#not sure how they get letters in the lighthouse

[ramblinganthropologist]

The saddest thing to come out of Veilguard so far is apparently Trevy and Scout Harding broke up after inquisition.

Poor Trevy. Maybe she'll find someone nice to settle down with and teach mage kids at her magic school.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

The Lighthouse Vol. 2

Bob Reynolds x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Note: Howdy. Finally finished it. I really love how this one turned out. Very domestic fluff, forced proximity type stuff. Bob is so very dear to me, so I hope you enjoy it. I will also be posting this to my Ao3 for easier navigation; right here.

Summary: After the battle with Thanos, getting dusted for five years followed directly by another battle with Thanos, you were more than content living in your small, small town on the coast of Maine, overlooked by a beautiful lighthouse. Your life was perfect, you thought. Quiet, sure, but perfect. Until Bucky Barnes showed up on your doorstep with Bob Reynolds in tow.

Warnings: canon-typical drug mention (Bob’s former drug use), mental health discussion (but nothing super super serious; Bob has depression and Bipolar), little bit of canon-typical violence as a treat, some swearing.

Word Count: 29k (Split into Two Volumes, Vol. 1 here)

Reader Is: Female (only mentioned a few times, I think, I tried to be vague-ish), late-twenties

The Reject Bin

Several thoughts rolled through your head the next morning as you ate your oatmeal. You watched Bob from across the table, shielded somewhat behind your laptop, your active WIP open on it. You’d scanned over your most recent words, but they felt like alphabet soup. It was clear you were both a little frazzled from the night before. Him moreso than you. And you had work in a few hours, so your mind was already planted behind that counter, more or less.

He was an adult. He’d be fine on his own.

But it was a long shift, and you didn’t want to leave him alone if he wasn’t. The last time he wasn’t, it had ended up on the news.

He yawned, rubbing his face. He looked pitiful. Deep, dark bags under his eyes. That usual kind spark absent as he stared at a bubble in the wallpaper. He blinked a few times. “You say something?”

You repeated your previous suggestion. “I said you should come to work with me.”

“Ha. Funny.” 

“No, I’m serious. It’ll be so dead today. We have a big, comfy couch in the lobby. I can send you into a movie if you want to sleep, and I can pour you free slushees all day.” You pitched. “You don’t look like you’re in the mood to be here all by yourself and it’s too late for me to call in.”

“You don’t have to rearrange your day for me. I’m okay.”

You knew he wasn’t, but you didn’t press. “Really, I…think it would be nice to have you there. But it’s your choice. I’m not going to force you. I can give you the tour, if you want. Show you the projector room and stuff.”

That hooked him a little. He gave himself a sniff. “Yeah, I’ll bite. Let me shower and stuff. You leave soon?”

“Nope, like an hour from now.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” He gave a tired grin and padded up the stairs.

You felt a little better, but you could tell he was struggling. You hoped you could turn it around, or at the very least, make it a little easier for him. You may be a healer, but there was no easy fix for the things he was carrying. Maybe you could make them a little lighter, though.

***

You straightened your nametag, leading Bob into the theater through the back entrance. He looked around at the boxes and boxes of soda syrup, the stack of kernel bags and so on. You hung your jacket on one of the hooks, and when you turned, he was standing over a tub full of poster tubes, the triangular boxes that the movie posters were shipped in.

“That’s the reject bin. You can take anything you want. No one called dibs on those.”

He nodded, giving them a gander, but coming to the realization very quickly that they were rejects for a reason. He perked up a bit, pulling one of the posters out of the bin. “I know this guy.”

You laughed, nodding. Bold red letters were etched across the bottom of it that read Vindicating John. “Yeah, John Walker? It’s one of those stupid conservative documentary movies defending him. Funded by people who are, um… mad about Sam being Cap now.”

“Ah. Racists.” He nodded, putting it back. He did end up taking a poster from a nature documentary about sea turtles, though, leaning it against the wall under your jacket.

You led him out behind the counter, motioning him to pass through the little swinging half-door at the edge of it, which he did, wandering further into the lobby. He walked out towards the marquee, eyes scanning along the showtimes.

Your manager, a college kid named Kennedy, perked up at the sight of him. “Oh, hey. Is this the houseguest?”

“Yeah, this is Bob. Bob, this is Kennedy. He’s gonna hang out here today. I figured that would be fine.”

“Oh yeah. Come on in. We’ve got fuck-all going on around here.”

Bob chuckled at that, giving a polite nod and a wave. “Thanks. I won’t be much trouble.”

Kennedy looked him over, eyes narrowing. “I recognize you from somewhere.”

Bob shrugged, Adam’s apple bobbing. He played with his hands, a little more nervous at the prospect of being recognized. You could see it in his eyes. “One of those faces, I guess.”

She chuckled and blew it off, settling behind the manager’s desk while you made sure everything was in order behind the counter. The tubs all stocked, lids and cups and so on. Bob sat on the couch, pulling a paperback out from his back pocket. A little one, Frankenstein. He must have gotten it from the bookstore after all.

With all that handled, you wandered over to the manager’s desk, leaning against it as you so often did when the lobby was devoid of customers.

“He’s cute.” Kennedy murmured, quiet enough that he couldn’t hear it over the sound of the popcorn machine making the first batch of popcorn of the day and the steady hum of the slushee machine.

You giggled, nodding. “He’s nice, too. Quiet, but really funny.”

“And you just met this guy?”

“Yeah, he’s a friend of a friend.” You explained, glancing over at him as he quietly read, turning the page every so often.

He looked exhausted. There were only a handful of customers for the first few hours, so he sat there unbothered for the most part, watching half-interested as people came in to buy gift cards and ask about showtimes. Bob closed his book and sat there, hands folded neatly in his lap, as he nodded off a little. You pouted, watching him doze. There was something so innocent about it. His sleepy little face, the frown that pulled at his lips. It made it very hard to believe he was the shadow man from the news. Almost everything about him did.

And yet, that glimpse you’d gotten last night…maybe it wasn’t completely…out of the question…

You walked over to the concession stand and printed off a ticket for one of the movies in the newer theater, the one with the big recliners, picking a seat for him in the back corner. You plucked the sample blanket from the sale display and poured him a slushee, pushing in the straw with care.

“Hey.” You put a hand on his shoulder, voice soft. The tiniest bit of light and warmth swirled between your palm and the fabric of his sweater, lending him just a morsel of your power.

He blinked awake, giving a bleary smile. “Hmm?”

“Come on. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” You nudged carefully, motioning for him to get up.

He stood, stretching his long limbs. He was always taller than you remembered him to be, the illusion of his smallness held together by the way he hunched when he stood, like his body had grown too fast and he was bigger than he was supposed to be.

Bob trailed behind you, up the hall to Theater 4. It was empty so far, the house lights still up. Maria Menounos welcomed you to Noovie, as she had so many times before. You guided him to the chair in the corner of the room and he plopped down, hands squishing the sizable armrests, measuring their cushiness. You slid the slushee into the cupholder and draped the blanket across his lap, tucking him in.

He frowned, tilting his head up at you. “I’m not a kid.”

“I know. But this is a bad day, huh?” You asked gently, expression empathetic, but not pitying.

He shrugged. Thought about it. Nodded. Frowned.  “Y-Yeah, it’s a bad one. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You shook your head, meeting his eyes.

“That’s why you didn’t want to leave me home today? You were afraid I would…”

“No.” You cut him off before he could spiral. “I wasn’t afraid of anything. I just didn’t want you to be alone all day, feeling like this. I know being lonely makes it worse.”

He stared at you for a long time, seeing something there that he hadn’t before. That you knew. That you’d felt the things he was feeling. Had been inside.

He softened. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be back in two and a half.”

***

You went back, as you’d promised, once the movie was over, broom and dustpan in hand. There had only been a grand total of five people in there, including Bob, so it didn’t take long to sweep up the smattering of popcorn on the floor.

He was snoring, leaned back in the chair, feet kicked up, mouth open. And if there wasn’t a horror movie queued up to play next, you would have left him there. You could tell he needed it. 

It was like he could feel you standing there, and woke with a shake, blinking up at you. Bob smiled a little, stretching like a cat. “Oh, hey. Good movie. What I saw, anyway.”

“Better?”

“Much better.” He agreed, fingers dug into the recliner button, sitting the seat back up.

You studied him, eyes scanning his form out of habit. A doctor’s eyes and a healer’s touch, Bucky used to say, usually followed by a quip of some kind to salve the vulnerability of it. He was bad with that. The sappy stuff. Especially without Steve around.

“I, uh…haven’t been sleeping super well lately, to be honest.” His eyes flitted across your features, measuring your reaction, and cutting it with a, “I’m fine, though, really. I…didn’t want to bother you.”

“Buddy, I have sleep powers.” You said. “I can knock you out, if you need me to. Put you out and go back to my room for the night.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I didn’t realize the extent of it…I’ll keep that in mind.” He looked down at your broom and dustpan. “Well, where to next?”

“You don’t have to come with me. You’re not on the clock.”

“No, but you’re letting me stay with you rent-free.” He shrugged, standing up and gathering the blanket you’d left with him into a clump of blue fleece. “Least I could do is keep you company.”

***

After work, you and Bob hit a drive-thru. He seemed to be in better spirits, singing along to the songs on the radio, the window down, breeze flowing through his hair. You ate dinner together on the couch, watching sitcoms.

Idly, you worked on an embroidered hankie, adding the last few details you’d been putting off before finally adding it to your finished projects pile. You still had a lot of work to do before you’d be ready to move out, but you were getting there. Slowly but surely. Little by little.

Bob sat close to you on the couch that night. Not that you mentioned it, or were sure he was even conscious of doing it. His thigh pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his clothes onto you.

“It’s cute. Looks really good.” He complimented, watching your careful fingers tie the final knots. “More bees.”

“More bees.” You agreed, folding it up and handing it to him. “For your trinkets.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. “Hey, uh, would you mind, um…doing your magic trick for me tonight? I could really use it.”

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

He wanted to say something more. Wanted to rebuttal that you were good for so much more than knocking him out. But he didn’t know how to articulate it without spilling his soul all over your nice clean carpet, so he didn’t. Instead, he went upstairs, changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, and then came back down to get you, ignoring the little voice on his shoulder, reminding him just how pathetic he was for needing your help for something as mundane as sleep.

***

You sat at the edge of the bed as Bob laid on his stomach, watching you as you glowed, your aura like the northern lights, stretched across the wall and ceiling. His eyes were soft and sparkling, lips parted as he gazed at you, sharp thoughts dulling slowly as your energy overpowered him.

His breaths slowed. Eyes drooped. Voice gave one last, weary protest before his head lolled onto the pillow, one careful, gentle hand playing with his hair.

And then he was out. Chest rumbling like thunder almost immediately as he crashlanded into what you hoped was a long and restful sleep.

You retreated to your own, walking through your night routine. Pajamas, cleanser, moisturizer, toothpaste, hair care. You pulled the cover aside, laid down, closed your eyes.

When you opened them you were flat on your back, ground hard beneath your head, snow fluttering down onto your face. You groaned, sitting up, pulling at the blanket that was now absent.

Headlights streamed through the trees. You shielded your face with a hand, lighting your palm, but not making more than a spark.

“(Y/N), please! He…He’s losing so much blood…”

You took a sharp breath and opened your eyes, heart pounding. The ground was a mattress again. The trees were gone. You were home, safe, in bed. And it was just a dream.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Dealbreaker

Waves crashed in the distance as you and Bob stood in your small, fenced-in yard. Birds chirped. Sparrows, mostly, but there was one little gray bird you couldn’t quite place, perched at the edge of your bird bath.

You carefully guided the clippers, trimming a branch of your lilac bush, shaking a few dead leaves out of it before handing it to Bob, adding it to the growing purple bouquet in his hands. The bush had been there long before you came to town. Towering, lush, and this time of year, very, very vibrant. You loved taking a little piece of it inside with you, inviting the smell into your home.

Bob watched a bumblebee buzz around the tulips, attention only pulled away when a pair of little girls on bikes rode by, their mother not far behind them.

“Hi, (Y/N)!”

You grinned, waving. “Hi, Sadie! Sydney! Careful around that corner!” You looked at Bob once they were out of earshot. “It’s uneven over there. I’ve healed a lot of scraped knees, living here.”

He tilted his head, grinning. “You just heal people out in the open here?”

“Yeah, they all know who I am. I’m just lucky they don’t make a big deal about it. They’re more likely to ask me for a cup of sugar here than they are to beg me for a miracle. But I help out when I can.”

He nodded, glancing down at the flowers. “Lavender?”

“Lilacs. I like the smell more. Little more subtle.”

“Lilacs.” He repeated. “Cool. Are these the ones you put on my hankie?”

“Yep. Those and the bees.”

He laughed, following you up the steps and back into the house. “Who could forget the bees?”

The task at hand today was your odds and ends. Board games, trinkets, toys, collectibles, all of it. Boxes and boxes of junk from your attic.

For obvious reasons, you’d been given a lot of Avengers action figures. You put most of them in the junk box, but Bob dug one out, a figure of you, made shortly after what had been dubbed the Infinity War, in your old uniform. Mostly black with light blue accents, a few rays of what was supposed to be light stretched across your little plastic chest. It was a confused design, to be sure. Shuri had wanted to make a new one for you, but hadn’t found time with all of her other projects.

“Why are you getting rid of this?”

“Because I have like two dozen of them.” You replied, pointing to the stack of figures. Falcon, Cap, Beacon, Beacon, Beacon, Falcon, Cap. The occasional Black Widow. Hulk. You didn’t have a figure of Sam in his Cap suit, but you were sure one would find you eventually. You never bought them; they always came to you.

“Can I have it?”

You laughed. “Yes.”

Bob slipped a few other things into his box. A deck of Uno cards, a Rubik’s cube, a tiny metal lighthouse statuette. He was very selective today, hands careful, eyes moreso, but he seemed to be in decent spirits. You hoped the sleep you’d given him had helped. Even then, you knew it was a Band-Aid on something that ran deeper. You were a healer, but not a therapist. You had a feeling Bob needed both.

You sorted things for a good few hours and offloaded a lot of it. The two of you loaded it into a wagon. The thrift shop was close enough that it would be stupid to haul it all over in the car, so you walked it over, up a block and down the street. It didn’t take long. The guys running the place thanked you, printed you a little slip for your tax write-off, and sent you on your way.

The day was young, so you took Bob to your favorite ice cream place in town for a little afternoon treat, walking home the long way with soft serve cones in hand.

“Nice little shop.” Bob commented, grinning, a dot of vanilla on the tip of his nose as he finished off his cone. Yours was following suit, whittled down to just the nub.

“Oh yeah. I love that place. I’ve been on so many shitty first dates there.”

He looked puzzled by that. “You’re telling me you’ve been dating around and no one’s scooped you up yet? Uhhhh, no pun intended,” he tacked on with an awkward laugh.

“I was on the apps for a while. Joined a few clubs. Bowling league, bar trivia and whatnot. Nothing stuck. The glowing thing is a dealbreaker for most normal people. It’s fine and well and good when I’m doing that stuff on the news, but when I get a little too excited and glow in a bowling alley parking lot…suddenly it loses its charm, I guess.”

“Mmm. Speaking from experience, I’m guessing.”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

“They don’t get it, then. They…want the idea of you, but not the rest of it. You shouldn’t be afraid to shine. And they shouldn’t be afraid of you.” Bob’s words were deliberate. Clear-cut. Like he’d thought about this before.

You shouldn’t be afraid to shine.

It was good advice in general, but he meant it literally, in your case. You were a girl who glowed sometimes. Not always on purpose. Not always in a good and healthy way. More than anything, you needed someone who wasn’t going to dim your light; ideally, someone who didn’t make you feel bad for having it in the first place.

“What about you?” You asked softly. “You…on the dating scene? Before all this, I guess? The New York stuff.”

He huffed, shrugging. That ‘it’s fine’ look settled on his features again, so you braced for impact, ready to catch whatever it was he threw at you. “Actually, uh…I was on meth before all this. And then the…medical trial, then the Vault and now I’m here, so…no, pretty single.”

“Oh.” You nodded. Welp, there it was. That was why he’d had the shakes the week before, the sleep difficulties…he hadn’t been particularly agitated. He had his ups and downs, sure, but you were pretty sure they were from…something else. Again, healer, not therapist. “The Vault?”

“Long story.” He said with a chuckle, eyes scanning you, waiting for something else, some other question or flicker of anything across your face, but it never came. So instead, he asked, “You knew? About the meth?”

“Yeah. Well, no, not specifically. Bucky didn’t tell me anything. He’s got a real communication problem, but that is neither here nor there. That first night, you were shaking. I figured that was why. Didn’t know from what, exactly, but I could tell you were in withdrawal. Healer’s eyes and all that.”

He was quiet for a long moment, letting it sit. Quieter, “The whole time?”

You shrugged, eyes honest. “Yeah.”

You watched it settle in his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He nodded, thinking it over. The whole time you’d known, and it hadn’t made a difference. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You rebuttaled.

“For…not looking at me like I’m a time bomb. For…” He shook his head. “All of it. So much. More than I can…” His eyes got glassy. “Y-Yeah, just for all of it. I…”

You stepped closer, arms wrapping around his frame with ease. Like you’d done it a hundred times. A million. You rested your ear against his heart, forehead anchored against his warm, warm skin. He faltered, standing there stiff, until he finally processed what was happening.

He held on tight, long arms wrapped around your shoulders as he trembled. You felt tears, but you didn’t say anything. Just held him. Traced circles on his back. You knew he’d needed it for far longer than he’d care to admit.

His lips pressed against your hairline. Not a kiss, just…there, as if the feeling would keep him from floating off into the Seaberg sunset. 

***

When you got back to the house, Bob went upstairs to put himself back together. Wipe his tears and change his clothes. The shower kicked on upstairs. Meanwhile, you went through the kitchen cabinets, picking a few things to bring with you. A few cups, your favorite fork. The rest of it could stay at the house, in case you and whatever team Bucky was scraping together needed a place to lay low.

You pulled down a few mugs you’d painted at the pottery place in town. You’d gone with Earlene and the tarot ladies on a handful of occasions. It was always a fun time, even if you never felt like the things you made there were masterpieces.

But the one in your hands was nice. A decently big mug, painted sky blue, big puffy clouds left in the middle, where the glaze had been absent. It was streaky at best. But the showstopper was the lighthouse you’d painted near the handle. White tower with a black top, like the one in town. There was a sailboat on the water, and on the bottom, a secret, hidden crab.

Bob wandered down later, hair damp. He looked around at the glasses you were wrapping for travel. Once he got close to the counter, you slid him the lighthouse mug.

“You want this one?”

“You don’t?”

“You mentioned you like tea, so…We can share custody of it, if you want. At the Tower.” You said, fingers brushing his as he reached for it. “Remember our time here.”

He breathed, eyes as soft as could be, peering down at you through his thick, dark lashes. His stormy blue irises caught in the light of the sun. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He shook his head, staring at his fingertips. “I-I don’t think I could forget if I wanted to.”

You were both being pulled in. You could feel it. Like gravity. But just before you could collide, you heard the visitor at the door.

“Meow.”

You chuckled, cheeks flushed, heart racing. Crossed the kitchen in quick steps and ducked behind the counter, scooping out some feed for him.

He meowed again, more insistent this time.

“I’m coming, old man! Hold your horses!”

“Rrow!”

Bob exhaled in what should have been relief, the loss of that feeling building, building, building in his gut. Instead, he just felt empty. Well, emptier. It was getting harder for him to feel empty when you were around.

It’s cute, you know. That voice rolled in like smoke. Icewater down his spine. That you think she’d ever feel the same. You’re the stray kitten that waits at the door. She’s never going to let you in…

sentry.mp4

Thunder boomed the next morning, loud and abrupt, cutting any plans you had of going back to sleep with a sharp and swift crack of lightning. And another boom, of course. It was about an hour before your alarm. You sighed, groaned, and then sat up, wandering downstairs in your pajamas, laptop tucked under your arm.

You got some cereal and sat down on the couch, opened your word processor and scrolled back down to the end of the document, reading over your last few paragraphs.

Bzzz-Bzzz.

You glanced down at your phone, skimming the text that flashed across the screen. It was Bucky. Three simple little words: Check your email.

Well, who were you to defy those orders?

You opened your email and scrolled through the typical spam, looking for the one from Bucky. You plugged in your headphones, seeing that it was a video file he’d sent you.

<sentry.mp4>

You clicked.

A large, modern space stretched across the screen. A room, you assumed must be in the tower. A clump of people walked out of the elevator, Bucky among them; you couldn’t place the rest. They talked with a woman you recognized as Valentina Allegra DeFontaine, a very annoying and evil-looking congresswoman. You did not like her vibe, never had.

You didn’t actually hear much. The audio was muffled. The video quality left something to be desired as well, the occasional visual glitch obscuring the footage.

You watched as a gilded, golden superhero walked down the stairs, posture stiff and confident, blond hair slicked back. You couldn’t see his face, but you watched as he fought the others. They launched attacks against him and he stood unflinching, throwing them around with ease. People you assumed were literal supersoldiers, assassins, and he threw them around like ragdolls. Telekinesis. Super-speed. Flight.

Your stomach sank as you watched him bend a vibranium shield like it was made of tinfoil, eyes widening as he tore Bucky’s metal arm off, using it to smack Bucky across the room. He got air time. Air time. The two-hundred-something pound supersoldier, swatted away like a toy. Your fingers shook, heart pounding as you watched them all scramble back into the elevator away from the guy in the cape.

The figure turned and you finally got a glimpse at his face. You paused. Zoomed, enhanced, stared. Stared some more. Blinked, even.

It was fucking Bob.

He looked so…so different. His posture, his expressions, his powers, his attitude as he approached Valentina. You watched as he grabbed her by the neck, pinning her against the wall, squeezing. You felt sick.

