#mercer/ single/ oc

[jackiequick]

—Fearless in Smallville ~ Dc Comics OC

—-

Face Claim: Sophia Bush

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Full Name: Lucille Claire Kent

Nicknames: Lucy, Lucy Lu, Miss Kent, Claire, Clara

Age: 16-29 (spanning different seasons)

Height: 5’3” - 5’4”

Birthdate: August 3 (Leo)

Jobs: High school reporter, photographer, and reporter for Daily Planet/Gotham Gazette

Family: Jonathan Kent (father), Martha Kent (mother), Clark Kent (brother), Lois Lane (sister-in-law)

Extended Family: Kara Zor-El, Chloe Sullivan, Oliver Queen, Lana Lang, Tess Mercer, Jimmy Olsen, Arthur Curry, Cyborg, Wally West, and more

Relationship Status: Single for the most part, dated Oliver Queen, Lex Luthor, and Bruce Wayne

Personality: Lucy is brave, compassionate, and stubborn, with a tenacious streak that helps her achieve her goals. She is down to earth, determined, and often a quick thinker. Her curiosity drives her to uncover the truth, while her politeness and humor make her approachable. However, she can be headstrong and struggles with emotional boundaries. A bit of a chatterbox, she can present herself as a social butterfly when in the mood to be outgoing.

~~~~

Background: Born and raised in Smallville, Lucy grew up alongside her brother Clark, unaware of his alien origins until their teenage years. She attended Smallville High, where she was involved in various clubs and developed a love for journalism and photography. Despite initially disliking school, she found a passion for English, Art, and History, which influenced her hobbies and career choices.

Hobbies and Interests: Lucy enjoys photography, dancing, reading mystery novels, and volunteering at local shelters. She is an avid fan of classic rock music and loves baking, often trying out new recipes on weekends. Her interest in writing and reading extends to specific texts that capture her curiosity.

Goals and Aspirations: Lucy aims to become a renowned investigative journalist, uncovering stories that make a difference. She also hopes to travel the world, documenting different cultures and stories.

Skills:

Combat: Basic self-defense, proficient with guns and crossbows

Languages: Fluent in Spanish, conversational in French

Technical: Advanced photography techniques, basic hacking skills

Physical Description:

Distinctive Features: Small scar on her wrist from an accident in a cornfield, scar behind her shoulder from a bow and arrow incident on a rooftop, and rough hands due to her activities.

Fashion Sense: Casual and practical, often seen in comfortable jeans, flannels, and her favorite hoop earrings. She dresses more professionally when required for her job at the Daily Planet/Gotham Gazette.

Fears and Insecurities: Lucy has a fear of being alone, misjudged, or misunderstood. She also fears being harmed or humiliated by others, which occasionally affects her confidence in social situations.

~~~~

Education: Lucy initially disliked school and learning but grew to enjoy English, Art, and History in high school. These subjects were entertaining and engaging for her, leading to her interest in writing, reading, and photography.

Relationships: Lucy has a close-knit group of friends, including Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang. She has had complex relationships with Oliver Queen, Lex Luthor, and Bruce Wayne, each shaping her view on trust and love.

Quotes:

“Sometimes, the truth is buried where no one wants to look.”

“Courage isn’t the absence of fear; it’s the determination to keep going despite it.”

Daily Life: A typical day for Lucy involves early morning runs, followed by a busy day at the Gotham Gazette. Evenings are reserved for spending time with friends and family or working on her latest investigative piece.

~~~

~~~~~

How Lucy met Lex

You know the tale of Superman, but do you know of his beginnings? Smallville. It’s where he grew up with his family, made friends and foes, fell in love, got his education, explored his powers on his own terms, and became the man he is today.

On that very day, when Clark arrived on Earth, the Kent family were already anticipating another child. However, they couldn’t conceive until the meteor shower fell onto Smallville, nearly crashing down everything within it. In that very ship arrived a toddler not older than 2, naked. Martha, Jonathan, and Lucy were turned upside down in shock at the young boy. Lucille Claire Kent was less than 5 but curiously smiled in her daddy’s arms while her mother gently picked up the boy, wrapping him in a red blanket. Jonathan was confused, looking up at the sky as his wife searched for answers, finding Lionel Luthor and his son Lex Luthor amidst the chaos. Clark became warm and gentle, very much in awe of his newfound world.

Lucille, Clark, and Lex all sat in that truck, never to be seen again until later on in high school.

That same day, they met again, after older Lex, almost fresh out of college, knocked his car across a bridge, hitting Clark as the police, firefighters, and ambulance arrived later on. Along with Lucy and their father to see the damage. 48 hours later, a gift was sent to Kent Farm, a gift from Lex for the accident that happened. A car and a necklace. Their father wasn’t the happiest man alive to be seeing these gifts, knowing Clark is still too young to drive around town and Lucy’s jewelry might not even be real, possibly causing her an allergic reaction or something. But the more pressing matters were how Clark was completely fine after that accident!

Their parents knew the possible reason behind that issue, but the siblings were confused as hell. Even going as far as to test out that theory, noticing that Clark runs rather fast, doesn’t get hurt that easily, and etc. He is an alien! As they found out soon enough by their parents.

Later on that week, Lucy arrived at the mansion to find Lex in his office. They never got an actual chance to properly speak to one another. He was dressed in a navy blue sweater, black pants, and dress shoes in comparison to her green and blue flannel, t-shirt, jeans, and black flats along with her favorite hoop earrings.

She stood in the doorway holding up a basket of fruit, knocking on the door to catch his attention. He looked up with a smile, standing up from his chair to greet the young woman, motioning for her to come inside.

“Hi,” she said with her slight raspy voice and giggly smile, “Oh um, your guard let me in.”

He chuckled, “Hey. And yeah, I was going to ask how you got inside.”

“Charm, I guess?”

“I guess so. So, what brings you by?”

“Uh, I just wanted to thank you for the necklace and the truck. But I don’t know why, because it’s not me you crashed into, it was my brother.”

“Yeah, but you looked rather in bad shape as well. I figured a gift could cheer you up and apologize for the accident I caused.”

“Yeah..Dad’s not too happy about that. He thinks you’re just winning us over or something like that.”

He walked with her around the room, taking the small fruit basket out of her hands and placing it on the desk. Lex asked, “Well am I?”

“I’m afraid to say that you won me over,” she replied with a chuckle.

“That was sort of the plan.”

“Well, it worked.”

“You said Clark is your brother, older brother I’m guessing?”

“Oh no, quite the opposite actually. I’m older by two years. He’s a freshman and I’m almost a junior.”

“Wow, really? You both look rather young.”

“Genetics I guess. But you’re rather young yourself.”

The two smiled and chatted, laughing every so often. Taking a liking to each other rather quickly. Lucy could see what Clark, who had already met up with Lex twice, meant by saying he’s a pretty alright person. Charming, kind, strong-minded, well-mannered, rich, and impressive. Lex found himself taking a great fondness to her. He didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t met that many people in Smallville just yet, or what it was. But he found her sweet, silly, charming, open-minded at times, and a bit of a chatterbox. He didn’t mind it at all.

The two became friends within that week.

Little did they know that friendship would soon turn upside down...

----

How Lucy Met Bruce Wayne Years Later

Meanwhile, while Clark was off training with his powers, Lucy went to Metropolis to start as a young intern for the Daily Planet. Just picking up coffee and donuts for the staff, assisting with actual reports, picking up dry cleaning, and getting things done in general.

Eventually, Perry White gave her the opportunity to start actually doing more writing and photography than just picking up dry cleaning for the staff. She grinned, working with Jimmy Olsen on a few small pieces for the Daily Planet, getting to deal with the morning greetings and nightly specials collection of the paper.

Finding whatever opportunity for what she deemed as interesting subjects that young folk like her and Jimmy would enjoy. Around that same time, Clark returned home, and she hugged her big brother, suggesting that he get a job at the Daily Planet as well. The Kent Siblings at the Daily Planet!

He accepted her request, deciding to take a crack at it and thinking it would be rather helpful for when he gets his real opportunity to save the lives of many. The moment he arrived at the Daily Planet, he met her. Lois Lane. And he was starstruck the second he saw her, fumbling over his words as the pair spoke. He could practically hear his sister coughing down a few giggles from her desk the entire time. Can you blame her? She found it adorable.

But her moment to become starstruck came only a few short days after her meeting with Perry White. He wanted a few reporters from the Planet to fly over to Gotham Bay to get the latest footage and scoop on the Charity Events being hosted there. Lucy was picked out of all the other reporters, being dragged into the mess with people such as Cat Grant and such.

She always heard about Gotham's modern-day elements with that vintage noir style that made it feel classy. Timeless even.

The moment she arrived at Gotham airport in a hurry to reach her hotel and get a feel for the actual city she would be placed into for the next few days, Lucy bumped shoulders with someone, giving a small sorry not realizing she dropped her sunglasses. Thankfully, the person she bumped into did.

He noticed the simple silver dollar glasses that landed on the floor, calling out, “Excuse me, miss?”

She turned around, hummed quietly facing the person who she assumed called her back there. She pointed to herself to make sure, the man noticed jogging up to her.

Once he did, she got a better glimpse of him. Tall, rich bright blue eyes that are as clear as day, and a soft wide smile. Along with a noticeable mark on his upper cheekbone.

“I believe you dropped these,” he said with a smile holding up the statement sunglasses.

“Oh uh-yes I did,” she replied, fumbling with her bag on her shoulder, smiling softly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Things happen.”

“Thank you, Mr…”

“Wayne. Bruce Wayne.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

“No problem.”

“Do you need a hand?”

“Uh um, yes please.”

