#inky: rowan

[maagisterpavus]

DAI flycam is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. look at the way dorian is looking at him. i’m going absolutely feral

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash

Chapters 36-37

Had it been like that in the iron coffin?

Aelin gave no indication that the smothering dark bothered her, and had shown no inclination to illuminate their way. Hadn't even summoned an ember.

But the Little Folk, it seemed, had come prepared. And within heartbeats of entering the pitch-black river passage, blue light had kindled on a lantern dangling over the curved prow. Not light, not even magic. But small worms that glowed pale blue, as if they'd each swallowed the heart of a star. They'd been gathered into the lantern, and their soft light rippled over the water-smooth walls. A gentle, soothing light. At least, for her it was so.

Before Aelin had been given an ancient Faerie Queen's crown, her birthright and heritage.

The queen had stashed Mab's crown in one of their packs, as if it were no more than an extra sword belt. She hadn't spoken, and they had not asked her any questions, either.

Instead, she'd spent these past few hours sitting in the back of the boat, studying her unmarked hands, occasionally peering into the black waters beneath them. What she expected to see beyond her own rippling reflection, Elide didn’t want to know.

He'd crawled after Maeve on the beach to save Aelin. And he had found her during her escape-had ensured Aelin made it out. Did it wipe away what he'd done in summoning Maeve in the first place? Even if Maeve had set the trap, even if he hadn't known what Maeve intended for Aelin, did it erase his decision to call for her?

The last time they'd spoken as friends, it had been aboard that ship in the hours before Maeve's armada had arrived. He'd told her they needed to talk, and she'd assumed it was about their future, about them.

But perhaps he'd been about to tell her what he'd done, that he'd been wrong in acting before Aelin's plans played out. Elide stopped twisting the ring.

He'd done it for her. She knew it.

But the queen sitting silently behind them, no trace of that sharp-edged fire to be seen, nor that wicked grin she'd flashed at all who crossed her path ... Two months with a sadist. With two sadists. That had been the cost, and the burden that Aelin and all of them would bear.

That silence, that banked fire was because of him. Not entirely, but in some ways.

The collar had not been real. But the army Maeve had summoned was.

A blink into the gloom was the only indication that he was aware of her every movement. Aelin breathed in his scent, let its strength settle into her a bit deeper.

Their paths would meet again, or they would not. And if he found the final key and then brought it to her, she would pay what the gods demanded. What she owed Terrasen, the world.

Yet if Dorian chose to end it himself, to forge the Lock ... her stomach churned. He had the power. As much as she did, if not more so.

It was meant to be her sacrifice. Her blood shed to save them all. To let him claim it ... She could. She must. With Erawan no doubt unleashing himself on Terrasen, with Maeve's army likely to cause them untold grief, she could let Dorian do this. She trusted him. Even if she might never forgive herself for it. Her debt, it was supposed to have been her debt to pay.

Perhaps the punishment for failing to do so would be having to live with herself.

Having to live with all that had been done to her these months, too.

The blackness of the subterranean river pressed in, wrapped its arms around her and squeezed.

Different from the blackness of the iron box. The darkness she'd found inside herself.

A place she might never escape, not really.

Her power stirred, awakening. Aelin swallowed, refusing to acknowledge it. Heed it.

She wouldn't. Couldn't. Not yet. Until she was ready.

She had seen Rowan's face when she spoke of what his deception with the collar had prompted her to do. Had noted the way her companions looked at her, pity and fear in their eyes. At what had been done to her, what she'd become.

A new body. A foreign, strange body, as if she'd been ripped from one and shoved into another. Different from moving between her forms, somehow. She hadn't tried shifting into her human body yet. Didn't see the point.

Sitting in silence as the boat was pulled through the gloom, she felt the weight of those stares. Their dread. Felt them wondering just how broken she was.

You do not yield.

She knew that had been true—that it had been her mother's voice who had spoken and none other.

So she would not yield to this. What had been done. What remained. For the companions around her, to lift their despair, their fear, she wouldn't yield.

She'd fight for it, claw her way back to it, who she'd been before. Remember to swagger and grin and wink. She'd fight against that lingering stain on her soul, fight to ignore it. Would use this journey into the dark to piece herself back together-just enough to make it convincing.

Even if this fractured darkness now dwelled within her, even if speech was difficult, she would show them what they wished to see.

An unbroken Fire-Bringer. Aelin of the Wildfire.

She would show the world that lie as well. Make them believe it.

Maybe she'd one day believe it, too.

Days of near-silent travel passed.

Three days, if whatever senses Rowan and Gavriel possessed proved true. Perhaps the latter carried a pocket watch. Aelin didn't particularly care.

She used each of those days to consider what had been done, what lay before her.

Sometimes, the roar of her magic drowned out her thoughts. Sometimes it slumbered. She never heeded it.

They sailed through the darkness, the river below so black that they might as well have been drifting through Hellas's realm.

She hadn't asked him why he remained in his wolf's body. No one asked her why she remained in her Fae form, after all.

Rowan straightened, eyes sparking at her question-or at the fact that she'd spoken at all.

He'd kept by her these days, a silent, steady presence. Even when they'd slept, he'd remained a few feet away, still not touching, but just there. Close enough that the pine-and-snow scent of him eased her into slumber.

Silence at the order, even from Rowan. Aelin pointed to the lip of shore by the cave mouth. "Stop the boat," she repeated.

The queen had been reckless before Cairn and Maeve had worked on her for two months, but it seemed she'd had any bit of common sense flayed from her.

"Well, I don’t have any, so forgive me if I remain alert." No, she'd once told him that while magic flowed in the Lochan bloodline, she had none to speak of. He'd never told her that he'd always considered her cleverness to be a mighty magic on its own, regardless of Anneith's whisperings.

"It will take time for her to readjust."

She stared at him with those damning eyes.

He braced his forearms on his knees. "We got her back. She's with us now. What more do you want?" From me, He didn't need to add Elide straightened.

Elide straightened. "I don't want anything." From you.

This was where they'd have it out, then. "How much longer am I supposed to atone?"

"Are you growing bored with it?" He snarled.

She only glared at him. "I hadn't realized you were even atoning."

"I came here, didn't I?"

"For whom, exactly? Rowan? Aelin?"

"For both of them. And for you." There. Let it be laid before them.

"I told you on that beach: I want nothing to do with you."

"So one mistake and I am your eternal enemy?"

"She is my queen, and you summoned Maeve, then told her where the keys were, and you stood there while they did that to her."

"You have no idea what the blood oath can do. None."

"Fenrys broke the oath. He found a way."

"And had Aelin not been there to offer him another, he would have died." He let out a low, joyless laugh. "Perhaps that's what you would have preferred."

She ignored his last comment. "You didn't even try."

"I did," he snarled. "I fought it with everything I had. And it was not enough. If she'd ordered me to slit your throat, I would have. And if I had found a way to break the oath, I would have died, and she might very well have killed you or taken you afterward. On that beach, my only thought was to get Maeve to forget about you, to let you go-"

"I don't care about me! I didn't care about me on that beach!"

"Well, I do."

This was what came of opening that door to a place inside him that no one had ever breached. This mess, this hollowness in his chest that made him keep needing to make things right.

"Resent me all you like," he said, damning the hoarseness of his words. "I'm sure I'll survive."

Hurt flashed in her eyes. "Fine," she said, her voice brittle.

He hated that brittleness more than anything he'd ever encountered. Hated himself for causing it. But he had limits to how low he'd crawl.

He'd said his piece. If she wanted to wash her hands of him forever, then he would find a way to respect that. Live with it.

Somehow.

Gratitude shone in her eyes.

Rowan only gave her a nod. Don't worry about it.

Yet Aelin turned away, shutting off that silent conversation as she surveyed the space.

Time. It would take time for her to heal.

Even if he knew his Fireheart would pretend otherwise.

