#leaving citadel the fuck alone though

[horizonandstar]

forgot to add this to the main post. here are the children in question with guns

the picture was a bit hard to take because they kept jumping around. pink is lying down in the 2nd picture because theyre my eepiest baby. i tell them to stay and they conk the fuck out immediately on the spot. just snork mimimi right away. also pups can in fact use the guns which was something i was delighted to find out

Sun: Aww, little one! Did you invite your friends to see me? Burrower!Star: No, these are my 4 children. Sun:... I'm sorry, what?

borrower kids are 1 sauce tall. can you imagine

[emorty]

hey.

i think youve been through a lot. i dont know the specifics, but i know youve had it a lot worse than i have. and you *did* something about it! you fought your way to an escape. do you know how amazing that is?

do you know how often i thought about you since that day on the citadel? i was always wondering what you were doing, how you managed it, what *i* could do if *you* existed. my rick may be relatively decent now, but he used to be so much worse. i dunno if he was as bad as yours, but i dont think he would have gotten better if we hadnt met *you*. he didnt just decide to treat me better out of nowhere! he realized i was worth more because he saw *you*!

and you were going on about how much *i* deserve, but what about what *you* deserve? you deserve to have people that care about you, too. *you* deserved a grandpa that actually cared about you, *you* deserved a family. and you deserve someone who can help carry some of your burdens.

it doesnt have to be me, even if i really wish it could be. i get if its too painful to talk to me, and ill leave you alone.

but i dont think youre a terrible person, even though i got pretty mad earlier. i want you to be happy, too.

-with love, morty

Fuck. I... I think I need a minute. I'll be back.

[dispatchwithlove]

I dragged this fic out of the trash bin and now I’m wondering what I should do with it, so I thought I’d share the intro. It’s called Invisible String and I wrote it three years ago. I want to shine it up till it’s real pretty and post it again.

She waits for him. At a beat-up table in a dim room, wearing a black hood, low, hugging her brow because it covers the scars cracking across her forehead and casts a shadow over the unsettling orange glow in her eyes. It doesn’t do much for the smoldering scars on her cheeks, though, bright crevasses telling anyone who lays eyes on her: I’m not normal. Or okay.

The hood is a desperate attempt to hide that from at least a few people. But there isn’t much she can do about her voice — weak and smokier than seems normal. Stuck on a hollowed-rock space station, the only way she knows that the day is more than half over is her dry throat and fried vocal muscles.

Shepard’s not sure what’s normal. Cerberus brought her back to life, but she woke up too early. The scars littering her entire body didn’t have time to heal, vocal cords were unused, yet inexplicably strained. And she has no memory of who she was. They told her everything would go back to normal eventually. Her scars would heal, her vocal cords would heal. Her brand new body would feel less like a glued-together shell and more like home. Her memory would return, either gradually, or something would kick it into action.

While they’re waiting patiently, Shepard wants to find that something that’ll kick her memory into action. Battle felt natural, but didn’t make her remember who she is. A chance encounter with a lost friend named Tali didn’t bring it back. The items sitting in her cabin, taken from her Citadel apartment after she died, are foreign and unappreciated.

Nothing is normal. Nothing is real. To make matters worse, despite feeling suspended two years behind everyone else and strung out, she’s recruiting a vigilante on the bad side of Omega’s gangs. All of them. Quite the accomplishment.

Someone from his crew escorted her to the room she now sits in, empty of anything but a table and two chairs. At least the lack of light helps to obscure the marks across her face that reveal she was recently nothing more than meat and tubes, which is fantastic, because nothing says ‘come sail around space with me’ like a fucked-up face.

Archangel takes his time, leaving her not only alone, but feeling alone, which leaves her with plenty of time to question not only who she is, but what she’s doing here. Maybe that’s his intent.

The steady, soft footsteps that echo up the hall stand in stark contrast to the tall, broad shouldered turian that enters the room. Vibrant blue markings strike his cheeks and mandibles. His face is out of place on Omega, the look of a privileged kid that would fit in better at museum galas than corpse-littered alleys.

He seeks the chair opposite hers taking long, confident strides. Unlike his pretty-boy face, the menace in his body language certainly fits in with Omega. He’s a self-appointed savior who helps the weak by inflicting calculated pain on those who exploit Omega’s abused and forgotten. He does good; the chatter she overheard in the markets proved that the locals think his actions are brave, and he’s the closest thing to philanthropy this shitpit station can hope for.

But his tactics show he takes a little too much pleasure in the pain he causes. The locals revered him, but with shuddering admiration and sickened fear they advised each other not to cross him. Can she trust a man like that?

He takes the chair, turns it with a twist of his wrist, and straddles it, folding his forearms along the back railing. Cool, blue eyes travel across her face, the lengths of her body, assessing the weapons she has strapped to her back. Something about the way he looks at her makes her think she’s received his approval, and something about him makes her want that approval. She doesn’t remember much about herself, but she knows approval has never been anything she sought — from anyone — before this moment.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 2024 3 "I know you better"

Summary: So... how the fuck did Alistair Shepard get himself into this one? Oh, right... he has a thing about people calling him short. Maybe he should work on that later, after he manages to survive 183 pull ups.

---

Every part of his body was fucking throbbing, but his dead mother hadn’t birthed a quitter and his shitty father hadn’t neglected to raise one either.

Sweat poured down Alistair’s face as he pulled himself up and over the bar. It had stuck his t-shirt to his back, and had he been able to look down he would’ve been amazed to see that there wasn’t a puddle below him. But none of that mattered in the moment as he lowered himself just enough to prepare to pull up again.

165.

“Loco, you’re looking a little red in the face.” James wasn’t too far off, watching as he continued to pull himself up. “He’s not going to pass out, is he?”

Alistair would’ve said something about that, but talking was hard in the moment as he conserved all his energy towards his pull ups. He knew better, though – it came from being a medic. He might have been red faced, but part of that came from being a fair skinned redhead – no matter what he did, whatever training and hell he put himself through, he turned red in the face. It wasn’t great for a marine, but he had long accepted he was the furthest thing from a shining example of the Alliance’s best.

Well, technically he kind of was because of the whole N7 thing… but that didn’t matter in the moment. He had pull ups to handle.

“It’s the curse of being a ginger.” Bo was as flat toned as always as she turned to him. “Come on, Al, you’ve only got 18 left. Get your ass above the bar already, it’s been almost 15 minutes.”

No doubt his sister would’ve been able to pull this off easily – she was made of muscle and wrestled krogan for fun. James wasn’t far behind either – he no doubt pulled off 182 in a much better state. But he wasn’t either of them, and it showed in his screaming muscles as he pulled up once again.

Honestly, he was still kicking himself for how he had wound up in this position. It was supposed to be a normal shore leave. Then again… was anything normal with him?

All in all, Anderson’s apartment was probably the nicest place he had ever stayed in.

Alistair’s body still ached from his battle with his clone as he finished dressing. The bruises on his neck from where John – it was weird calling him that, but it was easier than just continually referring to the man as a clone – had tried to strangle him. With his luck, they would be replaced by new ones within a month. War was fun that way – he was constantly being surprised by the ways he could die on a daily basis.

Getting choked out by his clone was a new one, though. He definitely hadn’t seen that one coming when he had gone back on the Normandy after Vancouver.

“Think you can go a round with me, Monster?”

“Last I checked Al needs you in one piece, Vega.”

Two deep voices sounded from the floor below, and the sound of it made him want to groan. He picked up the pace as he descended the stairs, making his way to one of the rooms. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t alone there.

James was standing by the punching bag – from the fact it was still swinging, he had definitely used it a bit. Nearby was Bo, arms crossed over her chest and looking less than impressed with the most recent human member of the Normandy crew.

And somehow, he was going to wind up in the middle of it. Such was the fate of being a commanding officer…

“I would advise against sparring in here, guys. I really don’t want to talk to the cops right now.”

Normally, he would’ve told them to handle it in the Normandy cargo bay, but the ship was currently being serviced after John’s joyride over the Citadel. With any luck it would be back in service soon, patched up and ready for another round against the Reapers. Until then, they were on shore leave. And now that his clone was dead, he was finally going to relax a little.

Bo and James turned to face him, both blank faced. Well, not totally – his sister was definitely glad to see him in one piece, minus the bruises. The room’s other male occupant was still a little uncomfortable. It was only natural – someone with his face had tried to kill him and take control of the ship.

But damn if it didn’t hurt almost as much as the bruises.

“Damn, your neck’s all purple, Loco. That’s gotta hurt like hell.”

Alistair shrugged – it was a mistake as dull pain shot through his shoulder and towards his amp. “I bruise easily, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

That was a lie, of course. It hurt like hell, but he had survived worse in the last few months alone. He might not have been the ideal marine, but he could at least take a few bruises without complaining too much in front of his subordinates.

When they were gone, though? Garrus was getting an earful. At least his carapace was somewhat soothing thanks to the fact it was cool to the touch when not in the heat of battle. Who knew turians could double as ice packs if they were in a cool enough room?

“It’s better than what happened to the other guy.” Bo was clearly going with the story that John had died falling from the Normandy, rather than the truth of his… possible? Passing in the hospital days later. Honestly, Alistair wouldn’t have been surprised if the man wasn’t actually dead. After all, he was also technically Alistair Shepard – and he had it on authority that he was a pain in the ass to kill.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to drop from the Normandy. Didn’t look like a fun way to die.” James’ eyes suddenly focused on a part of the room, and a grin split his features. “Hey, Monster, check it out. The bag’s not the only thing we can use.”

He pointed towards the closet door, and it took Alistair a second to realize what he was talking about. Had he not barely survived basic training, he would’ve thought it was just a clothes hanger someone had positioned a little too close to the door. Much to the shock of the drill sergeant, however, he had survived basic training, so he knew better.

Apparently, Anderson liked pull ups.

Bo shot the bar a blank look. “I’m 6’9, Vega, it’s not exactly a challenge for me to get my head above that.”

“Hey, I’m not Loco sized and I get plenty out of it.” Briefly, James shot him a somewhat sympathetic glance. “No offense, Loco, but you’re not exactly a big guy. I don’t even think you could reach the bar without jumping.”

Offense… taken honestly, but he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He had long since accepted he was short and nothing was going to change it, not even second puberty once he finally got on T. Besides, it made him a smaller target and he had an easier time finding armor that fit him.