He helped carry the suitcase out the door, as she held her bag. The two smiled, holding up to a 5-minute simple conversation waiting for the taxi to arrive. He opened the door for the lady, placing the suitcase beside her. She closed the door, thanking him once again for the help.

Before the taxi driver could take off, Bruce leaned down facing the window remembering something, “I didn’t get your name.”

“Lucy,” she replied with a smile.

The taxi driver drove off, leaving Bruce Wayne standing there with a smile. He chuckled at the thought, as he heard Alfred call from him saying that his car was ready to take him home. Alfred saw the look on his face, smiling to himself, enjoying the thought of the young man happy for whatever reason.

Two nights later, the Charity Event arrived, Lucy walked in a short gray dress, that had pockets near the front, red pumps, and her hair tied up with pieces hanging out to frame her face. She wasn’t going for anything fancy, just something business casual and professional.

She took tips and quick interviews from people, getting a feel of the Charity Event as well as the people of Gotham. The elite center of men and women asked for photos to be requested in their inboxes, meanwhile other folks gladly spoke to them answering simple questions. Such as Jim Gordon who spoke to her and Cat Grant with such calm intellect that made them feel comfortable during the event.

A few ladies went running around and past them, finding themselves on the other end of the hallway towards the elegant man who walked into the building. Gushing, asking him things, flirting with the man in question, and requesting a few dances on the floorboard. Hell, even Cat Grant rushed over, hoping to snatch him up for a few minutes to herself. All Bruce Wayne could do was laugh and smile, catching a glimpse of the women in the far right corner loudly giggling. They locked eyes, recognizing each other again. She shrugged at the chaos as he mouthed jokingly, ‘help’.

She jokingly mouthed, ‘You’re on your own.’ The woman walked away sipping her drink, grabbing an interview with a few ladies of the jurying party. Some time later, she found herself on the dance floor with a nice blonde billionaire chatting away mid-laugh, until the blue-eyed man from earlier asked if he can cut in.

The pair nodded, as both men switched places. Now her hands were placed securely in his own, as his other gently lay on her waist. Her arm rested above his shoulder with ease.

“So, Mr. Wayne..” She said, being cut off by a smile.

“Bruce. You can call me Bruce.” He replied with a smile.

“Bruce. I see you escaped the attack of the wild she-wolves.”

“Ah, well, you see I’m a master at escaping situations like that one.”

“It’s a gift then, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce smiled, liking the way it rolled off her tongue, he almost would’ve melted at the sound. His last name came off too sly, tender, and sweetly dressed like a cowboy’s favorite slice of pie on a nice sunny day. She returned the smile, getting lost in his eyes for a moment with a raised eyebrow.

“What? Like what you see?” She teased him with a grin, “Mr. Wayne.”

“Stop that,” he replied with a grin, twirling her around.

“Stop what?”

“The way you say my name, Ms. Kent.”

“Or what?”

“I might have to show you the town and then take you home.”

“A billionaire’s house? No thank you, hon. Wait—I didn’t tell you my last name..”

She landed mid-twirl into his arms, their chests against one another as she let a blush rise to her cheeks.

“It’s on your name tag,” he said with a smile, it was his turn to make her melt a bit tonight.

“Oh um, right,” she added, swaying in place as her eyes landed on his face.

“Yes?”

“I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

“Did you know about me coming here tonight?”

“No, I had no idea they were sending a Daily Planet reporter to Gotham, darling.”

“Fair, are you here for the Charity or free drinks?”

“Oh not exactly, Wayne Enterprises is offering a huge donation to the orphanage and hospitals nearby.”

Lucy smiled hearing that. She remembered hearing from Lois that Gotham men can be trash sometimes, but that's not what she sees. Especially adoring the fact that he was someone with money giving to the less fortunate, it was sweet and showed that he cared.

She smiled softly, “That’s lovely.”

“Now I have a question to ask you.” He added, returning the smile, “If you knew who I was when we met at the airport, would you have thought differently?”

“Hmm, depending on the situation. If I had to rate it, I would’ve given you a 7 for kindness and generosity towards me.”

“I’ll take it. May I say, you’re a good dancer, Ms. Kent.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

“You have a slight change in accent, where are you from?”

“Uh, can you guess?”

“Hmm, Tennessee?”

“Close. It’s the southern part of the country, Kansas.”

“Kansas? Never met anyone from there before.”

“Well now you have!”

“It’s my lucky day.”

The pair kept chatting, Lucy being able to get some insight into Wayne Enterprises and the CEO of the company, but still wanting more about Gotham. Bruce found himself very responsive and liking the fact that she didn’t see him as the billionaire or walk away like the other women at the party. His eyes rushed to meet her face, taking it all in.

The two got to know each other fairly well. But it didn’t stop there, as the next morning he showed up at her hotel doorstep requesting to show her the city for the article she was writing. She agreed, following him to the limousine, where Alfred Pennyworth introduced himself graciously.

Little did the pair know that they would be dating afterwards. Spending visits to Gotham and Metropolis, date nights, and meeting friends. That’s how Bruce actually met Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Superman met Batman during those visits, growing respect for one another.

World’s Finest.

//

That's all folks! I have a short story on how Oliver Queen met Lucy but that would have to be for another time ;) Anyways let me know what you think in the comments below!

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @missstrawbs2001 @cherrysft @rickb-chaos @starkleila @infinetlyforgotten @meiramel @sherloquestea @djs8891 @buckysteveloki-me @yetanotherwells @nakiaswg @carellmcu @ximehs @xgoddessoffandomsx

[elcor-thespian]

What's your Rooks favourite place to be? Like either in the lighthouse or adventuring. Do they throw everything to the side to go to Arlathan Forrest any chance they get? Do they prefer the music room to the library?

Ok when I tell you that I am generally so touched somebody asked me a question in response to my most recent post. I have been on this site for 10+ years and no one really ever interacts with me. And this is such a great question! Please answer it too and tag me so I can read it!

Answering below because this is going to be long

My canon Rook is Nephele Mercer, and my first thought in response to this was the the market in Traviso. Nephele had a pretty horrific childhood, and once she ran away from home she's been sort of building the bridge out in front of her to make ends meet. Even with the Shadow Dragons she never really felt safe or like she could relax. She is also fascinated by luxury because she's never had anything nice.

It's hard to explain but some combination of the purple lanterns and the warm night air makes her feel like she can finally slow down. It feels homey in a way she doesn't know how to describe. The first time she saw it when they were rushing past with Teia all she wanted to do was stay behind and look around. And the second she got to go back she visited every single stall and talked to everyone she could. Probably also bought more than she could afford.

And fast forward to her being the wife of the First Talon, she absolutely refuses any discounts anyone tries to give her. She pays people what they're worth, and then some.

Now I also have 6 other OCs that while they aren't the protagonist of the game, they are all also present a the Lighthouse and are associates of Varrics. They also all have bird code names because I think I'm cute.

Nasreen "Raven" Aldwir: I actually think that Nasreen's bedroom is the music room. She likes to be alone, and she likes small dark quiet places, so it's a great place for her to hide out in. She also is a musician (a huge inspiration for her character was the elven instrument that you can have in Rook's bedroom). At the beginning of the game she would borrow stacks of books from Emmrich and hide out in her room for hours, occasionally going back to ask questions. Eventually she got more comfortable staying in Emmrich's office and reading on the couch.

Aleksei "Magpie" Laidir: This boy must be near to water at all times. He grew up on an island and now he's a sailor. But literally any body of water will do. Lake in Arlathan, beaches of Rivain, canals of Treviso. He's like a duck.

Konstantin "Wren" Ingellvar: I don't know that Konstantin has ever felt comfortable anywhere, bless him. He probably feels most comfortable in the halls of the Necropolis because at least he understands the rules there, and he can spend a lot of time alone without questions. His life's goal is to not to be noticed, but he's a 7'2" Qunari built like a brick shit house. I think after a few weeks his favorite place to be is the library, because that's where the most people who are happy to see him are likely to be (I'm sobbing. I love him)

Paloma "Dove": Paloma is also a Shadow Dragon (There's 6 backgrounds but 7 romances, so someone's got to be the bonus Jonas). Paloma and Elspeth (below) are the two I've played the least so I don't have them as fleshed out. I think she likes to be around people, but struggles to talk to them. Paloma is an escaped Sarebaas, and she's still not used to talking or other people expecting her to say something. She likes people watching, either in the Shadow Dragon hide out, at bars, marketplaces, or at the docks. She feels very protective of Minrathous, the place that took her in when she needed a place to go, so part of her people watching is being ready to shut shit down if she sees trouble starting.

Elspeth "Crow" de Riva: My first instinct is to say "wherever Harding is", because she is Lace's self elected body guard, but that feels too easy. She's definitely a city kid, and growing up as a Crow means she's a night owl. I actually think she spends a lot of time at home. Or wherever Viago is so that she can annoy him. I wonder what it says about them that I can best describe them in their relationship to other people?

Brenna "Kestral" Thorne: For a long time Brenna would have considered anywhere with a high concentration of Wardens to be her favorite place. Being a Warden means she is constantly shuffled around, so she doesn't get attached to places easily. 6 months after the events of the game, she gets permission to go watch over the griffons in Arlathan, essentially on mental health leave. She ends every day watching the sunset with the griffons on the hillside where she and Davrin had their picnic.

So yeah this was really fun! Would love to answer some more if anyone is interested.

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch. 12

A Ghost From the Past

Prev: Ch.11 Misdirection || Next: Ch.13 Lacking in Virtue Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Brynjolf is used to dealing with Mercer's temper, but when an old enemy of the Guild resurfaces, not even he is prepared for the explosion that follows...or for its fallout.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 3,602

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

“You forgot to get intel from the girl before she left?” 