So, Rowan looked, too. Across the tomb, beyond the sarcophagus and treasure, an archway opened into another chamber. Perhaps another tomb, or an exit passage.

"We don't have time to find a way out,"

Rowan murmured as she strode into the tomb.

"And the caves remain safer than the surface."

"I'm not looking for a way out," she said in that calm, unmoved voice. She stooped, swiping up a fistful of gold coins stamped with forgotten king's face. "We're going to need to fund our travels. And the gods know what else." Rowan arched a brow. Aelin shrugged and shoved the gold into the pocket of her cloak. "Unless the pitiful clinking I heard from your coin purse didn't indicate you were low on funds."

That spark of wry humor, the taunting … She was trying. For his sake, or the others' maybe her own, she was trying.

Rowan gave the Lion a slashing grin. "You heard the lady."

A flash ruptured from where Fenrys had been sniffing at a trunk of jewels, and then a male was standing there. His gray clothes worn, but intactin better shape than the hollowed-out look in his eyes.

Aelin paused her looting.

Fenrys's throat bobbed, as if trying to remember speech. Then he said hoarsely, "We needed more pockets." He patted his own for emphasis.

Aelin's lips curved in a hint of a smile. She blinked at Fenrys—three times.

Fenrys blinked once in answer.

A code. They'd made up some silent code to communicate when he'd been ordered to remain in his wolf form.

Aelin's smile remained, just barely, as she walked to the golden-haired male, his bronze skin ashen. She opened her arms in silent offer.

To let him decide if he wished for contact. If he could endure it.

Just as Rowan would let her decide if she wished to touch him.

A small sigh broke from Fenrys before he folded Aelin into his arms, a shudder rippling through him. Rowan couldn't see her face, perhaps didn't need to, as her hands gripped Fenrys's jacket, so tightly they were white-knuckled.

A good sign—a small miracle, that either of them wished, could be touched. Rowan reminded himself of it, even while some intrinsic, male part of him tensed at the contact.

A territorial Fae bastard, she'd once called him. He'd do his best not to live up to that title.

"Thank you," Aelin said, her voice small in a way that made Rowan's chest crack further.

Fenrys didn't answer, but from the anguish on his face, Rowan knew no thanks were in order.

They pulled away, and Fenrys cupped her cheek. "When you are ready, we can talk."

About what they'd endured. To unravel all that had happened.

Aelin nodded, blowing out a breath. "Likewise."

She resumed shoving gold into her pockets, but glanced back to Fenrys, his face drawn. "I gave you the blood oath to save your life," she said. "But if you do not want it, Fenrys, I ... we can find some way to free you—"

"I want it," Fenrys said, no trace of his usual swaggering humor. He glanced to Rowan, and bowed his head. "It is my honor to serve this court. And serve you," he added to Aelin.

She waved a hand in dismissal, though Rowan didn't fail to note the sheen in her eyes as she stooped to gather more gold. Giving her a moment, he strode to Fenrys and clasped his shoulder. "It's good to have you back." He added, stumbling a bit on the word, "Brother." For that's what they would be. Had never been before, but what Fenrys had done for Aelin .. Yes, brother was what Rowan would call him. Even if Fenrys's own—

Fenrys's dark eyes flickered. "She killed Connall. Made him stab himself in the heart." A pearl-and-ruby necklace scattered from Gavriel's fingers.

The temperature in the tomb spiked, but there was no flash of flame, no swirl of embers.

As if Aelin's magic had surged, only to be leashed again.

Yet Aelin continued shoving gold and jewels into her pockets.

She'd witnessed it, too. That slaughter.

But it was Gavriel, approaching on silent feet even with the jewels and gold on the floor, who clasped Fenrys's other shoulder. "We will make sure that debt is paid before the end." The Lion had never uttered such words not toward their former queen. But fury burned in Gavriel's tawny gaze. Sorrow and fury.

Fenrys took a steadying breath and stepped away, the loss on his face mingling with something Rowan couldn't place. But now wasn't the time to ask, to pry.

Aelin continued picking her way amongst the treasure, however. She'd been more selective than the rest of them, examining pieces with what Rowan had assumed was a jeweler's eye. The gods knew she'd owned enough finery to tell what would fetch the highest price at market.

"We should go," he said. His own pockets were near to bursting, his every step weighed down.

She rose from a rusted metal chest she'd been riffling through.

Rowan remained still as she approached, something clenched in her palm. It was only when she stopped close enough for him to touch her that she unfurled her fingers.

Two golden rings lay there.

"I don't know the Fae customs," she said.

The thicker ring held an elegantly cut ruby within the band itself, while the smaller one bore a sparkling rectangular emerald mounted atop, the stone as large as her fingernail. "But when humans wed, rings are exchanged." Her fingers trembled-just slightly. Too many unspoken words lay between them. Yet now was not the time for that conversation, for that healing.

Not when they had to be on their way as swiftly as possible, and this offer she'd made him, this proof that she still wanted what lay between them, the vows they'd sworn ...

"I assume the sparkly emerald is for me," Rowan said with a half smile.

She huffed a laugh. The soft, whispered sound was as precious as the rings she'd found for them in this hoard. She took his hand, and he tried not to shudder in relief, tried not to fall to his knees as she slid the ruby ring onto his finger. It fit him perfectly, the ring no doubt forged for the king lying in this barrow.

Silently, Rowan grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. "To whatever end," he whispered.

Silver lined her eyes. "To whatever end." A reminder-and a vow, more sacred than the wedding oaths they'd sworn on that ship.

To walk this path together, back from the darkness of the iron coffin. To face what waited in Terrasen, ancient promises to the gods be damned.

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

"I'll make the tattoo again." She swallowed, but nodded. "And," he added, "I'd like to add another. To me—and to you."

Her brows flicked up, but he squeezed her hand. You'll have to wait and see, Princess.

Another hint of a smile. She didn't balk from the silent words this time. Typical.

He opened his mouth to voice the question he'd been dying to ask for days now. May I kiss you? But she pulled her hand from his.

Admiring the wedding band sparkling on her finger, her mouth tightened as she turned over her palm. "I'll need to retrain."

Not a single callus marked her hands.

Aelin frowned at her too-thin body. "And pack on some muscle again." A slight quiver graced her words, but she curled her hands into fists at her sides and smirked at her clothes—the Mistward clothes. "It'll be just like old times."

Trying. She was dredging up that swagger and trying. So he would, too. Until she didn't need to any more.

Rowan gave her a crooked grin. "Just like old times," he said, following her out of the barrow and back toward the ebony river, "but with far less sleep."

He could have sworn the passageway heated. But Aelin kept going.

Later. That conversation, this unfinished business between them, would come later.

[pluviatrix]

inquisitor rowan lavellan i am so happy for you and your ugly fucking boyfriend and your girlfriend and your other girlfriend and your other boyfriend and your bestie and your other bestie and your weirdly homoerotic chess partnership and your drinking buddy and your weird fucking dad and your albatross im so serious

i played dragon age. scenery plus my inky, shithead extraordinaire.

[pupsmailbox]

ACADEMIC ID PACK

NAMES︰ adeline. agatha. alastair. alex. alexander. alexandria. alisa. amber. ambrose. ambrosia. amorette. andrew. annabel. annabeth. annalise. anya. arden. artemis. arthur. ash. ashford. aspen. athena. atlas. atreus. augustus. avery. beatrix. blair. blake. blythe. bram. bronwyn. caspian. charles. charlotte. christopher. circe. claude. coraline. crimson. damian. damien. damon. daphne. darcy. demeter. diana. dorian. durant. ebony. eden. edgar. eleanor. elenor. elizabeth. elvira. emberl. enid. eris. everett. fantine. felix. fern. genevieve. george. grey. griffin. haven. hazel. hecate. henry. hester. holmes. hyde. inkesse. inkette. inkie. inky. isolde. ivie. ivy. james. jane. journalle. julian. julius. juno. kane. killian. lenore. lilith. lorelei. luna. magnus. malachi. mallory. maude. meredith. naomi. narissa. nicodem. nightesse. nightwing. nimue. noire. noiresse. noirette. odessa. odette. oliver. ophelia. orion. percy. persephone. peyton. phineas. phoebe. quill. quille. quinn. raven. ravenesse. ravenette. ravenne. remus. romero. rory. rosalind. rose. rowan. rowena. rufus. salem. scriptesse. sebastian. stoker. sylvain. tanith. theo. theodore. theodosia. trista. tristan. victor. victoria. vincent. virgil. wilhelmine. willow. wynona. xanthe. zoltan.