Finally, it stopped. He went limp. Collapsed on the floor in a heap of gold and blue. Valentina and a young woman you assumed was her assistant, left. Not long after, a deep, impossibly dark shadow bled like ink across his body. And as the darkness spread, the footage corrupted, video stopping.

You’d seen the rest on the news, you were sure.

You sat there for a long time, breaths short but impossibly heavy, ears ringing. That was Bob. Your Bob. Your houseguest. Your…friend. That blond, stoic thing was Bob.

You couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

Thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed, and when the light faded, there was a figure at the top of the stairs. You yelped, slamming the laptop shut.

Your fist shot up out of habit, lit with Level 6 light. Bright. On a scale of household flashlight to LED headlights on a pickup truck driving behind you at night…pretty close to the second one.

“Woah! Woah, hey, it’s just…j-just me.” Bob stammered, hand shielding his face.

You lowered your hand, studying him. The glow faded gradually, the warmth dispersing into the chilly living room.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Y-you never have your headphones on.” He murmured, frowning as he studied you. “Everything…okay?”

“Fine!” You replied too quickly, flinching at your own volume. “Sorry. Fine. My…college friend sent me one of those stupid video game jumpscares. I’m fine.” You set your laptop on the table, getting up to get a glass of water. Or something. You just had to get away from it. “Don’t open that.”

“Oh. Okay.” He nodded, soft brown curls waving like a flag of surrender, hands clasped in front of him, sleeves draped down to cover the skin.

Your eyes lingered, but not in the way they usually did. There was some horror there now. You were sure he could feel it, and you felt bad about it, but you couldn’t help it. He was hiding a weapon under that unassuming sweater.

“Morning,” he said softly, head ducked down as though that would help catch your eyes easier.

You gave a labored smile. “Morning.”

***

Bob went upstairs for a bit to get away from the tension. You took a cold shower to cool off.

It’s just Bob. He doesn’t remember any of that. Bob is…Bob, he’s not gonna hurt you.

It only helped a little.

You pulled out your basket of crochet projects, stared at your stack of granny squares and gave a resigned sigh. Yeah, that would probably help. Focusing on something.

You grabbed the basket and went back down to the living room, settled on the couch again, organizing your yarn balls before setting to work. It was mindless after a while. Three double-crochets. Three double-crochets. Chain one. Three more double-crochets. The movement helped you calm down. Process. You hadn’t even realized you’d been stress-glowing until it dimmed, the storm having passed, thunder rumbling further in the distance.

Bob padded back down the stairs, lips pursed in a tiny, curious little :o

“Woah, you’ve got a whole pile of them! What are you making now?”

You smiled softly, looking him over. The hurricane in your stomach had calmed. He was just Bob again. The blond menace was pushed to the corner of your mind for the moment. This was Bob. Your friend. He would never hurt you. He would barely even touch you. 

“It’s gonna be a cardigan. Granny squares are great, because you just make a bunch and then sew them together when you’re done.”

He nodded, tentatively sitting on the couch, further than he usually did, legs crossed to make himself smaller. “It’s a cool hobby. Crochet. I feel like you can make so much with it.”

“You could make sweaters.” You suggested. “Since you seem to like wearing them so much, I mean.”

He hazarded a smile at that. “Would you teach me?”

You glanced at the clock. The day was shockingly young. You’d gotten up so early that it still wasn’t even noon yet. “Yeah, sure. Come over here.” You motioned him closer, smashing through the glass barrier between you.

Bob softened, looking relieved. You pulled an extra hook from your kit, showing him how to make a slip knot, chain, and then crochet into the chain. He was…very bad at it. But it was endearing. He sat directly beside you, still trying to get a read on you, on what had gone wrong that morning, on the thoughts that were still obviously swirling through your mind.

But as you laughed at his pathetic little noodle-looking crochet attempt, hands brushing against his as you showed him the motions again, those thoughts began to fade. It would be okay. You’d just had a weird morning. It was fine.

It was fine, right?

***

You sat on the floor in the living room that night in your pajamas, knees curled up towards your chest. You were glowing, but just a little. Contemplating everything while Bob took a shower. 

You weren’t afraid of the Winter Soldier. Even when Bucky had looked at you with no sliver of an idea who you were. Even while his vibranium hand was latched around your neck, holding you just far away enough that you couldn’t touch his skin to put him to sleep.

It had been scary. But you weren’t afraid of Bucky. Never had been.

You watched the Sentry video again. It seemed like Bob was talking to the others before the fight. There wasn’t audio, but his mouth was moving. And for a moment there, he still had those soft eyes. Like he was trying to talk them down before violence broke out. That insecure look on his face, like he was waiting for them to be proud of him. He wasn’t just a Bob-shaped shell. Some part of him was Bob. His ego, maybe. Well, not quite. You’d taken Intro to Psychology.

Bob was the Ego, the “true self”. Sentry was the Persona, the mask. And that left Void. Obviously, the Shadow. Not three separate people or three separate personalities, but Bob’s highs and lows magnified to the highest degree.

That made sense. That was what the super soldier serum did. It magnified. People were under the impression it turned people into perfect heroes, but…it had only done that because Steve Rogers was the best humanity had to offer. With someone like Bob—who was by no means bad, but…by no means perfect—well, it did what it did best. Put every problem he had under a microscope and tossed a pile of superpowers on top.

You lit a vanilla candle, got out some self care stuff. Bob padded back down the stairs, hair damp. He was standing small again, trying to shrink into himself, but you patted the floor in front of you and he walked over, plopping right down without hesitation. You pulled your hair our of the way with one of those skincare headbands and he did the same, copying your movements.

You handed him a small, foil package containing a skin mask. It was for hydration, to combat all the salty air. You also felt like he deserved to be pampered. You didn’t need the rest of the details to know things had been rough for him. People didn’t just turn towards the kind of drugs he had done for no reason.

You smoothed the mask across his face with gentle hands, molding it across his forehead, nose, cheeks, chin. After you put on your own, he gazed at you, tilting his head.

“My turn to ask the age-old question,” Bob said, dark blue eyes searching your features as best he could with the hydrated cotton layers between you now. Maybe he’d done it on purpose. A shield of sorts, in case this conversation didn’t unfold the way he expected it to. “Is today a bad one?”

“For me?” You asked.

He nodded, lips pressed together. “You’ve been…glowing a lot today. Does that happen when you’re stressed?”

Ah, so now it was time for him to therapize you. You couldn’t blame him. It was only fair, you supposed, that the healer finally got a taste of her own medicine. “Mmhmm. It, uh…yeah. Strong emotions. Happiness, anger, fear…stress.”

“Did I…do something wrong?” He wondered, so quiet it was like he was asking himself.

“No.” You shook your head quickly, voice certain. “No, you didn’t do anything. We’re good.”

He seemed unconvinced. “Alright.”

You took a breath, letting down a portion of your wall. “I’m serious. I get these…waves of…well, I don’t know what to call it other than anxiety, really. Today is not bad, but sometimes…It gets really bright. Really bright. Like, blinding people bright. Which is why…” You pointed out the window, towards the lighthouse, the guiding ray spinning, spinning, spinning.

“Have you ever had to…go up there?”

“Few times. When I first moved out here. Tony, uh…apparently during the blip, he had it retrofitted for me. Just in case. Barely spoke to the guy, but…he loved a project. I’m sure he got bored during those five years.” You sighed. “Didn’t even get to thank him for it.”

Bob peeled the facemask off so you could get a better look at his face. You took yours off too, rubbing the extra moisture in with your hands.

“That surprises me, I guess. I thought you had a really good handle on it.”

You shrugged. “We all have our flare-ups, you know. Nobody is perfect.”

He seemed comforted by that. Your imperfection. You hoped it made him feel less bad about leaning on you for help. And it must have, because he let you massage some energy into his muscles. Not that he was shaking this time; it seemed his seaside detox had been successful at least that much. But you could tell your energy helped him in other ways. Quieted that wicked little voice in the back of his head.

You could almost see it happen, that sharp edge in his gaze beginning to soften, sitting face to face on the floor, your glow bouncing off his features, a gentle breeze rustling his soft brown curls.

But maybe it wasn’t so much the energy you were loaning him as it was…this was just the way Bob looked at you now…

***

There was someone in the kitchen.

Your eyes opened. The ceiling fan spun idly, shadows swooping across the moonlit expanse.

You listened for a while, letting your eyes drift shut again until you heard a loud thud. Alright, that did it.

Exhausted, you hauled your legs over the side of the bed, sliding until your feet touched the hardwood. You padded down the hall, then down the stairs in your houseslippers, robe hugged around your shivering frame.

The rustling got louder. There was the very distinct sound of shattering glass.

“Bob?”

No answer. You lit your hand, casting shadows of the railing into the living room. One time, a raccoon had gotten in through your screen door when you’d left the back door open. And you were sure you’d closed it—you only make that mistake once—but maybe Bob had forgotten.

You got to the kitchen, and Bob was indeed standing there, hand shaking, outstretched towards the counter, where the shattered glass sat. The force of it…the distance between shards. It hadn’t been dropped. It had exploded. That put a little more urgency in your voice.

“Bob, are you okay?”

Eerily, he stood, unmoving, murmuring something to himself. You stepped closer, putting a hand on his shoulder, a little energy wafting from your palm to tug him back down.

He whipped around to look at you, gaze softening once he realized who you were. But you didn’t miss the clean, bright ring of gold around his iris before it faded. It sent a chill down your spine. He snapped out of it with a jolt, giving an earnest, if not somewhat frightened smile, looking down at the glass.

“Sorry, I…I just came down for some water and…”

“It’s okay.” You replied, shaking your head.

His eyes widened in something akin to horror when he saw the wreckage. The shards of glass blown across the counter, the floor. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You reassured, voice steady. “It’s from the dollar store. I wasn’t attached to it. I’ve broken three just like that. We’ll sweep up the glass. Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, taking stock of himself. You looked him over, too, those healer’s eyes of yours doing one final sweep before deeming him uninjured. But knowing what you did now, he was probably bulletproof anyway. It was why he hadn’t had a mark when he’d burned himself making breakfast.

“I’ll sweep it up. You go back to bed.” He said, resigned. He was definitely coming back now, slipping into himself again the way you’d slid into your slippers upstairs. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just wanted to make sure a raccoon hadn’t broken in here again.”

He gave a slow, tired smile. “Again?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” You promised, touching his sleeve for a moment before turning. “Let me know if you need me to put you to sleep, alright? Goodnight, Bob.”

He took a shaking breath, Adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you retreat up the stairs again. Bob waited until you were out of sight to let his face fall, that darkness settling onto his shoulder again like an old friend. “Night.”

Alec

The next morning, when you went down for breakfast, there was a note there that Bob had gone for a walk. You’d kinda felt that coming. He needed space and fresh air. You waited for him to come back before you left for work, but you knew he wouldn’t. That was the point. For one reason or another, he needed a break from you. And he was allowed to do that.

You left him a note in reply, short and sweet.

Text me if you need anything. <3

But the heart felt too…well, it didn’t feel right. You didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, especially when he was already feeling weird. You crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, trying again.

Text me if you need anything! :)

And you put a 20 dollar bill beside it, so he could get lunch or something.

Work was short, at the very least. Mercifully so. That didn’t save you an interaction with what you were sure must be the dumbest old woman on earth. That lead poisoning was no joke.

“I want half of a small.”

“Oh, so the value-size?”

“Yes, that one.”

You scooped the popcorn and handed it to her.

She frowned. “No, in the small bucket.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Oh. Okay.” You poured it into the small container and handed it over. Half of a small bucket of popcorn, just as she’d asked.

“What, are you not going to fill it up the rest of the way?!”

Obviously something had been lost in translation. But with that aside, you drove back home. Pulled into the parking lot. You were relieved to find Bob’s shoes in the doorway. Even more relieved to find him on the couch, playing Minecraft.

“Hey!” He smiled. “How was work?”

“I have to tell you about the dumbest lady on earth.” You said, kicking your shoes off. There was a little white paper bag sitting beside him on the couch. You recognized it. It was from the candy shop down the street. Well, good, he’d treated himself to something. It was so hard to get him to do that.

“And you have to tell me about that raccoon.”

“Right. That, too.” You chuckled, walking into the room and sitting on the other end of the couch, giving him your attention.

He pushed the bag towards you. “I didn’t know what flavors you liked, so I guessed.”

You reached into the bag, pulling out a sea salt and vanilla flavored one, swirled a rich teal color. “You guessed right.”

Bob gazed at you for a long moment, tilted his head, took a breath. He was standing at the ledge of something, hesitation etched deep into his stormy blue eyes. He paused the game, setting the controller aside.

“I’m sorry. For yesterday. I was in a weird mood and…I don’t want you to think…” He shook his head, swallowing something down. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

You sighed, shaking your head. Guilt tugged at your chest. An anchor. He still didn’t know about the video on your laptop. The one you’d watched half a dozen times now, analyzing, trying to get a handle on this…supposed most dangerous man in the world. With the evidence presented…you were finally starting to believe it.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I was freaked out yesterday because…” There was no way around it. You had to come clean. “Bucky…sent me the footage from the Tower. The Sentry footage. I…was a little freaked out. But I’m over it now. I just…It kinda blindsided me and I needed some time to process it. I shouldn’t have let you see me like that.”

“Oh.” Bob nodded. Swallowed again. “I, uh…don’t really remember that. That day is all kinda…fuzzy still.”

“I know.”

“I just…I know I did it and…I can do that stuff, but…” His gaze fixed on his hands, examining them. Every knuckle, every nailbed, every vein. 

There was something in him that hadn’t been there months prior. Weeks prior, even. OXE had pumped him full of drugs—albeit different drugs than the ones he was already on—deemed him a failure, declared him dead, and left him in a box to rot. Worse, actually. They’d left him in a box to be incinerated. That much, he did remember. Everything after that got a little iffy.

He didn’t know what he was now, most of the time. And it was clear when you looked at him that you didn’t either.

“Bob?” You prodded gently.

“I don’t really have an excuse for it. Or an explanation. They wouldn’t show me the video.”

“You were blond.” You provided unhelpfully.

He chuckled. “I heard.”

“I’ve watched it back a few times. The bits at the beginning, before the fight. You seem like…you, in there. If it helps. Valentina was clearly manipulating you. She’s good at doing that. It…looked like you were just…trying to…” You shook your head. “It’s not my place to diagnose you.”

“No, say it.”

“You were just trying to prove yourself. As a hero.” You said, certain of it. “I’ve been hanging out with superheroes long enough to know that look. I’ve worn it myself. Shoulders straight, chest puffed out. Like it will distract people from how afraid I am. Sometimes it does, to be fair.”

He softened a little at that, like he’d been bracing for you to say worse. Looked down at his hands again. “Still feel like a stranger in my skin sometimes. I’m…clumsy. I used to get hurt a lot. I don’t even bruise anymore. And I…don’t know my strength. And I blew up a glass last night.”

You nodded at the confirmation. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“Before all this, I had no one. Which sucked, but…now, I…I guess I’m worried the people I do have are gonna get hurt.” A breath rolled out of him. Like a long, lazy wave, crashing on the shore. “I don’t blame you for being scared of me. I am, too.”

You shook your head. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

“I’m not.” Your heart pounded. Veins throbbed. Chest ached. But it wasn’t from fear, you were pretty sure.

“The other guy is worse. That, I did see videos of. It’s…all over the internet.” Bob’s eyes began to wander. “My hair, my body, but just…darkness. Hopelessness. Emptiness.”

The way Bob spoke about Void, you knew he was a little more familiar with him. “I get the feeling you’ve been fighting him for a while.”

Bob heaved a sigh, finger absently poking the joystick of his controller.

“It’s not your fault they gave your depression superpowers.” You murmured, words threaded with more understanding than you could tell him. “I know it’s…heavy. Even with superstrength. I’m not a miracle worker. But I am your friend. You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

A bitter chuckle. “People keep telling me that.”

“They mean it.” You were quick with the reply. Firm. You knew he could do this dance with you all day, but you needed him to know you were serious about this. You were serious about helping him.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He cracked a reluctant grin. “You’re wrong, though. You literally are a miracle worker. I’ve seen the edits.”

“There are edits of me???”

“Oh yeah. I’ll send you some later,” He promised with a smirk.

You could tell he was diffusing the tension with humor. Could clock it from a mile away. But you let him. You knew he was taking your words to heart, could see them swirling there behind those ocean eyes, churning like the waters just beyond your back deck.

***

A branch snapped under your foot. Another. You tripped into the snow, palms pressed into the hard, hard dirt. You weren’t sure how you got there. Or when. Or how long you’d been there. But you heard them screaming in the distance. Calling for you. Yelling your name.

You could help them now. You could control it.

You scraped yourself up, kept running, through the trees, toward the crash.

The hazards flashed like a beacon, drawing you in, right back to the scene of it. You’d been there so many times. So many times and none at all. And as soon as you planted your feet, knelt down at the site, you were right back in the woods again, running. Always running. Never getting there in time.

“(Y/N), please! He…he’s losing so much blood!”

You stopped running, arms hugged around the tree at the edge of the crash, breathing heavy. You watched the scene unfold from the outside, as opposed to the nightmare you’d been reliving since you were sixteen.

“I…I can’t! I’m trying, I…” She held out her hand, the younger you, a wisp of something crackling around her palm. It wouldn’t heal a papercut let alone the deep gash in Alec’s side.

Alec.

He was right there. Breathing shallow. Eyes closed. Fluttering, but…no, closed now. He slipped away and all you could do was watch, just like the first time. Powerless, despite the power in your veins.

And it looped. Over and over and over again.

You breathed, shook like the few remaining leaves on the trees. This wasn’t real. Wasn’t real. It had all happened before. It was over. Alec was gone. He…he’d been gone for years. You’d unpacked it over and over with half a dozen therapists. What had happened to Alec was awful…but it wasn’t your fault.

It was an accident. You’d had a panic attack. There was nothing you could have done to save him when you were losing blood, too.

A chill ran down your spine. Vision tracking forward like you were a camera on a dolly. And in the new depth, you spotted him. The Void.

You frowned. Pointed. “We are not doing this. Not tonight.”

And then you woke with a start, sucking in a greedy breath like you had been underwater. You sat up, walking down the hall. You knocked on Bob’s door, but there was no answer. You already knew why. Because Void was driving that ship right now, straight through Bob’s nightmares.

You opened the door, stepping inside. Footsteps impossibly slow and careful. Bob writhed in bed. Muttering softly, tossing over. It wasn’t gentle, so you had to be.

“Bob…”

You sat at the edge of his bed, reaching a hand out. You manifested your glow easily now, despite your racing heart. Gingerly, you rested your hand on his shoulder, using your power to give his subconscious a nudge.

He woke with a start, blinking up at you, a soft, knowing look in his eyes. Guilt laced deep, right to his bones.

“H-Hey.”

“You okay?”

He melted immediately. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I…I…”

“Hey, no.” You shook your head, keeping your voice reassuring. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Bob argued, shaking his head. “My…Void broke into your subconscious. That’s not okay. I…I wasn’t supposed to see that.”

A sigh fell from your lips and you hung your head for a moment. Bob straightened up, pushing himself into a more upright position, back flat against the headboard, knees curling up. He wasn’t curled up all the way, but his arms crested his legs, big hands smoothing the fabric on his shins.

“What…happened? Um…with your friend?” Bob asked softly, pulling his sleeves down. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from you. Your anxious glow. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s too private, it just seems like…”

“No, it’s fine. We can talk about it.” You said, shaking your head. “When I, uh…when I was in high school, my friends and I got into a car crash. Bad one. It was winter. There was a deer. I hadn’t had my powers very long. I was having a panic attack and I was bleeding a lot. My friend Alec…I couldn’t heal him, and…” You lit your hand. Effortless. A flickering white flame, iridescent at the edges, like sunlight through glass, even at midnight. Just to prove to yourself that you could.

He stared at the light with the same awe of someone looking at a fishtank.

“If I’d practiced a little more, if I…had gotten to him a little faster, maybe I could have…”

Bob shook his head, reaching out to touch your hand. Just the edge of it, fingers curling around the base of your thumb. He was careful, like one wrong move would shatter you. And with the strength that hid beneath his skin, you could tell why. But you didn’t move. Frozen, like a butterfly had perched on your hand.

“No. That’s not your fault. You…you were just a kid.” He murmured, hand getting a little more comfortable against your own. You let the energy fall away, leaving just the two of you, soaked in moonlight. His hand slid further into yours, palm against palm. He was warm. A lot warmer than you’d expected, due to his choice of clothing. You figured he must be cold. But now that you knew he wasn’t…it would be hard to not just…bury yourself in it. His warmth. “You’re a healer, but you can’t save everyone.”

The words sat for a long moment. Heavy. Your therapist had said the same thing. You knew it was true, and yet, that didn’t quiet the voice on your shoulder. Not entirely. It never had. But it helped. He helped.

“You saved me, though.” He confessed, voice quiet. “I…really needed this trip. I…” He blushed, you were pretty sure, but…it was hard to tell in the dark. “I needed you, I think.”

And you could tell it was real. To him, it was real. A breath floated out of your mouth. “Bob…”

“I didn’t mean to get all deep, but…I meant it. I mean it. I think Void is so desperate to crack you open because he…he’s afraid of you. You’re…you’re the only one that gets him to shut the fuck up.”

You squeezed his hand, slid a little closer, wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His knees dropped, letting you in, arms curling gently around your waist, chin on your shoulder. You let one hand settle on the back of his head, and maybe it was the late hour, but you turned your head and pressed the tiniest kiss to his temple. Pretended not to hear him gasp in your ear when you did.

“I wish I had some explanation for you. I don’t know the exact science of it, but…”

“Doesn’t matter how it works. Just does.” Bob murmured, holding you tighter. His arms slotted easily under yours. Like he’d done it a hundred times. A million. “I don’t really think it’s science. I think it’s just you.”