Brynjolf closed his hands into fists, forcing his face to remain a mask of calm. 

It was difficult; he was sore and exhausted after his long day of travel. When he’d arrived back at the Guild, he’d intended to share the good news that the payout from the Markarth job was likely to be double what they’d expected and then take a well deserved nap. Before he could get out a single word though, Mercer had asked him about the Solitude job. 

Which of course, he’d completely forgotten to get an update on before sending Ariene off to Markarth.

“What do you mean you FORGOT?!” Mercer shouted, and Brynjolf rolled his eyes.

“Is there another meaning of the word ‘forgot’ that I don’t know about?” he asked lightly, and Mercer glared at him. 

“Don’t test me right now Brynjolf, I’m not in the mood for your games.” 

“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” Brynjolf said with a sigh. “We were being watched in town, and the job turned out to be just as dangerous as Ariene feared. In all the excitement, the mission to Solitude slipped my mind.”

“I seem to recall one of your main arguments for going to help her was so that we could get the intel from Gulum-Ei sooner,” Mercer snapped. 

“She had to rendezvous–”

“Rendezvous with the client in Markarth, I understand that,” Mercer interrupted. “What I don’t understand is why you failed to do the most basic part of your job and get a report from her before heading back here.”

Brynjolf didn’t answer, mostly because deep down, he knew Mercer was right. He should have thought to ask Ariene about what Gulum-Ei said before letting her ride off into the sunset, but after their near death experience and subsequent conversation, he’d been more than a little bit preoccupied.

Mercer, apparently taking Brynjolf’s silence as confirmation of his suspicions, shook his head, his face twisted with distaste. 

“This is exactly what I was talking about,” he growled. “Gallus was getting sloppy towards the end too, you know.” 

“That’s not fair,” Brynjolf protested instantly. “I told you–”

“That this won’t turn out like last time? You don’t know that,” Mercer shot back. He huffed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, regardless of our differences, I don’t want you getting a knife in the back because you got distracted.”

“She saved my life, Mercer,” Brynjolf hissed. “What, you think now she’s going to turn around and murder me?”

“More than once, I’ve been burned by someone who used to have my back,” Mercer said simply. “In this line of work, loyalty means nothing.” 

Brynjolf opened his mouth to protest more, but Mercer waved his hand dismissively. 

“I’m not saying the girl will turn traitor, Brynjolf. Just that, so far? You’re not doing a great job of proving to me that she’s not a liability.” 

“So you’re just going to ignore her record?” Brynjolf asked. “Take a look around, Mercer. The Guild is finally starting to gain some footing again, and it’s nearly all thanks to her. She’s even managed to win over Vex and Delvin. Just because she reminds you of Karliah–”

“Don’t say her name,” Mercer cut him off, his eyes flashing with anger. “This isn’t about her.”  

Brynjolf ground his teeth in irritation, biting back his urge to reply:

Yes, it clearly is. 

Instead, he took a deep breath and folded his arms, fixing Mercer with a steady look. 

“So do you not want to hear about the massive payout we got from the Markarth job, then?” 

Mercer’s expression was still glowering, but at the mention of money, he raised a curious eyebrow. 

“Payout?” 

Brynjolf’s assurance to Ariene that coin would cheer Mercer up didn’t end up ringing completely true. Mercer was still angry, and Brynjolf’s haul of septims wasn’t enough to totally soothe his temper. However, the promise of even more coin when Ariene returned was enough to spare Brynjolf any further scolding.

He retreated from the cistern, and decided that what he really needed wasn’t a nap, but a drink. He made his way into the Ragged Flagon and fell into a chair, burying his face in his hands and letting out a frustrated groan. 

Delvin looked up from his table and grimaced in sympathy. 

“Mercer’s in a mood, I take it?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Brynjolf quipped as Vekel approached with a tankard for him.

“I think that when even coin isn’t enough to calm that rotten old skeever down, then it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep clear of him for a few days,” Delvin said, and Brynjolf snorted.

He took a sip of his ale, then looked at Delvin thoughtfully. As one of the few holdovers from the time that Gallus had been Guildmaster, the old thief had been a constant in the Guild for as long as Brynjolf could remember. He knew the younger thieves in the Guild thought the same thing about him and Vex now, but that was hard for him to wrap his head around. 

Brynjolf had been only nineteen when Gallus was killed, and had only been with the Guild for a few years. Just long enough to come to idolize Gallus, Mercer, and Karliah, but not long enough to really get to know them. Delvin, meanwhile, had been one of the Guild’s top members even in those days. He was even the first person that Mercer had made a lieutenant, though he had always been firm that he didn’t want to lead anyone. A sentiment that Brynjolf hadn’t understood at the time, but now that he was a lieutenant himself, he couldn’t help but  sympathize. 

Being a thief was hard enough; it was so much more daunting when you knew that everyone else was looking to you for direction.

A thought struck him, and he found himself wanting to ask something that he’d never really considered before.

“Delvin?” he asked, and the older man looked up. “Why exactly do you think the Guild is cursed?” 

Delvin looked surprised at the question, but he leaned forward, eager to have someone listen to his theories willingly. 

“It just ain’t natural, Bryn,” he insisted. “I’ve been doing this a long time, longer than even you or Mercer. I’ve seen bad thieves, and I’ve seen bad luck. This? It’s different. It’s affectin’ every single member of the Guild, even the most experienced. Vex got made on a job, for cryin’ out loud. Vex!”

“There were over a dozen guards…” Brynjolf offered lamely, but Delvin waved his protest away. 

“Guards, yes, but guards that she should have noticed sooner than she did. The fact that she didn’t is just plain bad–” 

“Bad luck,” Brynjolf finished, and Delvin nodded. 

“Exactly. And it’s like that every time. Things that shouldn’t happen, happenin’ to folks it shouldn’t happen to. Look, I know you lot think I’m crazy, but I can feel it. Something out there is doing this to us.” 

Brynjolf thought of the crypt in Pinewatch, of the way Rigel had appeared seemingly out of thin air without either of them noticing. It had certainly felt unnatural at the time. But how on earth could you be sure of something like that? 

Delvin swirled his mug of ale thoughtfully, then he smirked at Brynjolf. 

“At least, that’s what it has been like. I can’t deny that over the last few months we’ve actually been on the up and up, for what feels like the first time in ages. Maybe that girl of yours is some kinda good luck charm.” 

“She’s not my–” Brynjolf began, and Delvin chuckled, cutting him off. 

“Don’t give me that, Bryn. Maybe it ain’t official yet, but everyone knows the two of you’ll be an item soon.”

“Are you going to scold me about it like everyone else?” Brynjolf asked tiredly, but Delvin shook his head. 

“Nah. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a good match for you. Besides, she’s nearly single-handedly pulled this Guild outta the gutter. How could I complain? A word of advice, though.” 

Brynjolf leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow.

“Vekel I could understand, but what makes you qualified to advise me on my love life?”

“Very funny,” Delvin said flatly. “Look, all I was gonna say is this: the girl’s a free spirit. And you’ve gotta be quick to make your intentions clear with ladies like that, or you’ll find that they’ve slipped through your fingers.” 

“Do I pay you to sit around and gossip?” a familiar voice growled, and Brynjolf suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

Mercer walked up and grabbed a piece of bread off of the plate that Vekel was bringing Delvin, before dropping one of the ledger books in front of Brynjolf. 

“Look over this, and see if your projected take on this oh so special Markarth job will allow us to pay a portion of what Maven plans to give the jarl. She’s not too happy with the idea of paying for the entire bribe herself.”   

Mercer turned and stalked out of the cistern, and Brynjolf sighed. He reached a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples, then grabbed the ledger and stood up.

“You’re not actually going to work on that now, are you?” Delvin asked.

“Gods no,” Brynjolf said. “I’m going to bed. And if Maven and Mercer are lucky, I’ll wake up sometime before the fifth era and I can finish crunching their precious numbers for them.” 

— — — 

Brynjolf did not, in fact, sleep for hundreds of years. However, he did make himself scarce around the cistern for the next several days, opting to do his accounting work from the relative privacy of what passed for his quarters down in the Ratway tunnels that surrounded the Flagon. 

Fortunately, the gold he’d brought back did provide the Guild enough extra funds to foot half of Maven’s “donation” to Mistveil Keep, and Mercer’s mood improved considerably after the guard patrols were pulled back to their normal rotations. He didn’t apologize, Brynjolf could count on one hand the number of times the Guildmaster had done that, but at least he’d cooled down enough for Brynjolf to walk through the cistern again without being treated to withering glares and backhanded remarks. 

Still, when Ariene finally returned from Markarth, Brynjolf made sure to pull her aside before she went to report to Mercer. 

“It’s my fault, not yours, lass,” he said quietly. “But Mercer’s not pleased that he’s had to wait an extra week for the news from Solitude. Tread lightly, alright?”

Ariene’s face twisted in a grimace.

“Honestly, he could be in the best damn mood of his life and he’d be more livid than a cave troll after getting this news. No sense beating around the bush.” 

“Gulum-Ei didn’t have good intel?” Brynjolf guessed, but Ariene shook her head. 

“Worse.” 

She headed into the cistern without another word, and Brynjolf followed, unease stirring in the pit of his stomach. 

Ariene marched right up to where Mercer was bent over his desk, and the Guildmaster frowned at her as she approached. 

“About damn time you got back,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “Please tell me Gulum-Ei gave up some information on our buyer.” 

“He did,” Ariene said bluntly. “It’s Karliah.” 