PRONOUNS︰ acade/academia. amber/amber. an/antique. arch/architectself. arch/archive. art/art. art/artist. arti/article. arti/fact. artifact/artifact. baro/baroque. bea/beauty. bis/bisque. book/book. bookworm/bookworm. calligraphy/calligraphy. can/vas. candle/candle. cer/ceramic. char/charcoal. chess/chess. clas/classic. clay/clay. clock/clock. co/collect. coco/coco. cocoa/cocoa. cof/coffee. coffee/coffee. col/color. coll/collection. collage/collage. con/cept. crea/cream. crow/crow. cur/curate. dra/drama. dust/dust. essay/essay. fea/feather. feather/feather. fig/figure. fil/film. flicker/flicker. gal/gallery. glaze/glaze. globe/globe. gold/gold. hazel/hazel. his/history. history/history. hon/honey. hue/hue. hypo/hypothesis. illus/illustrate. ink/ink. journal/journal. ki/kiln. knowledge/knowledge. le/letter. learn/learn. letter/letter. li/library. lig/ligature. lit/literature. mar/marble. mur/mural. murder/murder. muse/muse. muse/museum. night/night. no/note. novel/novel. page/page. paint/brush. paint/paint. paint/painting. paper/paper. para/dox. pen/pen. pho/photo. pi/pigment. piano/piano. poe/poet. poem/poem. por/trait. porcel/porcelain. print/print. qui/quill. quill/quill. raven/raven. rea/read. read/read. ren/renaissance. rev/revolution. scrapbook/scrapbook. script/scripts. scroll/scroll. sculp/sculptor. sculp/sculpture. sketch/sketch. speci/specimen. spine/spine. sta/stamp. stai/stain. stamp/stamp. statue/statue. story/story. stu/dy. study/studie. study/study. surreal/surrealism. tea/tea. theo/theory. theory/theory. thes/thesis. time/time. tweed/tweed. violin/violin. wheel/wheel. ⌛. ⌛���. ☕. ✒︎. ✒️. 🏛️. 🏺. 📜. 🕯️. 🖼️.

[ang3lwithapen]

Hello! Would you consider adding the physical descriptions of the siblings to their introductions?

Hello! I would rather leave only the personality in the introduction. However I'm assuming you'd like a quick reference for their appearance, so here you go:

Alice: Alice is a tall, elegant woman in her late twenties. She has inky black hair that she usually holds in a low bun behind her head, complimented by a few white strands. She does allow some of her hair to fall to the sides of her face. Her eyes are a maroon shade that looks almost red under direct sunlight, and brown in the shadows. Her features are strong and sharp. She wears a simple black dress that covers most of her skin. She is quite pale.

Arlen: Arlen is a very tall, elegant man in his late twenties. He has inky black hair, with a few white stripes, that he keeps slicked back, although with a few strands falling over his forehead. His eyes are a maroon shade, that looks almost red under direct sunlight, and brown in the shadows. His features are strong and masculine. He wears a black suit with a white shirt underneath. He is quite pale.

Rose: Rose is a beautiful woman with long curly brown hair that reaches her mid-back, it has some golden accents that are usually noticeable in the sun. She also has sharp brown eyes with long dark lashes. Her lips are full and soft looking, usually curled in a smile and painted red. She usually wears a red dress with golden accents. Her skin is bronze colored.

Rowan: Rowan is a handsome man with short, slightly curly brown hair (it would look curlier if he let it grow out). It has some golden accents noticeable in the sun. He has an athletic physique. He has long, dark lashes and brown eyes. He has a gorgeous smile that forms dimples on his cheeks. He usually wears a red suit with golden accents and a white cotton scarf around his neck. He has bronze skin.

Sabrina: Sabrina is a really pretty, delicate looking young woman. She has long, light brown hair with bangs falling over her forehead and blue eyes. She is slightly shorter and thinner than the average woman. She always wears very fancy clothing, preferring dark tones such as purple and black. Her skin is very pale. She also always has dark eye circles.

Sebastian: Sebastian is a really pretty, delicate looking young man. His sandy hair is short and fluffy, crowning his head and covering most of his forehead. He has blue eyes. He is slightly shorter and thinner than the average man. He always wears fancy suits, with a preference for dark colors such as black and purple. His skin is very pale, and he also always has dark eye circles.

Helena: Helena is a tall woman with long platinum hair that has a wild look to it. Her eyes are a very pale shade of blue. She has feminine and delicate features. Her eyebrows and lashes are also a fair shade of blonde. She has a beautiful, angelic look to her. She usually wears simple white nightgowns. Her skin is alabaster white.

Hector is a tall man with long platinum hair that has a wild look to it. He has a lean, strong frame. His eyes are a very pale shade of blue. He has feminine and delicate features that give him an angelic look. He usually wears simple white clothing. His skin is alabaster white.

[leiawritesstories]

stars above

for @throneofglassmicrofics August prompt "Indigo"

word count: 894

warnings: none hehe ;)

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A midnight breeze rustled softly through the thick carpet of grass beneath Aelin's bare feet as she walked slowly across the open field. In the long years since the breaking of the dam, Theralis had first withered and scorched to a hard platter of baked dirt, then gradually covered itself in a fine dusting of green. A scattering of wildflowers speckled the lush meadow that the plain had become, and the queen's lips curved into a gentle smile. Water beaded in the cup of her palm, and she let the drops tumble to the ground--an offering, a gesture of thanks.

In the middle of the plain, Aelin sat, then tipped backwards and laid down in the grass, her eyes drifting closed for a moment before opening wide to gaze into the deep indigo velvet of the night sky. Stars unfurled in silvery ribbons far away in the skies, and her eyes traced the familiar lines and dips of the constellations she had learned as a child, leaping from one bright flare of starlight to the next. Somewhere between the Lord of the North and Deanna's Bow, a tiny, inky void blotted the expanse of the stars.

She squinted hard at that ripple of darkness, wondering why it was there and why something told her she knew what it was. When she tipped her head sideways, viewing the sky from a different angle, the shape seemed more defined, somehow.

Like a doorway.

The wings inked onto her back pulsed, the Wyrdmarks written there flaring subtly in answer to the question that coiled around her thoughts. A doorway. Perhaps a doorway from another world, a lingering mark of the queen's descent back into the arms of her life and her love.

Question answered, Aelin's gaze drifted across the sky again, aimlessly wandering from one pinprick of flickering light to the next, searching the stars for another near-forgotten image. But the stars had shifted since she was a child, and the patterns that she had been able to trace even during her long, tormented years at the Assassins' Keep were not where she had found them. Teras blurred her vision, and as she swiped them on her sleeve, her mate's presence tugged gently at her heart.

Why are you crying, Fireheart? Even from as far away as the palace in Orynth, Rowan's concern was palpable.

She sniffled. The stars are different now, and I...I can't...

His understanding poured over her like a wave. I'll be there in a moment.

I'm at Theralis, you hovering buzzard, it isn't as if you can just flap your wings and appear here.

Wait and see. She could feel the faint rasp of his chuckle. Shaking her head, she stared deeper into the stars, jolting slightly when a warm, calloused hand touched her shoulder. "Fireheart."

"Rowan." When in the hells did Fenrys teach you to shadow-walk?

He laid down in the grass beside her, linking his tattooed fingers with hers. We've been practicing for a few months, at least.