“Mmm.” You hummed, pulling away to look at him. “You gonna be okay?”

His curls waved as he confirmed that he was, in fact, okay. “Fine. Sorry, again. Goodnight.”

“Night.” You repeated softly, giving his hand one last squeeze. Part of you ached, that last lingering moment, to stay. You wanted to stay, where it was warm. He was so warm. You could count the hugs you’d shared on one hand, but already, they were beginning to feel like home. Maybe more than this old house and its old, old bones. “No more apologies, though.”

Bob gave a shrug, a reluctant chuckle. “No promises.”

Right Here, With You

The main drag of town wasn’t terribly busy early in the morning. It felt lazy. The sun too golden. The air too sweet. Even the birds were in a good mood. Bob took you down the route he’d taken the day before, walking down the sidewalks like it was his town and not yours. Apparently this had been what he’d been up to while you were at work. Exploring. The smile on his face made you feel almost guilty that you’d have to leave in a few days.

There was that, too.

It felt at the same time like Bob had just gotten there, but also that he had been there forever. A staple in your life, and, apparently, the town now, as well. People waved at him as the two of you passed, and he waved back, smiling, asking how people were. One of your neighbors was taking their dog on a walk and Bob stooped down to pet it, the adorable little schnauzer wagging its tail.

It sniffed his hand thoroughly, licking it a few times. Bob smiled, petting it behind the ears, seeming to find the exact right spot. He seemed to be really good with animals. You wondered if having one would help him when you got back to the big city, give him something to take care of. Maybe you’d start with a goldfish or something, though.

You kept walking, pushed open the door of the antique store and guided him inside. Immediately, you were greeted with that beautiful musk of old things. Probably mold, if you were being honest. But there was something so nostalgic about it that you never cared. You weren’t even looking for anything in particular. Just looking. One last time.

It was a big store. Booths and booths of things from decades long gone. Records, porcelain dishes, doilies someone’s grandmother had made, DVDs, VHS tapes, board games that were undoubtedly missing a few pieces. Bob dug through a few tubs of old action figures. You lingered by a glass case of vintage games. In the big city, they would have been marked up as high as it goes, value inflated by the rarity of the cartriges inside. Here, it was fifty dollars for the lot. A blue Gameboy SP, Frogger, and a handful of Pokemon games.

Bob was behind you now, gazing down at it. “Man. I used to have one of those. It looked just like that. That color and everything.”

“Me too. A silver one. Think I still do, somewhere. In my room, maybe. In a drawer.” One of the areas of the house you’d been procrastinating packing up. You knew time with Bob was precious. You didn’t want to waste any of it.

“Sold mine.” He gave a bitter chuckle. A shrug. He was wearing that look on your face that told you exactly why he had sold it. You didn’t press further.

You brought the vendor over, pointed to the case. He got out his key, cut you a deal for $40, since it had been sitting there for a while and no one seemed to want it. Bob watched in something between gratefulness and horror as the transaction happened. Didn’t seem to know what to do with himself when you handed it to him outside the front door of the shop. Just like that. Hadn’t even hesitated.

He kept staring at it. The innocent little blue square. The plastic baggie full of games.

“You can borrow my charger. I’m sure we could order you another one. Or get one at a game store in the city.”

For once, he didn’t stiffen when you mentioned it. Leaving. Instead, he smiled, heart overfilled. You put a hand on his arm, but he decided very quickly that that wasn’t enough, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You reciprocated immediately, head tucked against his sweater. He did kiss your forehead this time, cheek resting there after the fact.

He didn’t protest. Didn’t say he didn’t deserve the affection or you or the Gameboy in the paper bag. He just let it happen. Just let you love him.

***

There were six bags of unused cookie mix in your cupboard. Six. And they expired in two months. Not that that stuff wasn’t good after the fact; it was mostly a dry mix, but still.

Bob was laying on the couch, playing his Gameboy. Pokemon Sapphire. You couldn’t help but smile. He pretty much hadn’t left that spot since you’d gotten home. Eventually, it would need to be charged, but for now, he just played in bliss.

You snatched two bags of chocolate chip, pulling a bowl out of the cupboard. The rest of it, you had. Eggs, butter, water. Bob wandered out to the kitchen not long after you set to work, your hair tied back, your sleeves rolled up. He rubbed at his eyes, looking over the sight curiously.

“Cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“Can I help?” He asked.

You nodded, motioning to the bowl, all the ingredients set beside it. “If you wanna stir that all together, sure.” You pulled the melted butter out of the microwave, pouring it in. He carefully cracked the eggs, and added water, mixing it together. The parts of the mixing where you would struggle a bit, Bob powered through easily. That superstrength at work in the most mundane way.

With that done, you two started balling up the cookies, rolling them between your palms and setting them on the greased pan. Elbow to elbow, side by side. He kept glancing over at you, shoulders hunched a little, but his posture was much straighter than it had been the entire time he’d been there.

“What starter did you pick?”

“Mudkip. Thought about Torchic, but…I like the water types.”

“That’s fair.” You chuckled. “It depends, for me. Bulbasaur in Leaf Green, Chimchar in Diamond, Totodile in Soul Silver…”

“Little bit of everything. Pretty well-rounded.” Bob said with a chuckle, plopping another raw cookie onto the tray. “I like Turtwig a lot, though. Cute little guy. Turtles are cool.”

You remembered the poster he’d snagged from the reject bin. The sea turtles. You wondered if he felt like that. A turtle. Like he could just hide in his shell. The shell in question being those big sweaters that swallowed him whole.

“Turtles are cool.” You repeated. You were getting towards the end of the dough now. You gathered what was left onto two spoons, scraping the edges of the bowl. You handed one to him and then lowered the pans into the warm oven.

Bob nibbled on it curiously. “The dough is the best part. I know you’re not supposed to eat it, but…”

“No, I get it. In college, I used to buy packages of pre-made dough just to eat it. You do have to limit yourself, though. Every time I ate more than three of those little chunks, I’d get sick as hell.”

He laughed at that, holding up his spoon. “This is a safe amount, I take it?”

“Should be.” You grinned, hopping up onto the counter. You cleaned off your spoon before setting it in the sink. Bob grabbed the empty bowl, setting it there as well. He filled it with warm water and soap, setting his spoon right next to yours.

That left him close, aided by the boost the counter gave you. Daylight streamed through the kitchen blinds, making him look so gentle. He looked tired. Always did. But there was something else there, now. Something swirled deep in his gut, or maybe it was yours. His eyes flicked over to you and your heart jumped.

You could see it in your mind’s eye. Bob leaning closer, resting a hand on the counter beside your thigh. His body so warm you’d feel the heat through your clothes. He’d dip his head down, hair falling in his face. You’d reach up, brush it out of the way with the gentlest fingers. The gentlest touch. He was a streetlight and you were a moth. And you were sure he felt the exact opposite way. He looked at you like you were made of starlight and dreams. Something he wasn’t worthy of.

You’d prove it to him somehow. Over and over again, like a wave on the shore outside. Steadfast and unrelenting.

He stood there at the sink, gazing out the window at the lilac bush. Huffed a breath. Looked down at you. Smiled. His gaze flicked away, Adam’s apple bobbing. And for a moment there, you really did think he would lean in and kiss you, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

You could practically see the little voice in the back of his head, harping on him for the feelings swirling around his heart.

He stepped away. That crackling static dissipated. You let out a slow, silent breath as he crossed the room to the calendar, eyes falling on that day, circled in pen. The day Bucky was supposed to come back for the two of you and whatever things you’d packed for the journey.

He stiffened a bit, shoulders falling. It was true, what they said. Nothing lasts forever. But Bob still felt greedy for wanting just a little more time.

***

That night, you slept soundly. No nightmares. For you, anyway. Just the sound of the waves in the distance, the hum of the air conditioner, the occasional buzz of the sump pump in the basement.

Knock-knock-knock.

It wasn’t a downstairs knock, it was an upstairs knock. You opened your eyes, inhaling a long breath, as though the air itself would wake you enough to get up. You pushed the blanket aside, walked over to the door, pulled it open.

Bob was already halfway back down the hall to his room when the hinges creaked. He turned, posture small and sheepish, hands fiddling with each other.

“You okay?”

He nodded. “Y-Yeah, I just…” His voice buckled, betraying him. Reconsidered. “No. I…sorry.”

“Hey, come on.” You opened your door a little wider, tilting your head back towards your bed.

He took a shaky breath, thinking about it for a moment before his feet began to move, one in front of the other, carrying him over the threshold of your room. He hadn’t been in there, you were pretty sure, which explained the long sweep he did of the space, eyes exploring every poster, trinket, book.

“It’s kind of a mess in here, sorry.”

He chuckled, shook his head, stood there until you sat, patting the mattress beside you. He sat lightly, like he was afraid of breaking it. He took another breath, letting it roll out. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

You laughed softly, waving it off. “Nonsense. What’s up?”

Another shrug, that ‘it’s fine’ face resurfacing. You braced for impact. “Just can’t…sleep. I…was wondering if I could…sleep in here. With you. But then I realized that was stupid, so I walked back up the hall.”

Oh. Well, that wasn’t so bad. “You can stay in here. That’s fine.”

He relaxed. “Okay. I’ll uh, go grab a blanket. I can sleep on the floor.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that.”

It took a moment for the realization to bloom on his features, but once they did, he couldn’t keep that shy little smile off of his face. You pulled the covers back, climbing in first. He slipped one leg in, then the other, pulling the blanket back across the two of you.

You took in a breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you focused, leaning into that inner warmth, your guiding light. Your beacon. You glowed ever so softly, though it was mostly muffled beneath the blanket, motioned him closer, but he was one step ahead of you, climbing right on top, like he’d been waiting for it. Like since he’d gotten a taste of your energy, he’d been aching to feel it all over, all at once.

Bob sighed into your chest, his weight heavy and real and grounding on top of you. And warm. Oh, so warm.

You reached up and played with his hair, your other arm crossing his back, soothing circles into his tired muscles. He melted like a cat, just totally boneless on top of you.

A slow, lazy smile tugged at his lips, eyes half-lidded. “I hoped it would feel like this.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded as much as he could manage. “Yeah. You’re like a heating pad.”

You chuckled. “You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah I…run warm. Sorry.”

“No, it’s nice. This is nice.”

He didn’t reply to that, just thought for a long moment. You stared at the ceiling, your light dancing across the white expanse, casting shadows through the cobweb in the corner. “I, uh…had a nightmare. That’s why…”

You nodded, fingers working his scalp. “I figured. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. Well…kind of.” He sighed, feeling heavier suddenly. You cradled him more, pressing a kiss to his temple. That seemed to help, just a little bit. “Sometimes…I feel like the others…sent me here so they could figure out how to get rid of me. Get me out of the way for a while until they could figure it out. Telling me to look at the literal flowers until…”

Your heart sank like a rock. It sank further when he pulled away to look at you, your soft glow glistening in his glassy eyes. “Oh, Bob…”

“I’m indestructible. I know that.” A heavy sigh. “Believe me, I know that. But…”

“They didn’t. I know Bucky. He wouldn’t do that.” You reasoned, but it didn’t seem to help. You tried a different approach. “They…sent you here because I needed you.”

He scoffed.

“I mean it. I’ve…been tucked out here so long, away from it all. I hated it. The city, all the people, the knowing looks, grabbing hands, people who wanted the idea of me. I wanted the quiet. But after a while, that quiet just starts to eat at you from the inside. I didn’t realize how lonely I was until he dropped you off at my doorstep. There are still people I can help; but there are also still people who can help me. I think I lost sight of that.”

His eyebrows furrowed, a tear slipping down his cheek. You reached up and wiped it away with a gentle thumb. His lip trembled as he asked, “You think I’ve helped you?”

Your heart broke. “Of course you have. We’re going back to New York in a few days, but…I think some part of me will always live right here, with you.”

He choked on a sob. You pulled him closer, back down on top of you, combing through his hair with the utmost care and gentleness. Your glow got a little stronger. Not on purpose. Not enough to hurt. It just did that sometimes when you were feeling big feelings.

He buried his face in your neck, tears rolling down between your skin and his. You let him get it all out until he calmed, breathing slowing to normal again. And then slower than normal. He was out. Your invincible boy and his big, giant heart. You wished the world had been kinder to him. Gentler. You wished he wasn’t carrying such sadness behind those ocean eyes. 

Someday, his shadows would shrink and he’d learn to be at home in his skin again, but until then, you’d just have to continue to be his beacon in the storm, guiding him back to shore.

Radiant

It felt like a dream, waking up in his arms. But maybe it was because you had woken up there so many times in yours. This time, it was real. His breaths wafted across your skin, hair falling against the skin of your neck, nose pressed to your collarbone. One strong arm was coiled around your waist, the other was tucked somewhere beneath his broad frame. He took in a long breath, as though he could sense you waking beneath him, gorgeous blue eyes fluttering open in the daylight, framed by those irritatingly thick eyelashes.

His lips curled into a sleepy grin as he looked at you, not moving a muscle. “You glow in your sleep.”

You laughed, giving his side a loving pinch. “And did that impede your rest, Mr. Reynolds?”

“On the contrary, you make kind of a good nightlight.” He punctuated it with a long, impossibly soft kiss to your cheek. “But, uh…if we’re going to do this again, I might need to order a sleep mask.”

The way he said it was so simple. So obvious. Something that had caused you so much grief in your previous dating life was…an Amazon click for him. It put everything into a new perspective. If he wanted to, he would, as they said. Well, Bob absolutely wanted to. It gave the butterflies in your stomach something to gossip about, at the very least.

You cuddled for a while, getting accustomed to the feel of each other. It was clear now, that it very much was not just a healing arrangement anymore. What you were, exactly, hadn’t been articulated, but you couldn’t wait to find out.

He studied you, laid on his side, face to face on the pillows, his legs tangled with yours. “Were you and Bucky ever…uh…you know…?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No. Bucky is great, but he’s way too old for me. I don’t think he’s ever seen me as anything but his kid sister. I was pretty young when Sam roped me into all of this. Early twenties, but still.”

“Hmm.”

“Why? Did you think we were?”

“Not exactly. I just…I mean…” He chuckled, cheeks flushing. He reached a hand out, brushing your hair back with the utmost care, thumb warm as it skimmed your face. “You’re starlight. If I was the Winter Soldier, I would have melted. Especially if you quiet his shadows the way you quiet mine.”

Starlight. That one felt different. But you’d have to unpack that later. Probably when you were unpacking all of the literal boxes piling up around this place.

Eventually, Bob straightened up, lifted his sweatshirt a bit to scratch his stomach, just enough to give you a look at…what lie beneath.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Bob was ripped. This entire time, he’d been hiding the body of a Greek god with those oversized sweaters. He had an eight pack, easy. Granted, that was all you could see from the angle, but you could imagine the rest. You knew he hadn’t been working out since he’d been staying with you. It had been a lot of mac and cheese and fast food and laying on the couch watching movies, sprinkled with the occasional walk or home-cooked pasta dish. That damn supersoldier serum…

Bob’s eyes widened a hair, noticing the look on your face. He smoothed the shirt back down, snapping you back to reality, gave a shy little smile. Blushed. “Oh, uh, those, yeah. They’re new to me, too. I forget they’re there, sometimes.”

“Must be the, uh..supersoldier serum. Gives you killer, um…metabolism, I’ve heard…” You murmured, averting your eyes. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. The Sentry suit had been tight, from the footage you’d seen, but…you had managed to separate that Bob from the one in front of you so effectively that it was almost like a jumpscare. “Anywaysssss, um, I’m gonna go get breakfast started. Pancakes?”

He grinned, tilting his head as he admired your pajamas in the light of day, a cute little two-piece set with seagulls on the pants. “Pancakes sound good. With blueberries?”

“Yeah, I think the ones from the farmer’s market are still good.” You agreed, stretching out your tired limbs. Despite the supersoldier sleeping on top of you, you were…surprisingly well-rested. In fact, you were pretty sure it was the best sleep you’d gotten since Bob had showed up.

You padded down the stairs first, setting to work. Well, after you buried your face in the fridge and let out a strangled groan, directly at the orange juice container. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Bob’s muscles. Even if you weren’t already head over heels for the guy, that surely would have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Pancakes. Pancakes. Think about the pancakes. You repeated, a stupid little mantra. That voice in the back of your head quipped that it was a good thing they weren’t waffles.

Once there was a stack of them sitting on the table, a few glasses of orange juice poured, Bob came downstairs, sitting opposite you at the table. He cut into his pancakes, taking a bite. You looked up to see if he liked them, and instead caught him staring at you, eyes sparkling, that shy smile firmly in place. His eyes flicked down to the table, but the smile didn’t go away.

He swallowed, cleared his throat. Smiled again.

You smiled too, which led to him giggling. Just a little. Shoulders shaking with the effort.

He licked the syrup from his lip. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” You replied, something akin to an inside joke bubbling up between you. Bucky would clock it immediately, you were sure, the thick string of affection tying the two of you together now. But maybe that had been part of his plan after all. Or maybe he really had just been truly desperate and deemed you a decent enough babysitter for the most dangerous man in the world.

“I, uh…” He thought for a moment. “I wanna take you to dinner tonight. There’s a little diner in town. It’s…It’s on me. Don’t bring your wallet.”

You smiled bigger, curious how he would make it work, but excited nonetheless. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I…I’ve kind of never done this before.” He admitted, fork stabbing into the top pancake in the stack, right into a gooey blueberry. “I mean…whatever this is. I just kind of assumed, ’cause we were…kissing eachother…and stuff, so…”

You reached across the table, taking his hand. “I would love to go on a date with you, Bob.”

His fingers curled around yours, squeezing. Warm, warm thumb crested over your knuckles. He repeated the words you’d said last week like he’d been waiting to all along. “It’s a date.”

***

You spent most of the day packing up your clothes, something you’d been putting off since you still needed to wear them. Bob went out for a bit, leaving instructions to be ready by six. You dug out something nice, a suitable pair of shoes, accessorized and did your makeup for probably the first time since he’d gotten there. Maybe the first time in months, if you were being honest.

And when six o’clock rolled around, there was a knock on the door.

You grinned despite yourself, walking over to answer it. Bob was standing there in a blue blazer covered in lighthouses, a periwinkle buttondown, black tie, and slacks. The jacket, you recognized. It had been Earlene’s husband’s before he died. Now, this was starting to make more sense.

In his hand, he gripped a clumsy little bouquet of lilacs and white roses. Perched inside them, an iridescent tarot card. The Knight of Cups. Alright, message received.

“W-wow…you look incredible.” He murmured, those curious eyes taking in every detail before him, committing it all to memory.

“So do you. The blue brings out your eyes.” You breathed, taking him in.

His hair was still done in floofy brown curls, tie knotted carefully at his throat. He peered out from behind them, fidgeting with the flowers. He was nervous.

“Hey, it’s just me.” You murmured softly, taking a step closer, reaching for his other hand.

He chuckled, gazing down at you. “I know, that’s…why I’m nervous. You’re like, the girl of my dreams.”

Your heart did a fucking backflip. You brought his hand to your lips, grazing his knuckles. “Let me get those in water, okay? You all ready?”

“I’m ready.” He nodded, stepping into the doorway while you put the flowers in a tall glass of water. When you turned back, he was reaching for your hand, a giddy look in his eyes. He looked even giddier when you slipped your hand into his.

Once you were in the parking lot of the diner, he ran around the front of the car to open your door for you, offering his hand, which you took immediately, letting him lead you inside one of your favorite spots in town, Marceline’s.

It was an old-fashioned place. Jukebox against the wall, checkered tile floor, hot rod red booths. The menu was all classic: burgers, fries and milkshakes, soda in glass bottles with swirly-striped straws. It was a little busier than you’d expected, all things considered, a good handful of regulars littered around. The hostess led you to a booth by the windows and Bob sat across from you, stars in his eyes.

There was a guy a few booths down in a ballcap, wearing his sunglasses inside. Odd, you thought. But you wrote it off.

You browsed the menu for a bit before placing the order with the waitress when she came around, wearing a vintage pink uniform with an apron and a big, angular collar. She had a cherry embroidered into the corner of it. 

The two of you ordered your entrees, a plate of fries to share, and some milkshakes. And when she left, Bob could not stop grinning at you.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that.” You said with a smirk, watching as his cheeks flushed red.

He huffed, mock defensive. “I know, I just…I can’t remember the last time I was this…happy. In a good way and not…in a manic way, you know? I’m gonna wake up any second now, I’m sure.”

You shook your head, meeting his eyes. “We’re wide awake. But trust me, I can’t believe it, either.”

“I thought about…taking you to that ice cream place again. You know, after this. But you said you’d been on so many shitty dates there…seemed like bad vibes.”

You scrunched your nose. “Good call. Besides, the milkshakes are really good here anyway.”

“Maybe we could go stargazing? On the beach? I didn’t really check the weather, but I threw a blanket in the backseat earlier.”

“I like that idea.”

Dinner was good. Simple, but good. Classic, in a way. Your fingers brushed his when you reached into the fry basket. He savored his milkshake, really cherishing every moment. The two of you talked all the while, like old friends. Like he was your lifelong neighbor boy, not the stray Bucky had dropped off two weeks before.

You remembered the way Earlene talked about her husband, Roy. The man whose jacket Bob was wearing. He’d passed before you ever met her, but you could tell not a moment went by that she didn’t think of him.

“Oh, honey, I made Roy chase me for weeks before I let him take me out. But he was mine the moment I saw him. I think he knew that.”

You tried to pinpoint it. The moment Bob had become yours. But you knew it was when Bucky had stepped out of the way and Bob was standing there on your sidewalk, knuckles white around the handle of his suitcase, like a nervous kid at sleepaway camp.

“You still with me, (Y/N)?” Bob waved a hand in front of your face.