His sister didn’t look convinced, however. He knew why, of course. When it came to strength training, Bo really wasn’t one for that kind of thing. Her muscles came from lifting weights and beating the shit out of krogan.

Did that count as functional muscle? You think as a medic he would know that, but he wasn’t exactly one for extensive strength training himself.

“If you wanna pull yourself up until you hit your head on the door, be my guest.” Bo moved away. “Not my thing.”

Vega’s smirk widened ever so slightly. “What, you don’t think you can beat my record? I did 182.”

182? Alistair’s arms hurt at the mere sound of it.

“I said I’m good, Vega.” There was an edge to Bo’s voice, one that suggested she wasn’t in the mood. It was weird for her to turn down a challenge, but maybe she was still feeling out of it from the clone fight. Or maybe she was just being stubborn. James was a nice guy, but he had been their prison guard for the six months they had been locked away. Those feelings didn’t exactly go away overnight.

Which… meant if he kept it up he’d probably get punched. Again, Alistair really didn’t want to deal with the cops. It was one of those times he could taste the tension in the room.

And honestly… the knock about his height was eating at him. Maybe it was some of the annoyance carrying over from dealing with his clone – the fucker was a quarter inch taller even if nobody else saw it – but he couldn’t let that one go.

So, he stepped into the room and made his way towards the bar.

James’ smirk changed to a look of confusion. “Shepard, the hell-“

But then he was grabbing the bar and pulling himself up for the first pull up.

“I thought you would’ve known by now not to bring up his height.” Bo sounded amused as she turned to watch him as he readied himself for what was no doubt going to be a mistake. “Well, at least you proved you don’t have to jump up.”

No he didn’t… but 182 was a long way away. Had he any sense in his head, he would’ve dropped to the ground and taken his licks. After all, he wasn’t known for this sort of thing. Fixing people, fixing tech – that was his wheelhouse. Feats of strength, that was more Bo’s are than his.

But… they weren’t fighting. And honestly, he was still mad about the short thing. So he was going to do the only thing a little guy could do and prove the big guy was an idiot in the dumbest way possible.

---

“Come on, Al, that’s 180! You’re almost there!”

His lungs were burning, and his arms felt like rubber, but Alistair grunted as he pulled himself above the bar again. Down on the ground, Bo was cheering him on while James looked rather impressed. He was only steps away from his record – just 3 more.

Saint Sebastian, guide his stupid noodle body over that fucking bar 3 more times.

The sweat was dripping off his face as Alistair pulled up for 181. For a second, he thought he might drop completely. However, he managed to hold on at the last second, even as his palms sweat profusely. After all, to have gotten this far and not break the record was almost a shame.

 And… well, he could only imagine the look on James’ face when he pulled it off. It would almost be worth the muscle aches he’d be feeling later.

With all the strength left in him, he began his attempt at 182. It felt like a lifetime, but he pulled himself up inch by inch until he was over the bar. For a second, he contemplated just tying the record and allowing himself to drop to the ground in a sweaty heap.

However… sometimes, a marine has to do what a marine has to do.

183 came with a final burst of strength as Alistair’s muscles screamed in protest. But after another lifetime, he pulled himself to the top of the bar. Down below, James’ jaw practically hit the ground at the same time he did as Bo let out a hearty “fuck yeah” in response.

He… just lay there on the ground. It hurt to move.

“Holy hell, Loco, you did it!” James came into his field of view, reaching out to pull him back onto his feet – oww. Fucking hell, that hurt. “How are you feeling?”

Like death? Right then, Alistair would’ve traded Saint Sebastian agony for agony. Getting shot with arrows couldn’t have hurt more than being shot with bullets, though he wouldn’t have had his shields… or clothes for that matter. But despite that, a vague sense of accomplishment filled his tired body.

“Like I just got a very good reminder of why I’m a medic and not a shock trooper.” No doubt his face was as red as his hair. It was a miracle he wasn’t drowning in a lake of his own sweat, but he was definitely going to need a shower once he got some time to himself. Drowned rat wasn’t exactly a good look for meeting his boyfriend later, even if Garrus was used to seeing him red in the face during battle.

But… he had pulled it off. Literally.

“I knew you were holding out on me, Loco. There was muscle under that hoodie after all.” James chuckled as he slapped him on the back, practically launching him forward. “Alright, I learned my lesson with this one: don’t mess with either Shepard.”

Yeah… and all it took was watching someone make an idiot out of themselves 183 times in a row. How fortunate.

Alistair shook his head as he left the room behind, followed by the steady beep of his CGM. Unsurprisingly, all his physical activity had taken a toll on his body and was now making it cry out for sugar. He wasn’t feeling light headed or goofy yet, but his tongue and lips had definitely gone numb in the span of falling to the ground and where he stood.

So… probably in the 50’s.

He found himself in the kitchen, reaching for a can of soda in the fridge. After popping the top, he took a long sip, feeling the bubbles as they popped and fizzed. Even lifting the can to his mouth hurt, but it didn’t matter as he sat down at the table with his drink.

Too bad his drill sergeant was probably dead… he might’ve actually admitted that he wasn’t a complete failure of a marine.

“You better not die on me after that, Al.”

Bo’s voice followed her into the kitchen as she sought her bag of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. Soon it was in the microwave, spinning around in preparation for the carnage that was to follow. Her tone was light – she was amused.

“Remind me next time that I am not exactly a paragon of working out.” He took another sip – the whole numb lip thing made it difficult, but he managed it without dribbling any liquid down his still reddened cheeks. “How you guys enjoy that is beyond me.”

���Something, something, feel good chemicals.” She shrugged. “You’re the medic, not me.”

Yes, he was. So he should’ve known better. Still, there was no arguing with himself then as he felt the ache in his arms. It had been a dumb ego thing, he could see that clearly. Now he was paying for it.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to stop me, though.” Alistair put his can down for the moment to give the sugar time to take effect. That usually took a few minutes, so it gave him time to watch Bo as she retrieved her bag of nuggets and joined him at the table.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just popped a breaded brachiosaur into her mouth whole and spent her time chewing. In the end, she shrugged her shoulders and reached for another nugget from her bag.

“There was no way you’d stop if I told you to.” Briefly, she smirked. “I know you better. You play the nice guy, but I can smell your Napoleon complex from a mile away.”

If not for the fact he was still red faced, Alistair would’ve turned pink. “I don’t have a Napoleon complex!”

“You hate working out. Don’t even try to deny it, I’ve heard you say it plenty of times. Only the spite of a short guy would’ve gotten you to actually exercise for once.” Bo let out a bark of laughter as she tossed back another nugget. “We should get you his dumb hat or something as a reward for pulling it off.”

All Alistair could do was scowl and take another sip of his soda. While he very much did not have a Napoleon complex – which historically wasn’t even true, the guy was like 5’7” – it would be hard to argue with his sister when she was so damn smug. So he just sat there, still sweaty, red as a tomato, and let her take the point.

Bo smirked as she put her nuggets aside for a second. “And hey, you being short makes it more impressive. You gotta go further off the ground than me or Vega. Gravity’s a bitch.”

“I should get a bonus multiplier for that then.” Alistair’s voice came out somewhat dry as he stared down at the can and tried to do the math. His brain was starting to work a little better now that the sugar was kicking in, so he was feeling more like himself. A few more moments, and he would probably be able to feel his lips again.

Just what he needed when he was going to see Garrus in a bit.

His remark caused his sister to snort as she reached over to shove him playfully – which meant he only launched a few inches instead of a full foot. “Take it up with Vega, not me. It’s his dumb record.”

There was a pause, and then, “Also, your form was fucking shit now that I’m thinking about it. Who taught you to do pull ups like that?”

All Alistair could do was groan and find the table with his forehead. “ I wasn’t exactly paying attention in basic, ok? All that matters is that I got above the fucking bar.”

“Yeah, say that when you pull something later. Some medic you are, I thought you nerds knew about the body.”

He did… but that didn’t exactly make him the master of pull ups. But he wasn’t about to admit to anything, because that would only lead to more teasing from his sister. Instead, he just stayed there with his forehead pressed against the table, body aching and CGM no longer beeping for more sugar.

Next time, he was just going to be the bigger man and let the jokes roll off his back. If it meant avoiding physical exertion, he’d take any crack about his height with a smile on his face like a grown man should.

…

Oh, who was he kidding. No he wouldn’t. Maybe Bo was right about that whole Napoleon complex thing.

 Fuck. Maybe he should’ve just let John kill him after all.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

If you end up not continuing from the ashes do you think you’d maybe give us the plot line of what you think the story was gonna turn out (or is gonna turn out depending if you continue it or not)

I can do that :)

but buckle up cuz this is gonna be long (ridiculously long). i'll try my best to explain what i had planned for all of the povs in from the ashes as they do eventually become one pov (reader's).

Part 1 cuz tumblr said it was too long 😅

pt2 here

MAJOR SPOILERS

I'll start off with what would have been part 50 so if you haven't read up to that on my Ao3, i would go and catch up otherwise you might get confused 😅

Reader

Jaime

Cersei

Rhaegar

Tywin/Aerys

alright, i'll start with jaime's pov since his was going to be the next one i would have posted.

he would actually go on to investigate the murder of Nuahlin the former chief of the Fiery Hands. and unfortunately Tyrion would involve himself too only wanting to help out. Surprise to absolutely no one, the murderers are Dritan and Tejas. Two of the Fiery Hands who had a major problem with you allowing Inniros to live though he should have been executed for the murder of fellow Hands. Tyrion is the one to actually find out. Tejas tracks down Tyrion with the plan to kill him. Turns out there's actually more discontent soldiers who think reader is a false prophet. They don't believe Azor Ahai would ever allow a darkin to live after killing one of his sacred fighters (they don't know the truth that Nissa Nissa was actually the first darkin blessed by R'hllor)

Jaime kills Tejas and goes after Dritan. They fight but Dritan was fighting dirty with poisoned blades. Dritan ends up getting away. Dritan escapes on the first ship that was leaving: to Yi Ti 👀👀

oh and also Tyrion maybe becoming a red priest

Reader isn't having a good time being a basic captive of the Morghons. The city that they hail from resembled a jagged, black scar from above. they put you in an isolation cell to alert a fourth Morghon who is their leader known as Augur. Without Lightbringer or Latilth, reader is absolutely alone to question what the Augur had predicted.