Mercer’s head snapped up and the room went dead silent. 

“She’s the lieutenant you told me about, isn’t she?” Ariene said, looking at Brynjolf. “The one who murdered Gallus?”

“Aye, lass,” Brynjolf said quietly. “If she’s back…” 

His blood ran cold at the thought.

“You’re absolutely certain?” Mercer asked, his voice low and dangerous, and Ariene nodded. 

“Gulum-Ei acted as a go-between for her with Aringoth, though he swore up and down he didn’t know it was her until after he’d agreed to broker the sale.” 

Mercer swore and slammed his fist down on his desk, and Brynjolf didn’t miss the way Ariene flinched before quickly regaining her composure. 

“Damn that Dunmer to Oblivion! I hoped we’d never have to cross paths with her again, but it seems she won’t be satisfied until she’s destroyed the Guild for good. Did Gulum-Ei have any information about her current whereabouts?” 

“Nothing concrete,” Ariene said carefully. “But apparently she told him she was going ‘where the end began.’ I pressed him for details, but he insisted that’s all he knows.”

“Where the end began…” Mercer repeated, his face darkening. 

He began to pace back and forth behind his desk, muttering the phrase to himself over and over. Ariene glanced at Brynjolf, a questioning look in her eyes, but he could only shrug in confusion.

“There's only one place that could be,” Mercer said finally. “The place where Karliah killed Gallus over twenty years ago…a ruin called Snow Veil Sanctum.” 

“That’s a few hours north of Windhelm, right?” Brynjolf asked, and Mercer nodded absently, still muttering to himself. 

“I’m the only one left who knows all Karliah’s techniques, all her skills. If she manages to take me out…” He looked up sharply. “We have to go out there and stop her before she does anymore damage.” 

“We as in…?” Ariene asked hesitantly, and Mercer glared at her.

“As in you and me, obviously. We’re going to go out there together and kill her. That should put a stop to any more of her attempts to bring the Guild down.”

“Mercer,” Brynjolf cut in, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Mercer snapped. “This needs to be done, and I won’t hear any argument otherwise.”

“Aye, and I’m not saying it doesn’t, but the two of you can’t go on your own.” 

“I think you’ll find I can do whatever I damn well please, Brynjolf.” 

“This is Karliah we’re talking about, for Shor’s sake!” Brynjolf exclaimed. “She killed Gallus, and she almost killed you! Vex and I should–”

“I don’t need you to remind me what she’s done,” Mercer interrupted, shooting him a withering look. “I am well aware of exactly how capable she is.” 

“So don’t rely on one new recruit for your backup,” Brynjolf insisted. 

“A recruit who’s proven herself capable in combat multiple times over.”  

A part of Brynjolf urged him to back down. He argued with Mercer often, but he could always tell when it was best to put his own concerns aside in favor of the Guildmaster’s will. It wasn’t exactly good for morale if the underlings saw the Guild’s head and second in command fighting over decisions. This would ordinarily be the type of argument where he had to swallow his pride and concede. 

And yet, this time he found that he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“Not three days ago you were complaining that she was a liability,” Brynjolf pressed. “Now you want her to help you hunt down Karliah?”  

“She’s a liability for you, Brynjolf,” Mercer growled. “I’ll be just fine. Which is it, exactly? That she’s a competent thief who deserves my respect, or a green recruit who has no business putting herself in danger? It seems to me the answer is whichever is more convenient for you in any given argument.” 

Brynjolf’s face burned, more from anger than embarrassment, though he could feel the eyes of everyone in the cistern on the two of them as they argued.

“You’re making a mistake,” he insisted, forcing himself to ignore the staring. “This isn’t just another job. Leave the lass behind and let me and Vex come with you.” 

“Karliah is trying to destroy the Guild! I’m not putting my best lieutenants in her path.” 

“You’re too close to this, Mercer,” Brynjolf hissed. “You’re not thinking straight. You shouldn’t–” 

“I am your GUILDMASTER!” Mercer roared. “I’ve made my decision, and you are in NO position to question me!”

The shout echoed around the cistern, and any murmuring from the other Guildmembers stopped instantly. Brynjolf and Mercer openly glared at each other, but before things could escalate further, Ariene’s voice cut through the rising tension. 

“It’s fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll go.” 

“Damn right you will,” Mercer spat without taking his eyes off Brynjolf. “Get your things ready and meet me at the stables within the hour.” 

Brynjolf felt a muscle jump in his jaw, but he didn’t speak or break their eye contact, and eventually Mercer turned and stomped out of the cistern. Brynjolf had half a mind to march right out after him, but Ariene’s hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Don’t,” she said quietly. “It’s not worth it.” 

“It’s not right,” Brynjolf said through gritted teeth, and Ariene shrugged, flashing a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring, but came off as slightly manic.

“Well, look at it this way,” she said, her voice full of false cheer. “Maybe after this, he’ll stop seeing me as a liability.”

She turned and started walking towards the Flagon, and Brynjolf winced.

Damn you, Mercer.

“You don’t have to do this, lass,” he said, falling into step beside her.

“Actually, I do,” Ariene said, ducking through the passageway and into the dingy tavern. “I think he’d kick me out of the Guild altogether if I refuse him.” 

Brynjolf shook his head immediately. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen. Mercer may be too dense to see it, but you’re one of the best we have.”

“I can’t let you use up all your good will with him on my account,” Ariene protested. “You’ve done enough for me already. Syndus!” 

The last was to the fletcher who kept shop beside the Ragged Flagon, who looked up as they approached his alcove. Ariene pulled a coin purse from the satchel at her side and held it up for him to see.

“I need fresh arrows. Two quiverfull.” 

The Bosmer quickly filled her order, and she pulled out a few coins from the purse and handed them over. She turned to Brynjolf and held out the rest of the purse to him. 

“Here. The profits from Markarth. I didn’t get a chance to report to Delvin, but tell him that Endon is happy to open whatever doors are necessary in the city. With any luck, we’ll be able to use the foothold there to start operating more in Haafingar.” 

Brynjolf took the purse, not missing the way that Ariene didn’t quite meet his eyes as she spoke. 

“Are you certain about this, lass?” he asked in a low voice. “Karliah’s too damn smart to let slip where she was going by accident…this is more than likely a trap.”

Ariene sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. 

“I know, but that’s a chance we'll have to take. Mercer is an asshole, but he’s also right. Putting more of the Guild’s leadership in harm’s way than is necessary doesn’t make tactical sense. It’s…it’s better for everyone if I’m the one to go.” 

Brynjolf moved without thinking, stepping forward and taking one of her hands in his. She startled at the touch, but she didn’t pull away. 

“You’re not expendable, lass,” he said softly. “You know that, right? I– the Guild needs you in one piece as much as it needs me or the other lieutenants.” 

Ariene’s looked from where their hands were joined up to Brynjolf’s face. Reflected torchlight danced in her eyes, so deep and blue that he felt as though he could drown in them, and he felt his pulse quicken.

“The Guild needs me?” she repeated, her voice low, and he swallowed. 

Standing inches apart, it was like all rational thought flooded from his mind in an instant. Absently, he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and he let his hand linger beside her face. It would be so easy to cup her cheek, lean forward and…

The creak of a door and sudden footsteps cut through the silence, and the two jumped apart on instinct. Brynjolf dropped her hand, wondering briefly if he was imagining the flicker of disappointment on her face. 

Damn this sewer’s lack of privacy!

“Well. Good luck, lass,” he said lamely.

She nodded, swinging one of the quivers of arrows she’d bought over her shoulder. The movement made her knapsack shift, and he saw the empty space on her belt where her steel dagger had sat. 

On impulse, he reached for his own belt, unbuckling the sheath of the dagger on his left side. He held the weapon out to her hilt first, and her eyes widened. 

“Here. To replace the one that broke in Pinewatch,” he said.

“I– Brynjolf, I can’t accept that. It was a gift!”

“A gift from Gallus,” Brynjolf agreed. “If you’re going out to avenge him, you may as well take a piece of him with you.”

Reluctantly, Ariene took the dwarven blade and strapped it into place. The silence between them stretched into awkwardness as she fiddled with the straps and straightened the sheath. 

“I guess I should go,” she said eventually. “Don’t want to keep the Guildmaster waiting.” 

She turned to leave, but before she could walk away, Brynjolf called after her. 

“Ariene.”

She looked back at him, and his breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt he had to say something before she left, something important, but for once in his life he couldn’t find the right words.

“Just…come back to me in one piece, alright lass?” 

She smiled, though the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Of course I will,” she said. “You still owe me a drink, remember?”