"Could have given your wife a warning." She squeezed his hand.

"That wouldn't be any fun." Her buzzard flashed her a smug little grin and turned his eyes to the stars above. "Tell me, Fireheart. Who are you looking for?"

Tears glossed her vision at the depth of how well he understood her, at the simple, open way he asked who. "My...my parents." She flicked a stray tear off of her cheek. "When I was younger, in Rifthold, I'd look for them in the constellations some nights. I knew I could find the Lord of the North and follow his antlers, but when I was looking tonight, I..." A sigh shuddered through her. "It's been so many years, and the sky has shifted."

His thumb stroked up and down the back of her hand. "Can you find the Lord of the North for me, Aelin?" Her gaze traced across the sky, quickly locating the pattern of the stag, and she pointed to it. "Good. Now, I want you to trace up to his antlers and stop when you find the edge of the constellation." He guided her hand as she traced. "Now go east."

Her brows furrowed. "East? I've always looked north."

"I'm trying to account for the shift," he said. "There was a pattern I used to navigate when I was a youth, and as I grew older, it shifted east, enough that I eventually had to re-plot the charts."

She smirked. "That was a lovely history lesson, old man. I'm surprised you even remember your youth from such an advanced age."

I remember a good deal at such an advanced age, he rasped into her mind, the words tinted with promise. "This way." He guided her finger across the path of the stars, and when she stopped suddenly and shakily traced a shape he'd never charted, he twined his arms around her waist and held her as she inked the new placement of her parents' constellation into her heart.

"Thank you," she breathed, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I miss them. Gods, so much."

He kissed the top of her head. "I'm certain they're smiling on you from the afterlife, love."