there are other creatures that walk on two legs who live in the same black city that the morghons do. with them they fill a small council room with reader in the middle facing the Augur who is basically like their leader since he's the strongest (magically)of his brethren. she's shown far into the future. they do confirm that she will end the long night and defeat the Others as well one day become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. but further than that is where they're concerned. of the consequences of magic reentering the rest of the world stronger than ever thanks to reader and hatching the first dragon in centuries.

greedy people start making the journey to Asshai, infiltrating the city to find what other secrets lay in the dark country. many will challenge not just the morghons but those of the winged men and would bring upon dragon hunting. wars involving magic would inflame the known world. to save everyone from this ultimate fate, they figure it be better to let the Others take over rather than reader stopping them.

this pisses reader off so much. like they just expect her to let everyone she loves die? the augur calls her selfish and that azor ahai sacrificed his own wife for the production of Lightbringer. and you know what? something snaps in reader. she'd never asked for much of the world. hardly ever was she selfish. this though- she'd allow herself to embrace the anger she felt and be fucking selfish

and in that well of fiery hot fury, she also felt something familiar. darkins. the further she let herself burn, the closer she felt the presence. r'hllor's white flames swirl around her, burning those close and setting them immediately ablaze.

slowly, the darkin emerge; obeying the call of their champion. what rumbles the citadel was the emergence of latilth from the shadows. they had brought her along

this is where Master Ameer (the darkin that came from the city of winged men), Djal and Ovsanna are introduced.

after defeating the morghons (well, more like killing most of them), they leave to go back to the manor of shades but the morghon's giant dragon confronts reader and latilth. he's no longer aggressive toward them and follows them back. (and yes, this dragon kushul and latilth will eventually have babies together lol)

tywin in volantis! and he brought the lannister naval force for reader only to find jaime severly wounded and tyrion sparring with the fiery hands. you bet tywin gets fucking humbled in volantis and grudgingly acknowledges that joanna wasn't crazy

and now we must turn to cersei in astapor 😬 keeping true to her word, phiobe helps cersei become even crueler. phiobe uses slaves for cersei to practice on. definite fruity elements between cersei and phiobe; moreso on cersei's end cuz phiobe is not interested lol. they return to the sea and do make it to yi ti where cersei is brought to prince Heiu

and she meets the rest of his women

he's young and takes a big interest in cersei which upsets his other courtesans especially who had been perceived as the head of his harem: Lady Li-Xue

the second night there, lady li xue sent an assassin to cersei's room but the assassin was killed before cersei could even react. it's dritan who has taken a position of guard in Prince Heiu's palace

"I hear you sent the darkin after your sister. i want her dead as well"

a weird ass relationship between these two develop. he helps her get rid of her competition. he's in awe when he see's cersei kill someone for the first time.

prince rhaegar! now where the hell has he been? on the way to asshai. alizah is with him as are her two fiery hands and his own men (griff, arthur). this is what everyone has been waiting for!! 😂 the reunion of reader and rhaegar! he and his troops march through asshai to the mountain range and immediately met by Loviisa

brought to the manor of shades, rhaegar meets the other darkin as well as melisandre, weles and ray. inniros, reader and rhiannon are out flying with latilth

see you in part 2 :p

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

The Initiative Project| Javik

✧▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬✧

Reader: female | pre-established relationship

Warnings: Detailed Smut is very much not present but very much eluded too

Notes: Hi, Im on spring break. Enjoy me being back for like a week :)

✧▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬✧

"Hey."

"What?"

"Damn, who pissed in your cereal?" Y/n laughed, hands in her pockets as she casually mosied along the high arc of the Citadel with one hand tucked away in her pocket, the other holding a flashlight, neither were meant to be up there, "Garrus recommended you this place?"

"Yes," Javik answered, Y/n smiling small as she took a spot next to him.

"Light generator's busted," Y/n responded, standing next to the Prothean, turning off her flashlight "One hell of a view."

Light pollution usually took such a view away; but now? With the light gone, and nothing but natural light from candles, the beauty of the dark took over, the sky showing its true colors, star dust glowed and burned bright purples and blues, reds and oranges at the center.

"I am positive Andormena will likely be the same." Was his only response, causing Y/n to roll her shoulders.

"Yeah...maybe," Y/n chuckled, "I think we all deserve a long nap after what we've been through; but six hundred years...what will you do?"

"What I have always done," Javik answered.

"Survive?"

"Precisely."

Y/n nodded, "Good plan..."

"Then...I will take my leave." Javik spoke, turning himself to leave.

"You don't have to you know," Y/n told, stopping the Prothean in his tracks; "I...It's..."

"What?"

"Please?" Y/n asked, "Just...for a little while more?"

Even in the dark, it was easy to see he didn't want to be there, yet he stayed, and stood, facing the Citdeals opening which framed the galaxy in front of them.

"Look I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? You do not get to be, sorry," He snapped, his footsteps coming closer till she realized he was clearly in her face, "You do not get to apologize, to be sorry, to be remorseful, you have no remorse, you have no sympathy, you have no mercy. You are selfish."

"Selfish?" Y/n defended, offended by such a remark, "Tell me what selfish, you're clearly the higher being, aren't you? You understand all and every primitive, then understand me."

"Running off to another galaxy! Six hundred years in stasis via cryo! Six hundred years dead!" Javik argued: "All so you can run away from your problems-"

"Problems?" Y/n questioned, "What problems- I have to have people to have problems; You just don't get it? My family in the world I helped survive which I come from does not want me! The family in that world? Does not want me! Thane- the only father I ever had- not even of my own blood dead- the closest thing I had to a brother? Kolyat!? Blames me! Mordin is dead! Miranda is dead! Shepard is dead! My best friend Leigon is dead! Garus and James? Dead! So is it so bad that I ask for one thing; one damn thing that guess what?"

Y/n backing up, already starting to leave; "Ends up being me doing shit for others though anyway! Welcome to our fucking cycle your majesty!"

Y/n turned the flashlight back on, leaving the Prothean alone; alone like he was before her, and alone like he'd be after.

"I need a fucking cigarette." He heard her argue to herself her boots clanking against the metal arch of the Citadel.

Sometime soon, the lights would turn back on, people rejoicing in the artical light, the artificual light that posioned the dark of space.

Y/n got her cigratte, shoved away in the back of Liam's apartments in the Initiative base.

"Let's slow down on the cigs, eh?" He spoke, grabbing the tin from in front of Y/n: "He stressed you out that bad love? I haven't seen you smoke in a few years, you know- since I almost arrested you for underaged smoking, then-"

He paused, Garrus had gotten her out of the situation, promising that if she stopped, he wouldn't rat to Thane or Kolyat.

"Yeah...."Y/n sighed, leaning back, half a lit cigratte in between her fingers.

"Sorry..." he apologized, Y/n nodded.

"It's cool." Y/n told.

She looked out the window in silence.

"you know," Liam started up, "what always gets me up when I'm down-"

"Beans on toast."

"Beans on toast!" Liam cheered, "Want to go get some?"

"Yeah sure why the fuck not, my relationship's ruined, why not ruin my stomach," Y/n responded getting up walking towards the door.

"Hey! It doesn't have to be beans on toast!" Liam laughed in his defense following Y/n into the hall quickly, "Could be avacado."

"We're leaving the galaxy in a what? Week and a half and you wanna eat beans and avacado on toast as your last meals?" Y/n spoke.

"Well, not together." He told, "What's better than toast with beans?"

"Litterally anything." Y/n told as they walked through the halls, "Mini wheats for one."

He gaged as they continued out of Initiative headquarters and to a food court, continuing to go back and forth between food choices. Liam grew up in Earth's British city of London, with the citadel sprinkled in for vast periods of time. Y/n, though born on Earth, never seen a damn day of it: her life was a duct rat: how she met Thane after all, no parents to claim her, so, in a way: Thane claimed her as his; felt responsible, one needed the other after all. Thane got his information, Y/n got her payment, usually settled in Diner food. After some time, it became a weekly thing, the drala'fa and the assassin at a diner, eating whatever was being served: breakfast lunch, or dinner.

It's how she joined the Normandy in the first place, she had gone missing; Thane had practically begged for assistance in finding her; she had disappeared with no trace; she had been caught, grabbed by smugglers and slavers, free product with high profit with no strings attached was ideal. With enough luck, and treats they found the cargo ship and Y/n within. At the crisp age of nineteen turning twenty within her first week there, she was on the Normandy; ready to fight, not to mention she gained an unofficial family. Kolyat had even joined the group for a small time: Y/n and him enjoying each other's company. Kolyat...right, in a fit of anger; perhaps resentment or just sadness he blamed her; it was her fault, it was her doing; she was there she could of stopped Cerberus; it was just one person, it was just one assassin, she knew better, she could of handled it.

"Hello! Citadel to Y/n!" A hand waved in front of her face.

"What?" Y/n asked.

"You were talking then you stop," Scott told.

"I was?"

"Yeah." Sara told, "You forget there was a salad in front of you too?"

Y/n looked down at her food before rubbing over her eyes with a groan.

"Are you good dude?" Scott questioned.

"I'm fine," Y/n told them.

"She's goin threw it; her 50k-year-old boyfriend just fucked her in the ass and left," Liam commented.

"Really Liam?"

"It's true, got her smokin' and everything," Liam told the Ryder twins.

"Damn that's gotta be rough," Sara started, "Sorry..."

"I don't get it." Scott spoke up, "You're 21 dating an old man, look at you; you could have anyone and you date a Prothean you helped unfreeze when the reapers attacked."

"Scott." Sara scolded hitting her twin in the chest.

"What? I'm being honest! Why him in the first place even?" He questioned; "he's an asshole! We all know it!"

"he's not an asshole."

"Right. He's a dick." Scott corrected himself.

"He's rough around the edges sometimes." Y/n defended, "I am leaving and never coming back, I just feel like maybe I should stay-"

"You're kidding me?" Sara asked.

"What?"

"After all you've done, and at your age: you wanna do something for someone else? Again?" Sara argued; "What has he done for you to make you stay?"

"Well-"

"Fucking you does not count," Sara defended.

Y/n was silent for a moment, what did Javik do for her?

Javik had her back, for better rather than worse; usually. After Thane's death, he was her vent mate; her rooms vent connecting right into his, the night crying he claimed was annoying; useless even.