“Hmm? Sorry. Lost in thought.” You murmured, guiding your eyes right back to his. “You say something?”

He shook his head and let out a long sigh, floored. “God, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart raced, cheeks warm. And in the reflection of the window, in the corner of your eye, you watched yourself begin to glow a little. Almost imperceptibly. But you knew Bob picked up on it.

His smile stretched wider. “Love when you do that.”

You quirked an eyebrow, trying to neutralize it to no avail. “It’s a fun party trick, huh?”

He nodded in agreement immediately. “I’ll trade you, if you want. You can have all the strength and stuff and I’ll glow and make people sleepy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, offering your hand, which he playfully shook. “Deal.”

***

The air was crisp when you left the restaurant, joint hands swinging between you on the way back to the car, lovesick smiles on your faces. Bob walked to the driver’s side door with you, reaching to open it, but stopping halfway there, heart both in his throat and on his sleeve.

He was going to kiss you.

Bob wiped his palm on the fabric of his borrowed blazer, taking a step closer. Another. His foot landing between the two of yours. He swallowed, leaning closer, mouth hanging open while he thought, strategizing an approach. One large, warm hand settled on your waist.

“I, uh…I guess this is the part of the night where…” He exhaled nervously.

The guy in the ballcap crossed the parking lot. You paid him a little more attention this time. The way he circled like a shark, muttering into his phone.

“It’s okay if…you don’t want to, I just…” Bob mumbled, losing steam.

“It’s not that.” You shushed him, hands resting on his firm chest, your back up against the car. His arms crested your form out of what he could only describe as instinct. You glanced over Bob’s shoulder to where the guy had been, but he was gone now.

“What? What is it?”

“There was a guy in a baseball cap. I think he was following us.” You uttered, voice quiet and urgent, slipping into Undercover Avenger mode.

“A w-what? What guy?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

You were cut off by a quick and vengeful taser to the neck, debilitating you instantly.

“Get off of her!” Bob yelled. The guy tried to tase him as well, but it didn’t work. Bob stood there, staring at the guy, face twisted in confusion. On instinct, he reached up, using telekinesis to yoink the taser out of the guy’s hand, chucking it halfway across town.

You straightened up, body aglow. You shined a brilliant light directly into the guy’s face. Another one rounded the side of the car, with some powered-up weapon, emiting waves not unlike your own. It felt familiar, in a fucked-up way, sweeping rushes of artificial drowsiness washing over your body. Your knees buckled, and you gritted your teeth as your light was stripped away.

Obviously they were HYDRA and obviously they were there for Bob, but you were sure they’d take you as a consolation prize. Use you as leverage against Bucky or Sam or whoever was left.

Bob waded the space with a little trouble, the waves clearly affecting him, but eventually reached the gun and tore the thing right in half, to the horror of the agent holding it. He knocked him out of the way like he was an action figure.

You got to your feet, breathing heavy. You took stock of Bob, reaching up to touch his hot, hot skin, tilting his face down to get a better look. That gold ring around his irises glowed as he stared down at you, the look on his face somehow soft and threatening. Jaw clenched, muscles strung tight. He looked at you like he was trying to place you, but once he met your eyes, familiarity spread behind his gaze.

A dark van pulled into the lot and more agents filed out of it.

“I need you to stay with me, okay? I need you to control it.” You murmured, voice serious.

Bob nodded, the ring vanishing. He took off the jacket, chucking it into a bush for safety, since it was borrowed. Your light reflected off of his periwinkle buttondown as your glow returned, feet almost involuntarily rising off the pavement, poised like a dancer’s. He couldn’t help but smile. Catlike and enamored as he watched you lock in.

For their credit, the HYDRA agents tried. But they had severely underestimated the two of you. You blinded a guy in nightvision goggles, but that was just due to his own stupidity, really. You hovered, blasting them with bolts of burning energy. Bob stayed grounded, feet planted firmly in the parking lot, but the superstrength and telekinesis were more than enough to fight off any attacker that came his way. He had some natural fighting instincts. Obviously he did, if the Sentry videofile was to be believed. But you hadn’t been sure how much of that was Bob. Now you knew.

A helicopter chopped through the air over the ocean, the octopus-like hate symbol emblazoned on the side of it, shooting a hail of bullets that you blocked in an iridescent forcefield, shielding whatever onlookers hadn’t taken cover yet. Bob caught the strays, dropping them harmlessly to the parking lot with little metal clinks. The locals, bless their hearts, were too curious for their own good. Especially when something otherworldly started unfolding in their tiny little town.

The sight of the helicopter set you off, rage brewing in your belly as you rose higher into the air, trailing light like a comet. You were raising power levels. 8, 9, 10…if you were hooked up to the sensors the Wakandans had monitored you under, you were sure you would have wrecked the scale. The streetlight sparked, then exploded. Bob shielded the onlookers from the glass as he took out the few remaining ground attackers, popping their tires with his telekinesis. The air let out with a vicious hiss.

That’d show those snakes.

You balled your fist, letting the energy around it charge before you punched forward, blasting the helicopter. The tail spun as it fell out of control, crashing down into the ocean with a ginormous splash. An explosion, then silence.

You took a sharp breath, surfacing. You looked down at the parking lot, where the townsfolk that had gathered cheered. Slowly, you sank back down, one foot touching the cement, then the other. Immediately, Bob was there, a hand on your elbow, looking over you with care.

He exhaled a long, shaking breath, stars in his eyes. “You are radiant. That, wow…I’ve never seen anything so…I…you’re amazing. You’re amazing and I think I…well, I really…”

You planted a hand on his cheek, effectively hushing his stammering, the other steadying on his shirt. “This is the part of the night where I kiss you.”

“O-Okay.” He nodded enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut, lips pursing in preparation. You couldn’t help but chuckle fondly as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. He melted against you, letting you lead him through a sweet, soft, sentimental kiss. When it was over, he kept chasing it, kissing you again, and again, and then, really, one last time, giggling to himself.

You hugged him tight, arms wound around his broad shoulders, holding him close. 

His cheek moved beneath your lips as he grinned, hugging you back, arms strong and stable. He murmured into your ear, tone carrying a joke right to you, like a leaf on the river. “This isn’t just because of the abs, right?”

You laughed loudly, shaking your head. You pulled back an inch, to meet his eyes. Noses brushed as you went in for one last kiss that he eagerly returned, humming into your mouth, lips a little more confident, albeit still clumsy. But he’d learn. You had all the time in the world for that.

He made sure to grab the lighthouse jacket from the bushes before you left, carefully dusting it off and folding it in his lap on the drive home. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid to go back to the city anymore. 

No matter what happened, he’d have you.

The Lighthouse

Your alarm was shrill the next morning, rousing you quickly and directly. You slapped the nightstand blindly before Bob reached over and used his telekinesis to turn it off. You took a breath, turning to face him. He was already looking at you, eyes soft with admiration.

“Morning, starlight.” He murmured, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Morning, Bob.” You replied, crawling closer to him.

He tugged you to his chest easily, chin resting against your head. He pressed a long, soft kiss there, at the edge of your face, strong arms winding tight around you. “Big day today.”

You gave a wry snort. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

You cuddled for a while longer, bargaining for time, kissing between whispered words before you managed to pry yourself not only from your mattress, but from him. Threw on some clothes, went down the stairs, and whipped together a quick breakfast before there was a knock on the door.

Bob pulled it open, wearing the same sweater he’d been wearing the day he arrived. The blue one that made him look so soft and small. He was standing a little straighter now, eyes a little brighter. His shadows hadn’t been banished completely, but he was shades lighter than you’d found him. The ocean air was good for that.

“Hey, guys!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even with your back turned as you plated up some eggs and panfried hashbrowns. “Come on in! (Y/N)’s just finishing up breakfast.”

Bucky led the group inside, giving a wave, vibranium hand glinting in the sunlight. Behind him was a short young woman with smoky eyes and short blonde hair and a mountain of a guy with a long gray beard. You’d seen them on the news, you were sure. Probably in the same newscast you’d seen Bob’s alter ego. So this was it. This was the team.

“(Y/N), this is Yelena and Alexei. They’re…Nat’s family.”

Your gaze softened immediately, looking them over. You’d heard a bit about Yelena. Not much, just pieces here and there. Natasha had kept her cards pretty close to her chest. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is ours! Beacon! I have seen you on the TV, doing the glowing and the shooting and the flying, it’s great!” Alexei greeted, offering a strong handshake and a hearty pat on the back.

Yelena was cradling Reginald in her arms, bouncing him like a baby, his orange tail flicking with content. She looked up at Bob, smiled softly. “You look good, Bob. How have you been, out here?”

Bob smiled back, eyes flicking to you and then back to her, cheeks flushing. “Great, yeah. I’m doing good. Bucky was right. She’s an expert.”

She looked at you, grinning. “I am keeping this cat, by the way.”

Bob shook his head, mouth falling open in protest, “Oh, that’s not…”

Bucky put a hand on your shoulder, looking proud. “Listen, thirteen days is not bad. I’m surprised you two lasted this long before winding up on the news. So, congrats. You almost made it two weeks.”

“Ha ha. Thank you very much, Congressman. First of all, not our fault HYDRA had boots on the ground out here. Second, no appearances of the other guy whatsoever.”

“Well…” Bob cut in, grimacing.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, eyes darting between the two of you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Right, so…technically, he showed up a little, but it seems like he’s kinda…relegated to Bob’s subconscious at the moment.”

Bucky waved a hand. “In English, please.”

“He only shows up in my dreams. And…other people’s dreams, also…”

“Huh. Makes…sense, I guess. We’ll have to look into that.” Bucky looked around at all the boxes you had piled up in the living room. “Anywho, you all packed up? We can start moving stuff while you two eat breakfast.”

“Yep. Everything in here is coming. Everything else is staying. Figured it would be a good safehouse, down the line.” You said, poking your eggs with a fork.

Bucky grinned, nodding. One of those slow grins that hit his eyes first, crinkling them at the edges. Maybe some part of him had expected you to back out. To decide to stay in this little sea town you called home. Maybe some part of you had, too. But every glance you threw Bob’s way just cemented it more. You needed him. Maybe more than he needed you. And that was worth chasing across the country let alone a few hundred miles to New York.

***

You cleaned and dried the dishes, putting them away. You closed the kitchen curtains, turned and walked back towards the living room. You could hear Yelena and Alexei bickering in the front yard, beyond the open door. All the boxes had been taken aside from Bob’s, filled with his odds and ends. The poster from the reject bin, the records he’d taken, a stack of books and a few DVDs, a Rubik’s Cube, and a little metal lighthouse.

Bob picked it up, holding it on his hip. He caught you reminiscing, soft gray cardigan pulled around yourself as you looked around the living room one last time. It was time.

He offered his hand and you took it, fingers slotting between his easily. He raised it to his mouth and kissed your knuckles, giving a soft, reassuring smile. You’d been coaxing him out of his comfort zone this whole time, now it was his turn.

“You ready?”

You nodded, eyes honest. Your heart ached, but…you were beginning to think it was in a good way. “Ready.”

“Cool.” He looked around the living room one last time, eyes sticking on the painting over the couch. “We’ll be back.”

He sounded so sure of it. You knew he was right. Part of your heart would always live in your sleepy little sea town. And now, part of it would always live with Bob.

“You’re right.”

“We better go quick, before Yelena changes her mind. It took me forever to talk her out of taking Reginald. But that little guy belongs here, exploring.”

The two of you walked outside, set Bob’s box in the back of your car, next to your laptop and other fragile bits.

“I am riding with you two.” Yelena announced, sliding into one of the back seats.

You glanced over to where Bucky and Alexei were climbing into the van they’d brought. Bucky saluted, gave an annoyed-looking expression, and pulled out of the driveway first.

In your own car, you adjusted the air conditioning, let Bob pick the music, and got the navigation going. Yelena poked around the stuff in the back seat, finding the snacks easily.

“Bob, do you want some? She’s got Doritos and stuff in here.” She murmured, the bags crinkling as she ruffled through them.

He chuckled. “Nah, I’m good. Maybe in a bit.”

“Suit yourself.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the familiarity, the bond you could already feel there. You hoped you’d be able to slip into the team as well. But all you needed to do to get confirmation of that was glance at the passenger seat, where despite your lack of obvious glow, Bob was still looking at you like you were made of starlight.

And as you rolled down the driveway, past the familiar streets and smalltown faces, getting farther and farther from familiarity, the last thing in view of this place you’d called home for so long…was the lighthouse.

Starlight

It had been two months since you’d arrived at what was now called the Watchtower. A pretentious name for Valentina’s New Avengers lineup, but that was the least of your concern. Her big thing was optics, so she hadn’t even balked when Bucky had presented you as an option for what she dubbed the “Bob Problem.”

You learned very quickly that you didn’t like her and just as quickly that you didn’t trust her, but you were quick to put her in her place when she first uttered that phrase around you.

“He’s not a problem. He needs support. And therapy. And meds. And quite possibly a cat. But you will treat him with respect or he and I are both gone and I know you need us more than we need you.”

She’d been impressed by that. “Well, Beacon, in that case, I’m glad to have you aboard, since you seem to have him all figured out.”

“Actually, let me stop you right there. I…was considering a new codename maybe.”

“A rebrand, I like it. What are you thinking?”

Your eyes wandered to Bob in his reading chair by the window before returning back to her. “How about Starlight?”

She grinned, the wheels turning behind her eyes. She could see the headlines now, you were sure. “How about it…”

The rest of the lineup was just Ava, who went by Ghost, a woman that could walk through walls, which was very cool, and…John Fucking Walker. You’d stared at him for a long time when you first encountered him, frozen in your tracks, frowning while Bucky chuckled across the kitchen.

“No. Are you serious?” You glanced back at him and then up at John again. “Ewww.”

John scoffed, offended immediately. “Hey!”

“No, that’s a valid ‘ew,’ John. She gets at least one of those.” Bucky muttered over his mug of black coffee. “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”

In your free time, you wrote again, inspiration more than sparked by your time with Bob. Every time you got stuck, all you had to do was let him read what you had so far, and he’d make suggestions. Even if they didn’t always work necessarily, they got the ball rolling again. And the Tower had ample space to do it. There were lots of quiet spots to tuck away in. Today you’d opted to work in one of the common areas, though, Bob sitting at the high-top table with you, fingers fiddling with yours.

Ava opened the dishwasher and groaned loudly before yelling, “Bucky! How many times do we have to tell you not to put it in there with dishes?!” She yanked his vibranium arm out, holding it aloft in the air.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, shaking your head. Bob grinned too, eyes locked on you fondly. He was clumsily crocheting something next to you, stopping and holding it out to you.

“No, so how did this even happen?” He asked, pointing to a very messed-up loop.

“You stuck the hook through the strands of yarn. Just undo that one and try again. It’s tricky to not do that with that kind.” You advised, gently taking his hands in yours and unraveling the previous loop, helping him get back on track. “That’s what’s so nice about crochet. You can just undo it all and start over.”

He smiled, the words striking a bit deeper than he knew you meant to. But that was this whole thing, wasn’t it? You were his fresh start.

Bucky sauntered into the room, grabbing his arm and sticking it back on, rotating it back into place with force. “It just works, alright? It gets clean.”

“Not with the dishes! Run it by itself! Or better yet, buy yourself a dishwasher and put it in your room.”

“Now, now, everybody, I think we all need to take a deep breath.” Alexei said, trying to keep the peace. “Isn’t that nice? Big, deep breath. Ava, I see you are not taking the breath, just breathe in…”

Your phone rang, a goofy picture of Sam flashing across the lockscreen. Your eyebrows furrowed and you picked it up. “Hey, buddy. How have you been? It’s been a while?”

He chuckled, exhaling a sigh. “Yeah, I know it’s been a long time. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch, I’ve just been so busy with…well, all kinds of stuff. But actually, speaking of that, I was wondering if you wanted to come get some coffee? Maybe meet up? I…well, maybe I shouldn’t lead with this, but I’m trying to get the Avengers off of the ground again. I’ve got this great new guy, Joaquin. I think you’d really like him. And we found this guy who has these alien rings, he’s super cool.”

“Sam—” 

“Listen, I know you’ve been out of the loop of all of this for a while. And if you wanna keep it that way, I understand. But my team could really use a healer, so…what do you say?”

You took a breath, pretending to mull it over, but your mind was made up. “Thank you for thinking of me, but…Bucky called me first, and…” You looked at Bob, who was absorbed in his yarn loops again, an earbud stuck in his ear. “They need me here. It’s not personal. I’m sorry. If there’s ever…an emergency, give me a call, but I’m planted here.”

A bitter chuckle. A resigned sigh. “No, I get it. Take care of yourself.”

And then he hung up.

“Who was that?” Bob asked, curious blue eyes peering over at you.

“Sam.” You replied, reaching for his hand, which he gladly turned over, fingers curling around yours.

The worry was imminent on his features already, just a little, in his eyes. Insecurity that you’d slip away as easily as he’d gotten you. “He wants you, huh?”

“I’m staying right here.” You reassured, squeezing his hand again. “I’m not here for Valentina. I’m not even really here for Bucky anymore. I’m here for you. Where you go, I go. Simple as that.”

He smiled softly at that, nodding. “Okay. Cool.”

“Package for Bob?” John walked into the room, chucking the thin little package onto the table in front of the two of you, where it landed with a thwop. “What even is that thing?”

Bob tore it open easily, pulling out what appeared to be a pretty high-quality sleep mask. “Oh, sweet. I was wondering when this would come in.”

“What, you got insomnia or something?” John asked.

“My girlfriend glows,” came his simple explanation, shrugging his shoulders. He had a giddy look on his face. All proud and lovesick in a way that made your heart churn.

You tried to fight the grin that broke out on your features, shaking your head with a flustered laugh.

“I sleep really well now, though. She knocks me right out.”

“Ew, Bob, we don’t need all the details of…whatever this is you two have going on.” John groaned, waving a jealous hand in your direction.

“Oh, shut up, Walker. Bob and (Y/N) are surprisingly tame in the PDA department. They could be like, way worse.” Yelena defended. “And it is very cute by the way, you two.”

“Yelena is right. There is something so…romantic about the boy with the shadow and the girl who glows.” Alexei gushed, very passionate. You’d never seen it that way, but…he wasn’t wrong.

Bob had his Void. Always would, you were sure. And you were the glowing girl. The Beacon, and now…his Starlight.

No matter what form he took, no matter what kind of day he was having, you would always be right there to remind him that there were people who loved him. People who valued him and wanted him around. 

He was the warmth in a cold room. Your Knight of Cups. You’d choose him every time, and you knew in a heartbeat, that he’d choose you, too, like a moth fluttering towards a streetlight. Doomed, maybe, but inevitable nonetheless. In every timeline, it would always be him.

You gave him a tender look, gave his side a loving pinch and settled up against him. A low chuckle floated out of his mouth and he kissed your forehead, large, warm hand smoothing down your back.

The rest of the team devolved into bickering about something else. Like siblings, truly. But you and Bob were just quiet, watching it all from the fringes, soaking in eachother’s warmth.

“I’m so glad you said yes. Still can’t believe this is real, sometimes. That I get to have something as nice as you, but…I’m not complaining.” Bob murmured, hands mapping you out, grounding himself.

“I’m all yours, Bob.” You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, eyes glimmering with a million words, but settling on just two, “Believe it.”

The End.

[mosoderbergh]

So one more Emmrich headcanon because I can't with this guy

Two things I think about Emmrich are

1) that he has a keen sense of smell. Not always ideal when you work around corpses a lot, but that just means he has a collection of tinctures, balms, perfumes, maybe even scented candles he's collected over the years. He's experimented with how to best mask certain smells, which scents go well together etc.

2) I think when him and Rook first start dating, he's still quite hung up trying to prove that he's not just some horny old man (Rook would be into that, too, but hey). He wants to prove to Rook that he cares. And he notices Rook is working themselves to the bone.

Both of these would culminate, I think, in a little surprise for Rook. I think Emmrich would prepare a bath for them - with no intention at all of getting in there with them. But he's noticed a certain scent around them. Maybe they have a favourite perfume. Maybe a favourite flower. Maybe they just really love a certain fruit or candy.

So Emmrich would leave on "urgent business" to the Necropolis one evening. A few hours later, Manfred would come to Rook's door, all excited. And Rook would let themselves be guided away, already sensing the next crisis. But then they'd get to a new door and it would be this cozy little room with a giant bath, a crackling fireplace tucked away somewhere (I love the idea of a bathhouse somewhere in the lighthouse). A bath has already been drawn, and it smells *amazing*. Rook's favourite scent, delicately interwoven with whatever other notes suit it best. Manfred presses a cup of tea into Rook's hands and looks between them and the bath expectantly. (Emmrich has had to explain how baths work to Manfred in great detail. "It would be proper to leave once you've offered them tea. No, *no*, you will not need to help them undress. I'm sure they're quite capable.")

There would, of course, be a letter from Emmrich on the tea tray.

My dear,

I couldn't help but notice how you've been over-exerting yourself lately. You are well due a break. I have taken the liberty of asking Neve to take note, should anything come up in your absence. For now, the evening is yours. If you feel up to a little outing later, it would be my honour to take you out to dinner.

Yours,

Emmrich

P.S.: I fear you may have to ask Manfred to leave the room for your bath. I've tried to make this clear to him, but he is quite fond of you and he still struggles with privacy as a concept.

There is an itinerary and the infamous menu with gilded edges attached to the letter. Rook gives it to Manfred to play with, so he has something to do while they enjoy their bath. They keep the letter, though. They read it over and over again, grinning from ear to ear. They only put it away once they accidentally get a splash of water on it. By the time the dinner happens, they are a) relaxed to their very core and b) absolutely gagging for it because that is the hottest thing anyone has ever done for them.

