claim Dean starved for Sam use one or all of these things to justify their conclusions: 

The fact that Dean likes to eat, talks about food, and tends to eat quite a bit, which people assume is related to past starvation.

That scene in “Something Wicked” where Dean gives Sam the last of the Lucky Charms.

That time in 4.04 when Travis the hunter asked Dean if he’s ever been really hungry, “like, haven’t-eaten-in-days hungry?” and Dean sorta smiles and says, “Yeah!” 

But let’s take a look at those one at a time.

Yes, it’s true that people who have experienced starvation display increased thoughts about food. They tend to eat a lot more, and often hoard food. A closely monitored experiment tried to test the short-term effects of starvation on a group of 36 men, and while the men started out active and healthy, their moods, mental health, and behaviors quickly deteriorated. Behaviors like the ones mentioned above did persist in the weeks after the “semistarvation” (as in, they decreased calorie intake by around half). But the “majority of participants” reported that those behaviors associated with starvation were drastically reduced after 5 months, and after 8 months, most of the participants, with a few exceptions, had completely returned to normal eating habits. In fact, another published study looked ahead far longer than 8 months. Over 50 male and female Holocaust survivors participated in a study and survey of how their eating habits had been affected long-term by severe starvation. Their results, personally reported and independently verified by the participants’ families, were not significantly different from the data gathered from the control group. While Dean does eat a lot and think about food, those are some of the only things he has in common with survivors of starvation. So it is absolutely correct to say that Dean has some things in common with people who have been starved, but it is not at all accurate to assert that he “eats like someone who’s been starved,” especially since the behaviors the meta writers cite would likely not persist that long and could easily be influenced by other factors. I’m not saying both Sam and Dean don’t show symptoms/haven’t shown symptoms of children who suffer from food insecurity, but I am saying that these published studies don’t bear out these people’s assertions, and canon doesn’t have near enough evidence to definitively state that either brother “starved.” Absolutely, it’s likely that they’ve been hungry, but that’s as far as we can go.

As @queen-of-carven-stone pointed out, Dean threw away perfectly good and relatively nutritious/filling SpaghettiOs. That is not the behavior of someone who has starved. Even after the starvation experiments I linked to above, some participants hoarded food and ate several times their daily allowance for calories. When people use this to imply that Dean starved for Sam, it just doesn’t hold water. Hiding the last of the Lucky Charms is not hoarding. It’s being human and wanting to stash things so your siblings can’t get to them. If Dean took the SpaghettiOs and ravenously consumed them when Sam rejected them, people might have some basis for a case for starved!Dean, but that’s not what happened. Considering how lightly both Sam and Dean handled the subject of food in that scene, it doesn’t seem like either of them were starving. Also, some people point to Bad Boys, where Dean stole things for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and got caught... but they forget that Dean only stole because he gambled their food money away at the card tables. Dean was obviously trying to do what he thought was best, and he clearly did what he could to care for Sam when he was younger, but he was far from the self-sacrificing, semi-starved white knight some fans try to paint him as.

That quote from 4.04 gets bandied around quite a bit, but please watch the clip rather than reading the transcripts. For anyone who wants to check it out, the relevant conversation starts around 19:30 and goes until 20:00 in the episode.  It’s nothing like people make it out to be. The way Dean answers the question is not solemn or dramatic, haunted-eyed as he recalls starvation. He responds enthusiastically, nearly smiling. Jensen is a fantastic actor. If he’d wanted us to see pain there, we would have. I’m not saying that Dean hasn’t experienced hunger--obviously he has been hungry, but that could range from actually having not eaten for days because there was no food, to not eating anything but canned beans and peanut butter for a few days while hunting a werewolf, to working up an intense appetite on a hunt, to having a wild sex marathon and becoming dehydrated, to being constantly hungry and having a bottomless pit for a stomach when he was going through puberty (I’ve watched two brothers do it), to straight-up hyperbole. Some seem more likely than others to me, and “Dean has actually and repeatedly been starved (for Sam’s sake)” simply isn’t one of them.

Some additional bits that didn’t fit above:

But don’t people who experience starvation make weird food combinations. What about all the weird things Dean added to Mac’n’Cheese? Sure, that’s true. But as one of five siblings raised by a single parent in a crappy trailer without heating or air conditioning (or running water or electricity, though we made do without) on $12,000 a year... we also made weird food combinations, but it wasn’t because we were starving. (We also were responsible for making most of our own food from when we were pretty young, but there was usually a 5 gallon pot of something in the fridge--chicken noodles or spaghetti or something...but that stuff gets old fast, lemme tell ya.) We had food, but there wasn’t always great variety and it wasn’t always things we liked to eat, so we added cheese and tons of other things to ramen noodles to make them new and exciting. So I might consider the possibility that the varieties of Mac could be evidence of food insecurity or even inadequate knowledge of nutrition or a typical kid’s desire to make the same-old fare new, but there’s just not enough there to say that anyone “starved.” Also, while people are using Dean’s culinary weirdness to justify him starving, they forget that Sam often had to make his own meals (5.06) and--of all things in the world--craved marshmallow nachos as a kid (11.08). If people want to say that Dean’s varieties of Mac’n’Cheese are evidence of starvation, it’s funny that they ignore “evidence” of the same for Sam.

But Dean’s still more likely to have not had food than Sam! Not necessarily true? In fact, while Dean and John were out hunting, Sam was left alone in motel rooms for multiple days and expected to travel alone across multiple states to meet them (11.08). He was 9 at the time, but the episode made it clear that he may have been left (alone) since Sam was 5. Sam also mentioned in 11.19 that, during those times when he was alone, he was terrified that John and Dean were dead and tried to figure out what he’d do if they were gone and wasn’t in the state of mind to do so. This is totally speculation, but I think it’s reasonable: it strikes me as unlikely that he’d be making himself balanced, nutritious meals while he was entertaining those thoughts. In fact, season 1 makes it clear that Sam, grieving Jess’s death and worrying about his own nature, barely eats or sleeps. Again, I’m speculating, but it doesn’t take a huge leap to wonder if those habits were formed in childhood. 

So, sure. Sam and Dean may not have had a terribly secure food situation, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t have enough food. As an exception to that prevalent assumption, I felt the need to speak out. Growing up without much money didn’t mean that my family lacked for food. It just meant that the variety available to us was limited. Not saying that’s how things went for the Winchesters, but assuming they starved is just as presumptuous as assuming otherwise (and I feel like the flashbacks reveal that they usually had something to eat... and maybe sometimes they didn’t, but if someone wants to call that fact, they need a lot more than what they have.

I will buy malnourished!Winchesters every day of the week and twice on Sunday. I still have cracks in my teeth from obsessively eating ice as a kid. (Yay, iron deficiency!!) But assuming Dean starved and did so for Sam, who ate at the cost of Dean’s health... is at best an indulgent fanon theory and at worst a gross misinterpretation of canon and information widely available about starvation.

Okay haha rant over. I’m not a professional in this area, so take this with a few grains of salt. It’s just that stuff like that bothers me. People are welcome to cradle their headcanons all they want, but they’re still headcanons.

more meta