'Crying will not bring back the dead.' He argued, sat on his cot.

'Sorry your royal fuck face that my dad just fucking died.' She snaped back.

'Rage was always one thing you humans got right,' He commented, 'I believing it's one of your...greatest inspirations, it is what has kept your people alive for so long."

'I'm not angry,' Y/n defended; 'I have to keep a cool head, I am not angry. It'll just get more people killed.'

'Not angry?" he laughed, 'Is that what the drell taught you? anger gets people killed? Anger fuels life. It is the chaos that keeps peace in balance, You're anger is not what gets people killed. it's the ignorance that is contained within your anger.'

Y/n was silent for a moment as she laid down on her cot, wipping her face with her sleeve.

'How do you know?' Y/n asked looking up at the ceiling.

'Its one damn thing I have learned in this cycle,' he told, 'I have also learned you're saying Ignorance is bliss, is quiet idiotic. It is what breeds your ignorant behavior in anger."

"He's had my back." Y/n spoke in Javik's defense, "More than once."

'You could have protected him!" Kolyat shouted, 'Why didn't you protect him!'

"I-"

'What?! You tried!?' Kolyat shouted, 'Tried isn't good enough! You're so busy fucking around that you couldn't even do what your fucking here for!'

'You will not talk to her in such a tone!' Javik shouted, pushing Kolyat back and out of her face, 'Speak to her on such a tone again, and it will entail a problem between me and you.'

Kolyat glared at him, 'Do I make myself clear?' Javik argued.

'Fuck you.' Kolyat snapped pushing passed Javik and walked away from the two of you.

'Kolyat-' y/n spoke, but he was already gone, 'Kolyat, please...'

'He will not bother you-'

Y/n had already crumbled, crying into her hands in the middle of the room he walking up to her.

'Do not waste tears on some so ignorant. You primatives-'

She hugged him in desperation, freezing Javik in place as she held onto him.

"Yeah. He's had my back." Y/n nodded to the group, "Just rough around the edges is all. Trust me."

"What we mean is." Liam spoke up, "We want you to be happy, live for you. You know? What do you want to do? For you? You've done a lot for others."

"I don't know what I want anymore." Y/n answer honestly.

"Well..." Liam spoke, "How do you want to feel?."

Y/n looked down at her food, "I don't know."

"Thats thw good thing about stoves." Liam told with a smile. "Things can go on the back burner to simmer."

Think about it. Just think, it didn't have to be immedate, just, think. Take time, and think.

"I feel full."

"You barely ate."

"Yeah I'll take it with me." Y/n told picking herself up and the container, leaving the group.

Gone from sight, she decided going to her initiative quaters was best, and on the way, she would drop her untouched meal off in front of a duct where it would be grabbed up quickly by one of the kids.

Maybe a nap would be best.

Making it to the halls of doors, each leading to onrs own room and office, she saw Javik leaning up against the wall, clearly waiting. She'd have to deal with it sooner rather than later.

"Hey."

He glanced her way, "Hello."

"You're...here..." Y/n spoke.

"I am."

Y/n looked towards the door, "Did you-"

"Here."

Y/n looked at the small bunch of flowers wrapped in paper and a string.

"Oh. Marigolds." She spoke, "my favorite."

"They were annoying me. Every time I passed that old human woman."

"So...you got them for me?"

"They annoyed me because they reminded me of you."

Y/n took them carefully, "thanks. Appreciate it..."

"The Krogan offered me work."

"Oh. Wrex?" Y/n spoke, looking down at the flowers," bounty work?"

"Land Work," Javik commented, "a farm."

Y/n looked up, "he offered you work as a farmer?"

"Amongst other opportunities."

"And farming? It? Caught one of your eyes or? Six?" She questioned.

"All of them." He commented: clearly not getting the joke.

Y/n chuckled under her breathe, "why uh. Why farm work?"

Javik was silent as Y/n looked at him awaiting his answer.

"You." Was his final answer, "I had discussed with Wrex while we were still together on the Normandy. You had...talked about it a lot with the fields."

"...the corn fields we saw in that colony," Y/n told him Javik nodded, "You remember that?"

"My memory may not be as sharp as a Drells, but it's still better than humans."

Y/n chuckled in response gently rubbing one of the leaves on the marigold's stem to keep her mind busy, hoping not to give away her bashfulness; "Thanks uh again for the flowers,"

Javik gave a curt nod as she smiled back, "I should get to filing some stuff then..."

With a put of a button, the door opened allowing Y/n to go through she sent him a small wave of the hand as she did. The door closed as she stood there, looking at the flowers in hand, before setting them on a shelf in an old ration can she had used for a vase. She looked at them sitting all pretty in an old can. A finger came up to her mouth as she chewed on the nail in debate. Y/n was quick to backtrack, opening the door once again; Javik still standing there seemingly having a debate himself as Y/n quickly kissed him, he quick to kiss back; hands grabbing her arms as he backed her up into her office, Y/n quickly flailed her hand around for the control panel to press the lock button, uncertain if she got it, she was already pushed back into the desk, being lifted up to sit ontop it.

"I don't think she's going with us," Sarah argued.

"She's going." Liam defended, "Trust me."

[majickth]

Hold on to your seat bcs I have brain worms and you said u wanted to hear them so, in the end, this is mostly your fault /pos

That post where someone was trying to get all their bot followers together to teach them how to play dnd but it's Tango somehow getting Keralis, Bdubs, Zedaph and Scar in a steampunk campaign together.

No one dares call attention to it -the last person got a VIP tour-, but some of the taxidermied creatures in Scarland are straight up ripped from Tango's fucked up homebrew monster manual collection... mostly the ones he uses for the Friday night game, in which Scar proudly holds the record of "most deaths in a single session". (No one knows what came first, the taxidermy or the custom monster manuals)

Regarding the steampunk campaign, T had to start holding the game at his store. He says it helps the atmosphere -with all the machines and parts he has in the back and all that-, but in reality both K and B asked him separately if he could make an exception and not do it at the ranch. Keralis doesn't want to leave Princess the shop alone for too long and Bdubs told him that sudden extreme heat or cold can harm his moss coat.

(Calling back to v1 of decked out) Zedaph quickly took a liking to the chill DM and it seems to be mutual because Tango, usually very secretive about the citadel, started asking him to help playtest the different features he wants to add to the dungeon. They've spent many an afternoon sharing notes on how to tweak the "animatronics" Tango's using as enemies to make them feel more real while also allowing players to sometimes get out of the basement unscathed.

The first time Bdubs properly met Tango was one of those weird moments where the Pass n Gas' register got suddenly crowded. It wasn't the first time Etho had dragged his green friend to hang out at the outskirts with the old fisherman, but it was the first time he'd seen the blond man with big red glasses and a poofy coat come out of the 'employees only' door, ttrpg books balancing on top of the boxes he was helping move. And the rest is history.

Might have many more Thoughts(tm) abt your au but rn the Create brainrot is winning and I can't get a paragraph out that doesn't involve Tango, Zedaph, Scar, Bdubs o Keralis (but mostly Tango bcs I'm a nerd and I love his whole concept)

Putting you on blast, Shadow-formerly-known-as-Anon

I love that idea though, Tango just grabbing the most ominous guys he can find and asking if they wanna play DnD. Even better if he’s just completely oblivious to the weirdness of it all.

Also adds a nice bit of slice-of-life to the town too! Despite all its eccentricities, there are many who still consider Hermit’s Hollow home.

[omniblades-and-stars]

Let's go with desire and hate for all 3 OCs pwease!

Desire -

Lou’s biggest desire was to get her father to leave home and leave her mother. And she was very open about that desire in the past, but dropped it eventually after it became clear that Joe Miller wasn’t going to leave and move to somewhere else in the same city, much less move to a different planet. Over Lou’s career as a bounty hunter and tech consultant, she has been saving money to help him travel and get him treatment. Like A LOT of money. He never takes her up on it though. This is a tragic desire that never gets fulfilled. Her second greatest desire is just to stop feeling so alone.

Nilea’s greatest desire is just to be doing something with her life that she can feel proud of. She never felt like she was doing anything worthy of pride in the military or in C-Sec, and her activities post leaving those careers were met with mixed results on the pride scale. She dropped everything in her life to go and pursue a nebulous goal of finding something to be proud of. It’s not so much that she isn’t open about this specifically so much as she isn’t really open about much.

Inonsi will tell you that her greatest desire is to become the most infamous and creative thief in the galaxy. And she engages in a great many shenanigans to do so. However, the loss of her first love, Tertus, left a hole in the fabric of her heart. She won’t admit this to anyone, even herself. But somewhere, deep inside, she chases that feeling all over the galaxy. Who doesn’t want to have love in their life?

Hate –

Lou hates the picture-perfect expectations her mother had for her growing up. She tried to go along with them and it ended up blowing up in her face (almost literally). And ever since, she has done everything in her power to live her life how she wants. She will tell you she doesn’t hate anything pure and simple, but if she ever finds a certain man named Luther in an alleyway, she won’t hesitate to beat the ever-loving shit out of him, but she hasn’t gone looking for him on purpose. She hates Aria’s taste in club music, but that’s neither here nor there. Otherwise, Lou tries not to hold onto hatred and anger, she really does.

Nilea hates … a lot of things. She’ll tell you that she doesn’t care that her father abandoned her family when she was a kid, but that’s a lie, she hates him for it. She’s pretty sure she’ll never get an opportunity to do anything about that at all, she’s pretty sure he’s dead. The only thing she has to direct her ire at about him is her own face bearing the family resemblance. Nilea hates a woman named Nicolett Key, but left the Citadel and never went back, which is probably for the best because she probably would end up dragging the woman around by her pretty little haircut. Nilea hates Cerberus for pretty obvious reasons and does make herself a thorn in their side on multiple occasions. Nilea also hates bad plans or no plans. And if you have a bad plan she’s going to tell you it’s a stupid fucking plan.

Insonsi hates drinking hard liquor straight and not much else. She doesn’t like to hold grudges, and is willing to let most things wash over her as just another drop in the ocean of experience. The men who killed Tertus are dead already, any thieves who best her just make her work harder to do better. She guesses you could say that she hates her old trainer, Laon, and her stupid, fucking, ancient tree.