— — —

Prev: Ch.11 Misdirection || Next: Ch.13 Fic Masterpost

[spaceandbones]

fuck it oc picrews under the cut

This is Reymas she is a btd oc who got snatched by Ren when they were 21 and now lives as an immortal 28 year old vampire divorce victim trying to simultaneously murder Ren and make him stop human trafficking with the power of friendship and love. She was a vegetarian before she turned into a vampire. She really likes lighting things on fire and her biggest aspiration is to build a Bomb that Works. She got a dentist to give her fake vamp teeth before she even knew vampires were real and as a result even when her actual vampire fangs retract she still has these stupid fucking fake teeth so like. Get outed every time u smile I guess. Please please nobody ever tell her she has terf bangs 😔

This is Sun he turned Reymas into a vampire bcus her moral code flew a little too close to his century-long dead boyfriends who either haunts Sun as a ghost or is a hallucination caused by intense mental illness exerbated by being a 90 year old vampire who has never moved on from anything ever. He likes to think of himself as Apollo reincarnated bcus he's really good at being humble. Has the single largest victim complex on planet earth. He isnt. Hes not normal 🫦 but he plays the harp

THIS IS my dragonborn Onyx I made her when I was 14 and she's been reworked 45 times because I made her when I was a child. She is going to ride those fucking dragons. Doesnt really want to kill them. Doesnt rlly care about the civil war, either. She grew up as an orphan and during a teenage prison escape with an elvish prince of Valenwood named Rhys, she became his bestie and lived with the royal household in Silvenar for like 7 years. Onyx and Gallus were in the same orphanage in the Imperial City as kids. So sends her a letter calling for aid bcus he cant trust anyone in the guild. Onyx shows up sometime later and gets swindled by known Huckster Mercer Frey. She joins the thieves guild but isn't a good thief whatsoever. This is a swordsman who fights dragons.. she is incapable of silence. Her pàpà was a nord, her màmà was an imperial. Ya girl has some Big Genes and No Elf. Probably all she wants is a real family

Stay with me. This is my cccrazy catgirl Bearer of the Curse yes this is a dark souls oc... :/ she doesnt have ACTUAL CAT EARS I just think I'm funny and this picrew had them. Her name is Rown her nickname is the Silvercat. Known thief and pickpocket. She is a sorcery user who only knows Stupid Spells like Yearn and Flash Sweat and Chameleon (her personal fave) but turning into a vase isnt really going to work against Nashandra so either Rowan gets the Most help ever or shes turning into cat ground beef. Shes got a toxic friendship with Creighton the Wanderer. white-haired gang rise up

This is my dao boy cannagan I dont have anything bcus I have 37 minutes played in this game so far. He is a gay city boy elf rogue. Thats all I have. And this picrew of him in a hoodie. Hes a cutie. He would want to be a nascar driver if he was real and he wouldnt be able to so hed try drag racing strangers in his 2013 Honda Civic with custom rims and a $100 flame wrap. He has 13 speeding tickets. Would rather do Anything than admit out loud to being gay. Here is my fun fact: cannagan as a name has greek origins that mean Wolf Pup.

[masterjedilenawrites]

👥 My OCs 👥 [Master List]

Open to reading about original/non-canon characters? This list will link to stories and headcanons where I've shared about my OCs.

Check out other master lists here.

⛑ Dr. Joan Vo

A civilian medic during the clone wars. Worked with the 116th. Eventual love interest of Crosshair.

Story: The Sniper & the Medic

One Shot: How she joins the 116th battalion

Art: Picrew of how I picture her

🐦‍⬛ Commander Crowe & the 116th

A regular infantry battalion during the clone wars. Led by General Rhee. Tragic ending.

Additional troopers: Captain Civic, R.J. (pilot), Diver (co-pilot), Breeze, Mack, Coma, Commander Falcon (leads the 115th, Crowe's bestie)

One Shot: Introduction to Crowe & the 116th battalion

Headcanons: Quick Crowe HCs

Headcanons/Art: More Crowe HCs & pic

Chapter: Their tragic end

💟 Jedi General Rhee Cthedsard

A Jedi Knight during the clone wars. Trained under Mace Windu and led the 116th. Tragic ending.

One Shot: Introduction to Rhee & the 116th

⚽️ Bethany Batch

Single adoptive mom of the Bad Batch in a modern AU. Eventual relationship with a clone I have yet to reveal.

The Batch Family Master List

🗂️ Misc characters

Natalia Mercer and Sergeant Kieron Beloch, from In Other Words

Hope from Howzer’s Meet Ugly

Suula and Mallona, from Spitting Image

Amara Tilde, Sergeant Lou Mam, Kohl Morley, and Heva, from Broken Wings

Arden, Commander Burdick, Eva Carroway, and Sadie Amiko, from Blueberries & Cowboys

Scraps, mentioned in The Sniper & the Medic

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Which OCs that are not yours do you most admire? What is it about that character that you find impressive or engaging?

Thank you for the ask! Also asked by Anon and their friend Another Anon.

"I like all of my mutuals' OCs and find much to admire in all of them" is the short answer. So I won't attempt to list every single OC of every single person I follow and why I admire them, otherwise this post would get even longer than it already will be.

I do particularly admire OCs whose creator has given me such a strong sense of their personality and character that I can envisage how they might respond in a given situation and imagine them doing so in their "voice", so to speak. Strong and distinctive characterisation is always impressive.

Some examples of such OCs include Satien of @nyarumi-nyan, Inxli of @pinxli, Mercer of @furys-mercy, Iris of @irisopranta, Briar of @briar-ffxiv or Shio of @the-littlest-kojin

I also admire OCs with a strong story arc in which I end up getting extremely invested. Characters who aren't preserved in narrative aspic and who grow and change and develop always impress me (I'm not too bad at explaining my OCs journey, but I don't exactly show it much).

Some examples here would be Fennie of @scholarlostintime, Naru of @blucifer08, Hali of @starrysnowdrop, Mizuki of @pumpkinmagekupo and Amon of @spotofmummery (yes for the purposes of this exercise Amon is an OC, don't quibble).

I admire originality (which is not to say I look down on anyone going with something obvious and enjoying the heck out of it) in OC creation - those that have a really unique background, or a highly distinctive voice, or simply represent something that I would never have the skill or creativity to even consider.

Some examples here are Kwas of @peddlestox-shinyrocks, Mari of @cadrenebula, Coconeja of @plenary-indulgence, Flower of @meepsthemiqo, Leo of @healersadjust or Faye of @fair-fae.

And OCs who just dazzle with the coherency of their design and the whole accompanying aesthetic. The kind of OCs who could never be mistaken for anyone else. I can only aspire to such polish and attention to detail.

A few examples of this would be Captain Kuro Solaire of @captainkurosolaire, Drac of @draculas-husband, Silvaineaux of @houserosaire, Bram of @miqomischief, Mirrim of @mirrim-the-moonfaerie or Ki'To of @humblemooncat.

As I say these are examples plucked from a very long list of potential candidates, I would be mortified if anyone were to think that I didn't admire their OC simply because they aren't mentioned here. I really enjoy all the OCs that people share and I never tire of learning more about them.

Although, as a final note, I ought to mention how much I admire Eisha of @umbralaether, for being incredibly well-designed and engaging as a character. Even if her creator does send me difficult Asks!

[askjonathancrane]

Alright everyone, take your seats. I'm about to make an unnecessary analysis post on a bitch by the name of Elizabeth Stone.

(This is the name for one of my oc's, this is not a person whom I met in real life.)

Alright, where do we start with miss stone? How about the fact that this woman has taken down several big name murderers and criminal organizations.

In the words of her own wife: "She has taken care of Ian Mercer (The right hand man of a dangerous cult and serial killer), Paul Gerard and Viola (Two of the highest ranking members of the Cadaverini's), and even Tendo, (her own Father who is Also a big named yakuza Patriarch.)

I am willing to bet that she does this and doesn't even think about what this may do for the criminal empire. not to mention murdering Dwight.

And do you know what this bitch does? She doesn't do anything because she doesn't give a single fuck about anything.

She cares more about saving her clients and friends like coda (An OC @elder-sister created.) than understanding the potential consequences of putting big named criminals behind bars.

Barely anything scares her anymore, to her putting someone like a serial killer who will murder you if you say something slightly bad about them behind bars is like an average Wednesday for her.

Guess being born with a criminal father does something to a person that makes them desensitized to just about any murder anymore huh?

[bluecoolr]

Hewwo Bloo!! Could I ask for 🤔💚🐈🐉 for Cheryl?

Hi Ash!!!! Thank you for sending some for my babygirl!! 🥹🥹🥹

🤔 THINKING FACE - what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

Cheryl often does a deep inhale that she releases as a cough, on account of her chronic lung problem. 

Often does a head-tilt. Actually sees better with her head tilted. 

💚 GREEN HEART - does your oc prefer being inside or outside?

She definitely prefers being outside. Her adoptive parents' house is stifling, and she often feels like she's not welcome there - like a tolerated pet. When she's home from boarding school, she stays away when she can.

You'll often find her in the library or along the wooded areas in town, often riding her horse. She's also a common fixture at bus stops, because she doesn't own a car. 

🐈 CAT - does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends?

She didn't get the opportunity to have a lot of friends. She got singled out by the mean girls (Lydia, Thea, and Aneska) and nobody wanted to help lest they got bullied too. She's also very intimidating, so people often hesitated to approach her. 😕 She would have liked to have people she could talk to, though.

But really, she doesn't have the patience or the energy to deal with a lot of people/friends. She doesn't compromise easily, so she wouldn't have attempted to blend in or get along with a big circle of friends. 

She's a one-friend type of person and usually the dominant one in the relationship. Her friendship/romantic relationship with Dylan Mercer and "Clancy" are both like this.

🐉DRAGON - what's your oc's favorite mythical creature?

In Philippine mythology, there's a serpent-like dragon known as Bakunawa. He was believed to cause eclipses, the different phases of the moon, and earthquakes. During new moons, she likes to say "Nilamon na." - "It's been eaten." 

As a comic book fan, she developed a liking for tikbalang - the Philippine version of centaurs. Only because the one she's familiar with looks like: 

(Maliksi from Trese by Budjette Tan)

On the topic of Trese, do half-gods count? 

[killerqueenwidow]

Verse Specific starter call. Send me one (and specify your muse if a multi account) and I’ll make a starter for you! If we have threads go on and you want to be considered the main relationship, please let me know too.

♾️: Infinity Personified (A villain arc...)