"I hope so." She went quiet, and the pair of them laid there on the plain, watching the stars flicker in the night sky, until Aelin finally fell asleep.

~~~

TAGS:

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@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

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@mariaofdoranelle

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@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

[wenclairly]

I will probably just write this myself someday but

A fic where the Stalker is revealed to be Yoko. Much like Rowan, she has convinced herself that Wednesday is dangerous, and wants to keep her bestie Enid from getting hurt again. Unlike Rowan, she was radicalized by MorningSong, whose "therapy" app actually exaggerates fear and doubt to dangerous extremes.

letters, knives, and second chances | wenclair

wednesday addams x enid sinclair

description: wednesday and enid receive a note from wendesday's stalker, leading to revelations that they never could have expected.

tags/warnings: stalker, stalking, post-canon.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: thank you kbb306 for this amazing request, and our first one no less :) we apologize for a tiny delay! we've been trying to balance our own writing with this blog too. and we're very excited to share our first co-written req!! we do have another requested one shot in the works, and feel free to request more guys we LOVE when you do! enjoy this lil one ;) - jes & aly

The metallic clang of the cafeteria doors echoed behind Wednesday as she emerged, the lingering taste of lukewarm gruel a bitter reminder of Nevermore’s culinary shortcomings. The midday sun was casting its usual shadows across the cobblestone courtyard; yet something felt amiss. The distorted patches of darkness seemed to cause an unease in Wednesday, one that had long taken root since her return to school.

Two months had passed since the harrowing events that had nearly torn Nevermore apart, and the scars were still visible. The manicured lawns bore the scorch marks of battle, the stone gargoyles seemed to leer with a newfound malevolence, and the whispers of students now carried an undercurrent of fear that hadn’t been there before.

Wednesday tugged her blazer tighter around her, a futile attempt to ward off the growing chill. Even her usually vibrant roommate had subdued, her infectious laughter now punctuated by moments of quiet introspection. It was as if the darkness that had threatened to consume them all had left a permanent stain.

As Wednesday made her way back to the dorm, her mind drifted to Enid’s therapy session. The new therapist, a chipper woman with a penchant for pastel sweaters and motivational posters, had arrived in the wake of the chaos, a self-proclaimed expert in trauma recovery. Enid had embraced the sessions with her usual enthusiasm, but Wednesday remained skeptical. Could a few platitudes and breathing exercises truly mend the wounds inflicted by a centuries-old monster?

Lost in her thoughts, Wednesday rounded the corner. Only to be jolted back to reality by an unexpected sight. Their door, usually firmly shut, stood slightly ajar. A frown tugged at her lips as she approached, her pace quickening with each step. Had Enid forgotten to close it before leaving? Or had someone else ventured into their shared space, disturbing the delicate balance they had carefully constructed?

The air hung heavy with an unfamiliar scent, a subtle blend of cedarwood and something floral, decidedly not Enid’s usual werewolf musk. A chill slithered down Wednesday’s spine. With a soft push, the door creaked open.

The room appeared undisturbed at first glance. Enid’s collection of stuffed animals were still perched on her bed, their wide eyes watching Wednesday with an unnerving intensity. And her overflowing bookshelf of romance novels and werewolf folklore remained untouched. Even Wednesday’s typewriter sat calmly on her desk, a half-finished poem visible in its carriage.

But as her eyes adjusted, a discordant detail pierced the illusion of normalcy. A crisp white envelope laying on the inky blackness of her bedspread. It was intrusion, a violation of her personal space that set her teeth on edge.

With a measured step, Wednesday approached the bed. Her eyes fixed on the envelope as she reached out to brush her fingers against the smooth paper. It was unsealed, an invitation to delve into its contents.

She swiftly slid her finger beneath the flap and tore it open. A single sheet of paper, thick and heavy, fell into her hand. The handwriting was an attempt at elegance, but held an obvious note of sloppiness. Yet it wasn’t how the letters were penned that unnerved her, but the words themselves.

“Dearest Wednesday,” the letter began, “Your darkness casts a long shadow, a blight on the innocence of Nevermore. I see the danger you pose, the poison you spread with your twisted words and morbid obsessions. Enid, my dear sweet Enid, deserves better than to be ensnared by your darkness.”

A cold fury ignited in Wednesday’s chest. But she read on, each word twisting the knot in her stomach tighter.

“I will not allow you to corrupt her any more than you have, to drag her further down your abyss. You will leave Nevermore, or I will ensure that Enid pays the price. Consider this a warning, a taste of a different darkness that awaits you, should you refuse to heed my words.”

The letter ended abruptly, the final sentence hanging venomously in the air. Wednesday’s grip tightened on the paper, her knuckles turning white as she fought to contain her rage. This was not a prank, not a childish attempt at intimidation. This was a declaration of war, a threat against the person she held most dear.

* * *

When Enid returned from therapy, she entered the dorm to see Wednesday furiously typing away, the familiar sound of the typewriter clacking aggressively. Enid’s eyebrow raised, though she didn’t question Wednesday’s anger. It could range from something serious to a minor inconvenience that had ruined her day. As logical as Wednesday was, Enid had to admit that sometimes she was quite brash.

It wasn’t the aggressive typing that worried Enid. Instead, it was the way Wednesday stood up and pulled the paper from the typewriter, crumpling it and flattening it down onto her desk. Thing was waiting there and kicked it into the waiting wastebasket. After that, the clacking sounds stopped. Wednesday sat at her desk and huffed a loud sigh.

“Everything okay?” Enid asked hesitantly. She’d beelined for her bed, laying down with her laptop resting on her legs. She had an essay due within the next few days, and she was terrible at getting them done on time. She had considered asking for help, but Wednesday’s apparent bad mood was enough to prevent her from doing so.

“I’m fine.” Wednesday answered briskly, not even bothering to turn around to face Enid. Instead she stared at her typewriter as if trying to burn a hole into it.

Enid hummed thoughtfully, then slid her laptop off her legs and onto the bed beside her. “You don’t seem fine.” Enid pointed out, much to Wednesday’s chagrin. The girl’s shoulders tensed and she turned, her permanent glare boring into Enid. “Yikes. Okay.” Enid immediately turned her attention back to her laptop, turning so her back was facing Wednesday.

Things were quiet for a moment, before she heard another long sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m simply frustrated. It seems my ability to write has conveniently decided to disappear.” There was a slight tremor in Wednesday’s voice. It was definitely more than that.

“Writer’s block?” Enid suggested, her gaze moving back to Wednesday. The raven was resting a hand on her temple, her elbow propped up on the desk.

“Absolutely not. I have never once been afflicted with writer’s block and I certainly will not begin to be now.” Wednesday drummed her fingers on her desk.

Enid’s sensitive hearing picked up on the drumming. Her eyebrow rose in a skeptical expression. “Maybe something else is bothering you?”

Wednesday froze at the remark. Enid tilted her head. That was an indication of her being correct. It seemed clear enough to her that something else was going on inside of Wednesday’s head. Something that was bothering her. “What’s wrong?”

Enid watched as her roommate looked at her, then averted her gaze, then looked at her again. She was unsure, nervous, even. “I received another message from my stalker.”

Enid perked up, sitting up straight in her bed upon hearing the news. “Really? What was it?”

“A threat.” Wednesday said ominously, opening the drawer at the side of her desk and pulling a letter out of it. Enid got on her feet, swiftly crossing the line between their two halves and taking the letter from Wednesday once it was offered to her. Her eyes scanned the piece of paper, and with each line she felt more nauseated.

“‘My dear sweet Enid’?” Enid quoted the letter, frowning. “Whoever wrote this clearly has no idea who you are.” She felt anger of her own festering in her chest, building up. Who did this person think they were? Insulting Wednesday and their friendship. As if Enid was too weak to be friends with someone like Wednesday.

Enid was tired of being seen as weak.

“I have a relatively good idea of who it might be.” Wednesday’s burning glare returned back to the paper loaded in her typewriter. “Who else would refer to you that way? It must be Ajax.” There was a sort of bitterness in her voice. It wasn’t aggressive enough to be anger, but it wasn’t placid enough to be just a simple dislike. It was deeper than that. Enid wondered if she was overthinking it, but if she didn’t know any better, she’d think Wednesday was jealous.

“That’s true.” Enid’s eyebrows furrowed. “But he’s never called me ‘dear’ or ‘sweet’.”

“A failure of a partner, if you ask me.” Wednesday grumbled under her breath.

Enid blinked. “That’s a little harsh.”

“Not harsh enough. I should have nailed his heart to a wall before you two reached whatever you define it to be now.” Wednesday looked up at Enid, who was staring down at her with a confused expression.

Enid sighed softly. “It’s complicated.” She quickly muttered, not particularly in the mood to detail how the best word she could use to describe what she and Ajax had was “situationship”.

“That’s what they all say.” Wednesday bit back, turning her gaze back to the blank piece of paper in front of her.

“Okay, well-” Enid started to argue, then paused and took a deep breath. “That’s besides the point. What are we supposed to do about this stalker?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Wednesday’s lips. “I could always build another makeshift guillotine.”