[coryosfirstlady]

Pretty Girl - Coriolanus Snow

Description -

You are the daughter of Dr Volumnia Gaul, previously a close friend (and lover) of Coriolanus Snow. Until one night, a fight with your mother leaves you stranded with nowhere to go but The Snow Penthouse, despite Dr Gaul banning you from contacting Coryo ever again - and you and Coryo agreed to stay away from eachother as you only distracted eachother from your work. Although, what else could you do? Sorry guys, im new to the whole Tumblr thing, this is acc a snippet of my ao3 fanfic - "The Sound of Snow falling", so if you enjoy make sure to check it out :) https://archiveofourown.org/works/51943126/chapters/131348863

For what felt like hours, you sat alone, summer air enough to keep you from a shiver as the day drew along - deciding whether or not it would be socially acceptable to sleep on the central steps, or if your Capitol Influence had already taken a hit when you disappeared for two months. It was uncomfortable, that was evident, the gravelly yet fresh steps scraping at your skin through the thin dress you wore, the matching blazer draped over your shoulders.

They had only built the Gamemaker Hall a couple years ago, following the successes of the 10th and 11th Hunger Games - the Citadel becoming too small of a space for the research conducted, now the affluent marble-coated Hall housing more than enough of the equipment needed to murder 23 children each year. It marvelled you how easily you had broken into the guarded building after Flickerman's Feast - security lacking to a degree you could hardly comprehend, although you guessed the help of your cunning, now ex-friend Snow played a large part in the easy task.

Eyebrows furrowing, you realised the Snow Penthouse was only a few roads away - offering inevitable warmth and comfort that was severely insufficient where you currently sat, though you guessed Coryo wouldn't even open the door to you. Furthermore, you doubted you could possibly manage to stay with him for that long without your feelings for him driving you mad - yet another precaution that would only harden your current situation.

No matter what you told yourself, it did seem incredibly inviting - particularly as your Mother had commanded you to stay away, the rage still absently bubbling at the back of your mind, sourcing a need for defiance. To upset Gaul, that is what you convinced yourself as you stood from the steps and began to amble along the dark roads.

To upset Gaul, as you took the elevator to the top floor of the apartment building.

To upset Gaul, as you knocked gingerly on the door marked 'Snow'.

Cold and sweet, your eyes met his as he pulled the hinge - immediate confusion and somewhat annoyance lacing his expression, your stomach fluttering at even the sight of him.

"What the fuck are you doing here."

His words were impossibly sharp, yet months of knowing him so well assured you that this was the same facade he displayed to every Capitol resident - thick-skinned and hardened, inviting no such disagreement.

"I have nowhere else."

"Your mothers?"

"She sent me away."

Murmuring like a child confessing to their Mother, you watched as a deep sigh overtook his form - a hint of pity behind glassy eyes conveying a spark of hope.

Hesitantly, he let you in, shutting the door behind you as he attempted not to let his eyes fall on you for too long - well aware that if they did, he may just go crazy. Your perfume seemed to fill the air instantly, flooding unfairly into his nostrils as he took a step away to try to regain some control of the situation - his hands bawling to fists as he shoved them far into the pockets of his dark slacks.

'You can sleep in Tigris' old bedroom. She's away studying."

You briefly thanked him, pulling off your blazer and hanging it on the Coathook beside the door. The room you stood in was Grand - expensively decorated with a large dining table stretching across one half, the other with large armchairs and matching sofas placed strategically below a lavish chandelier, all leading to a slim hallway across your gaze.

Coryo began to walk away - you following him like a lost puppy, curious footsteps attempting to map out the large space.

"I'm going to my room. Call if you need something."

Silence.

"Yeah, um, of course."

Silence.

Coriolanus was growing painfully aware of the feeling in his chest as he stood across from you, warmth trickling slowly down his body - only to rest guiltily between his thighs. Fuck, he wanted you so badly - overwhelmingly, all controllingly. He hated himself for it.

Although, that hatred had never stopped him.

He turned with such ferocious yearning you thought he was about to strike you - flinching for a moment before he instead slammed his lips to yours with indescribable hunger, an attempt to drink every moment he missed of you from your lips. It was heavenly.

Reaching a hand to hold his jaw, bringing him closer, he released a breathy gasp into your mouth before pulling you backwards and onto the large dining table with powerful need, a clatter echoing around the room as you slammed against the wood - his heavy form already caged above you. It was hard to breathe, tounges deep in each other's mouths - desperate and starved, relapsing into an addiction that was sickeningly sweet - making you unsure whether the warmth prickling at your skin was pure arousal or the relief of touching him again. Your warmth began to throb as he occasionally relaxed his weight onto you, his spare hand reaching to grab your waist with more strength and force than he had ever touched you before - fingers grasping tight enough to leave a bruise, the pain delicious, forcing muffled moans into the kiss.

Writhing against each other as your bodies grew impatient, time seemed to race, heartbeats thumping so intimately against each other it almost fulfilled every moment you had missed.

"It was cruel of you to come over."

Coryo reprimanded, breath hot in your mouth as he spoke hopelessly into you - however not fazed or truly angry enough to draw his hands away from you, still desperately pawing your sides, sliding your dress up your thighs, mouth growing slick with the now shared saliva. "You don't care to seem too dearly."

The grunt in response seemed to ripple ecstatically along your body, pleasured shivers reaching down to your fingertips - now gently clawing at his back, breath hitching as his hand edged to your thigh, grabbing roughly at the fleshed underside - bare skin against his enough to make your eyes close in ecstasy.

As he pulled you closer, your pelvis brushed his - throbbing cock restrained by his slacks already making your cunt tense around nothing, his curious fingers eventually pulling the skimpy panties you wore down along your legs and onto the floor, his eyes drifting to you arrogantly as he brushed your dampness.

"You're so wet."

Accusingly, he said it - though you were too far in to accept the shame by now, instead rocking your hips closer to his hand in needy request, smirk twitching his pretty mouth. Without warning, he thrust two fingers into you, thumb practicedly playing with your clit, your whole body convulsing at the sudden pressure, back arching against the table with broken moans. He relished it, seeing you a bundled mess under his hands - proud you were his, only his to play with.

Vision beginning to haze from the already strong overwhelming, he continued pistoning his fingers cruelly into your cunt without mercy - some sort of revenge for teasing him so awfully for the past two weeks. Beginning to ease a third finger in, he watched as your eyes widened, looking down to see where his fingers met your pretty cunt.

"You can take it, baby, I know you can."

His words came out strained and gravelly, everything about you driving him to madness as he reached into you deeper, noticing the exact spot that made your eyes roll back in a beautiful lack of control.

"Is that where it is, baby?"

Hitting the same spot, he confirmed, pumping in and out down to his knuckles now - the moment your velvety walls began to tighten making his chest tighten with anticipation - dick pressing painfully against his pants.

You came surprisingly quickly, unable to hold yourself any longer - the touch driving your legs to shiver seemingly uncontrollably as Coryo finger-fucked you through it, prolonging the deep orgasm almost inhumanely. His careful arms hoisted you up as soon as you finished, wrapping your arms around his waist as he carried you to the large, affluent sofa in the other half of the room - placing you on his lap as he sat, eyes trained unforgivingly on your every moment.

Recovering as quickly as you could, you rolled yourself immediately away from his seated form, instead kneeling on the floor between his spread legs - tenting in his trousers fluttering through your already shaky limbs. Glancing up at him for approval, you slowly undid his belt, a smirk spreading across his face as he helped your lightly quivering hands pull away his trousers and underwear, revealing his throbbing cock, tip a deep red and glistening with precum. The night in the cabin, you had hardly seen it in the candlelit dimness, only felt the sheer size, yet now, looking upon him anxiously close - you worried you wouldn't be able to fit it into your mouth. Fuck it, you would try anyway.

Pride beckoned in your eyes as you gently placed your lips against the head of his cock, his neck immediately tensing in an attempt to hide his sharp breaths, your confidence immediately returning alongside a need to please him. You began to swish your tongue over the hotness, healthy hand reaching to stroke the base of his length as the splinted one traced light patterns into his thigh with your nails - savouring the look on his face as he bit his lip - his hand reaching to grab a handful of your hair, a gentle pull every time you made his cock twitch providing you with more then enough will to continue.

Your lips began to burn as you brought your head further down, stretch hitting the back of your throat - tears immediately threatening your eyes - his moans growing more shameless, low groans and gasps music to your ears.

"You feel amazing, fuck-"

He managed, hand bawling to a fist in your hair as you began to bob your head - his eyes screwing shut agonizingly tight.

Swirling your tongue over him, he flinched, muscles contracting - taking his whole cock almost sorely in your mouth, nose brushing the groomed hairs at the base in delectable pride. Staying in that position for longer than he could bare, his hips bucked against you, your own hand sliding along your body to toy with your clit, his breathless strives to hide his moans slickening you further.

His heartbeat became evident in your mouth as you bobbed again, muscles tensing and flinching at every detail in your movement - holding himself back to relish this moment for as long as he possibly could, his hand abruptly pulling your hair as he spilt into your throat, a low growl-like sound escaping his lips as you swallowed the salty thickness.

Eyes glued to you in admiring fondness, he pulled you back onto his lap, finally removing your dress to reveal the pretty tits he had craved to see again, immediately trying to make a mental note of the image - still hazed and fucked-out, yet so desperate for more. That feeling in his chest was still there, stronger and ever, and to him, lust needed to be sorted.

Grip returning to your hips, he gazed at you in an unfocused mess, crazed and fuckdrunk as you unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his muscled torso, immediately kissing your way down his neck as he aligned himself with your burning cunt - lowering your body onto him in a painful stretch that made your legs tense, nails scratching into his skin as you released a cry.

"Come on, baby, breathe through it."

Just as overwhelmed as you, he whispered into your ear, nuzzling against it fondly as you brought yourself off him, then back on, deeper into you this time, tip brushing that spot deep inside you as you stifled a moan. Rolling and grinding yourself against him, you shared frantic and already sensitive breaths, his abs tensing each time you lowered, hips bucking up into you desperately. Coryo's hand snaked back down to your cunt, circling your clit so overwhelmingly you could've passed out.

The eagerness for the other only heightened, the man below you driving his cock into you in perfect unison as you rode off him, pace quickening as the room echoed with pornographic slaps of his balls against your ass, your whimpers and pants contrasted with his low moans, sweat trickling down his forehead and onto yours. You were well aware your hymen was not going to be forgiving tomorrow morning.