[fandom-go-round]

If you’re still writing for dragon age I’d love if you did head cannons for all the veil guard companions and how they act after losing an injured rook to the fade and getting them back + nursing them back to health. I live for a good hurt / comfort and your writing is incredibly well done!

Warnings: Angst, Perceived Character Death (Rook), Nightmares, Self Blame, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms,

Davrin:

Davrin is clinical until he isn’t. Losing you had been devastating enough the first time; he isn’t going to lose you now due to injuries. He hovers a lot, letting the others heal you as much as they can and then sitting right back by your side. The team had been trying to organize, to help the allies you’d help, but all that fades to the background now that you’re back. Davrin is going to defend your bedside for as long as it takes.

It takes you a while to wake and he does his best to distract himself. He trains, works with Assan and attempts to show that he’s fine. He’s not, of course, and the others know it but they do their best to help. The first time you open your eyes, groggy and disoriented, he ignores the way tears gather in the corners of his eyes. He gives you a minute before leaning in to hold you close, almost squeezing the air of out you. He’s never going to lose you again.

Taash:

Taash alternates from being pissed to being hollow with loss, which leads to more rage. They’ve just lost their Tama and now you? One of the best things in their life? They don’t know what to do and it mostly ends with them wanting to hit something. They do hit and run missions with the other factions, but that stops once you come back to the Lighthouse. Taash isn’t the best nurse but they’re not bad, changing your bandages and telling you stories. They aren’t the best at sharing their day but they refuse to leave you for long.

This entire ordeal has been murder on Taash’s patience and it may never come back. The moment you’re awake Taash is relieved but also a little ashamed. They feel like they should have been doing something productive, not being upset. Reassure them and let they hover over you. Their hovering looks more like demanding you eat and start to move. Their touch is gentle, however and you soak up the attention like a sponge.

Lace Harding:

Lace isn’t a stranger to loss, but you hit her harder than the others. She lost friends during the Inquisition, but you loom in her mind like a specter. It’s worse now that she can dream; she sees you disappearing over and over. She doesn’t sleep much and distracts herself, sending letters and trying to track down Elgar’nan’s next move. The others worry for her but she puts on a brave face; the circles under her eyes start to rival Lucanis’.

She stays by your beside until you wake up, head bobbing with the urge to sleep. You wake up to her dozing next to you. Wake her up and she’ll start scolding you, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Lace dotes on you for the next few days, getting you things and making sure you’re comfortable. She wants to touch you so badly but you’ll need to make the first move; hold her hand and she might just cry with relief.

Lucanis Dellamorte:

He blames himself for you going missing; he replays the moment over and over in his mind. If only he was faster or moved in a different way. It’s a dark slope he goes down and Spite doesn’t help, raging against you going missing. The guilt doesn’t dissipate once you’re back, in fact it’s worse. He wants to be with you so bad it hurts, but he feels he’s unworthy.

Spite solves this problem for him. Once Lucanis goes to sleep, Spite goes to your bedside and curls up next to you. You wake up to an exhausted Antivan man in your bed and it’s cute as much as concerning. Lucanis is so embarrassed he wants to sink into the floor, but when you start talking to him, he relaxes. You have a heart to heart and he feels better, leaving after to let you rest. None of the others say anything and he makes a huge dinner as a thank you.

Bellara Lutare:

Bellara throws herself into the study of the Fade, working around the clock to try and figure out what happened. Emmrich might be the expert, but she can help and she’s not going to sit around doing nothing while you’re gone. She gets so focused she forgets to eat and drink; Neve has to literally drag her to bed one night. Once you’re back, Bellara is finally able to sleep but it isn’t restful, not when you’re not up yet.

She does cry once you’re awake, not in front of you but in the hallway. She can hear you talking to Lace, and she’s so overcome she collapses against the wall. She soaks in your voice, your laugh (weak but stable). It takes her a little while to get herself under control, but she smile is genuine when she goes into your room. You notice she’s been crying but don’t say anything, smiling back. Later, she wants to talk about everything, but right now all she wants is to hear your voice again.

Emmrich Volkarin:

Part of him feels like he should be more prepared for this, but he’s not. Emmrich has been surrounded by death but this is different. There isn’t a body, no remains to care for and no time to really mourn. He does his best to take time to grieve, but there’s never going to be enough time for him. Fade research and working with the other factions helps; he feels your absence like a stabbing wound. Rooms aren’t as bright when you’re not in them, and it’s hard for him to focus, he keeps getting lost in his thoughts.

He does his best to heal you once you’re back with them. Emmrich isn’t someone who normally gets touchy, but this is an exception. He doesn’t want anyone else to care for you and the others are accepting, even if they don’t agree. When you finally open your eyes, he feels like the sun is rising for the first time since you’ve left. He has so much to tell you but it’ll have to wait. He wants to soak up as much time as possible with you before the final fight.

Neve Gallus:

Neve throws herself into her work, or at least, that’s what she says. She pours over notes and clues, trying to figure out how Solas has come back, but no thoughts ever stick. Her theories slide through her fingers like sand and she feels like she’s going crazy. She blames herself; for losing you, for getting too attached, for not seeing this betrayal coming. When you finally awake up, she feels so goes boneless in her chair. She needs a moment to collect herself before going to see you.

Neve does her best to show she’s alright but it’s easy to see through her. After you fall back asleep, she vows that she’s not going to lose you again. She wants your kind of trouble and you’re both going to survive this damn it. She pushes herself to get ready for the big fight, both for her city and you. Support her but also remind her that you’re on her side; you’re going to finish this together.

[sky-scribbles]

Party Banter with Rook!Blackwall

Harding: You know, for a moment back there, I thought you might actually get through to Solas.

Thom: Regret’s something we have in common. I thought… if I reached out to him, told him I understood what guilt drives you to do…

Harding: But no. ‘Do not compare your regrets with mine, Thom Rainier!’

Thom: He’s right, though. He can at least say he did his crimes trying to stop tyrants. I did mine for coin.

Harding: Uh, yeah, and then you faced up to it and decided no one else was going to get hurt for it except you. Solas is right. He’s nothing like you.

—

Lucanis: Do we have a problem, Warden Rainier?

Thom: You kill people. For gold.

Lucanis: I do. Venatori. Blood mages. The political rivals of those who hired me.

Thom: And that’s enough for you? Someone flashes a purse, and you’re ready to murder over some nobles’ spat over which of them gets the bigger fancy house?

Lucanis: Depends on the size of the purse.

—

Bellara: Um, so, about the mayor of D'Meta's Crossing? I just… do you really want someone like that? In the Wardens, I mean.

Thom: I won’t defend him. But he wouldn’t be the first Warden who let innocent people die for gold, and got another chance from the Order.

Bellara: He doesn’t deserve it. Like, really, really doesn’t deserve it.

Thom: No. Neither did I.

—

Thom: Do you ever get people trying to bribe you? To look the other way, or drop a case, or...

Neve: It's Minrathous. If I took even half the bribes I've been offered, I could buy an estate in Hightown.

Thom: It takes a special kind of strength to resist that.

—

Thom: I got a letter from Sera the other day. Don’t ask me how she got it to the Lighthouse.

Harding: ‘Friends’, I bet. And hey - she dealt with the Fade for you! So what'd she say?

Thom: Well, there was a lot of calling Solas a shite-faced arseknuckle. And then she told me not to get killed, or she’d yank my beard ‘til my head came off.

Harding: Aw.

—

Lucanis: Rainier, I do not knife civilians. Everyone I have killed has been embedded in politics. Their hands are never clean.

Thom: And you're sure you’ve never made a mistake? Never got a passer-by or a child caught in all the blades and arrows? Never gone in without knowing everything, and got someone hurt?

Lucanis: Of course not. I’m a professional.

Thom: You’re a mercenary with a cape.

—

Thom: You could’ve left Dock Town. A mage. Talented. You could’ve gone anywhere, chased a better life.

Neve: If I left, I’d be abandoning people who never got that choice. I’m good where I’m at.

Thom: I hope you know how admirable that makes you.

Neve: Not that admirable. If I got that estate in Hightown? Too far to walk to Hal’s fish stand.

Thom: (laughs) Good priorities.

—

Davrin: So, Rainier. Heard a lot of rumours about how you joined the Wardens.

Thom: (uneasy noise) You know, Warden Blackwall told me your past gets forgotten after the Joining.

Davrin: A nice ideal, but it never stands up to the gossip. But you’ve shown your worth.

Thom: Enough for me to have one of those griffons when we rescue them, d’you reckon?

Davrin: (laughs) We’ll see.

—

Thom: I knew someone like Manfred once. He was a spirit, but he sort of… grew his own body.

Emmrich: Oh! A spontaneous incarnation! Do you happen to know what kind of spirit he was?

Thom: Uh… the kind that looks like a young man, but reads minds and flits about trying to make everyone feel better about themselves?

Emmrich: Ah, Compassion! A rather more advanced emotion than Curiosity, and therefore capable of manifesting a physical body, rather than needing to adopt a vacant one.

Thom: More advanced? Right. That explains why Cole used to talk to me about living with the weight of regret, and Manfred spent ten minutes yesterday poking my face to see if my beard came off.

—

Neve: So, you know Dorian?

Thom: Does anyone who’s been in the same room as him for thirty seconds get a choice about knowing Dorian?

Neve: And didn’t always get along, I take it.

Thom: He’s… he’s not so bad. We might’ve judged each other by first impressions back when we met.

Neve: And what’s your impression now?

Blackwall: Still too fancy for his own good. But it says exactly who he is that he’s fighting against slavers and blood mages. I think I got the better deal with the darkspawn.

—

Taash: I heard the Inquisitor turned into a dragon.

Thom: No, she… didn’t. But she did get one to fight with us once.

Taash: She did? What kind? How’d she do it?

Thom: Sort of… gold? And she drank from this pool of elven magic, and… that somehow let her ask it to help us. I think.

Taash: Did she ride it into battle?

Thom: Uh… No.

Taash: Oh. I would’ve ridden it into battle.

—

Thom: Emmrich, do you know what those demons were the other day? The ones that wouldn’t leave me alone?

Emmrich: Ah. Those were manifestations of Shame. A variant of the Despair spirit.

Thom: Right. Don’t know what I expected.

Emmrich: If it’s any consolation, I find that one can tell much more about a person from the more benign spirits that gather around them. I catch glimpses of them about you often. Valour. Fortitude. Honour.

Thom: I hope to be worthy of them.

—

Thom: Lucanis, have you ever regretted any of your kills?

Lucanis: Not so far.

Thom: So this is what you’re fine with being? A man who takes nobles’ money and lives in luxury with your bloodied hands? That's the life you chose?

Lucanis: Not ‘chose’, exactly. It is what I was trained to be since my childhood.

Thom: Wait. You were – who trains a child to be an assassin?

Lucanis: You met my grandmother.

—

Davrin: You held up pretty well in the last fight, Rainier. For an old man.

Thom: Whelp like you’d better watch what he says around a senior Warden.

Davrin: Why? You’ll tell me to do the fifty press-ups that your creaky bones can’t handle?

Thom (laughs) I’ll stop letting you borrow my best chisel.

—

Bellara: Hey, um, Thom? You know that little rocking griffon you made? Could you make, I don’t know, a bigger one? Like… adult… person-sized?

Thom: (chuckles) You never have a rocking griffon growing up?

Bellara: No! They’re not a Dalish thing! Because you can’t really rock. When the aravel’s moving, I mean. So… no, it’s a dumb idea. Forget I said anything.

Thom: You want me to make it a rocking halla?

Bellara: Yes please thank you.

—

Emmrich: How far you must have travelled, with both the Inquisition and the Wardens!

Thom: I like being on the road. Keeps a man honest.

Emmrich: I rather envy your fearlessness of the wider world. It’s so recent that the end of the Circles allowed me to travel freely outside the Necropolis.

Thom: Must have been freeing. Having the whole world suddenly open to you.

Emmrich: And rather overwhelming, I must admit. When I compare myself to you – a brave Warden, combatting the Blight across all of Thedas…

Thom: Trust me: compare the two of us, and that’s the only way I’ll come out better from it.

—

Thom: We fought quite a few dragons in the Inquisition. Almost got eaten once by some pissed-off beast in the Hinterlands. Kept throwing its dragonlings at us.

Taash: Fereldan Frostbacks are crappy mothers. First sign of trouble, and it’s ‘here! Take my children!’

Thom: (laughs) The worst was the lightning-spitter off the Storm Coast. Spent twenty minutes hacking away at its scales, rest of my team unconscious on the ground.

Taash: Wait - you what? That's not how you fight dragons. You can't just stand there and hit them. That's stupid. And boring.

—

Lucanis: It’s how the Crow Houses work. Children of the House lineage are trained from our infancy.

Thom: Andraste’s fucking tits.

Lucanis: It’s necessary. If Illario and I had been coddled… Caterina pushed us hard and young, because she wanted us to survive.

Thom: I don’t… (sighs) The things people do to children.

—

Harding: I never thought to ask - how come Varric changed your nickname?

Thom: I asked him to go with something else. 'Hero'... that was a name he gave to Blackwall.

Harding: Well, he chose the right name. You know, 'cause Rooks move in straight lines. And you charge right in there, don't mess around with fancy words, just hit things til they drop. You could say you're -

Thom: Don't do it, Lace.

Harding: Straightforward.

Thom: (chuckles) You're as bad as Sera.

—

Emmrich: Master Rainier, I wanted to say – I hope you know that you’re the only person here who looks at you with any harshness.

Thom: I – (sighs) You don’t know everything about me.

Emmrich: I would never claim to. But I know that you place yourself before your allies and the defenceless without hesitation and with utter selflessness. I know you understand your Warden oath better than many of your superiors. I know that you are a good man.

Thom: … I wish I knew what it was like to be you. Seeing the good in everyone, living or dead.

Emmrich: Then I hope you’ll permit me continue to see the good in you – until you can see yourself as I do.

[aquamarinemarie]

(This ask is in good faith)

I do think that most people criticizing the way games present solavellan (not how shippers interpret it but what’s factually in the game) say it’s meh because so much is not said or implied. That’s where it falls flat for me. I fear offering nothing but “he occasionally watches them through dreams” and extremely vague things at the Lighthouse contributes to the implicit ���this feels very onesided and empty”, given they spent less than a year dating and ten years apart with visually no explicit contact. Or even keepsakes.

I honestly think most people who are very "meh" about solavellan as a whole were never truly into it to begin with; and that's fair. If the couple isn't appealing then it just isn't appealing.

For me, the content presented in both games (Inquisition and Veilguard), plus the Trespasser DLC was enough. In Veilguard specifically, solavellan gets quite a lot considering how the inquisitor was no longer the main protagonist. In such a reduced role, I knew to keep my expectations in check. Lavellan discussing her feelings with Rook was a welcome surprise, and I'm sure the writers felt a bit freer putting words into her mouth than Solas'. People, I think, tend to forget that this Lavellan is an inquisitor who chose to continue loving Solas during Trespasser and to not give up on him. So, in my opinion, her feelings for him in Veilguard really shouldn't have taken anyone by surprise. Nor, frankly, is she putting him first. It's save the world - then save Solas. So, I don't agree, as others have suggested, that Lavellan is simply being a lovesick fool here. She knows she might have to let him go, and is willing to make such a sacrifice. Even if it hurts her.

Now, from Solas' side of the relationship - I believe what we were presented with in Veilguard ultimately remained true to his character. He's a private person after all and isn't exactly the type to shout his love for her from the rooftops. A single letter reaffirming his love for Lavellan and his desire/wish to live his life with her, a reluctant admission of how much he cherishes his regretful & ultimately selfish relationship with her (more than some of his victories in fact), and of course, Solas & Lavellan's reunion in the final act. That they get to be together always. This is so much more than I ever expected to receive from Veilguard - and honestly I'm grateful. I thought they'd kill Solas in the end - that there wouldn't be any redemption.

To address the years of separation, the games tell us Solas occasionally spies on Lavellan in her dreams, and it explicitly reminds us (via the letter) that he truly wants to be with her. There is also strong implication within Trespasser & Veilguard to suggest Solas feels he doesn't deserve forgiveness and that he may even desire his own death.

"I walk the Din'anshiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become." - Solas

I don't think it a stretch of the imagination to believe Solas did not expect to survive tearing down the veil. That the act alone would cost him his life. If not physically then perhaps figuratively. Since deliberately ending the lives of most of the world's population would be an act beyond redemption.

Levallan for the last eight years has spent much of her time trying to find a way to change Solas' mind. She cannot even gaze upon her own reflection without being reminded of the man who removed her vallaslin. (If the player chose to allow this to occur.) Her keepsake is the vallaslin removal. She continues to reside within his castle and sleeps in the very bedroom that was likely his own. She couldn't put him from her mind even if she wanted to.

In conclusion, I've never needed headcanon to support Solas & Lavellan as a couple. The games give us plenty. Nor, have I ever had a problem with anyone who finds the pairing boring or just not to their taste. With that being said, I do believe many who insist the relationship is hollow or entirely one-sided, either say so in bad faith or just haven't been paying attention.

I don't mind engaging with critics (those who are polite anyway) and I appreciate you messaging me. I hope some of what I've written here helps make solavellan seem a little less... meh. If not, well, different strokes for different folks.

[zaundads]

my current subscription list

I thought it might be fun to share what's currently on my A03 subscription list and why. It seems like I have a fondness for fluffy AUs ;)

In no particular orders and only stuff that is unfinished right now (so inherently no oneshots), but at least has a couple of chapters.

River Water : I think this one is pretty popular and well known. It's an omegaverse with alpha Vander and omega Silco where Viktor is Vander and Silco's bio kids and they reconnect when Viktor and Jayce show up in Zaun after being banished. Lot's of angst and big drama (ie Vander didn't now of Silco's existance) and Zaundads reconnecting maybe to some extent as they watch JayVik also becoming close.

Trapped By A Singlar Fate: Young Zaundads getting togehter story, a very cool approach to Felicia (being a much younger Jinx like little sister type character) and impeccable world building.

Grading on a Curve: Eeeeeee, sexy, funny college AU with jock!Vander and standoffish!Silco.

Please Be Rude: Modern AU: I must have a soft spot for nervous wreck Silco.

The Lightkeeper: Siren!Silco targets the mysterious new lighthouse keeper. Siren!Silco x Werewolf!Vander. I really dig the hints at siren background lore and see above for my soft spot for chaotic wreck Silco. It did take me a couple of chapters to really get into it, but once things heat up between Silco and Vander, I'm definitley there.

"Inofficial Subscription List":

this isn't actually on my subscription list, but I have an eye out for them. Some of them are quite new, so I'm still not sure whether they'll be my thing.

This Devotion May Contain Side Effects: yeah, yeah, it's the comments/praise here on tumblr that convinced me to check it out. I like to pretend that fics that focus on dad-ly stuff (in this case Silco and Vander, particularly Silco, taking in and raising orphan Viktor) can't get me, but this one really is as good, though hints of Vander's dark side vis a vis Silco are starting to show up. But it's generally very good and good depiction of the darkness Zaunites have to put up with.

Pinned Under Glass: There seems to be a good season for Silco torture. AU where Silco got captured by an evil enforcer and slowly over years got turned into his pet bride. Vander stumbles across him and is shocked when Silco pretends not to recongnize him. The tags forsee dark stuff but the setup intrigued me.

Falling Downwards Into The Light: Between Lightkeeper, Pinned Under Glass, things like Hound Goes Feral I think I might an unhealthy fondness for captured Silco. Here Vander is the capturer (when an injured Silco drags himself towards the Last Drop after some... business with a chem baron). Vander is quite dark, Silco is very crafty. (it reminded me quite a lot of a similar story by Rimeko) I don't know whether it will end up being too dark for my taste, but so far I'm still reading.

Full House: This author has written some banger Vander/Jayce daddykink. I didn't feel their solo Vander/Silco prequel quite as much, but I have my eye on this. Silco and Vander reunite and imo their chemistry is so thick to me as world weary older men reuniting, even though they are just having a conversation (I might also have a secret fondness for the trope of Vander instantly dumping Jayce the second Silco shows up). I hope I will ike the foursome with JayVik that the tags promise. And I just love the mental image of how Silco has spent his time away as a letter column/agony aunt/sex advice columnist so much.

I wish somebody would write this as a full fledged fic, I feel Silco's agony aunt response letters would be hilarious.

[note that I'm personally super bad at reading things if I missed the beginning and it feels like it already has too many chapters by the time I get into it, there's highly rated, regularly updating wips that I'm scaredy cat about getting into even though it's on my todo list]

[mythals-whore]

WIP Word game

THE RULES ARE: You get a word (or in my case, seven words) and you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

@basedonconjecture @hyperions-light @jouskaroo @rookamell @thedissonantverses & @seaglassmelody (shoutout to @becausedragonage who Dm'd me a word also)

I am genuinely giggling & kicking my feet to be thought of so many times. Luckily for all of us I have a hefty WIP folder and wordcount. But! To make this fun for me I've pulled from all my WIPs and I'm not going to tell you which ones.

FATES

F - Fingers thrusting roughly into the hair at Harding's nape, tugging some of it loose from its careful braids. She doesn't seem to mind, moaning breathily into Taash's mouth like she had dreamed this and can't quite believe it's happening.

A - And he’s never enjoyed a chase more than this one—though he considers that maybe it’s because he’s never sure he has her. Even now.

T - “The Viper.” She says, extending a delicate hand and a sultry smile.

E - Even the candles aren’t lit, as if the Lighthouse itself knows what the others won’t accept. Rook isn’t coming back.

S - She tries to blink away the burning in her eyes. Her chest. "I can’t afford to make the mistake you did."

VIPER

V - Viper,

I did manage to stop by that tea shop, thank you for the recommendation. I was able to place a regular order for the jasmine blend you requested. Tested it out myself while I was there. Sweeter than I expected, but reliable.