“Wednesday, no.” Enid huffed. “Something that doesn’t involve killing my…” She hesitated, “...him.” She finished, unsure once again how to describe Ajax.

Wednesday scoffed. “You’d be better off without him.”

Enid waved her off. “That’s besides the point.” She rubbed her temple with two fingers, starting to get a headache from Wednesday’s one-sided hatred of Ajax. “Why don’t we just talk to him?”

“I suppose. But I’m bringing a knife with me.”

Enid already knew that Wednesday wasn’t going to budge on that point, so she didn’t bother trying to fight it. “Fine.” She said lowly. Wednesday was already standing up and moving to her bed, kneeling down and reaching underneath it. “Wait, you mean right now?”

“Yes, right now. We need to get to the bottom of this immediately. These letters are unacceptable.” Wednesday pulled a small box out from under her bed, opening it to reveal an intricate dagger.

“You don’t-” Enid rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine.” She agreed begrudgingly once again. “Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

“Alright.” Wednesday stood up, hiding the dagger in her sleeve, and began walking towards the door, Enid in tow as usual. The two of them exited the dorm, bent on ending this “stalker” business right then and there.

The quad at Nevermore was a microcosm of the school’s social hierarchy. Flocks of sirens gossiped near the fountains, their scales shimmering in the afternoon light. A group of gorgons, their stony gazes fixed on chessboards, hurled under the shade of the outside trees. And nestled in the corner, at a small stony table, was Ajax Petropolus sitting beside Bianca Barclay.

Wednesday and Enid approached the pair. Enid’s usually bouncy gait was tempered by a hint of apprehension as she trailed behind Wednesday’s, whose stride remained as purposeful as ever. Her eyes were fixed on their target with the intensity of a predator stalking its prey.

Ajax, oblivious to their approach, was mid-sentence. Bianca, her eyes half-closed against the sun, seemed to be humoring him with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Petropolus,” Wednesday’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

Ajax’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in the sight of Wednesday and Enid standing before him. A nervous smile flickered across his face before it was quickly replaced by a look of feigned nonchalance.

“Yo, Wednesday, Enid,” he greeted them with a casual nod of his head. “What’s up?”

Wednesday’s lips curled in disgust. “Don’t,” she snapped, the word dripping with venom. “We have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you.”

Enid, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward in an attempt to be a calming counterpoint to Wednesday’s iciness. “Ajax, we need to talk about the letters,” she said, her eyes searching his face.

Ajax blinked, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. “Letters?” he echoed, his voice tinged with genuine confusion. “What letters?”

Bianca tilted her head, even her expression betrayed a hint of bewilderment. “You mean fan mail, Enid?” she quipped, a playful lilt to her voice. “Saving Nevermore isn’t taken lightly. You’ve got quite the following now I see.”

Enid’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “Not fan mail, Bianca,” she retorted, her voice rising an octave. “Threatening letters. From Wednesday’s stalker.”

The word hung in the air. Ajax’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, while Bianca’s demeanor was replaced by a mask of guarded curiosity.

“A stalker?” Ajax repeated, his voice barely a whisper. “But who would…?”

Wednesday cut him off with a chillingly calm voice, her eyes narrowing to slits. “You tell us, Petropolus,” she hissed, her words dripping with accusation. “You seem awfully confused, perhaps suspiciously so.”

Ajax recoiled under Wednesday’s piercing gaze. “Woah, Wednesday,” he stammered slightly, raising his hands in a gesture of defense. “I don’t know anything about any stalker. What even makes you think that?”

That’s when Bianca stepped in, her voice sharp and defensive. “Back off, Wednesday,” she snapped. “Ajax is the last person who would do something like this. He’s been nothing but kind and supportive to Enid—”

Wednesday was quick to interrupt with a scoff. “Kind and supportive?” she echoed, a venomous edge to her voice. “Or perhaps he’s simply following a well-trodden path of deception, lulling us into a false sense of security while harboring sinister intentions.”

Ajax flinched as if struck, his face paling under the intensity of her accusation. Bianca bristled, her lips forming a thin line of displeasure.

Enid, however, had reached her limit. She stepped forward, her voice a low growl. “Enough, Wednesday,” she hissed. “You’re being unfair now. Ajax… isn’t him.” 

A tense silence descended upon them. Wednesday was momentarily taken aback by the outburst, remaining silent as the implications seeped into her. It stung. But there was a creeping sense that perhaps Enid was right.

After a beat, Ajax finally spoke, his voice a hesitant plea. “Enid, I don’t get it,” he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What did the letter even say? What kind of threats are we talking about?”

Enid’s breath hitched, the words of the letter had been a sour taste on her tongue. “It said,” she began, lowering her voice, “something about Wednesday being a ‘danger’... a ‘blight on the innocence of Nevermore’. It says that I… I deserve better than to be ‘ensnared by her darkness’.” She paused for a moment, tracing her mind back to what else the letter had said. A knot formed in her stomach as she remembered the rest, the threat to her own safety. Enid couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “Such theatrics,” she muttered, a hint of disgust lacing her tone. “One would think we were dealing with a Shakespearean villain, not some cowardly stalker hiding behind vague threats and flowery language.”

Bianca dismissively waved her hand. “Sounds like the kind of fear-mongering nonsense MorningSong’s ‘wellness app’ is always peddling,” she scoffed, the disdain evident. “All that talk of darkness and danger, it’s enough to make one paranoid.”

“MorningSong?” Wednesday echoed, deceptively calm. “Who here subscribes to that drivel?”

Ajax shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes darting nervously towards Bianca. “Yoko,” he blurted out, the name a low mumble.

Enid’s eyes widened. “Yoko has that app?” Her voice was filled with incredulity.

“I told her not to get it.” Bianca hummed pensively, shaking her head. “But she said it was just a joke, that she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. I didn’t think she’d take it seriously.”

Wednesday’s expression darkened. “Well. I suppose we know who our stalker is. Good thing I brought a knife.”

“You brought a what?” Ajax blinked, watching closely as Wednesday gestured towards her sleeve. 

“It’s Wednesday. What were you expecting?” Bianca grumbled sarcastically. 

Enid waved them off. “Does it really matter? Let’s just go find Yoko and talk to her. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. She knows what we’ve been through. It’s gotta be that stupid app.”

“Good luck.” Bianca called as they walked away, settling back down next to Ajax, who looked as confused as always.

“When I find that vampire, I’m going to shove a stake through her heart.” Wednesday hissed under her breath. The two of them made their way to Yoko’s dorm, Wednesday fuming and Enid feeling more unsure with each step.

When they finally arrived, Enid went to knock on the door, but Wednesday simply shoved it open with no regard of who might be on the other side or what they might be doing.

“Tanaka.” Wednesday practically growled, entering the room like an ominous storm cloud.

Yoko was sitting at her desk, her laptop open in front of her. She jolted, her shoulders tensing. She whipped around in her chair, staring directly at both Wednesday and Enid, a nervous smile flickering over her face. “Uh… Hey, Enid. Wednesday.” She greeted, her voice shaking slightly.

“Care to explain your pathetic letters?” Wednesday stormed over to Yoko, slamming her hand onto the desk and leaning over the vampire.

“Wednesday-” Enid started. She was promptly cut off by Yoko, who stood up. Given Wednesday’s small stature, Yoko stood a few inches taller than her, looking down at her with a glare. “I’ll explain it alright. Enid wouldn’t have been hurt by the Hyde if it wasn’t for you. She wouldn’t have come crying to my dorm if it wasn’t for you. All you do is hurt her, Wednesday. You’re dangerous and reckless.”

Wednesday was clearly ready to fight, but Enid crossed the room and put space between the two of them, holding her arm out in front of Wednesday. “Yoko, where is this all coming from? You were there the night we fought the Hyde. You were there the night she saved the school. You know what happened.”

Yoko hesitated, shoving her hands into her pockets. “This app I downloaded. It was telling me that something dark and foreboding was coming. I kept getting stuff like that, and the only thing I could think of… given she was the reason everything happened in the first place…”

“That app spews nonsense in exchange for popularity. You are a fool for taking anything it tells you to heart.” Wednesday snapped, barely able to hold back her anger. “You should have known better.”

Yoko seemed unsure of herself now, her shoulders slumping. “I… I just wanted what was best for Enid.”

Enid sighed softly. There wasn’t any anger in her expression, and her tone was gentle. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Yoko. I know you care, but Wednesday and I care about each other. And we’ve worked out our issues.” She looked back at Wednesday, whose demeanor had softened. “She would fight for me in a heartbeat. Even if she refuses to admit it.”

Wednesday grumbled something under her breath. Enid didn’t hear it, though she was sure that it was yet another empty threat.

“Come on, Yoko. You know better than this.” Enid chided quietly. “Delete the app, and all is forgiven.”

“Who says all is forgiven?” Wednesday asked, straightening her posture. Until Enid glared at her and she relented. “Fine.”

Yoko took her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through it and deleting MorningSong from it. “It’s gone.” She flipped her phone around, showing both Wednesday and Enid that it was completely gone. “I only got it as a joke, I wasn’t expecting it to be so effective.”

“It’s all about psychology. If you had any sense of logic, you would realize that.” Wednesday relaxed now that the threat was gone, her tone less abrasive.