The room grew hot with thirst, greediness and lust that only the other brought you, rough movements more frantic than you had been the first night you'd touched each other, overtaken with hungry need. Fluttering around him, you arched your back, leaning your head to the tall ceiling and screwing your eyes tight.

"m'gonna cum-"

You muffled, his grasp firm on your ass, holding tight as he thrust mercilessly into you. "go on, baby, let me see you-"

His hand reached to hold your jaw, tilting your face to lock eyes with him, gaze so intense on the other it held more emotion than your words ever could. A loud gasp erupted from your mouth, face morphing in uncontainable pleasure, coating his cock in your juices as you reached your high - better than any drug, yet more addictive. The extreme tightness paired with that expression on your face only made Coryo orgasm seconds later, gravelly groans filling the air between you as you sat, slumped against each other, dick softening inside you.

Coryo tiredly brought his hand to massage your shoulder as you rested yours against his chest, twirling your hair carefully between his fingers -gentle movements starkly different to the force he had previously impaled you with.

"You pretty, pretty girl."

A shy flutter flushed your cheeks, catching your breath in your throat in an innocent timidness like a girl with a crush - what you supposed you were, now. Every feeling towards him was so thick, suffocating you but in such a beautiful way.

For Snow, that feeling in his chest was yet to disappear - despite fucking you so well, physically unable to continue due to the sheer amount of effort he had ploughed into you with, the so-called lust was still well present. It had to be lust. What else could he possibly have the humane capacity for?

[eriexplosion]

Clone Wars - Clone Cadets

DOMINOES DOMINOES DOMINOES.

Bravery, valor, unity, the lifeblood of victory on the battlefield

This is very funny because I think they put this bit over a clip from Hidden Enemy which, no matter how you look at it, is certainly not an episode about unity.

Anyway there's a lot dropped into this opening including that all of the clones teachers were bounty hunters, surely a group of people well known for their patience and gentle handling of children. Also, "Bred to be perfect soldiers, these cadets must first be subjected to intense physical and mental training before heading off to war" is simply a sentence that gives me the heebiest of jeebies.

The different vibes the chronological order gives to the clones existence continues to be blatant though. Like I know I've pointed it out several times in these but like, it really is front loaded with some truly terrible content when it comes to clone mistreatment, and having Slick's episode lead into clones dropping every five seconds in the movie into this episode about their training from birth to almost inevitable battlefield death is just a lot. I CARE A LOT ABOUT CLONES AND I WANT SOMETHING BETTER FOR THEM DAMN IT.

MY CHILDREN ARE HERE THOUGH. And god but baby Echo is so stressed all the time. Nobody is in formation. They don't like their nickname. Everyone is shouting. They insist on calling Fives by his full CT number and it makes thank yous a very intensive process. Don't worry, if you think your team is difficult to keep track of now it won't be long until you find yourself with and even crazier one. The audacity of this simulation being The Citadel though given what happens. AUDACITY.

And 99 ;A; Treasure.

"YOU'VE NEVER EVEN MET A GIRL" remains one of the funniest throwaway lines in the show.

Baby Echo though has one (1) thought and it's WE NEED TO FOLLOW ORDERS, PLEASE DEAR GOD. And instead all they get is punched. Team Cohesion? Never heard of it.

Leave my man alone he's just fucking standing there why you gotta bring him into it? Anyway this line makes me really wonder why we haven't heard ANYTHING about 99 in TBB, like it just seems that in two seasons we should have gotten something about the guy that they're named after in two different ways.

Ma'am, I think that you've been here long enough to have noticed that Lama Su does not care about petty things like 'the rights of living beings.' Shaak Ti is one of my most Complicated Feelings Jedi, though, because she'll say things like this and later talk about Fives as property and kind of treat him like it too. (Permanently thinking about when Fives was trying to see what the hell they were doing to Tup and Shaak Ti closes the shutter on him without a word.)

I do think she sincerely feels empathy for the clone troopers but I'm not convinced that translates into '100% believes they are full human beings" just going by actions through the show. "You Jedi show too much compassion" sure but Lama Su thinks literally anything is too much compassion, it's not a high bar.

Every day I am caught in the conundrum of what's likely just writer inconsistency.

GOD THE ABSOLUTE AWKWARD SILENCE AFTER COLT ASKS HOW THE DOMINO SQUAD IS. RIP BOYS.

Still love that they named that poor bastard Droidbait. Do you think it puts a damper on things when Echo and Fives look back and remember their squad like you can be normal about mourning Hevy and Cutup but you try to memorialize Droidbait and shit gets awkward. You'll never believe what happened to their good friend. Droidbait.

It is interesting that leaving a man behind is an automatic fail only because every other thing we see with the clones is that the mission comes first and individual clones are expendable. But still, not the vibe they were going for with this episode so the rules change accordingly.

Bric is definitely on the list of most unlikable characters for his whole scene with Cutup. Fuck this guy throw him into the ocean. Complete counter to the sweet scene with 99 trying to encourage Hevy.

"Stop calling me that. We're just numbers 99. Just numbers." "Not to me. To me... you've always had a name."

LINES THAT MAKE ME WANT TO FUCKING SOB EVERY TIME. I absolutely adore 99 and we do not get enough time with him.

Do not like that Shaak Ti validates Bric's assholery by letting his actively trying to fuck over the cadets slide. Yes Jedi wisdom or whatever but genuinely fuck this guy.

And of course... the Hevy and 99 scene at the end. "We'll see each other again. How else am I supposed to get this back from you?" Agonizing. AGONIZING.

This is one of the episodes I think works much better in its original order. Watching it chronologically is interesting of course, but can't bring the unmatched brutality of seeing them try so hard for a victory knowing that in almost no time at all three of them are going to be dead anyway and that Hevy is never coming back for that medal. So yeah, not too far in and we've hit at least one that definitely works best as a flashback.

[arcxnumvitae]

It had been a while since he had last stepped out of Unseelie. Far longer was the last sighting of their destination. Balmoral, for one, had been looking forward to someplace other than the citadel. However, a trepidation did still linger in the air. It was also the first major outing the king had taken from the Unseelie since taking power. He wouldn’t have made a request if he didn’t believe it were safe. Yet he could still acknowledge when it came to his people…unpredictability was their strong point.

Which is why he would leave most of the generals at home. As much as they would bitch about it. Most were just as curious about their counterpart…and some he could tell were looking to cause mischief. While normally he’d allow them their fun, unfortunately a first impression was paramount. Balmoral held no shame as the kind of fae the Unseelie were but he also held a pride as leader to demonstrate his cohesion. As such, it would have to wait. Likely for the winter revelry.

Balmoral had positioned himself to be able to look at where they had come. The citadel no larger than one his moths in his view. But he could still see the gates where Siubhan had seen him off with the promise of dealing with any attempting anything strange in their ruler’s absence. Her knightly stature saluting their exit and he was sure she was still observing until they had also disappeared from her.

While the location for reaching the Seelie wasn’t particular far once they were on the surface, it would be a least half a day with these mounts. So Balmoral was settled to his designation as passenger and escort as a retinue took point ahead and behind. The king leaned back, leaning against his right hand.

“With that, the windae fir turning back shuts. It’s a sin we have t’ go without a full entourage though,” Balmoral airily quipped to Mhoirbheinn. With the formation and his level of his tone, it was unlikely they would be heard, “Ah ken it’s the first time from hame but at least feel a tad excited. Think of it as a vacation. A’ we can do has been done. Wit scripts have been given are in play. Worse comes to worse and it’s heavy shite when we get back…it’s not as though it’s our first time storming the kingdom, init it no? Dinnae fash yersel’.”

The king chuckled despite the implication as his hand subtly thumbed along the other’s side, “Prionnsa beag, did managed t’ keek some things since we ken fuck a’ about the Seelie. If ah remember, prolly a lot of hoity-toity types. Ah can haud aff though if you rather keep it a surprise.”

@thewolfisawake​ || Unprompted

He should have expected that his first foray into a land beyond the Unseelie would come sooner rather than later. Bal had finally become the king, and with the settling into his reign came the politics. Mhoirbheinn still was unsure of a diplomatic visit to the land of the Seelie, both from leaving Unseelie open for the taking and also for the risk a certain king may be endangering himself in at another court. ‘A vacation’? Bah. As if he could rest easy at Seelie while working to ensure nothing befell the other.

But once Bal had set his mind onto something, it was difficult to dissuade him, the stubborn thing.

Though he did not let it show to any of the others, he could tell that Bal sensed his apprehension at being so far away from the familiar. It was a weak feeling, one belonging to the child who had rarely left the walls surrounding him. For a sizable portion of his life, he had never seen much of Unseelie itself, let alone whatever lay beyond. 

The presence against his back a solid weight as the gentle rocking of the creature they rode caused them both to sway in time together, Mhoirbheinn cast a glance back with the brush of contact along his side.

“Take care not to fall off, Bal. It might be difficult to explain to the Seelie king if you arrive at his court covered in bruises.” Amusement filled his voice with the bit of the joke and he turned his attention back to the road ahead, while scanning about for any danger. “If you bemoan the lack of a full entourage, I renew my suggestion that you don’t have to go at all. The Seelie whelp will heal from the heartbreak, I’m sure. Since your mind is set though, it would be better to know what your favorite toy has learned. It’ll be good to know what threats, or irritants, I’ll be dealing with before we arrive.”

[brightwingedbat]

Given that last ask about Calypso, here, have the fresh drama of twin charr who just lost their sire.

---

Chip Ironwelder, an intense sorrow furrows on his brow as he leaves the Bane. He'd just been forced to execute his father Vallus Smokemane, it's the last thing he wanted. But there wasn't a choice, it was either he fought him like a true charr, or Vallus would be slaughtered without a chance to fight.

A quiet alley in the Citadel, somewhere he wouldn't run in to anyone, or so he thought. Out from the shadows steps the familiar charr, one with fur colour matching that of the sire he just slew. His gaze avoids meeting theirs.

"...Chip, what did you do?" A soft voice, even for a female charr. There's a hint of a critical tone in it, though it's hard to notice with how gentle she speaks.

"Cali... I don't want to talk about it, just leave me be." Ironwelder mutters apathetically, attempting to push past his twin sister.

"How can I leave it here? You killed him. Our father... Dad..." Cali's voice heightens, her claws grip on her brother's leather armour. She's not going to just let him walk by this. She's never been one to get into conflict willingly, but this is something too close to her heart.