I - Instead, tears start rolling heavily down her face. And then Davrin is on his knees in front of her, reaching for her without even a moment’s hesitation. The moment he touches her, the breath she attempts to take turns into a sob and the tears start sliding down her face in earnest.

P - Purposeful and thorough in the way Davrin always is. And there’s something in it, this kiss. Some promise that she’s not yet ready for.

E - Even if thinking it hones the wanting into something so sharp it carves something out of her. Something that she knows is no longer hers, anyway.

R - Real panic starts to rise in her throat then. She would not die without a fight. She would not die like this, she would not allow that future she’d seen to pass, not any version of it.

WOUND

W - Whatever it takes. The trouble is that she knows how hollow victory rings when the chasm left by loss is too deep to hear it.

O - One that she hopes conveys it all: I’m here. You’re safe with me. 

U - Usually he marveled at it, but now it made him frantic with the need to know what it was that she was thinking.

N - Not a cathedral like this, but a smaller chantry. Three pews deep and a candelabra with chipped gold paint. It’d been brief, and she stood uncertainly at the back while he knelt at that altar.

D - "Did you love me?" She knows exactly why she asks the question. Knows why her heart leaps into her throat. Still she can't bring herself to look at him, though she feels his wide eyes. Sees his mouth open and close again from the corner of her eye.

KALEIDESCOPE

K - Knowing that she wanted him, knowing what she tasted like—it was unbearable.

A - As she floats toward them, the slightly puffed sleeves that hang off her shoulders flow up and down, almost like the beating of great wings. Her hair is long and loose, but pulled back from her face with golden combs.

L - Lyria is gathering that he’s quite angry with her, but can’t quite figure out why.

“If you were one of my men, I’d have you demoted—and sitting in the brig for a week at least.”

E - Either because the woman shows almost no fear in the face of old gods and fish freak her out or because he still can’t quite believe that she’s tucked herself into his bed with the intent to sleep there.

I - It’s different, somehow, to watch him undress himself.

S - She is not just another polished little piece on their board, some play thing that they can simply use and discard. And though he knew they needed her to be, he hated it all the same.

C - Cullen immediately wishes for any way to erase it—to even take it from her for a moment.

O - One of her hands was pressed against her face and her mouth hung slightly open. She looked so young lying there—much too young to have the weight of all Thedas on her shoulders

P - Part of a set he's been working on quietly. Battered, but still intact.

E - Especially as he pulls the first boot off, and presses a rather chaste kiss to the inside of her ankle before starting work on the other.

MAGIC

M - "My wife is never wrong." a warm smile curls his lip, throwing the scar there into sharp relief, "She won’t let Rook stay lost."

A - And Taash has yet to meet another Lord who can even comprehend the word prude.

G - Growing up in the magisterium, paraded around constantly, he’d grown used to donning a bland, pleased expression. He’d learned to staunch most of his tells. But those bright green eyes flicking over him unabashedly is almost enough to make him blush. Ashur is grateful for the mask covering his face.

I - "I’m never going to catch a break with you, am I?" Davrin asks, brushing her hair from her face with a sigh. A sly smile slides across her mouth, "You need breaks now?"

C - Cyrilla Mercar, so plagued by pain and loss. Second guessing yourself at every turn."

LUCID

L - Like they’re two threads finally being woven together.

U - Until last night, he thought such stories were mere exaggerations. He recalls a time he would have thought a loss of control like that reason enough for the circle to exist, but now he felt a sort of smug satisfaction over it. The commander did quite like winning, and he couldn’t deny that those rolls of thunder certainly sounded like victory.

C - Clearly grieving and eager to throw herself into her work, but for a spymaster who deals in secrets, she was…unexpected. Sharp and shrewd, yes. But there was another side to her, too. A part of her that wanted to be warm and soft. 

I - "I can’t afford to make the mistake you did."

D - "Did it hurt, like—?"

BISCUIT

B - Beneath the silken buttons, some inner corset is laced. He clears his throat again, hesitating. “Do you want me to…?”

I - If you betray us again—betray her—there is nowhere you can go, Dread Wolf, that I will not find you.

S - Sick burns Cullen’s throat, because he understands immediately.

C - Cullen manages to spin her once, and her eyes crinkle warmly, even letting out a short, breathy laugh.

It may be the most valuable thing Cullen was ever given in his life.

U - Unnecessary, because when her clothing is discarded his hands are immediately sliding over her thighs, like he never wants it to stop, either.

I - “I only had to kill one guy.” she shrugs.

“Jesus, Cyri—”

T - "Then you get to do what you always wanted: save the world all on your own."

I am tagging @sugar-peanut-cat @the-sparrohawk @gingervitus and anyone else who hasn't done this already, please do this please tag me. Your word is LANGUISH (and/or RECONCILE)

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

While You're Camping

Agi sends Emmrich a letter while he's off camping with Harding, and he has a moment. Or two. NSFW.

Dearest Emmrich,

You’re currently camping with Harding. I hope you’re enjoying yourself, love. Remember, try new things!

Because while you’ve been away, I’ve been trying new things.

In fact, I tried that lovely little toy you bought me.

I thought of you---your weight on top of me, my hands in your hair, marking my neck for all to see. It drives me positively wild, Emm.

I thought of you whispering sweet things to me, in that cooing little voice of yours. You’re always so gentle and kind…

But then, as it always does, you snap.

You plow into me. You growl that I’m yours and you’re mine. You suck on my tits and tell me how pretty and good I am for you.

And you know I eat it up, love.

I thought of you as I clenched around nothing and wanted it to be your gorgeous cock. After all, my beautiful Emmrich, only that part of you can truly fill me. That’s not to say your fingers aren’t wonderful. They most certainly are.

But your manhood is truly special, handsome.

I’m thinking of you right now.

I hope you’re thinking of me.

Love,

Agi

***

Emmrich stared at the letter in his hands, a pale pink blush painting his cheeks. While he had received (and written far more) love letters in his day, the professor did not expect my sweet darling girl to be so forward and vulgar.

He exhaled sharply, a growing tightness in his trousers becoming more noticeable by the second.

She did say she hopes I’m thinking of her.

The flaps of his tent were closed, so he did not have that to worry about.

Sound, however…

With the wave of a hand, he placed a sound dampening enchantment around him and then went to work, undoing his trousers more quickly than he would have under normal circumstances.

There she is, dearest Agnes.

He imagined her standing in his bedroom at home in Nevarra City (I’ll take you there soon, my sweet) wearing the dark purple lingerie she recently purchased.

Look at you, my good girl. Hair slightly mussed. A half-hearted attempt at lipstick. Thighs squished together when they should be squishing my head.

She whispered that she missed him, kissing along his jaw as her hands pushed his trousers down. She begged him to touch her, kiss her, make her feel loved…

To ravish her as she desires.

“Darling, I beg of you. Take your rightful place on your throne.”

In his fantasy, Emmrich discarded the rest of his clothes and lay down on his bed. In his tent, he moaned, stroking his erect member just the way I like. He imagined her blushing and shyly getting onto the bed, and with a giggle, swung a long, plush leg (I’ve written several poems about her gorgeous legs) over his head.

“Love, are you sure? I don’t want to—”

He grabbed her hips and pulled her down so that her cunt was nearly touching his mouth. “I need you, my love. Please. Let me taste you properly.”

And then he devoured her.

Her hands were on the headboard as she rode his face, nonsensical praise flowing from her.

And speaking of flowing…

Ugh.

With a loud groan, he came far too soon and spilled over his abdomen.

A frustrated growl emerged from him as he waved a hand and muttered a spell to clean himself. “Damnit, how am I meant to pleasure her if I can’t last…”

Get yourself together, man.

***

Emmrich was genuinely happy to be back at the Lighthouse the following day. Back to my comforts…and my love! She’s here! “Darling!”

Agnes Aldwir was in his library, perusing the fiction bookshelf. Wearing a delightful sleeveless white dress with sunflowers. “Emm! How are you? Did you and Harding have fun?” She turned quickly and approached him, the calf-length dress flowing beautifully…like her. She looks so beautiful. My dearest heart, I adore you. Please, sweetest lady, I beg of you…

Dropping his bags, they hit the floor as he cupped her face and kissed her soundly. “Sit on my face, Agi darling. Please.”

She barely held back a laugh between kisses, grinning against his lips. “Enjoyed my letter, did you?” Agnes teased; her generous bosom pressed against his clothed chest. “I hoped so, love.”

“More than. I thought of—” He purred, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks.

Shuffling of boots.

A friendly hiss.

“Manfred!” Emmrich cried as he released Agnes and turned quickly to greet his companion, she burst out laughing. “Oh Manfred, I’m so happy to see you too!”

He and Agi will want to hear about camping.

Later though…

Be ready, my darling girl.

Your throne eagerly awaits you.

[mollfie]

I took notes while playing and I've tried to edit them into something that makes a shred of sense.

Things I like in Veilguard:

Banter can be interrupted, and they'll continue talking. If you repeatedly interrupt, they'll start over from the beginning later on.

The banter also actually made me laugh, especially with certain companion combos. Not always but more often than not.

The companions aren't stuck in their room. You know when someone wants to talk to you or has a cutscene, but you'll also see them hanging out with other companions or just checking out places around the Lighthouse. Makes them feel like actual people with their own stuff going on outside of Rook. But I do wish you could talk to them more. I like bothering my companions. I'm fine with them repeating themselves. Just let me smooch my love interest or chat with my friends and get random flavour text. Is that so much to ask?

I like the orb and smashing enemies in the face with it. I actually prefer it most of the time to using the staff.

Can wear casual clothes instead of armour with no repercussions. Finally, some cute outfits. But not cute enough. Need more. I also miss dying outfits in different colours and dressing up my team.

It's not my fav but it's fine:

I miss being able to smooch my love interest whenever I wanted to. Let me bother everyone more. The romances are fine but I expected more in comparison to previous games.

Everyone hangs out with each other or all together (eat together, bookclub etc) but is Rook even involved? The camping trip scene was so weird. Ferelden is overrun. Where are you going? Why would these two even want to? I could maybe believe Taash being interested because they're adventurous and might be hoping to see a dragon, but even then it's so weird.

Semi related to Taash's personal storyline, I did not appreciate having words put in my Rook's mouth re: her feelings about her gender and I have seen others saying that when they play as an enby Rook it's very "third gender" rather than having any sort of nuance. This is why I'm always hesitant when companies are so proud of being inclusive, it's often so clumsy.

References:

Mage/Templar war was in the South but no one mentions really mentions much about the South. Varric?? Morrigan?? Inquisitor?? There are some letters and a few lines about what's happening but not much. Who got to be Divine, again more of a Southern issue but you think it would come up when talking to Harding or Varric. Drinking from the Well of Sorrrows. Morrigan's son. King Alistair or Grey Warden. Hawke in the Fade. Varric, my man, are we not friends? Harding, you were there even if you were just a scout! Surely you got the hot goss hanging around outside the tavern at all hours.

Surely even people in Tevinter would be talking about how the Inquisitor's old spymaster became the Divine?? Harding sort of mentions it but no one else. The Inquisitor coming along to be like "oh it's a shitshow in the South right now that's why I'm not helping you or trying to find Solas" is so stupid.

The references you do get are fine but some feel strange because they're specific enough for a fan to get them but vague enough to feel pointless because they abandoned the Keep and tracking everyone's choices. I know it's complicated because we've all played the games in a variety of ways but they started it!

I wish we had seen more of the countries. I liked the places we saw and I really enjoyed exploring them, I would have liked to see more though which is a good thing in a way? I wasn't bored by the places we got, more than they were intriguing and I wished to go further. I would have liked to see more of Minrathos outside of Dock Town, for example.

Cameos:

Re: cameos. Dorian's model looks like he got bad cosmetic surgery and veneers. What did they do to you?? However, I also hate how Alistairs looks in Inquisition so maybe I just don't like when they try to update old characters? Morrigan looks fine, but her outfit is ugly. Isabela is fine. Varric and Harding look good.

Are we unable to have cameos of characters (or references), such as Merrill, because the team are blood magic flip-floppers? She knew so much about Eluvians, blood magic, Dalish nonsense etc. She would have been a fantastic edition to the team in Inquistion and in Veilguard but apparently I can't have anything nice.

Romances:

The romances are good but once I picked my person it was weird seeing how Lucanis switched to Neve almost instantly AND how their chemistry was so much better just through banter and listening to their chats. Almost like that's what the writers intended originally and then made Rook an option later? Davrin has a sweet romance and I have heard good things about Emmerich.

Companions:

Still think I should be able to have three people tag along. Yes, it makes them just talk to each other for banter but I liked having three people.

I wish they would bicker more. Some characters are supposed to not like each other (at least for a while) but they really could have leaned into that more. Be meaner. However, saying that some fans couldn't handle Vivienne...

My main issue with all the companions is that they're really good but don't get the chance to be great. I'm assuming because of development issues. Any decent writer would want to make the most of a character. You can see what they wanted to do and what they managed is good. I feel like the writers pulled their punches too much. They could have really leaned into some ideas and expanded on some aspects so much more but didn't. They all needed an extra ten minutes to fully bake.

Taash's personal stuff is fine. It's a little awkward in places but it's nowhere near as awful as people are making it out to be. It's no worse than anyone else's personal storyline or dialogue. A lot of the criticism is over-dramatic HOWEVER I do feel like their struggles were more with their upbringing as the daughter of a strict mother (who says herself that she was never supposed to have that sort of role within the Qun) in Rivain and those two identities cause conflict, and that was really overshadowed. A lot of Taash's struggles with gender make sense when you consider how gender roles function under the Qun (how their mother would have raised them) versus how they are in Rivaini society (what she was exposed to outside of the home). That's not to say they aren't nonbinary otherwise, just that the conflict could have been woven together better.

I also didn't really like the binary choices you were presented with - why do I, a stranger, get to tell any of these people what to do with their lives? I think Rook can have an opinion but there should be a third option for the character to make their own choice, perhaps based on their approval level with you or something to at least feign free will. This felt particularly insensitive when talking to Taash.

I also think some people are forgetting or deliberately ignoring that Taash is not the only lgbt or nonbinary character in the game or the series as a whole.

But, I do also think there are awkward moments (for all the characters too) where I understand what the team was going for but it doesn't quite land right. I would have actually liked a little more focus on what it's like being a qunari in Rivain etc.

Lucanis is supposed to be a big scary mage-killing demon-possessed assassin but once you recruit him he's practically shuffling about in his fuzzy slippers making coffee at 4am. I really like him but I can't help but wish they hadn't sanded down the edges. Having the Crows fight for the little guys is certainly a choice. I would have preferred them go down more of a "these Crows in this particular family think this way" so as not to undermine everything about Zevran.

Other thoughts:

It feels like the backgrounds don't really matter, they're not referenced much anyway. I was a veil jumper so you'd think Bellara would want to chat to me about that sort of thing more but no, not really. Same with race choices. It does come up but not as much as I had hoped. I also miss the tension between races, backgrounds etc. Why am I, a Dalish elf, wandering around Minrathos unchallenged?

Where's Meredith??? We had that final shot in the animated series but that's it???

What happened to Solas' agents and the uprising? I know years have passed but you'd think there's been more turmoil considering 1. the gods are real and 2. they suck

TL;DR

I had a great time playing, and it was really fun. I actually really enjoyed the finale and the game overall. But, I am concerned that this was essentially a soft reboot and so now what? What about everything we did before? What about all those other characters we cared about?

I also think I got lucky by choosing to have my Solavellan Inquisitor and romancing Davrin, just judging my chatter online.

I think if they didn't want those choices to matter then they should have had this game hav a protagonist who has no connection to Southern Thedas at all. No Varric or Harding. Have them being a literal nobody who doesn't know anything about what's going on outside of what they've directly experienced or it's very vague. They were affected by Solas' actions. They're an elf who was an agent until they realised what he was doing. Something. I just... if you don't want to make a game where choices matter then you shouldn't be working on Dragon Age. You should make something new. This was always Bioware's whole selling point and they've just tossed all that work to one side. Who made that decision?

Imagine if we'd been forced into being a specific character, similar to Hawke in DA2, and had to actually decide whether or not to support Solas as we learned about what he was actually intending to do? Imagine.

Origins still has the strongest writing. DA2 is still my favourite. But I do think Veilguard is a good sequel to Inquisiton. Unfortunately for Bioware, this is the fourth game in a series not the second. As a fourth game, there are some really weird choices. On it's own, it's a really good game. I'm still going to get my partner to play some of it to see what they think as an outsider who only knows about Dragon Age via my chit-chat and reblogging.

[silurisanguine]

Rook Codex Writing Prompts Teleri De Riva: 26. A letter to Rook from a family member or close friend 12. Rook’s daily schedule 10. Note found in Rook’s pocket

OOH these are great!!!! (Note there are spoilers in these responses to story beats in the game.) 26 A Letter to Rook from a family member

Teleri I am writing this on the knowledge that you will find your way out of this Fade prison and read this, rolling your eyes at my every word I’ve written down. For once i will happily join you. But perhaps writing this brings you power where ever you are, as the Fade is a strange thing that listens to the thoughts of us, or so the mages of our House tell me. You have a distinct ability to pull yourself out of any situation. It has always confounded and impressed me in equal measure, so if writing this helps you, then i freely give it. It was Lucanis that brought me the news of your predicament. I know you have become close to him and I know you worry what i might think of such an arrangement. If you’d asked me months ago, i think you’d have known my answer. He is a Dellamorte and you a De Riva. But Teia pointed out not long ago of our own uniting of Houses and how that has only strengthened the Crows as a whole. Perhaps the knowledge that our name sake birds do work better as pairs fits us too. So now, if you were to ask me,I would give you my blessing. As your Talon, as a De Riva and your brother in bond. Just don't tell him that when you see him until i am in the vicinity. I want to see his face when you do. Now, Teleri. Survive and get out, that’s an order from your Talon. Viago.

12 - Rook's daily schedule. A page from Rook’s journal, hastily torn out due to a stain of coffee that has spilt over the bottom of the paper -

Another day in this strange sanctuary that I call home. Asked the Caretaker if my room could be changed to something I want, or at least drapes put over the large aquarium walls. It gave a cryptic answer about a strong presence there and nothing’s changed yet. Will try again when I get back from Nevarra. I'm sure the Lighthouse will provide this Professor Volkarin with a room suitable for them, and bets have been placed with everyone on where it will be. I’m thinking to the left of my room, but Harding is sure one of the unreachable floating buildings will suddenly have a portal to it. Speaking of the rest of the gang, Neve is still in Minrathous. I honestly don't know how long she’ll be away and part of me wonders if she will even return, considering her last words to me ~~wer~~~ the ink fades a little from some clear liquid landing on the paper, that’s been swiftly rubbed at. Lucanis is grateful at least for my choice, but what else could I have done? Treviso is my home. But we both feel the pain of the choice. Lucanis feels things deeply I can tell and I try to help where I can, considering the stress he is under. It’s funny, all this time I'd heard in hushed whispers around the Crows of the fabled Demon of Vyrantium being this cold calculated killer and Lucanis is that when in a fight. But out of it, there is this gentle, funny and rich soul that I have become dearly fond of. If Viago finds out, he’s going to kill me. I need to tell Teia first so she can handle damage control, she has a way of getting through to him that I cant. I’d best leave that thought there before it runs away with me and I go and show some initiative again that I might (not) regret. I have work to do, but first I need a new coffee as this one has gone col~~

10 Note found in Rook's pocket. This note is placed on the table in front of her that she finds when she wakes up. There is a single crow feather on top, black and shimmery purple iridescence against the reflected light of the aquarium -

The ink is purple that no one in the Lighthouse admits to owning, and the words are scratched into the paper by a hand not used to holding a quill. But the letters of the words are carefully laid out and legible. Languid LIGHT Fade and water DANCE over your FACE NOT Your place You SLEEP as he does Fitful and RESTLESS But YOUR cage is OPEN You Choose to Leave. We will protect. Below is a geometric set of lines that match the pattern of the tattoo sleeve on Teleri's arm. They are drawn in loving detail.

[silent-words]

oooh that ship questionnaire is wonderful! 4, 11, and 18 for Dorian and Inky!

Hi! Yes, it is, but I wish there would be something more DA-specific (about mages, elves and other societal problems). Nonetheless, I'm thrilled to answer it!

4. Have they ever been forced apart due to circumstance? How did they handle the distance?

More than once. First after the fall of Haven, when Dorian was sure Dionysios, the heroic fool, had died in the avalanche. It was for several hours, but for Dorian it was an eternity. They hadn't even been together yet. And our resident Tevinter, of course, wondered, why it hurt so much (because he was in denial of feelings, naturally). Meanwhile Dionysios was busy trying to survive and drag his own body towards the Inquisition camp.

Next time it was before the Exalted Council, but only for a couple of months. They were both rather occupied with different things, and they knew they would meet again.

And after the Council... comes the 8-year long-distance relationship. They have to live in different empires (Dionysios moves Inquisition to Orlais to become the Divine's personal guard), and they can't leave their posts. Dorian is a magister, and Dionysios has to track down Solas.

Dionysios handles it very poorly. He develops depression a couple of years after he loses his arm: doesn't get out of his room, doesn't sleep, doesn't talk to anyone other than Dorian through the sending crystal. The worst thing is that Dorian doesn't even know at first, because all he hears is a cheerful voice of his lover, who always says that everything's alright. He discovers it from the Inquisitor's second in command, Cassandra, who is also Dorian's best friend by that time. Magister Pavus, horrified, arranges, with Cassandra's help, Dionysios' journey to Minrathous. There the Inquisitor consults healers, is fussed over by Dorian and finds another purpose for the Inquisition. They start helping the refugees from the Tevinter-Qunari war. That's how Dorian ends up with 4 adopted mage children during Veilguard, but it's another story altogether XD

Since then Dionysios visits the Imperium quite a lot, and Dorian always worries about him. Dorian himself handles the distance between them better, because he's good at enduring and living in the Imperium, and now he has something he had never had before the Inquisition – a hope for a better future.