“Now that that’s over with…” Enid started, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “I think you two should have some bonding time! It’ll be great. My two besties, getting along!”

“Absolutely not-” Wednesday tried to object, but was immediately cut off by Enid.

“We should go get coffee at the Weathervane to celebrate! And Yoko, you should definitely bring Divina. We’ll become a gang, the four of us!” She raised her hands to her chest, balling them into fists. Excitement was radiating off of her. Excitement so genuine, that not even Wednesday could deny her wishes. “Alright, stop your incessant jabbering.” Wednesday turned to exit the dorm, glancing back at Yoko. “Meet us in the quad in fifteen minutes sharp, Tanaka.” She put an emphasis on the word “sharp”, wanting to be completely clear.

Yoko, who was stunned by the quick forgiveness, could only stand and nod as the two girls exited her dorm, Enid talking Wednesday’s ear off and Wednesday only able to listen grumpily as they walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

[sys-cafe]

✨ ENDERMAN HEADMATE PACK 🌑

☾ Name: Inky, Kieran, Rowan, Crow, Comet, Echo

✦ Pronouns: they/them, it/it's, voi/voids, thxy/thxm, 🌑/🌑's, ✦/✦'s, 🍄/🍄's

☾ Age: 19/21

✦ Species: enderman

☾ Genders: nonbinary

✦ Xenogenders: endspacic, purplegender, distortgender, eyegender

☾ Sexuality: DemiRoSe, Pansexual

✦ Role: translator, untamed one, stim holder, jokestar

☾ Source: n/a

✦ Sign Off/Proxy: 🌑✨

☾ Likes: mushrooms, the dark, music, loose clothing

✦ Dislikes: water, being bored

☾ Kins: raccoon, moth, black fox, raven

✦ Hobbies: drawing, dancing, theatre

☾ Music Tastes: the crane wives, folk music

✦ Aesthetic: a general fantasy aesthetic you would see if you went to a ren faire

☾ Personality:

pos: positive, out-going, street-smart

neu: excitable, emotional, mischievous

neg: impatient, impulsive, scatter-brained

✦ Goal/Priorities: have fun!

☾ Comforting Thing(s): dark places

✦ Habits: chitters at things like a cat when interested in something

☾ Description & Details: stims by crooning, kind of like a pigeon. lightheartedly annoys people by tickling their noses with their tail.

✦ Appearance:

[picrew name - wasyago picrew]

~ Mod Gemini! 🎆

[ariaheadlibrarian]

oh? a librarian change!

wow, usually it’s just diana in most universes. hey there!

your books are all inky. dark?

- bee, rowan, andrew / @a-thousand-little-things

"...Yes." Aria looked at the three of them.

[gureiify]

Ok. Lets actually look at what choices would matter from origins, 2 and inquisition.

One by one. Cause my thesis is, not that friken many!

Lets start in origins, what big major choices were there to begin with? You could choose not to recruit some chars, but lets assume you recruited everyone.

Does Liliana die? What do you do with the ashes? Neither of those matter at all because She shows up in DAI and the ashes get blown up.

The real choices that matter here are who ended up on the throne and who kills the archdemon. No matter what, archdemon dies. There is a 'Hero of Ferelden' who kills it no matter who that is. Or if they die or not. That might matter to a warden. But to the greater north almost 20 years later? Not so much. Same with who rules. Ferelden is considered a backwards nation, the boonies. Nobody in the north cares at all.

Morigans baby. Existing or not, old god soul or not, that is tied up in DAI. He'd be a young man in DAV, off on his own and she'd likely want him far from this nonsense.

NOW on to 2.

Anders blows up the chantry. Meridith and orsino fight. Varric lives, becomes viscount. All of these happen without input from the player.

Do you betry isabella or keep her? Either way she lives.

I honestly can't think of any choices Hawke makes that have far reaching consequences beyond kirkwall besides the chantry mage Thing.

And then we're on to DAI.

Mages or templars, the war happens, and who you side with really only matters in the south. Tevinter was never involved. In Rivain you do get a small quest from Rowan about her circle getting annulled due to some over zelous templars. Does Antiva even have circles?

Who's on the throne in Orlais? It doesnt matter. Inky is dealing with the south, which is getting nuked by darkspawn. You're never going to be involved with them as Rook, so why care who has the biggest hat? You've got more important shit to worry about.

Lastly, the Well. Who got to drink? If it was your inky, they should have that Knowledge and be more helpful. Or at least made a reference to it. Thats one of the only missteps i think DAV made.

The other being Hawke. If the ended up in the fade, we assume nightmare ate them? But it would be nice to KNOW. If the warden ally did, Hawke goes to Weisshaupt, so where are they? Are they there for the siege? This is the one choice that would have benefited from being explored. I can understand ignoring it from a dev perspective but it does feel like a big empty plothole.

For Morrigan, she ends up with that knowledge anyway, if not thru the well then from Mythal.

So really, all these choices but in the scope of the story they were telling, did any of them have impact seperated by decades and miles?

On the game dev side, pulling back and not spending time iterating for all these choices even in flavor text makes sense when only a small percentage of players will see or care.

The Keep made sense when the games were all in the same area and relatively close in time, and it was such a cool concept and feature! But it doesn't need to be included if it's not going to add anything.

So idk maybe lets all think critically about what choices actully would have been worth including.

[maagisterpavus]

Dorian Pavus is a what now??

pls I’ve been laughing over this since yesterday. imagine if there was a special dialogue trigger for romanced Dorian like:

Inquisitor: Dorian Pavus is an old friend. He filled me in.

Harding: Old friend, huh? That’s a funny way of saying—

Inquisitor: AHEM. Morrigan has told me what you’ve accomplished since taking over for Varric…

[miiishra]

[Fic] The Witch of Thunder Junction - Prologue

Oko x Rowan

AO3

Snippet

Thousands of blue motes all but scream in elated unison, drunk on the intense magic of a Fae Pact awakening. The blinding crimson light within the princess surges throughout her entire body with intense heat, and she gasps. Lightning sparks from her hands, her mana growing wild, uncontrollable. The princess focuses more, somehow managing to keep steady on her feet as the wind howls. Clouds close in and thunder crashes. The King’s knights will have no problem finding her now.

Before her, reality itself cracks. A sliver of flaming light pours through from the plane on the other side. It resists. Omenpaths usually can’t be opened by force. But this magic is young and no match for the ancient force that pulls at its edges. The ground shakes. Thunder roars. And a single bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, and for a split second, the world is bathed in red.

“Take me to Oko,” she demands, and her voice booms with the authority of the Fae Pact.

Faeries dance deliriously within the mushroom ring. With thunderous rage, the reality crack rips itself apart until it becomes shreds of magic swirling around itself, inky black and crimson red twisting in a hellish snarl of mana.

Like the mana snarls of Strixhaven. Once, the princess absorbed a snarl to become powerful enough to take down an avatar of hate. To save her brother. The new King. Who now hunts her. She nearly laughs hysterically at the sight of it as it blurs from unshed tears.

Fuck this place.

The princess doesn’t like one bit that she has to rely on that unhinged fae bastard, but it’s not like she’s seeking him out because she has a choice in the matter. The princess is the villain. She doesn’t have the power to walk this path on her own. And wherever the fae prince is, it’s at least not in the middle of a volcano. It’s somewhere she can survive.

The moment she steps into the snarl of the Omenpath, many miles away on the other side in a desert plane dry of magic, a fae man grins into his whiskey.

She’s here.

[pluviatrix]

sorry i have got to call bullshit on inquisitor rowan fucking lavellan still wanting to call solas a goddamn friend after finding out (CARS HONKING AND TRAFFIC NOISES) because that man would be out for BLOOD he would want solas' head on a stick to parade around he would not REST until he has a kill count. can we get an ending where inky suckerpunches solas instead. right in the dome.

[virgeandhis-pocket-protector]

Seven Snippets Tag

Bro i love these even tho i can NEVER pick between my babies

Anyway @late-to-the-fandom tagged me in this chain on my other blog but I'm doing it here because I got all SaSi fics at the moment B)

No-pressure tags: @i-will-physically-fight-you @glacierruler @prince-rowan-of-the-forest @lily-janus @groovyghostie @vinbee631 @girlboypatton be free to lore dump !!!

If you haven't done a writing tag game b4 no worries. This one's prompt is to put seven snippets (or as many as you can find) that you like from your WIPs or favorite fics in a post and bam! you've done a tag game

Because i'm Me(TM) i gotta set a requirement for myself for fun so it's gonna be whichever number that snippet is, it has to have that many characters talking/mentioned/in the snippet/etc. for fun! this is not a necessary requirement btw

Hit read more to see the snippets >:D/\

One Character (from "Brothers by Blood")

A inky one-way-window, long and thin like a serpent, spread across one side of the room. Faint shadows moved behind it. Left of it was a matte metal door; scuff marks on the floor showed where it would swing inward. In the center of this room, a young boy sat on one side of a white folding table, rigid in a matching folding chair. His curled-up poise could have been mistaken for that of a panther: lean, scared – ready for a fight. Layers of black, baggy clothes were his tattered fur. Bushy brown hair was his ruffled mane, lined with old streaks of violet meant to distract from his sore eye bags and heavy eye liner. The boy seemed sweaty, despite the cold, and smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals. He fidgeted absent-mindedly with his chain necklace. Shivering. He glanced up at the clock, squinting, and snapped his head back down as if out of fear of being caught.

2. Two Characters (from "The Prince and the Snake Charmer")