Chip snarls upsettingly, pushing away from his sibling's grip. Still refusing to look her in the eyes, he can't bear it. He can't bring himself to even say anything more, still in turmoil over it all. He silently goes to move onward.

"Stop." The sister grabs his arm once more, her claws digging in. "Why? Why did you kill him?! Vallus, Dad... He's the only one who came to see me, and now he's..." She finally manages to bring herself to a growl. "Now he's dead, because of YOU!"

Chip glares at her, his blood is starting to boil at the mere mention of blame. He turns back to her while knocking her arm away, his sorrow shifting to anger. He would have bottled this up, but no, this disrespect and callous attitude of his sister is bringing all his worst to bear. "Don't you DARE get at me like that! I'm just as devastated as you are! I didn't have a choice, I was forced! But you, you never had to lift a damn claw! I had to go and look at our father in the eyes and aim my damned pistol to him, and I had to pull that trigger! I HAD TO PULL THAT TRIGGER!!!" His voice strains, fury raising enough for tears to bead in his eyes.

Cali's ears shift back and down immediately as her face twists in a pained shock, never before has she seen her brother so infuriated, with anyone. Her body holds stock still, the only movement provoked by her anxious breaths.

Ironwelder's voice grows harsh, baring all his fangs at his sibling. He's not done yet. "His blood is on my hands, and I have to live with that now! You don't, you're lucky you don't have that guilt hanging over you!" Part of his mind tugs at him, wants him to hold back, but it's too late for that now. He points an accusatory claw, huffing furiously. "So don't you DARE finally come crawling out of the shadows just to get at ME! You did NOTHING, for me or our father!"

"Ch-Chip... I..." It's now the tears start for the sister, a deep grimace as they drip down her cheek fur. She can't argue back, she didn't do a thing. She hid away while her twin brother was dragged into the Bane. Her sobs grow.

The brother huffs, too enraged to care for her cries. "...Just- just get out of my sight. You can't understand how I feel, and if that's how you see me now, you can fuck off and never come back. I'm not dealing with a sister like you, too busy blaming me to realise how much I'm going through..." Without another word, he leaves on his way through the alley, a sibling relationship soured.

Cali is left in her tears alone, she falls to a sit, curling her knees close and her back against the alley wall. Her sobs muffled as her snout presses into the skirt of her Ash uniform. Truthfully, she's been blaming herself ever since she heard about where her father was, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything. What could she do? Her pain twisted her thoughts into blaming the one who ended Vallus, at least that way the blame wasn't on her.

A thought that has ripped apart the bond between two twin siblings.

A moment passes before another charr approaches, a brown furred one also in Ash gear. He sits down beside her, a paw consolingly places on her shoulder. "Knew I should've stepped in."

Her breath hitches amidst the cries, not moving an inch from where she is. "...Legionnaire Felldagger. I... I didn't mean-"

"Less of that, Cali." The charr's voice is deep yet quiet, comforting. "Let's get you back to the barracks. Better around our Warband."

Her legionnaire only calls her Cali when they're talking casually, means she doesn't need to be so formal. Her tear-filled eyes finally raise to meet his, a meek nod. "A-alright, Clawspur."

Felldagger nods softly in response, assisting his soldier to her feet. He knows fine well she needs her warband more now than ever after this, he never expected she'd tear apart her relationship with her brother so harshly... The path back to the barracks is quiet, both of them aren't really talkers. But it is at least better than Cali being on her own.

[solspectre]

grab

actions speak louder than words // not accepting

grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving.

sometimes, shepard wonders if she could have done it any differently. any better.

anderson had said he was proud of her. in his last moments, he spent what few words he could say praising her and yet she didn't think she deserved it, her record carrying the ghosts of far too many to count. and when these thoughts drifted to the forefront of her mind, an ache courses through her body, wounds long since healed hurting once more, as if they knew and wanted her body to be the reminder.

and what good was she to anyone like that?

vaguely can the commander hear garrus calling her name, but he sounds far away, as if at the end of a long tunnel. her gaze remains fixed out the window, but what she sees is not the tranquil night sky, but the darkness of space lit aflame with the symphony of war raging endlessly. fingers twitch, hand instinctively raising to cradle almost protectively against her abdomen. something warm seeps through her fingers– and she knows. her body feels too heavy to keep up and slowly, every sound around her seems to grow quiet. and as her eyes close, there's a moment of peace. a light at the end of that tunnel–

' Sh..... – e....pa ....– Shepard ! '

but the light was not hers to grasp. emerald eyes snap open, alert with an intensity that burned hotter than the sun as a sharp inhale breaks that tense quiet. her body moves immediately, turning on her heels, acting without any thought. she needed to leave. she needed to go back out there, to keep fighting, to fix whatever the hell was going wrong now and make sure that nothing would fuck up this hard earned victory. but before the commander can even get close to the door, something closes around her wrist and her body stalls, freezing in place as her head snaps around towards the source, ready to put up a fight but–

" ....Garrus?"

no. that's not right. he shouldn't be here. he was back on the normandy, wasn't he? she ordered him to evacuate with the others. cofusion colors her expression but as her focus eases up, she realizes that this..........wasn't the top of the citadel.

shepard glances down and everything is normal. no shattered and torn fragments of armor barely clinging to her skin. no cuts and gashes decorating her flesh, blood running so fast she hardly knew which wound it was coming from. her lungs weren't begging for rest and the quiet wasn't punctured by the blasts of cannons. she doesn't realize she's even holding her breath until she has to breathe, air exhaling harshly and finds that it doesn't hurt. with her free hand, she quickly tugs up her shirt just enough to press her palm flat against her stomach, expecting to find torn skin and blood. instead, she only feels the bumps and ridges of healed scars, the only marks left by harbinger's blast.

her hand drops, shirt following suit as she realizes she's not back home but in the city, that, for all intents and purposes, she was okay. (and yet, her blood continues to run cold.) and all the while, garrus remains ever vigilant, his grip on her wrist tightening, as if afraid to let go.

damn it. why couldn't this have happened when i was alone?

" Sorry. " her throat feels dry as that one word cracks in a whisper. shame doesn't find her, nor embarrassment, but regret does. worry– not for herself, but for the turian. she doesn't need to look at him to know what expression he's wearing right now. and so, like always, half-hearted humor is all she can give. " Guess I was thinking too much. Won't happen again– promise."

at least, not around him. though shepard trusts garrus with her very life, she doesn't want him to carry these remnants. who knew coming back from the dead a second time would be so troublesome?

[justfor2am]

2-8, 16, 17, 23, 26, 29, 37, 47, 49, + 50 for the ask game 4 writers or whatever the name is? u rbed it like .5 hours ago i think n i was gna send questions when u originally did but ive had a shit day so i didn't get to until now 😓 don't feel pressured to do them all btw since theres a lot of them!! n also for any of them w specific fics feel free to do whatever fic u want :3

HELLO you are my favorite ever. actually. omg. i hope you feel better soon, i answered all of them btw so i hope this helps

2 not rpf, not beta read, angst, hurt/comfort, yeah that all tracks 100%

3 touching…. big on non-verbal communication acting as whole conversations, big on flowery language (i'm trying to cut back so as to not seem pretentious lol) also scarian. i just wanna write about scarian. they are my everything i must put them into every scenario ever.

4 in 7th Sense how i named all the andriods. scar is GT-2319, numerical code for GTWS. doc, pearl and ren all have similar naming themes lol

5 i'll befriend you in reverse, why the hell is scar stuck in the woods? despite being a powerful fae, he can't leave the enchanted woods, they're like a physical part of himself that has its own sentience and desires. essentially, a deal he made when he was young turned sour, and now the forest follows him everywhere. the woods want scar to live as long as possible, because he's what keeps the woods alive.

6 so soon enough, you'll find you never knew me at all this fic could be seen as a companion to another i wrote, where grian's the second ever Watcher to be "born" and not "chosen". the "void" scar sees in grian? it's a Watcher-side effect.

7 a million dreams for the world we're gonna make, again lmao. this was my first ever HC fic, and i sometimes find myself thinking about that lonely citadel grian's floating on in the middle of the void, akin to a giant bird cage for him to grow up in, alone.

8 It's Never Enough by we are the dirt, i'm really tired rn but i'd be happy to go into why this BANGS if you'd like tmmr

16 idk if you can tell, but i am in fact an enjoyer of actor au!s. give me more, actually.

17 this is a fic i've been TRYING to write but chapter 2 eludes me still: grian's an avian in a world that fears and despises hybrids, he grew up raised by vexes because the rest of his nestmates and mother were slaughtered before he was born, he grows up causing minor problems for human villages to pass the time until he's eventually caught by a trapper, scar. here's chapter one

scar's a vex hybrid himself, but hides it in order to scam his way through life. grian, trapped, is now at the mercy of a mad scientist who, in his desire to quell society's fear of hybrids, wants to dissect him. grian blackmails scar into helping him stay alive and tries to escape, eventually the two finding common ground.

oh, also mumbo's the mad scientist. he makes dioramas of mobs and decorates his lab with them for fun.

23 honestly, a proper superhero au. at least a one shot, but specifically for the romantic tension.

26 no dialogue, easy. honestly i kinda wanna write one with no dialogue just as a challenge.

29 i made a couple of playlists for my actor au, here's some notable songs from grian's and scars':

grian: Don't Assume What You Don't Know by Grace VanderWaal jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo You Stupid Bitch by girl in red

scar: SCOOP by Lil Nas X feat. Doja Cat Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High by Arctic Monkeys Boyfriend by Dove Cameron

(again, very sleep, happy to go into more detail later)

37 skeleton is the best fucking fic i've ever written and i will forever stand by that. yes it's short. yes it's a one-shot. please don't let that deter you, it's the best scar characterization i've ever done in my life. read it. please.

47 though i've closed my eyes, i know who you pretend i am is a pair of steel-toed boots. once perfectly shined and polished, a seemingly important royal crest stamped on the outer skin of the tongue, but the silver has seen better days, worn down from exposure to the elements. still, they are well loved, the original, now somewhat ratty laces tied in double knots, a bow on each shoe still low enough to threaten tripping. these shoes are still in continual use, despite being told a fancier pair would be a smarter choice. no, he quite liked these ones, thank you very much.