👊: Civil War

🤖: Age of Ultron

❄️: Winter Soldier

⏳: Avengers

🖤: Pirates of the Caribbean (Consider her a female Mr. Mercer... With poisons)

🩰: Belle of the Ball (Ballet teacher/ballerina/ballroom dance teacher)

👑: Princess Romanova (can be used for OUaT muses where she is Vasilisa the firebird)

🕸️: Black Widow (AU where Nat is in Bucky’s place furing CA:TWS)

🎒: School time (aka Teen verse or college)

🧜🏼: Mermaid

🏴‍☠️: Bloody Pirates (Pirate Captain)

🦖: Jurassic World

💚: The Force be With You (Jedi Natasha)

🩸: The Dark Side (Sith Natasha)

🗽: A Whole New World (Brand new to America)

🌙: Maiden Mother Crone (Witchy Natasha can be medieval or modern)

⛸️: Ice Queen (Figure skater)

🍼: Single Mother

👸: Modern Tsarina (The Russian empire has returned under the Romanov line again and she's making connections)

There are verses on my page that are not above due to them being specific to the blog that is their main relationship. But you can request to write in them

💍: The Captain and Mrs. Jones (thepiratehero)

🔨: Thor AU (the-mjolnir-owner)

I also have @thenavajovalleyhandler and @magicties for other muses (OCs with canon-divergent ones) if anyone would like them.

[auxiliarydetective]

The OC Halloween Challenge - Day 25

You can find the challenge here!

Today's prompt was...

Better You Die Than I (Trope: Doppleganger)

In real life, seeing your “doppleganger” is said to be an omen of misfortune or good luck. In horror movies, dopplegangers usually take a more direct approach in ruining the lives of their lookalike. Whether they’re an omen of bad things to come or trying to steal ones life, give your oc a doppleganger and explore the horrors of a stranger that shares your face.

Poor English-speaking people who don't have the ä on their keyboards... So, when it comes to a Doppelgänger, I honestly only had two options. One would have been 80s!Kit and movie!Kit causing havoc together. But there's the main thing - together. And this Octoboer, we're here for the drama. So, I opted for the other option:

Raevyn and her younger self. For those of you who aren't aware, Raevyn gets thrown back in time during Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, landing her during the events of Pria. There's no way for her to get back and, to minimize the changes to the timeline, she stays on the Orville. But something that I've never really touched on is what that means for her younger self, the one that will now never get to serve on the Orville. Well, here's arguably the worst version

-

"Captain, there's a Tehiko ship approaching from port and they're fast," Gordon reported the blinking dot on his console.

"Tehiko?" Ed echoed. "In this corner of space?"

He glanced over at Raevyn, who shrugged in confusion.

"Weapons are loaded, sir," Bortus added.

"Raven?" Kelly asked sharply. "Is that normal? Do your people just run with knives?"

"No," Raevyn immediately said. "Raise deflectors, and recalibrate them to electromagnetic pulses, just in case."

Her hunch proved to be spot-on as, only a few seconds later, the first shot burst against the deflectors, a Tehiko ship coming into view.

"Gordon, evasive maneuvers," Ed immediately ordered. "Raven, hail them. I wanna know why they're firing on a fellow Union vessel."

"Channel open, sir," Raevyn said, her voice coming out almost forced.

"Unidentified vessel, this is Captain Ed Mercer of the USS Orville, why are you firing on your allies?"

The viewscreen came alive, making every single person on the bridge gasp for breath. Staring at them with a crooked smirk was Raevyn, an exact carbon copy of her, save for one detail: She was missing her gills.

"I know who you are, Captain," she spat out. "Why do you think I opened fire on you?" Then, she turned to Raevyn, Chief of Security of the USS Orville Raevyn, hatred flowing from her eyes. "Hey there, doppelgänger. How does it feel to be in my spot? You're not supposed to be here and you know it. There can only be one and I'm here to set things right."

[furys-mercy]

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw? (For ALL of your characters)

ALL of them?

Welp... *cracks knuckles* I already did Mercer in another post so I will just work down the list starting with... Sebastian: Arrogance. He's sharp, quick witted, and very good at identifying the best way to get what he wants in any given situation. At least in the confines of the society in which he was raised. Unfortunately for him, he's barely set foot outside of Ishgard's upper crust and so he does not know the rules by which anyone else plays the game. He just assumes he can apply to same his rules and continue to "win". He's not accustomed to losing or not getting what he wants. And thanks to his mother, he's very much of the opinion that he is the smartest person in any given room. This is already coming back to bite him in the ass and is only going to get worse.

Marcette: She's also extremely arrogant, but without any justification for that particular attitude, aside from the fact that she is noble. I wouldn't say that is her fatal flaw, though. At least... not on it's own. She is also remarkably impatient. If she wants something, she wants it right now. She's incapable of playing her cards close to her chest or holding on to information only to play it when the timing is perfect. No, no. She draws her cards, assumes she had a winning hand, and goes all in only to get outplayed almost every single time. And yet her arrogance is keeping her from learning from those mistakes. So, she just keeps doing the same thing over and over again, assuming ti will work and making the shocked Pikachu face when she gets out played.

Teo & Kishar: So no, they aren't the same character, but given that they are both shards of Icarus (from the first and the thirteenth respectively) they share the same fatal flaw. Which means I can do one answer for both of them.

And given that I have said they are shard of Icarus, it should come as no surprise that their shared flaw is hubris. Now, it's not exactly the same in both of them, since they are distinctly different people even if they are both fragments of the same soul.

Teo's tends to come from the place of assuming that there is not such things as "evil" magicks only evil people and that all magicks can be wielded well in the correct hands. And those hands are, of course, his. He runs off into dangerous situations, and tinkers with things he has absolutely no business tinkering with because he is certain he will succeed. Even going so far as to mark what others might see as failures as fate. The god's deciding that this is how things will be rather than a mistake on his part.

Kishar is more overt. Her hubris looks more like sheer arrogance. She's old. She's seem more than her fair share of shit. From combats to ritual summonings, she's seen it all. Done it all. And she cannot be bested. She cannot be matched. This means she rarely takes any sort of advice from those around her and she certainly does not take orders. If she's decided on a way to do something, that is the way it will be done even if she has to do it all by herself. In fact, she might rather it that way, so there isn't someone else mucking around in her things and fucking it all up.

Neither of them are particularly aware of these flaws as it's going to take something serious for them to realize. Though, Kishar has already experienced things of that nature and hasn't budged one bit and is unlikely to. She is old and set in her ways. And she really wants you to get off of her lawn.

Ok, that's all of my active OCs, including Merc in the other post. Thanks so much for the ask, @thefreelanceangel! <3

[eyesthatroll]

i know i already have so much happening in my account, but i have started developing two new au’s which i’m very excited about.

• dawson mercer x juniper hughes (fem oc)

• quinn hughes x darcy sorokin (black fem oc)

dawson x juniper is a heavy storyline that deals with addiction, depression, other mature themes.

quinn x darcy is a lighter storyline, not as heavy, that revolves a lot around single-motherhood! (still deals with mature themes, such as sexual)

i’m so excited to begin these yayayaya

[blazeismyname]

I want to show you my 863 oc

This is my child. Not really. I stole them from Carmilla (@alistorz oc Carmilla).

Her name is Remedy 83, although we just call him Rem.

They're Apeirongender but mostly use she/they/he

All of timeline 83 and its branches collapsed into the body of Lily Mercer because of Syntec

Mute and uses sign language (ASL) to communicate

Steals nametags from everyone

Wears Deb's old lab coat, which is way too big for him

Loves animals and researching them

Claimed Scott Clarick and Carmilla as their parents and will not be stopped

Nelson hates their guts

Has a terrible fear of needles and hates screaming and loud noises

When he speaks, it comes out as every single voice that was contained in her timeline

They're allergic to bees, latex, nickel, cobalt (which is ironic because of Carmilla (winks to @alistorz again), chromium, and zinc

Her favorite color is purple, favorite food is Mac and Cheese, favorite drink is fruit punch, and favorite animal is a deer

[ironwoman359]

A Thief's Gamble - Ch.6

Unhindered Insights

Previous: Ch.5 - The Renegade from Cyrodiil || Next: Ch.7 - A Dampened Pursuit Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Brynjolf and Ariene spend some time getting to know one another better, and find that it's nearly impossible to talk about the past without bringing up memories that they'd just as soon forget.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 4,134

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — — 

Brynjolf had hardly dared to hope it was possible, but things in the Guild were starting to take a turn for the better. Ariene had insisted on taking the job for Olfrid, both to prove that she had no issue breaking the law in Whiterun, and for extra security on the job itself. 

“If something does go wrong, I’m the only person here who could reasonably talk my way out of it,” she’d said. 

Delvin hadn’t been convinced at first that she wasn’t pulling some kind of con; he even went so far as to send a spy to Whiterun after her to make sure she didn’t double cross them. But when the spy reported nothing suspicious and Ariene returned with a big payout and Olfrid’s promise of future support for the Guild, even Delvin had to admit that her loyalties were in the right place: the Guild’s coffers. 

With their foothold in Whiterun secured, Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin began turning their attention to other holds, reaching out to old clients and probing for new ones. Little jobs here and there began popping up with greater frequency as word spread that the Guild was growing active again, and Vekel even got a letter from an old contact of his who wanted to set up shop in the cistern outside the Flagon. 

At the news, even Mercer had expressed his own grudging form of appreciation. 

“It’s still unacceptable that we don’t have any leads on the Goldenglow case,” he’d growled. “But…at least the Guild’s reputation has been repaired somewhat. It’s about time clients started taking us seriously again.”

When Ariene found out that the new merchant was a fletcher, she’d lit up in a way that Brynjolf had never seen before and immediately gone to trade out the piece she’d been carrying for a new one. Later, he overheard her talking about the new weapon with Niruin over a drink at the Ragged Flagon. 