"Sorry, just-" Roman paused, steadying his breathing, "-just a bit jumbled up in the head." Janus nodded in understanding. "That's alright. It might take a second before you can think straight again." "I'm not straight, so it's not a problem," Roman replied on instinct, immediately turning bright crimson at Janus's startled reaction. "I mean, as in thinking-wise," Roman covered up, "I don't think straight ever, y'know? Like, because I'm dumb, and, y'know. Dumb, like really, uh, stupid, right?"

3. Three Characters (from "He Who Holds The Ruler")

Roman nodded. "Y-yeah, I mean, I guess. My brother Remus has a boyfriend. They more so…don't care." Patton nodded and was quiet again. "Maybe you should try telling them over lunch," Patton suggested gently. "I'll be there will you. I'm sure they'll at least try to be understanding." "Yeah," Roman said, nodding. "Understanding." Patton sighed sadly, but smiled reassuringly. "I'm sensing the need for a hug, I think?" "You never have to ask first, you know," Roman mumbled thankfully, hugging Patton around his side. "The answer will always be yes."

4. Four Characters (from "Kingdoms for a Mind 1")

"I would not phrase it as a 'quest'," Logan commented, "Maybe a 'reluctant onus'?" "Oh, hush, Specks," Roman snapped, "You'll get used to our adventures! It 'tis inevitable. With the same ease as the sun rises and falls, you shall soon fall in love with-" Virgil cleared his throat. "Wait a second," he began, looking to Roman, "What did you say about King Dolion 'disturbing peace'?" Thomas started fidgeting with the tablecloth, looking anywhere but at them.

5. Five Characters (from "Takeover" — Zombie apocalypse AU)

“Well, it’ll make great fertilizer!” “Remus, that is disgusting,” Virgil complained. “Stop kicking it!” Stepping back into the garage, Janus made a face. “Dios mío, this truck looks terrible.” “Agreed.” Logan said. He spritzed Lysol on the chair were the zombie once sat, stirring up a wave of dust. “Even my abuelo would not drive this,” Janus muttered, squatting down to look underneath the haphazardly off-balance vehicle, “And he drives the worst AMC Gremlin you will ever see.” Out on the lawn, Remy waved Remus away from him, demanding that he take a shower. This most certainly prompted Remus to ask if he could "join in." Virgil practically fled over to the garage to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of that conversation.

6. Six Characters (from "Kingdoms for a Mind 2")

"Forgive me if I'm rude, I've not seen anyone in months," Hypatia said, taking a seat at the head of the table. "But what are you doing here?" The princes glanced around at each other, none really wanting to explain. Janus sighed and put down his spoon. "We're traveling," Janus said simply. "Though we hadn't planned for this long of a trip. Running short on supplies." "Mainly medical supplies,” Logan said. “And enough rations for everyone,” Patton mentioned. "And weaponry," Remus added. "And sanity," Virgil piped up.

7. Seven characters oh god (from "Takeover")

“Crazy Dave’s not here to reinforce us,” Emile said monotonously. Roman sighed. "That game isn't even good." "Says you." "Well, do one of you have a better suggestion?" Logan asked, slightly exasperated. Patton leaned forward and rested his chin on Logan's shoulder gently. "Could maybe ask Janus…" Virgil wondered out loud, glancing outside, "He's a mechanic at his abuela's shop. Could maybe, with luck, possibly fix the truck." Logan nodded, writing it down quickly. Remy raised an eyebrow. "That's all peaches and cream, babes, but that big-ass zombie wedged in the front seat?" they asked, "Who would be insane enough to even touch it?" WHAM. "I'M BACK, MOTHERFUCKERS!" The front door was kicked wide open by a tall, broad-shouldered figure in loud a punk jacket, which could be described using both definitions of 'dirty.' His grimy combat boots, covered in spikes, had left brown sludge on the window. A name-tag on his shirt, from when he’d worked at a soup kitchen, said, 'Hello! I'm: Remus EVIL BITCH OF THE WEST'.

Sorry for the length. This was fun though >:D/\

[moonlightlilygarden]

Legacy

“You have ten minutes!” their mother's frantic voice chased after them as they bolted out the backdoor and toward the twilight forest. It would be enough time. It had to be. 

Rowan’s backpack bounced against their tailbone as they jumped over familiar fallen logs and skirted around thorn bushes. Even in the growing shadows, they knew every burrow, every berry bush along their path by heart. So many of Rowan’s ancestors had held this same responsibility and traveled this same road that the way was ingrained in their blood. No one had deliberately cleared the path in fear of others finding it and following it to its destination, but it was clear where the growth had been trampled by the consistent passing of feet.

The rough bark of a trunk scraped under their palm as they used it for leverage, and it left their skin tingling–blood pulsing to the injury twice for every second that ticked away on their watch. They could see the edge of the stream growing nearer, and Rowan veered off to the spot where the far bank was closest. Without pause, they leapt the distance. Only a few more turns brought them to their destination.

Rowan pulled up hard, bracing themself against two trees before looking cautiously into the clearing. A clearing in the woods isn’t an entirely unusual discovery, but when Rowan’s great grandmother had found the spot a century ago, it had been barren and scorched. Now it flourished. Their mother tells the story the same way her mother had recited it to her, and as her mother before her had told it in hushed tones.

In the clearing, through the door, Recite the tale by gale and lark: It will come as it has come before.

A door stood across the clearing. The wood was rough and weathered with age, but stood firm regardless. It looked as though it had once been part of a fence, a way of keeping the property lines, but now the fence was gone and all that was left were the posts on either side and the door, shut tight.

Shadows stretch as to explore Along a path it craves embark In the clearing, through the door.

Horn of Plenty mushrooms grew in the shadow of the door, feeding off the nutrients in the ground and the old, fallen leaves. Their black caps reached into the clearing, creating a dark path to the door.

Eyes that glore and upon us bore, Edges creep and pull the dark; It will come as it has come before.

Rowan stepped into the clearing and felt the heaviness settle on their shoulders. They always felt watched here, but with each tik-tik-tik of their watch and with each step closer to the door, the pressure increased, leaving dark smudges at the edges of their thoughts.

Claws that mangle, scathe, and gore Seek to clasp the rough jamb’s bark In the clearing, through the door.

In the door was a small, square window. When Rowan had first seen it, they’d wondered what would happen if they’d looked through into the inky blackness beyond. Now it was all Rowan could do to keep their eyes averted. They did not know what lurked on the other side.

To tear our souls it long e’re swore And feast on our eternal spark; It will come as it has come before.

They slipped the backpack off their shoulders to the ground and opened the main compartment. 

Heed these words forevermore, Its intentions hear and mark: In the clearing, through the door It will come as it has come before.

For a century Rowan’s family had been the keepers of this secret, this old god, the Wolf Spider. Without the offerings on the rise of the new moon, it would roam free in the woods, hunting human prey. With every passing of the responsibility from mother to daughter, there was always a misstep, a rejected offering. Last month had been Rowan’s misstep. The offering had not been sufficient and a local man had gone “missing.” 

Now Rowan pulled from their bag a jar with its lid tightly sealed, the dark red liquid inside lapping the walls of the container as they unscrewed the lid and approached the door. Reaching the jar up to the top corner, they began to pour it down the door, moving to the other corner so it dripped like honey down the rough wood. Drops collected and fell from the top of the window to the sill. Before the legs of liquid reached the bottom of the door, it had soaked in, leaving no trace.

The clearing seemed to sigh as the last of the liquid soaked into the door. The weight of eyes lessened, heavy lidded, the hunger sated. Rowan closed the jar and returned it to their bag, checking their watch. They had just made it. They were all safe for another month.

[areyoutheredemons]

Thedasweekend - Dragon Age - Prompt Post!

shout out to @thedasweekend for organizing the event!

hey all, it's been ages since i've participated in anything like this but - figured it could be fun! I will be filling prompts with artwork!

I'm open to any prompts with DA2, DAI, and DAV characters - but i have some favorites that I enjoy from each.

prompts

you can pick from these prompt lists or send one of your own! I'm open to pairings, romantic and platonic - as well as anything as far as the party dynamic. solo characters as well - i really love my oc's so - any excuse to draw my hawke, inky or rook is great XD

as of 2/21/25 -

abisalli's emotion challenge

veiltober

kissartfeburary

dav: palette challenge

pairings/characters

Upfront, i'll list my OC's

Hawke (m!mage) - purple hawke, he's a softie and a sweetie, his romance with Fenris (not the rivalry romance) - his usual party is Aveline, Varric, Isabela, and occasionally Merill or Anders

Inquisitor Lavellan (m!rouge)- Theriel Lavellan - has two siblings Gethlan (m!rouge) and Liara (f!mage) - his romance is always Dorian but also open to Dorian/Lavellan/Bull as a trio. Platonic relationships - He's close with Sera, Varric, Josephine, and Bull

Rook - Rowan Aldwir (m!elf - rouge) - main romance is with Emmrich, but any of the male romances are fair game, as far as platonic - he's besties with Taash,

other oc's -

Mournwatch members - Amaranth Ingellvar (nb!mage), Ezra Dezpari (m!mage), Vincenzo Villitar (m!warrior) *** i really love these guys btw***

Pairings and canon charcters

da2: m!hawke | fenris | isabela | varric | aveline | merill | anders [romantic parings] m!hawke/fenris [DNW] fenris/anders

dai: theriel lavellan | dorian | iron bull | sera | varric | vivienne | cassandra | josephine | solas | morrigan - [romantic pairings] theriel lavellan/dorian | theriel lavellan/bull | theriel lavellan/dorian/bull

dav: rowan aldwir | emmrich | davrin | lucanis | taash | neve | bellara | lace | morrigan | varric [romantic pairings] rowan aldwir/emmrich | rowan aldwir/davrin | rowan aldwir/lucanis | rowan aldwir/emmrich/davrin/lucanis

reference of my ocs