49 i'm meant to be working on chapter 19 of my actor au, butttt i've not started so have some bullshit i just came up with instead:

The pair had set up rules for a good reason.

"You're staring again."

One of them had a inclination towards a poor memory.

"Is that a crime?"

Grian could only hope Scar would try and remember.

"It's about to be."

50, answering 25 as a cheeky bonus: https://www.onelook.com/ is a GODSEND. the thesaurus page? heavenly.

[got a question?]

[bellamer]

How the aftermath of the Horizon fight with Kaidan would go in my head:

Garrus: ...Is Shepard okay ?

Joker: She told me she was fine, why ?

Garrus: Because she's been blasting that 200 year old song on the intercoms on repeat for the past hour.

Shepard, in her room: I'M NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN, GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM, THOUGH IT'S EASY TO PRETEND, I KNOW YOU'RE NOT A FOOL ! SHOULD'VE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO CHEAT A FRIEND AND WASTE THIS CHANCE THAT I'VE BEEN GIVEN, SO I'M NEVER GONNA DANCE AGAIN, THE WAY I DANCED WITH YOU-

Miranda, from outside Shepard's door: Shepard, I know you're hurt but we really need to get moving on the mission !

Jacob: Can you PLEASE turn that off !

Shepard: Fuck the both of you, Cerberus is the reason why I'm in the situation in the first place, leave me alone !

-Somewhere, At a bar, on the citadel-

Random Officer #1: Is Alenko okay ?

Random Officer #2: Don't know, he came back from Horizon in tears. Must be really torn up about the colonists disappearing.

Random Officer #3: But does he really have to request to play that 200 year old song on repeat ? Why does the DJ keep playing it ?

Random Officer #1: Because he gave him 1000 credits to keep the song going for a while.

Kaidan, with a glass of whiskey: TONIGHT THE MUSIC SEEMS SO LOUD, I WISH THAT WE COULD LOSE THIS CROWD, MAYBE IT'S BETTER THIS WAY, WE WOULD HAVE HURT EACH OTHER WITH THE THINGS WE'D WANT TO SAY, WE COULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD TOGETHER, WE COULD HAVE LIVED THIS DANCE FOREVER, BUT NOW, WHO'S GONNA DANCE WITH ME ? PLEASE STAY-

Random Officer #2: This is just sad, we should get him home before he makes a fool of himself-

Random Office #3: -No, no. Let him have this. He needs to let it out.

Kaidan: How could she do this to me ?!? Dead for two years and she comes back working for the enemy ?!? Does she have any clue how many times I cried in my pillow for her ?!? DJ, run that shit one more time !

Everyone in the bar, groaning because this is the 10th time:

-

I just like to think about them being messes over each other.

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Part 1

Fancy Boots

Warnings: None

While this will get its own banner, because I enjoy being funny like that, it will find its home on the Glass Shards masterlist for now. It’s basically arc 4, set 2-3 years after the end of Glass Shards, so mild spoilers ahead.

This is a fill for my BTHB.

Previous [Two Years Later] | Masterlist | Next

Boring.

This job was boring. This town was boring. Its people were boring. Riordan had been here for almost a week and he could swear he had already seen everything Nimrisé had to offer on the second day. Which was about two taverns, three merchants and the marketplace.

Unfortunately, he would probably have to stay for at least another week — more if his employer decided to accept the position at this citadel of the Order of Fire. Leaving the marketplace behind, strolling along the shore, he wondered if his services would even still be needed. For the last two years, he had followed this strange little rat man around as he gathered plants in all corners of the world. Originally hired for his sword, to keep him safe, Riordan had quickly figured out that the better way to do that was to not let him talk himself into trouble. Whoever handed out manners at birth seemed to avoid nyvi in general, and this guy in particular. It was easy money, though, and while it wasn’t the most glorious job, it was a decent one.

Riordan slowed his steps as he saw someone standing near the water, looking towards the horizon. Watching the ocean, which was calm today, or perhaps the sun, which wouldn’t set for another hour. What a boring thing to do. And yet, the man seemed happy. Riordan couldn’t help but smile a bit. Then he froze.

He knew that face. The man looked different now, with his hair no longer reaching below his shoulders and his beard trimmed, but it was undeniably him. Wearing clean clothes, not covered in blood and dust, surely did its part to make him look different, too.

Riordan drew his sword without even thinking about it. The familiar weight in his hand reassured him as he called out, “Hey. Nightmare!”

The man froze. Then, ever so slowly, he turned around, his arms strangely stiff at his sides. Riordan could see the purple glow of his eyes and swallowed. Fuck. He had forgotten about the man’s chaos magic. He didn’t know if he’d need direct contact to use it. Only one way to find out. There was no way back now. 

“On your knees,” he commanded. “I arrest you in the name of her majesty, Queen Estelle.”

Not that he had the authority to do that, but that barely mattered. He couldn’t let a criminal — a traitor — like this nightmare get away. But he’d have to get close to arrest him, and he didn’t have anything to even tie his hands, let alone some morlit to protect himself. Fuck.

“Jonathan!” 

Someone called out behind him, then attempted to run past Riordan. He reached out with his free hand, grabbing the young woman around the waist, holding her back. Trying to keep his focus on the man, he didn’t see much of her; just a mass of light brown hair, moving as she tried to break free of his grip. Riordan closed his hand around her wrist, pulling her towards him.

“Don’t. He’s dangerous.”

Something didn’t add up. She probably knew him, if both were living here. Nimrisé was a small town. Still, he couldn’t let her get close, the Nightmare might be desperate enough to take her as hostage, and she surely had no idea how dangerous he was.

“Please don’t hurt her.”

Those words were… not what he had expected. Riordan could only stare as the man sank to his knees, crying. His hands resting on his thighs were trembling. Hands. That also didn’t add up. He… that was the right man, wasn’t it? Fuck, he had reacted to that damn nickname. It couldn’t be the other brother. Riordan hadn’t spent much time with him, but his whole demeanor had been different.

“Please. Please, let her go.” The man’s voice was shaking. “Take me, but let her go.”

Riordan’s hand holding the sword wavered. This was wrong. The woman stopped struggling for one moment — then pain exploded between his legs. Gasping for breath, bending over forward, he couldn’t stop her from breaking free of him. He tightened his grip around the sword heft, afraid she’d try to take it from him, but she only ran. 

“Fuck,” he hissed.

When his gaze cleared and he managed to at least raise his head again, she was kneeling in front of the man. Her hands on his shoulders, on his face, spoke of clear concern. Then she stood up, turning around facing Riordan.

“Who are you?�� she demanded to know.

“I’m—” he started to answer before stopping himself. He was asking the fucking questions. Her glare was enough to almost make him forget that it was him holding a weapon. “I’m the one asking the questions here,” he saved his attempt, nodding into Damien’s direction. “What do you have to do with this criminal?”

“He’s my husband,” she said, squinting at Riordan. “And the only one behaving like a criminal here is you. Or is it normal now, attacking people who’ve done nothing but walk along the beach?”

Riordan let the sword sink, pointing it towards the ground, but not putting it away. “You don’t know what a dangerous man he is,” he said, but found himself sounding less sure now. This man really seemed anything but dangerous right now; still on his knees, still crying, looking smaller than her that way, even though she was rather petite.

“I’m sure I know him better than you do.” There was no hint of doubt or hesitation as she spoke. “But I still don’t know who you are.”

This was ridiculous. He took a step forward, sword raised again. “I am—” he started, but was interrupted once again.

“Please. Merry, don’t. Don’t.” The Nightmare tried to pull her away, behind him, but she didn’t budge. When his attempt remained unsuccessful, he turned towards Riordan, raising his left arm to put it between the woman and the blade, as if it could somehow protect her. 

“Please, she has never harmed anyone. Don’t hurt her.”

“It’s okay,” she said, not looking away from Riordan for one second. Instead she shifted, so she was standing fully in front of the man. “I’m not letting him touch you.”

Riordan stopped. He probably would have managed to overpower her, but… he couldn’t. He couldn’t hurt what seemed to be an innocent woman, and moreover, he couldn’t hurt a man who was kneeling in front of him, begging him to spare her. He looked absolutely terrified. There was no other way to put it. Memories flooded him unbidden; the man screaming as they had to hold him down, to cut off his ruined hand. Crying in this damn cage Riordan had put him in. Suffering the cruelty of the others, the mockery and the attempts to hurt him even more.

Fuck. Three years had been enough time to banish those memories, to replace them with his image of a hardened criminal who somehow had managed to escape from the royal dungeons. But this was wrong. Riordan finally put his sword away.

He couldn’t just let him walk away like that, though.

“Fine. Let’s talk,” he said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt. It wasn’t like he could stop them if they just walked away. Sure, he could take a portal and get one of the royal guards, but by the time he returned to Nimrisé, the two of them would long be gone. 

“I wouldn’t know what we have to talk about,” the woman said, glaring him down. No longer facing the sword, she seemed to be even braver — not that she hadn’t been brave before. 

“You live here?” he asked, ignoring her words. While she stayed silent, the man behind her nodded weakly. “Then it’s like this: You will talk to me, and convince me why I shouldn’t arrest him and drag him back to the capital. Perhaps I can’t arrest him on my own, and perhaps you’ll be gone by the time I return with reinforcements, but then you’ll lose your life here. Is it worth it just because you don’t want to talk to me?”

He would have thought this would be an easy decision. It apparently wasn’t. Instead of replying, she turned towards the man, perhaps asking him a silent question. Whatever it was the two of them exchanged, she turned her head towards Riordan, nodding curtly. “All right,” she said, “but keep your fucking sword sheathed and stay away from him.”

Then she helped the man up, holding on to his left hand when he was standing. Again Riordan’s attention was drawn to the right arm, the right hand, hanging loosely at the man’s side. It was a puzzle, but an unimportant one. Perhaps some kind of prosthesis. Much more pressing was the question of what the fuck he was doing here, living in a small town like a good citizen, apparently having a wife. 

A wife who looked like she’d rip out his throat the moment he’d made one wrong move. Well, that would be a fun talk.

[ID: The banner shows the feet of two people wearing boots, sitting next to each other in the grass. The title fancy boots is written next to them in a fancy looking, curly font in a bright green to yellow gradient. All other images are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

Tagging: @teamwhump​​ @dont-touch-my-soup​​ @whump-in-the-moonlight​​​ @badthingshappenbingo​