After Veilguard Dionysios refuses to come back to Val Royeaux, stops being the Inquisitor, and starts living with Dorian at first as a fiance, and then as a husband (Archon's consort?).

11. Have they said "I love you"? If so, when was the first time?

They have, but it took some time. Dionysios is ready to profess his feelings, he does it while kissing Dorian in the Skyhold library (who said libraries are for reading?). The Tevinter is so surprised, that he nearly tosses his lover over the railing. But then he starts calling Dionysios "amatus". The latter learns later what it means.

After the confrontation with Solas during the Exalted Council, while Dionysios lies in bed without his arm, Dorian realises, that he could've lost his amatus without saying about his feeling in the Common tongue (or is it Trade tongue?). So he enters the room, sits on the bed and says "Dionysios, I love you". Dionysios is happy.

Well, from then on they say these words through letters and the sending crystal.

18. What qualities do they have that complement one another? Are there any that sometimes cause friction?

Dorian is six years older (Dionysios is 24 at the beginning of the Inquisition), he has more experience living in society and is generally much wiser. Dionysios spent 17 years in the Circle of Magi, was locked up in the former Tevinter Lighthouse, so doesn't know many things that are considered natural and universal outside the Circles. Dorian helps the Herald (and then the Inquisitor) with understanding the world. Yet Dionysios has the ingenuousness (I hope it's the right word), he has fresh eyes and looks at problems differently. And he retains it through the years. That's why Dorian likes to ask for Dionysios' opinion when already working as a magister.

If we speak about friction, we should remember that Dorian is passionate. He learned to be reserved, but beneath the mask he has a lot of passion and a lot of feelings. Dionysios is also passionate and, on top of that, short-tempered. So if they have an argument, it's a show. They can shout, stomp and glare at each other. After the first incidents they developed a rule "no magic used during arguments" (two upset mages can be dangerous to each other and everything around them).

Also Dionysios is bad at taking hints, and he never knows whether Dorian is joking or not (I based Dionysios on myself, actually).

[slothquisitor]

On Matters of Inertia: Chapter Eleven

Summary: Lucanis is thrilled to have Camina in Treviso...but Camina struggles to feel at home. Here there be smut; if that's not your cup of tea, I support you. Once things get a little spicy, pick back up after the break. <3

Also on AO3.

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Camina doesn't complain even once during their traverse across Treviso even though it includes two separate ziplines and at least three terrifying roof leaps. She's just glad to be with Lucanis. Glad to be following his familiar form through the brightly lit city. He keeps glancing back at her periodically, as though she might disappear if he doesn't, and every time she meets his eye, his face splits into a grin that sends her heart tripping over itself.

Soon enough, the villa's walls and roofs appear in front of them. Lucanis leads the way, the route clearly second-nature to him, but she appreciates how he slows down for her, guiding her path. She's so focused on not falling that it is only when he drops down to a balcony that she sees the entire villa is being patrolled by Crows. She wonders if the three Talons were understating the danger House Dellamorte is in or if this is just normal for Villa Dellamorte. She's not sure which would bother her more.

But then Lucanis is there, helping her down onto the balcony, hand outstretched. She takes it as he draws her into what she can only assume is his room. The room is neat and lushly furnished. There's a large four-poster bed against the largest wall, and he has a study area where there's a desk and a couple of chairs beside a bookcase. The place feels hardly lived in, so different from the cozy room they've built in the Lighthouse.

Still, there are touches, hints of him here. A book on the nightstand, an old favorite rather than something new. A coffee cup, missed or brought in after the servants had already cleaned for the day. Letters and the quill she'd bought especially for Spite to do his writing left on the desk. The whole of her Necropolis apartment could fit in the rooms he calls his within the villa. She is reminded of how little she has to her name, comparatively.

He seems to notice the way she takes it in. "It's not our room, but will it do?"

There's a note of apology in his voice, as though he senses the ways she finds it rather an impersonal space. "Of course. Has it been alright being back here?" she asks, wandering over to the desk and bookshelves.

She knows the answer is no before she even asks the question. Knows that no matter what he says, even if he believes it to be the truth, things have not been alright here. She knows it because she sees the struggle in his eyes, the ways he is split in two here. He is one self with her…the Lucanis only she and their closest friends see, and then he is the First Talon, the Demon of Vyrantium. That is who she glimpsed in that meeting at the Diamond, all the pieces she loves best about him folded down, carved into something sharp.

"It's been…strange. Illario is…difficult. And Caterina seems content to pretend that nothing has changed," Lucanis admits. "How are the Crossroads? The team?"

"Everyone sends their love, but truthfully, I think they were kind of glad to hear I was coming here."

"Oh?"

She turns back to him as she leans back against his desk. "I don't think I've been great company without you."

His laugh is a tired, wrung-out thing. "Me either."

"You're not sleeping well, are you?" she asks. It's been months since the shadows beneath his eyes have been this pronounced.

He sighs. "Spite has been…restless. I suppose…I have…" His gaze skitters away from her, whatever admission he is about to make is clearly not one he wishes to meet her eyes for. "I hadn't known what to make of your letters…of how long it's been…"

She nods. "You were right; I needed time. I needed to figure out what I wanted on my own."

"And?" The word comes out choked, like he has to force it, and though there are several feet between them, she can see the preternatural way he has gone so very still as he waits for her answer.

"I want to go back to the Necropolis. Continue my research there, but I also don't want to hide there forever. There are people my bone reading can help…I just spent the last two days with a Dalish clan helping them identify a unmarked mass grave. It felt…good in a way nothing has since…before everything."

His answering smile is soft, a little sad too. "Then you should do that." Her heart aches at how genuinely she can see he means it.

"But there's an awful lot of research work and writing that can happen from Treviso. I'll need to be in the Necropolis sometimes, but not always. And perhaps, once things are more stable here, you can come to the Necropolis sometimes too. It won't be perfect, and we'll be apart more than either of us wants…but…"

She knows she's rambling, is relieved when he cuts in, closing the distance between them. "But we'll make it work."

"You're really alright with that? A life split between two places?"

He rests his forehead against hers, and relief floods her veins. "I want you to be happy. If that is what you need, then that is what we will do."

"Because you have to stay First Talon?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"My House was attacked because I wasn't here…I….I don't have a lot to lose, Camina," he says. And she knows what he means is that this isn't what he wants, but that it is what he will do anyway. With duty and love and expectation inexorably tangled within him. And if he can support her choices so easily, so unconditionally, she knows she will have to find a way to live with his too.

"Just tell me what I can do to help," she whispers. He deserves so much more than this life he was born into, the title thrust upon him, but if this is his choice, then what else is there to be said?

His eyes fall shut, and a soft smile pulls at his lips. "You're here. That's enough for now." And then he kisses her, lips brushing gently against hers. She draws him closer, hands skimming over familiar armor, pulling at buckles and unstrapping knives and daggers that drop with dull thunks against the rug.

He tips her chin back, deepening the kiss, tongue sliding against hers. He grows bolder the more they touch, easing her coat from her shoulders and then working at the buttons of her shirt. She's still pressed against the desk and he lifts her atop it, stepping between the V of her legs.

"I missed this," she manages as she kisses down his jaw. She doesn't mean simply sex, though she's made it clear to him she enjoys that, but it's the closeness of him, the intimacy she missed more. Knowing him and being known. Her hand against his chest, she can feel the pounding of his heart, how fast each of his breaths are coming.

His fingers tangle in her hair as he presses closer, their bodies melding together. His eyebrows knit together as he looks at her. "Me too," he whispers, with a bit of awe.

She knows that desire has always been complicated for him. He has told her how rarely his body and his mind had seemed to be on the same page, that he had spent years believing that sex was simply something he didn't want. They have spent the last six months moving at his pace, exploring and experimenting to find what he likes, what they enjoy together. But none of that has banished the wonder from his gaze, the awe from the realization that they are aligned in so many ways.

He is, as always, better at getting her out of her clothes than she has ever been at removing his. In fairness, his armor is stupidly and needlessly complicated. A point of which she makes often and teases him about endlessly. Still, by the time her shirt and breastband flutter to the ground and he's got the laces of her pants open, she's only managed to remove his weapons and cloak and the outermost layer of his armor.

His hands skim across her shoulders and down her arms before moving to her breasts, drawing a groan from her as his fingers coax her nipples into stiff peaks. His kisses have become more insistent, scattering her thoughts, and though she wants to feel his skin against hers, she all but gives up on undressing him and simply pulls him closer. He happily complies, humming against her lips as a hand trails down her center and dips beneath her small clothes.

For all his initial tentativeness, Lucanis has turned his rather singular training in observation to become infuriatingly good at this. He knows exactly how to work her, exactly the pressure and movement that gets her squirming in his arms. She can feel the intensity of his focus as if it is a physical weight against her skin. She often makes it her job to disrupt it. She would have him as undone as he makes her feel.

She palms the front of his pants, pressing against the hard jut of his cock, is rewarded by his sharp intake of breath and the way his hips press forward, seeking more friction. He responds by pressing a finger inside of her and drawing it slowly in and out before adding a second, all while working the heel of his hand against her clit. Weeks of missing him and pent up desire mean that it doesn't take long at all for her pleasure to crest, and she comes around his fingers. He strokes her through it, looking rather smug as she pulls away to catch her breath.

She gestures rather uselessly at his armor. "Crow armor will be the death of me."

He chuckles as he pulls away to undress. "I didn't hear you complaining."

Camina hops off the desk and lets her pants and smallclothes join her other clothing on the floor. She steps forward, hands running over every bit of newly exposed skin she has access to as Lucanis undresses. Camina presses kisses across the coarse hair of his chest, hands running down his sides.

"I thought you wanted me out of my armor," Lucanis manages, leaning into her touch and pausing his work to wrap a hand around her waist.

She pulls away teasingly, only to have her hands caught in his, brought back to his skin as she feels a smiling kiss against her cheek. "A month is too long," he whispers.

"It is," she agrees.

He steps out of the last of his clothing, and then his arms are around her, and they are at last, skin to skin. She winds her hands around his neck, allowing him to half-carry, half-back her towards the bed. "From now on, we do what we have to do to see each other once a week."

"Are you really wanting to negotiate this now?" she asks as he lays her back against the soft bed.

He crawls over her. "Seemed appropriate."

"Alright then. Now, will you please fuck me?" she asks dragging her nails gently down his back.

The kiss Lucanis answers with is searing, his patience eroding away. She feels him reach between them, dragging his cock through the wetness at her core with torturous slowness. Her breath hitches in anticipation, and then he is finally pushing inside her. The rhythm he sets is slow, and he holds her tenderly. Camina is reminded of the way he drinks coffee, a sip at a time, swirling the glass, not a moment rushed. It feels as though he wants to savor every bit of this moment with her.

Every worry and concern of the last few weeks recedes as they move together. There is a safety here, in moments like this. Stripped away of her armor and the humor she holds up as a shield, she is just herself, and it is so clearly enough.

Her orgasm catches her off-guard, taking her slowly, like the tide going out. She whispers his name again and again and again. He answers with her own, the word falling against her neck as he clutches her to him and follows her over the edge.

***

Camina wakes to Spite's insistent whispering of her name. And since the demon has never quite mastered the art of whispering, it's more like hearing her name nearly shouted until she comes to. She and Lucanis had fallen asleep tangled together last night, but now that Spite is here, he's pulled away, merely laying beside her, the inches between them deliberate as he stares at her, his features too sharp to ever be mistaken as Lucanis.

"Yes, Spite?" Her voice is still heavy with sleep even to her ears, and she rubs at her eyes.

"Missed Rook," Spite says, nudging her hand with the clear message that he would like her to run her hands through his hair.

She laughs. "Are you looking for something?"

He glares at her. "Please," he says so flatly, she laughs again, but she does acquiesce. He leans into the touch and his eyes fall shut.

"I hear you've been a bit restless lately," she says.

"Rook was gone a long time," he grumbles.

"I know, I'm sorry. We won't let it be that long again," she promises.

His eyes open again on a glare. "Rook isn't staying?"

"I get to stay for a little while - a week. But then have to go back to the Crossroads. I made a deal with Strife, remember?"

Spite nods. "Can't break deal."

She'd picked the word carefully, knowing the effect it would have, the weight he puts on something like that. Still, it's harder than she thought to explain to him why she can't just stay here with them forever. Because it won't always be Strife's deal keeping them apart, but her own choices. But that conversation can wait.

"Right."

"I've been keeping our deal," Spite says. "'Take care of Lucanis, keep him safe'."

It was a hope or a plea on the night they left her for Treviso. Lucanis and Spite have both come so far, and there was some fear that without the support of friends, they might backslide if their goals didn't align. But also, knowing that Spite is with Lucanis lets her sleep a little easier. Despite all protestations to the contrary, she knows Spite cares about Lucanis, too. They are, the three of them, bonded together now.

"I knew you would," she replies.

"Read tonight?" Spite asks.

"Of course."

And with the promise extracted, she feels Spite's presence recede, Lucanis blinking awake. He makes note of the space between them, the hand she's pulled back from running through his hair, and shakes his head. "Tell me he didn't wake you up just for that."

"I mean, I think he also wanted to talk," she says around a laugh.

Lucanis closes the distance, gathering her to him and pressing a kiss to her jaw. "You should go back to sleep."

"With you here? Like this?" she teases, a hand skating down his side. He groans as their legs tangle together, bare skin pressed against bare skin. He's told her on more than one occasion how much he loves sleepy morning sex, so she leans into his touch, drawing him closer and kissing down his neck. His fingers twist in her hair as his hands find her hips, pinning her to the bed.

He pulls back slowly, a look of apology on his face. "I have meetings this morning and other First Talon duties to see to today."

She very much wants to argue with him, try to barter for at least twenty more minutes of his time, but she can already see the guilt in his eyes. So she relaxes back down into her pillow. "Alright."

"I'm going to take care of what I must, and then clear my schedule for the rest of the week. You should go back to bed for a few more hours. Then you should explore the villa when you wake up. You'll like the library."

"Why do I feel like I'm being bribed?"

He laughs. "I'll remind you that you showed up without warning, so I'm just trying to catch up. But maybe it's a little bit of a bribe. I'll let the servants know you're here, and I'll be back this afternoon."

So she's going to be alone in the gigantic villa for the day? That feels somewhat uncomfortable, but he's not wrong. It was her idea to surprise him, and it's not like he can simply blow off his work because she's here. Still, the prospect of having to be here alone feels a little daunting. But maybe that can be a problem for less tired Camina.

"I'll be here."

His arms tighten around her, and she feels him press a kiss to her hair. "I love you; I'm so glad you're here."

She kisses his chest, the coarse hair brushing against her lips. "I love you, too."

And then he leaves the bed, his warmth gone from the sheets as he pads into the bathing chamber. She'd gotten only the quickest glimpse of it last night, but on its own, it seems bigger than their room back at the Lighthouse. She's dozing when she feels the bed dip behind her, the press of his lips against her forehead, and then he's gone.

She doesn't wake again until the sun is spilling in through the windows and the door opens. "Buenas dias!" The servant who greets her is a young woman carrying a tray laden with food.

Camina hastily gathers the sheets around her in an attempt to preserve her modesty. The woman looks nonplussed. "Buenas dias," she returns, wincing a bit at her pronunciation.

The woman's eyes tighten a little. "Master Lucanis requested we bring you breakfast here," the woman switches to Trade tongue, her accent is thick, and Camina is already wishing she could apologize for her Antivan, or lack of it. She's been trying to learn, but it's so different from Nevarran and Trade that it's been slow going.

"Thank you so much."

"Do you need anything else?"

Camina shakes her head. "No, thank you."

The woman deposits the tray on a small end table near the window and then takes her leave with a smile. Camina isn't used to people just being around or coming into the room unannounced. She wishes she'd had a single piece of clothing on or managed to make a better first impression. She sighs loudly and drops back onto the bed.

A breakfast, bath, and change of clothes later, Camina finally decides to brave exploring the villa. She has fought gods and monsters and archdemons, and yet, she still hesitates at the door leading out of Lucanis's rooms. It feels incredibly awkward to simply wander around someone else's house. It would be fine except she knows that she's bound to run into people, servants or Crows or Maker forbid, Caterina. Wouldn't that just be her luck? She takes a deep breath and steps out into the hallway.

She's once again struck by the casual luxury of the villa. All long hallways are lined with art and what she can only assume are priceless pieces of furniture and pottery. Rich rugs cover marble floors, and she steps around each corner a little nervously, as though she's sneaking about in a place she shouldn't be.

Camina manages to find several drawing rooms and bedrooms and a study. She doesn't go through any closed doors, focusing instead on wandering through the open parts of the house. She's only been in this part of the villa once, when she and Lucanis had come to question Illario and had breakfast with Caterina. When they'd rescued Caterina, she'd been kept in the nearby guest house, so everywhere she wanders today is new to her. She sees a handful of servants on her trek, and she offers up a smile and a wave each time, only to be met with averted gazes or tight smiles. She really should have asked Lucanis more questions about what is expected.

Eventually, she does find the library. It's a cavernous space, two levels, and books organized more for their aesthetic appeal than any real useful system. She wanders, fingers dragging along many pristine, uncracked spines until she spots an old favorite of hers. Something familiar within the unfamiliar. She plucks it from the shelf and settles into an oversized armchair near the window. The windows overlook the garden, bathed in golden sunlight.

She reads for a few hours before beginning to wonder how uncouth it would be to go looking for the kitchen, and then, as if summoned, the same young woman from this morning appears, another tray of food in hand. There's also a teapot filled with her favorite tea, a Nevarran specialty she knows Lucanis would have had to specially procure for her. The detail feels a little overwhelming, but the woman seems to accept it as gratitude before leaving her to her reading.

"I wondered when you'd be gracing us with your presence."

Her head snaps up at the familiar crooning voice: Illario.

"Well, I've been a bit busy," she replies with more politeness than she feels.

Illario drops into the chair across from her, all calculated, casual grace. "I thought perhaps there was more to it than that; Lucanis was so touchy every time I brought you up."

"Perhaps he simply didn't want to talk to you."

Illario grins. "Oh, he's been quite clear about that."

"I bet. Now, you don't seem the type to frequent the library, so why don't you tell me why you're here?"

Illario's smile never drops, but he does sigh. "That felt like a dig. I simply came here to see you for myself. You've caused quite the stir already. Lucanis has never brought anyone home for the night before, much less the incomparable Rook."

"He already had my favorite tea on hand. Surely it wasn't that much of a surprise," she says. But yeah, she would have preferred that her first impression was not the naked woman in the First Talon's bed.

He examines his nails. "If you're here to court Caterina's good opinion, I could give you tips on what not to do. I happen to be quite the expert at earning her ire."

She leans forward conspiratorially. "I'll let you in a secret."

Illario grins and sits forward. "I love secrets."

"I don't give a fuck what Caterina thinks."

Only then does some bit of his confident mask drop, even a little bit. He stares at her just a second too long before sitting back in his chair. "Is that so?"

It is. She'll find a way to remain civil for Lucanis's sake, but she's not going to weep when she inevitably dislikes her. She and Lucanis have chosen each other; Caterina's opinion either way means very little. Besides, it hadn't taken much of Lucanis telling Camina about his upbringing for her to decide that she wants nothing to do with the woman. Lucanis says he doesn't resent Caterina, but in her opinion, he should. So she'll just do it for him.

"Yes."

Illario stands then, brushing imaginary lint off the sleeves of his finery. "I can't wait to see how that works out for you."

It feels like a challenge; it feels like a question.

***

Lucanis finds Camina in the library. She's sitting in the chair near the window, a book in her lap, her gaze occasionally wandering to the gardens beyond. To anyone else, she would look perfectly relaxed, but to him, he sees the little spots of tension. She's not entirely comfortable, something weighing on her.

"Rook!" Spite exclaims, already moving toward her as if he could pull Lucanis along.

He exaggerates his footfalls so that she hears him approaching. She glances up at him, face half-bathed in sunlight, the light catching in her hair, making the dark strands glow red and gold. She smiles, and his whole body warms. Maker, he's missed her.

"There's the First Talon," she says, words a soft tease.

He glances around doubtfully before dropping into the chair with her. "Where?"

She rearranges a bit so they can curl around each other, his head tucked under her chin. "How was your day?"

He spent much of his day doing paperwork and meeting with a few of the merchant princes who are concerned about Crossroads access with Viago. "Tedious. Yours?"

"It was nice," she says. Then, carefully adds, "I'm not used to having quite so many people around, though."

"People?"

She sighs. "Servants. Illario implied that I'd…caused a stir."

Oh. He hadn't realized that Camina wouldn't feel comfortable with servants around. It makes perfect sense now. Being watched, someone always a short call away, was a fixture of his childhood. Linked inexorably with the villa, but Camina has never had that.

"They'll gossip with each other, but nothing gets out of the villa. Caterina chooses her staff very carefully," he replies.

"How do you deal with never being alone here?" she asks, voice pitched low.

"There are ways," he says, and he tightens his arms around her. "I'm sorry, I hadn't considered how it might be uncomfortable for you."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it."

"Wait…Illario implied…did he…?" He sits up a bit to look her in the eye.

"Come visit me here in the library? Yeah."

Spite hisses. "Stay away from Rook."

Lucanis manages not to sound too angry. "If he was bothering you, I'll talk to him."

Camina cards a hand through his hair and rolls her eyes. "Relax. He was fine. Besides, if he's living here, I'll run into him plenty. Caterina, too, at some point."

"Speaking of Caterina…" He feels Camina tense a little. "She wants to have dinner with us."

"Tonight?"

He sighs. "Yes."

"And here I thought you had big plans for us this evening."