“It feels like ages since I’ve held a proper bow,” she’d said, running her hand reverently over the weapon’s limb. “The Imperials took mine at the border, and I’ve been working with one of their standard issues ever since.” 

“Tell me about it,” Niruin had replied. “The handiwork on those things is a joke. Nothing compared to genuine elven craftsmanship.” 

Brynjolf hadn’t intruded on their conversation, but privately he was intrigued. If the shooting he’d seen on display from her was with a substandard bow, then what was she capable of with a real weapon? His curiosity prickled at the back of his mind, and grew to the point that when he saw her head into the training room, he got up and followed.  

Once more, Ariene stood before the archery targets, an arrow knocked on her bowstring, but this time her movements were slow and deliberate. She raised the bow and drew the string back, but instead of firing, she held the weapon still, keeping the tip of her arrow trained steadily on the target. After nearly a minute, she relaxed her muscles and lowered the bow, rolling her neck and shoulders to keep them loose. 

She repeated the motion a few times, holding the bow steady at different angles before finally letting a single arrow fly. 

“I thought it was my turn to sneak up on you,” she said after the arrow embedded itself into the center ring of the target.

She glanced at him and smiled her easy smile, an expression that she seemed to reserve just for him, and Brynjolf cursed internally. It wasn’t like him to be disarmed by a look so easily, but Ariene somehow managed to break all his rules. 

“Just trying to keep you on your toes, lass,” he said. “We can’t afford for you to get sloppy on us now.”

“Well, as soon as I get the hang of this new bow, I can promise you won’t have to worry about that.”  

She turned back to her shooting, and Brynjolf watched in silence for a while as she continued to test the limits of her new weapon. After a few more careful shots, she began moving around the room, shooting from different positions. She slid under the table in the corner and let loose three shots from there, her crouched position barely affecting her accuracy, then she rolled forward, bringing the bow back up into firing position barely a second after righting herself. 

Brynjolf let out an impressed whistle, despite himself. “With skills like yours, it’s no wonder that you managed to pull off the Goldenglow job. Where on earth did you learn to shoot, lass?” 

Ariene stilled, and Brynjolf realized too late that he’d said more than he should have. 

“Look lass, I didn’t mean to-” he began, but Ariene shook her head. 

“Don’t worry about it.” She looked over at him, her expression thoughtful. “Tell you what. I’ll tell you who taught me to shoot if you tell me who taught you to use those?” 

She gestured at the daggers on Brynjolf’s belt, and he smiled. 

“Alright, lass.”

The two of them sat down, and Brynjolf unsheathed his daggers, laying them on the table. Ariene reached out, then hesitated, glancing up at him. He nodded, and she carefully picked one up, examining it closely.

“Dwarven make,” she said, turning the blade over in her hand and humming in approval. “Genuine, by the looks of it, not a reproduction?”

“Aye, lass,” Brynjolf nodded. “A gift from the Guildmaster.”  

Ariene raised an eyebrow.

“From Mercer?” she asked with a snort. “I didn’t take him for the gift giving type.” 

“Ah, pardon me,” Brynjolf said, chuckling. “I misspoke. Definitely not Mercer, they were from Gallus.” 

“Gallus…” Ariene said thoughtfully. “I’ve heard that name before…” she drummed her fingers on the table as she searched her memories, then she snapped triumphantly, the sound splitting the air and echoing off the room’s high stone walls. “I remember now. Niruin mentioned it when he was telling me how he joined up. He said once Delvin introduced him to Gallus, then he was in.”

“Aye, Gallus was Mercer’s predecessor,” Brynjolf explained. “He was the Guildmaster when I first joined the Guild; he taught me a lot about this line of work…including how to fight with these.”

He took the dagger back from her, running his thumb over its hilt thoughtfully. 

“A lot of folks carry daggers of course, but usually only as a backup. Which is understandable, a sword will certainly be more likely to strike a killing blow, if that’s what you’re after. But daggers are light, quick on the draw, easy to carry…the perfect weapons for a thief.” He looked down at the blade and casually flipped it in his hand. “Gallus always said it took true mastery to use them properly.”

“You looked up to him?” Ariene asked, and Brynjolf nodded.

“He was a good teacher…and a good man. And an absolute master thief. In all my years of doing this, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone better.” 

“What happened to him?” 

Ariene’s voice was soft, careful, and Brynjolf sighed, suddenly weary. Mercer’s words to him from a few weeks ago echoed in his head: 

Anything that you care about in this line of work other than the next job and the coin? It can be taken away from you.

“He was killed,” he said bluntly. “Over twenty years ago now.”

“On a job?” 

“No…no, not exactly.” he said with a grimace. “He was betrayed by someone in the Guild. Someone that he…that we…thought we could trust.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ariene said quietly. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” 

Brynjolf gazed down at the blade in his hand, tilting it so that his reflection was visible in the polished metal. His own face stared back up at him, and he took note of the toll that the years had taken on him. A scar that hadn’t been there when he started out now cut across his face, faint wrinkles were etched around his eyes and a permanent crease had formed in his brow. How long before the few gray hairs poking out of his temples began to multiply enough to be noticeable? Most days he didn’t feel all that different than he used to, but when he looked at his reflection, it was impossible to ignore the time that had passed. 

Somehow, without noticing, he had started to grow old. 

“Brynjolf?”

Brynjolf blinked, then looked up at Ariene. She was leaning towards him, sympathy written on her face, and Brynjolf took a deep breath. 

“It’s alright, lass,” he said, flashing her a quick smile. “It was a long time ago. And as sour as the end may have been, there are still plenty of good memories to balance things out.” 

She smiled a bit at that, and Brynjolf slid the dagger back into its sheath.

“At any rate, that’s my end of the bargain. Your turn, lass.” 

He gestured at Ariene to speak, and she shrugged. 

“Well, I don’t have a heartwarming tale about a trusted mentor giving me my weapon,” she said, tilting her head towards her newly purchased bow leaning against the table. 

“What about the bow you had before?” Brynjolf asked, and she shook her head.

“The one I lost in Helgen, you mean? No, that I also had to buy myself. My father was never in the habit of giving things out for free.”

“Your father?” Brynjolf repeated. “Is he who taught you to shoot?” 

Ariene nodded.

“As soon as I was big enough to hold a bow,” she said. “He’d already had me doing combat drills every day, then when I showed more aptitude towards archery he pivoted almost entirely to target practice.”

“Combat drills? Was he a soldier?” Brynjolf asked. 

“A soldier?” Ariene laughed, but there was no warmth in the sound. “No. See, that implies that he cares about honor, or duty, or anything besides the size of his coin purse.”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. She gazed down at the table between them, her expression pinched, and Brynjolf wondered if he’d overstepped again. 

“Divines only know why he thought it was a good idea,” she said eventually. “But he wanted me to earn my keep as soon as possible. And the only acceptable way for me to do that in his mind was to follow in his footsteps.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “Join the family business, you might say.” 

“I see,” Brynjolf said slowly. “And I’d take it the family business was a tad more dangerous than radish farming.” 

“You’d be right,” Ariene said with a grimace. “Though I suppose it involves a similar amount of sharp implements. My father was…or rather, is, the leader of a band of mercenaries.” 

She spat the word out like it was poison, and Brynjolf suddenly remembered the look on her face when she had learned about the thugs at Goldenglow. What was it she had said, when he’d warned her to be careful of them?

I know the type.

“I take it you don’t think much of the profession,” he said carefully, and Ariene snorted. 

“If there’s a mercenary out there who isn’t a pigheaded, selfish brute, then I have yet to meet them,” she said, folding her arms. “And that does include my father, in case you were wondering.” 

Brynjolf winced. 

“Look, lass,” he began. “I didn’t mean to-” 

“Bring up bad memories?” she finished, smiling wryly. “Don’t worry about it. I guess it turns out we’re even.”  

“Maybe so, lass,” Brynjolf admitted. “But still, I spoke when it wasn’t my place to. If you want me to stop prying, all you have to do is ask.”

“I appreciate that,” Ariene said, flashing him a quick smile. “But if I’m being honest-” 

“Ariene, are you in here?” 

Ariene’s head snapped up, and Brynjolf looked over his shoulder to see Vipir poking his head around the doorway. 

“Obviously I am,” Ariene said, relaxing by a hair. “What is it, Vipir?” 

“Delvin is looking for you,” he explained. “Says he got a special request in from Windhelm that he wants you to handle.” 

“Tell him I’ll be there in a minute, will you Vip?” 

Vipir nodded, and turned to leave. He paused, glancing back between the two of them with a funny look on his face, then he shook his head and disappeared around the corner. 

“Well, apparently duty calls,” Ariene said, returning her attention to Brynjolf. “Sounds like I’ll be traveling again for a while.” 

“Occupational hazard,” Brynjolf said with a shrug. “Though most would say that the pay more than makes up for it.” 

“I won’t argue with you there,” she said, getting to her feet and slinging her bow over her shoulder. 

“Listen,” Brynjolf said. He stood up as well, and as they walked out of the training room he lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “How about I buy you a drink in the Flagon when you get back from the job?” 

Ariene smiled, and nodded. 

“I’d like that,” she said. “Of course, on one condition.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, we can talk about something other than our tragic pasts,” Brynjolf reassured her, and she laughed. 

“Sounds like a plan. But that’s not actually what I was going to say.” 

“Oh?”

Her grin turned mischievous, and she wagged a finger at him playfully. 

“I’ll have just gotten paid. I will buy you a drink this time. It’s my turn to sneak up on you, remember?” 

— — — 

Ariene left for Windhelm that night, and for the next several days, Brynjolf went through the motions of the day to day operations of the Guild. He sent letters to contacts, mapped out heists, and collected payment from clients. The old man hiding out in the Ratways had a new list of books and supplies he wanted sent to him, which Brynjolf passed along to Vekel, and Mercer left the cistern not long after Ariene did to follow up on a lead for their mysterious symbol problem, but other than that, it was an uneventful few days. Thankfully, Brynjolf was so used to handling things on his own that he hardly noticed the Guildmaster’s absence. 

Well, except there was a lot less muttered cursing and growled insults in the cistern, which he supposed was a nice change of pace. 

When Ariene finally returned, she did not in fact sneak up on him, because he was standing barely ten feet from the graveyard entrance talking to Thrynn when she clambered down the ladder. She did, however, still insist on buying him a drink, so after wrapping up his business for the day Brynjolf found himself sharing a table with her at the Ragged Flagon. 

“So lass, how was Windhelm?” he asked once Vekel had brought them their orders. 

“Cold,” Ariene said bluntly, taking a long drink from her bottle of mead. “I’m glad I decided not to head further north like I’d planned initially.” 

“So am I,” Brynjolf said. Then, after realizing what that may imply, he quickly added: “Otherwise I’d be paying for my own ale right now!”

Ariene just shook her head, smiling that disarming smile of hers as if she saw right through his casual act, and Brynjolf wasn’t sure whether he preferred her being fooled by his mask or not.

“At any rate, the job went off fairly smoothly,” she continued. “I don’t think those so-called ‘Summerset Shadows’ will be much of a problem for us going forward. And not only did the client agree to back us in the city, but Niranye is willing to fence for us again.” 

“Excellent,” Brynjolf said. “It will be nice to have a better foothold up north again. Between the goods that come into the port and the trade routes between Dawnstar and Winterhold, Windhelm is the perfect place to have a strong presence.” 

Ariene nodded, but her smile had slipped, and she was fiddling with her bottle of mead absently. Finally, she looked up and met his eyes, her expression unreadable. 

“I wondered if I could ask you something,” she said. 

“You can ask,” he said immediately. “Is this the sort of question that involves trading answers, or…?”

“I suppose that’s up to you.” Ariene smiled slightly, then took a breath. “I was wondering…if you’d mind training me to use daggers? I mean, the way you use them. As a primary weapon.” 

Brynjolf blinked. Of all the things that she could have asked him, this was the last thing he’d been expecting. 

“I mean, of course lass, if you want me to. But is there a particular reason why? You’re not planning on giving up the bow, are you?”

“No, no, of course not,” Ariene said quickly. “I can rely on a good bow and quiver full of arrows to keep me alive more than a legion of twenty men. It’s just…well, a bow is most useful at long range. And despite all my best efforts to keep out of that sort of trouble…it seems like close quarters combat is something I’ll need to get better at after all.” 

Brynjolf frowned, turning his words over in his mind.

“I take it that the job wasn’t as cut and dried as the client made it seem in his correspondence,” he said, and Ariene shook her head.

“Not exactly. I don’t blame the client, he couldn’t have known that this other guild was holed up in a cave that was essentially a kill box. Unfortunately, that didn’t make it any less of a death trap.” 

“Damn, lass,” Brynjolf said, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I told you that you wouldn’t have to run any more jobs like that, and now–” 

“It’s not your fault,” Ariene said, shaking her head. “You couldn’t have known any more than Torsten Cruel-Sea did. I just…” she sighed. “I became a thief so that I wouldn’t have to make my living dealing out death on command anymore.” She glared at her bottle of mead, as though it were solely responsible for all her problems. “I guess I’ll never really be able to escape it though. Maybe my father was right after all.”

“Listen lass,” Brynjolf said. “I’ll teach you to wield a pair of daggers, if you want me to. It’s certainly a handy skill to have in this line of work. And I can’t say that you’ll never have to kill in self defense while on a job. This is a dangerous profession, after all. But I can promise you that you won’t be sent on any more missions where you’re expected to take on an army by yourself. If we expect there to be more heat on a job, we’ll send more people. We’re not asking you to be a killer for us.”

Ariene smiled wanly. 

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I think at this point the issue is moot. Twice now we’ve walked into a job without a clear idea of the danger, and I don’t see those odds improving. I’d rather improve my own skills and play the best hand I can with the cards I’ve been dealt.”  

“Well…alright lass,” Brynjolf relented. “When would you like to start?” 

Ariene considered it. 

“Tomorrow?” she suggested. “I’m still a little travel weary, or I’d say let’s start right now.” 

“Tomorrow it is,” Brynjolf agreed. 

He lifted his mug of ale towards her, and she clinked the tip of her bottle against its side. 

“So,” she said after taking a long drag of mead. “What’s your price for the training? Do you have more questions for me?” 

Brynjolf did have more questions. It seemed his mind never ran out of questions to ask about her, but he forced them all down. 

“Look, lass…” he began, then shook his head. “Ariene. I don’t want you to feel like you have to–” 

“Brynjolf,” she interrupted, and he fell silent. “Let’s not put this off any longer, alright? You want to know more about me, and to be honest? I would like to know more about you, too. Life is too short to keep dancing around each other like this. So if you want to ask me questions, ask them, and I’ll do the same for you, alright?”

Brynjolf stared at her. He hadn’t expected her to be so open to sharing more with him; most thieves he knew with sordid pasts did everything they could to pretend they didn’t exist.

“And…you’re sure, lass?” he asked carefully. “You don’t feel…” he trailed off, looking for the words. 

Like I’m backing you into a corner? Like I’m giving you an order? Like you don’t really have a choice at all?

“Pressured?” he eventually settled on, but Ariene just shook her head. 

“Not in the slightest,” she said. She stared at him for a moment, as though she had read his thoughts written all over his face, then her mouth quirked up in a smirk. “So quit your worrying,” she said, reaching out to punch him gently on the shoulder. 

Now it was Brynjolf’s turn to shake his head, and he laughed quietly.

“Sorry, lass, but it’s basically built into my job description. Someone has to worry about keeping this merry band of miscreants in one piece, and that someone is usually me.” 

Ariene tilted her head at that. 

“How long have you been a lieutenant for the Guild?” she asked, and Brynjolf blew out a breath. 

“Hard to say. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been doing this forever, though the real answer is probably close to around ten years. But even before Mercer made it official, I was doing a fair amount of the organization for the Guild. Sums and paperwork have never been his strong suit.” 

“It almost feels like you run this Guild more than he does,” Ariene said, then her eyes widened, and she quickly glanced around as though Mercer himself would be standing over them with a scowl on his face. 

Brynjolf chuckled. 

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment, in which case I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t sell Mercer short. He may not handle the day to day as much as I do, but he is Guildmaster for a reason.” 

Ariene raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. 

“Really? Because honestly, from what I’ve seen all he does is skulk around behind his desk and yell at people all day.” Brynjolf snorted, and Ariene grinned. “Seriously! You said he’s Guildmaster for a reason, what reason? I’m curious now.”

“Well to start with, Mercer was one of Gallus’s two head lieutenants before he died,” Brynjolf explained. “And besides that, there’s more to running an operation like this besides paperwork. Mercer’s eye for targets is excellent; I once saw him predict what room in a manor would have a hidden safe just by scanning the exterior. Not only that, but he reads people better than just about anyone I’ve ever seen. He knows how to get exactly what he wants out of whoever he’s talking to.”  

Ariene nodded slowly. 

“I guess I can see how that’d be useful in this business,” she relented. “But why did Mercer become Guildmaster and not, say, the other lieutenant?”  

Brynjolf frowned, and swallowed the remainder of his ale in a single gulp. 

“Because she’s the one who murdered Gallus,” he said simply, and Ariene winced. 

“Gods…I’m sorry, Brynjolf, I didn’t realize–”

“It’s alright lass, you couldn’t have known,” he reassured her. “It’s not exactly something we talk about down here all the time. It’s ancient history that most of us who were there to remember it would like to forget.”

“That, at least, is something I understand,” she said with a grim expression. She reached forward and downed her own drink. “I’m beat. I’ll see you in the morning for training?” she asked as she got to her feet.

“Aye lass, I’ll meet you when you’re ready.” He took a breath, then smiled in what he hoped came across as a playful way. “And remember, next time it’ll be my turn to ask you a question that will inevitably bring up some tragic aspect of your past.”

Ariene threw her head back and laughed, and Brynjolf felt a tiny thrill race up his spine, as though he’d just convinced a mark to hand over their entire coin purse. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, and then she was gone, leaving Brynjolf with her words echoing in his mind. 

 Life is too short to keep dancing around each other like this.

The meaning lying just beneath the phrase was clear, and Brynjolf felt as though he was teetering on the edge of something, something new and exciting, but also unknown, maybe even dangerous. 

The only question now was whether he’d let go of the ledge and allow himself to fall.

— — — 

Previous: Ch.5 - The Renegade from Cyrodiil || Next: Ch.7 - A Dampened Pursuit

Author's Notes: The layers of backstory slowly get peeled away, and the slow burn begins to heat to a simmer! Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please reblog if you liked it, it'd mean a lot to me! <3

[parashiteposting]

Oc concepts list

Transed Our Genders pairing

that's a Horse

I'm a Single Dad to a Parasite Daughter and have Complicated Big Sads about What Happened to my Human Daughter

guy (gender neutral) who is just there to provide contrast and debate with Alex Mercer Prototype regarding their relationship with humanity and their former human identity's relationships

[kamassa-river]

some poor soul in fort mercer, distressed: My life is in the hands of an idiot!

Connie and Clem: No! Two idiots! :D