He had talked about wanting to take her out into Treviso, it's been too long since he's cooked a meal. They were going to go and pick up ingredients, and he was going to dismiss the kitchen staff for the night. He'd wanted it to be a proper evening, just the two of them.

"Tomorrow?"

"We've got time," she replies, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"I did bring a gift, if that helps matters."

She laughs. "An apology gift?"

He sits up a little, pulling the slender box from one of his pockets. "Just a gift."

She looks down at it in surprise. "Is there some occasion I've missed?"

"Open it," he replies.

She does. Nestled in the black velvet box is a silverite spellblade. He'd commissioned it especially for her, the pommel the skull of a crow, the eye sockets inlaid with two purple sapphires, a nod to the Nevarran practice of jeweled skulls, but the color was chosen selfishly.

Camina runs a hand over it carefully. "It's beautiful."

"I know you prefer your staff, but most Crow mages use spellblades like these to channel their magic since they're less an announcement of their power," he explains. "I thought…perhaps you might find it useful here, and that it would be something of Antiva to take with you when you're not here."

Camina is a powerful mage and a good fighter though it isn't what she originally trained for. She had worked with Neve and Emmrich to improve at the Lighthouse, even sparred with him on occasion, and painstakingly asked him to catalog her weaknesses. But someone is targeting House Dellamorte, and she will not always have her staff beside her. He'd worry about her less if she kept this with her.

"It reminds me of you and Spite," she says with a smile. "Thank you."

His demon perks up at that. "Piece of us."

"I hoped you would like it," he says.

She leans in to press a kiss against his lips. "I love it and you."

He settles back into her arms. "Will you read to me?"

Camina picks back up her nearly forgotten book, an old favorite of hers he notes. And she begins reading, and he can feel Spite settling as well, perching near them both. Two Crows and a Watcher in the library.

***

For once in her life, Camina is actually grateful for the hours and hours of her childhood spent in Watcher etiquiette classes. Lucanis had warned her about the Dellamorte weekly dinner, apparently, it had been something Caterina had insisted on reinstating with his return to Treviso. She'd watched him change into cleanly pressed clothes, cuff buttons and all, and deeply regretted her own lack of wardrobe choices.

She hadn't brought that much with her from the Lighthouse. Mostly because she hadn't planned on attending a fancy dinner with Lucanis's grandmother, but now that she's here, it feels rather obvious. She wishes she'd sent word to Willow to also send some of her other more formal clothing, and not just a gown suitable for Teia's birthday party. Lucanis assures her that she looks beautiful and that it's just a family dinner, but she feels self-conscious anyway.

She waits for one of the servants, a young man who can't be more than twenty, to pull out her chair. She tries not to fidget, but it's hard when Illario watches her with amusement across the table, adjusting the sleeves of his own fine shirt, and she notices Caterina's very expensive-looking ruby necklace and matching earrings. Lucanis sinks down beside her, and as they sit, his hand finds hers beneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I hope everything is to your taste, Rook. I did what I could to put together a suitable menu on such short notice. Lucanis failed to inform me of your plans to visit Treviso," Caterina says lightly, almost as if she's not admonishing her grandson.

Camina swallows down what she'd really like to say. "The fault is entirely mine; my arrival was a surprise."

Caterina looks as though she doesn't believe her at all. "Well, that does explain it then. And how did you find the library today?"

Because, of course, the servants in her house would be reporting every single movement. It feels deeply uncomfortable to know that as long as they're in this house, privacy is an illusion. Not running into Caterina today had nothing to do with luck; she'd probably known she was here the moment Lucanis spoke with the servants. She hates it.

She's saved from answering by Lucanis breaking in. "Oh, we know our humble offerings can't compare to the libraries in the Necropolis."

"Not enough corpses?" Illario jokes.

"Not nearly," she replies in mock seriousness.

Caterina's eyes flick between her and Lucanis, and she wonders what she sees, what she's thinking. Her even voice betrays nothing. "I understand you're something of a scholar there. How did you wind up with your current vocation?"

"My dossier didn't say?" she asks with a smile.

Beside her, Lucanis stiffens a bit, but she's pretty sure that Illario is smiling behind his wine glass. Caterina, for her part, doesn't miss a beat. "Well, we do usually let the guests offer up information freely, even when we know all the answers. It's only polite."

"Sounds like a pretty boring dinner party."

Caterina doesn't look particularly amused, but she shrugs a shoulder delicately. "Every now and again, people surprise you."

The rest of the dinner passes largely without incident. Caterina brings up topics, Illario and Lucanis offer a comment or two, or ask a question, and then she moves on to something else. It feels almost automatic, and it strikes her that this is their way. Everything discussed is so surface-level level it could almost be considered small talk. She finds it incredible that they can talk about things for well over an hour and say almost nothing at all.

In fact, she really believes they've all escaped this evening unscathed. After dessert and coffee, a small glass is brought out, garnished with lemon peel. Caterina takes a small sip and then pushes back from the table and stands, and Camina believes that she's managed to somehow survive the evening.

"Rook, would you join me for a turn in the gardens?"

Well, it was a nice thought. Her stomach sinks, but she puts on her most winning smile. "Of course."

Lucanis gives her an apologetic look as she stands, but it's Illario who looks the most delighted. If she wasn't worried that Caterina would see, she'd flip him off. She steels herself with the reminder to be nice, and then follows Caterina out of the dining room and into the warm evening air.

The gardens are vast, and she's pretty sure that Caterina isn't taking her out here to kill her, but still, she's comforted to be carrying the spellblade Lucanis had gifted her. The weight of it hidden against her back is a quiet reassurance.

"I am no fool, Rook," Caterina says as they walk the moonlit gardens. In the darkness, the hedges look more like shadows, and the flowers dying in the last throes of summer are wilted. "I know you do not like me."

Camina sees no reason to lie. "Is this where you tell me you don't like me either?"

She offers an amused huff. "No. I don't dislike you, nor, as you might suppose, do I not approve of you. You are strong and powerful in your own right. Lucanis will need you if he is to be a good First Talon."

It isn't what she expected. At all. "I'm still sensing a but here."

"You should know what it means to become part of our House. I assume Lucanis has told you what happened to his parents?" Caterina asks, coming to a stop and leaning on her cane as she looks at her.

The weight of Caterina's full attention feels reminiscent of her grandson's; they have the same intensity to their observation. "He did. I'm sorry for your loss."

She doesn't have to like Caterina to feel bad that her entire family was slaughtered by a rival House. Lucanis hasn't given her anything but the barest details of it all; he was a baby at the time.

"As the partner of the First Talon, you will always have a target on your back. The same will be true of your children. You have already shown great perseverance. Hold to that; you will need it if you are to survive," Caterina says.

"What if I want to do more than simply survive? What if I want to live?"

Caterina's mouth twists into something sharp. "Then you should leave and never return to Treviso. You have that choice, you are not yet part of our House."

"I find it interesting that you would offer the choice to someone you barely know, but not your own grandsons."

Caterina's hand tightens on her cane, and she leans forward. "They were born into House Dellamorte. Their choices were already made."

"Yes. By you," Camina says. "Where's the fairness in that?"

Caterina surprises her by laughing. "Fair? Oh, the world is not fair. I'd think with your background, you'd understand that better than anyone. Found in the Necropolis, but not kept. An elven mage in the Mourn Watch-"

"But I didn't punish anyone else for it," Camina cuts in.

"Is that what you believe I did? Is that why you hold me in such contempt? You put fifteen of your family members to the pyre in a single night, and then you can speak to me about what was or wasn't necessary. What you wouldn't do to keep history from repeating itself."

It's Camina's turn to laugh as she gestures back to the house. "History did repeat itself, though. Only this time, it wasn't a rival House, but Illario trying to kill Lucanis for a title he doesn't even want. Why name him Talon when you knew that?" The assumption is a gamble, the question impertinent, but Camina finds she cannot help but to ask anyway.

Caterina doesn't look surprised by the question. "Lucanis is an abomination. Illario made sure that every last Crow knew that. Naming him protects him. No one would question if he was still himself if I named him First Talon."

"Even when you yourself weren't sure?" Camina asks, remembering their conversation the day after.

"I believe you made quite the case for Lucanis still being the same man, and you were right. These last weeks with him have shown me that. He will find his footing and do his duty to House Dellamorte. There is no one else."

Camina can see that Caterina believes that. Believes wholely and completely that everything she did was necessary, and as long as her two grandsons remain alive, she will continue to believe that she has won the game. Caterina's family is broken. All over the pursuit of power, to hold onto a title. Camina sees the villa for what it is: a fucking ruin.

"Don't you ever wish there was another way?"

She doesn't expect an answer, and she doesn't get one. Caterina merely turns and walks away, her cane tapping on the stones of the walking path.

Camina turns out toward the sea, toward the water that glitters in the darkness, and she cannot help but feel a little hopeless. She's not sure that any of them can see what she does: that the Crows are at the heart of every Dellamorte tragedy, twined so tightly around each other, that they will never be free.

[charmsandtealeaves]

Got some of my reading and writing groove back this week.

Read this week:

Other Reads:

Funny Story by Emily Henry

Book Lovers by Emily Henry

Happy Place by Emily Henry

Fics:

Ripples in the Water by @kay-elle-cee (ch.13)

WIP, pirate Jily micros collection, rated M

A collection of microfics in the restless waves rise and fall universe. Each entry likely under 1k words.

Sweet Nothing by @petals2fish

Complete (2.2K), wartime Jily, rated Teen +

They were promises spoken into tired, desperate ears—fragile dreams shaped in the quiet moments when hope still flickered. Sweet nothings to cradle against the harshness of reality, like the smooth stone sitting on the kitchen counter or a single strand of hair tucked into a locket.They were just words, but words these days were the closest thing they had to magic.

Shut Up (Make Me) by petals2fish

Complete (2.3k), Hogwarts Jily, Rated M

She was supposed to be mad at him, not mad about him. But when he opened his eyes, she wasn’t fuming, and wasn't pushing him away with a scathing remark. Instead, she stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless, lips still slightly parted as if she hadn’t quite processed the space he’d put between them. There was no anger, no sharp-edged retort—just quiet, stunned curiosity, like she was confused why he’d stopped so suddenly. “Shit,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure what for. His breath hitched as he realized her hand was still tangled in his hair, fingernails ghosting over his scalp, sending little shivers down his spine. “You didn't mean to kiss me tonight,” she whispered, her green eyes locked onto his, searching—like she was trying to find something hidden among the freckles and summer-worn tan of his face. "Did you?"

The Unsent Letters of Lily J Evans by @tedwardremus

Complete (2.5k), Rated G

The summer before 6th year, Lily wrote a lot of letters. She didn’t send a single one

Slam by @athenasparrow

Complete (944w), mutual pining Jily, rated T

James’ hazel eyes blaze so furiously that Lily wonders if his magic might pour out of him until her hard-won herbs are no more than smoking ash.

Eternal Summer, Book 1: Beginning Again by @missgryffin (ch.5)

WIP, Hogwarts Jily, Rated E

James Potter just spent his sixth year trying to get over Lily Evans while, unbeknownst to him, Lily Evans just spent her sixth year trying not to fancy James Potter. Now, they just had a drunken near-kiss that neither one remembers, they've been named Head Boy and Girl, and they're both wondering how they'll survive their final year at Hogwarts in each others' presence.

The Lighthouse by @tedwardremus

Complete (30k), Remadora Muggle AU, Rated M

There is an old fishing town off the jagged rocky coast covered in permanent fog and a broken lighthouse that is no longer able to bring ships safely to shore. Tonks travels to the forgotten place to record an episode of her popular podcast. Imagine Tonks' surprise when she arrives at the abandoned lighthouse and comes face to face with its kind yet lonely keeper—Remus.

I want you (bless my soul) by @wearingaberetinparis

Complete (2.5k), curse breaker Jily AU, Rated M

If anyone had asked Lily Evans what she planned to do with her life while at Hogwarts, she would have loftily replied that she had her future all planned out. If those same people would see her now, though – thigh-deep in quicksand, holding on to James Potter’s forearms in an attempt not to sink to its deep, bottomless pit – they would hardly call her in control of her destiny.

To Live Without A Heart by @uncertainwallflower (ch.4)

WIP, James Lives AU, Rated M

James wasn’t home that night. It was the one decent thing Peter did, and James hated him for it.

Coming of Age Era by @jamesunderwater

Complete (1.3k), pre-relationship Jily, Rated G

James Potter is growing up -- no, really, he is, he even has a card to prove it!

[blackwall-my-tiny-husband]

We Can Continue this in the Morning

Day 7 of veilguard appreciation week. It’s been such a blast, thanks so much to @veilguard-appreciation-week for hosting the event! I’ve enjoyed seeing and reading everyone’s entries and participating myself!!!

Day 7: the lighthouse | we can continue this in the morning

Zalan wants to tell varric he’s seeing Harding

Set after her lock in scene but before the fire and ice quest

It was warm in the little tent in Harding’s room, Lace was draped over Zalan’s chest breathing evenly as she slept hopefully dreaming good dreams. The crow was still blinking away the sleep from his eyes but with the dwarf slung over him, arm across his stomach he wasn’t getting up any time soon. He’d briefly thought about trying to move her and get up anyway, he usually went for a stretch and run this early but her face looked peaceful and that was enough that he wouldn’t be disturbing her. Anytime her dreams managed to not be bad dreams Zalan found himself bending over backwards doing anything to let her sleep longer.

So instead of getting up the crow found himself gently running his hands through Lace’s hair. She’d taken down the braids after bathing last night and it had dried in waves down her back. The red shone in the patches of sun that infiltrated the tent and he admired the color as he brushed through her hair. The red shade was a favorite of his now, but so was the green of her eyes, and the blue of her lyrium magic. Not that he would admit that to anyone.

Listening to her sleep and enjoying the comforting weight of her on his chest he filed through what the team would need to do for the day. Dock Town had a few requests for aid as did Rivain and he’d have to split them up into groups if they wanted to do both today.

As he decided who to send where his eyes caught on Lace’s desk in the corner, missives littering the top, several letters opened and half finished were scattered prominently in the center, a good number with the inquisition stamp on them.

Which reminded him that he needed to check in with Varric. Somehow the dwarf slipped his mind easily these days- a thought he attributed to how busy everyone had been recently, but he’d been meaning to stop by and chat with him for days now.

Truthfully since Harding had kissed him he’d been meaning to bring it up with Varric. Everyone else in the lighthouse had brought up his relationship with Lace, or so it seemed, and he had been meaning to talk to his injured friend about it before someone else told him first. Zalan didn’t think the writer would hold it against him for not telling him if he heard it from someone else but the crow owed him so much he deserved to hear it from him.

He might have been unconsciously putting it off, just a little, because he was nervous about what Varric would say.

He was the one who introduced the two after all, he’d been friends with Harding for much much longer, and had always been protective of his friends. So if he didn’t approve Zalan wasn’t sure what he would do. It would hurt in a way he hadn’t experienced since Viago had been forced to rescue him on a mission gone wrong, carrying his bloody and freshly scarred body to safety instead of throwing his graduation to name him a full crow.

He comforted himself with the thought that if Varric disapproved he would only threaten Zalan or maybe try to talk sense into Harding not shoot him or send him back to the Crows.

At least he didn’t think Varric would throw him out.

Lace finally stirred pulling him out of his thoughts; sighing and nuzzling into him for a moment before stretching and grumbling about waking up with the fade sun so bright.

Giving her scalp a scratch Zalan chuckled and pressed a good morning kiss to her head. She vaguely groaned and gave his chest a pat before rolling off him to get up.

With her awake Zalan headed out of the greenhouse and promised to meet back up after breakfast for a team meeting.

Not wanting to put off the talk any longer he jogged up the stairs to the infirmary.

Varric was there, hobbling around the room, heading back to the bed, face drawn and tired.

“Hey kid, I was working on Bianca again, have to get her back into working order before I’m well enough to get back out there or I’ll be useless in a fight.” It was said with a chuckle but Zalan still felt worry for the dwarf swim though his stomach. He still wasn’t looking much better and he hoped Varric wasn’t pushing himself too hard and just making it worse. But he couldn’t very well tell him to just leave it until he was healed, Zalan wouldn’t be able to just sit still and do nothing and he couldn’t expect Varric to be any different.

“You have a minute?” Varric was pulling back the covers and sitting down on the bed looking haggard but Zalan looked hopeful.

“Leg’s bothering me today but for you Rook I have a minute or two, what’s wrong now?” He asked it with a smile and an eyebrow quirk, like he thought Zalan was always in trouble. Which maybe was a fair thought but the crow still huffed.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Zalan paused, leaning against the doorframe and fiddling with his nails for something to do.

“I- Varric I think I really like Harding.” He said it like maybe he had a problem after all. Before he could add any more Varric snorted,

“I’d hope so, we traveled together for a whole year.” Zalan wasn’t sure if he was being teased or if Varric was being purposefully obtuse and shook his head as the dwarf settled back into the bed.

“I think I love Lace Harding.” He corrected himself, trying to sound less uncertain this time and tried to look at Verric as he spoke but his eyes slid to Bianca on the table instead, “I think I’ve liked her for a while now too. When we went to retrieve the lyrium dagger- Varric I thought I’d lost her for a second when she fell off that cliff. And I want her to know now, that this is real. That it’s always been real, all the stupid times I’ve flirted, I meant it. I-“

He went to look at Varric, wanting to see if there was any reaction in the man’s face but Varric was asleep, sweat on his forehead and exhaustion written in his features.

Zalan sighed, feeling deflated after finally managing to confess it all to the dwarf only to have him fall asleep.

“Never mind, we can continue this in the morning.” His grumbling even sounded bitter to himself.

But then immediately a rush of guilt washed over him; Varric was still gravely wounded, still trying to heal, obviously still in pain if this interaction was anything to go by. He shouldn’t be bothering the older man, he needed his rest for his body to heal. And there he was just trying to yap at the poor man. He berated himself and shoved off the doorframe crossing his arms and leaving the room quietly as to not disturb Varric’s much needed rest.

He’d talk to the man later. When he was feeling better. Feeling up to it. For now he’d go down to the dining hall and the team would help, do some good, and kick some butt.

//

Later, after Solas tried to trap him, after the long arduous journey to break out of the fade prison, after the team told him what had happened while he was away, when he finally had a second to breathe Zalan wondered about that moment.

He had stared down at the empty bed where he’d thought Varric had been, the old worn coat and book sitting there. And he could feel his chest tighten yet again- it seemed to be doing that a lot as he came to terms with so much- this time from the knowledge that he never did get to tell Varric.

That someone so close to Harding never got to threaten him to treat her right like Taash did. That he didn’t get to properly thank him for introducing him to the love of his life, to leading him to the team he would consider his family. To thank him for saving him by offering him a different path after Viago sent him away from the Crows.

He would get through this like everything else. But knowing it had been Solas, letting him believe Varric was too injured, too tired to hear. That did hurt worse than torture, it hurt his soul. Made him want to hit something or throw something or cry again.

Solas would be answering for a lot when they next spoke.

Had to make today’s prompt with Varric in it for just a little bit of angst. Rook romancing Harding and wanting to tell Varric the good news but never being able to. Rook wanting to talk about her to varric because they were close and varric always cared but not getting to because either his mind won’t let him or solas doesn’t want to chat.

[bubblecat-co]

Just a lil Rook kiss Pt. 7

Full list of prompts here and if you want to make our rooks kiss (Aria or Elysia) or read them kissing their Li you can comment here or send an ask!

a lil return of Nels in this one because I love them

32. A kiss while someone watches Aria and Zalan (@virenasalin) feat. Nels (@madrabbit014)

Zalan the one and only bloodthirsty hunger games victor. Thank you for trusting me with writing him (i know you literally just asked, I'm doing it in number order and 32 just happened be next) Also adding Nels because them and Aria continues to be my favorite duo.

“I need to take a trip out and get some more sage. I’m running low.” Aria moved the papers in front of her around. Letters and notes from mostly Viago demanding updates and also information of the current happenings of Treviso. 

“I need to make a shopping trip myself, I need more drawing supplies, and I think we’re running low on medical supplies.” Nels leaned against the wall watching the assassin arrange the letters in order of importance, Viago’s was at the very bottom. They had seen her do this many times claiming she would get to them later but never would. “Maybe when you’re done pretending to respond to letters we can go. Make a list and grab what people need.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad. I need to get more poison as well, running low from the number of times I’ve coated my blades.” The door to the library opened up followed by the soft clanking of gold. Aria turned her head, her wavy black hair following off of her shoulder. “Ah Zalan. Is there anything you might need? Nels and I are planning on doing some shopping later, might as well give us your list now.” 

The older elf stared at the two younger ones, his eyes full of skepticism “you two? Going shopping? You’ll find trouble faster than I can walk into a trap.” 

Nels and Aria glanced at each other for a moment. “Well, we all find trouble in different ways. It’s never uneventful. Plus, we are both trained professionals.” She gave Zalan a quick smile as she slowly pushed one of Viago’s letters off the table, letting it get lost under the couch. 

Zalan could only sigh as he made his way over to the two “I guess that’s fair enough. Some more of that uhh what’s the name?” he snapped his fingers as his mind worked “Agh I don’t know, that antivan hot chocolate and maybe some elfroot?”

“Cioccolata calda and elfroot, got it.” she quickly reached over for an empty page and wrote it down. Nels' eyes glanced down to where the paper had vanished and reached down to pulled out the ‘missing’ letter. They set it down on the table in front of her, making sure she saw it. 

“I think this fell.” they gave her a smug smile which got returned with a small glare and a sigh. 

“Ok, I have a small job Isabela wants me to do and I’ll be back.” Zalan walked over and placed a small kiss atop of Aria’s head “Don’t self sacrifice yourselves.” He made his way to the eluvian room leaving. 

“He gave you a kiss but not me.” Nels sighed as they took a seat next to Aria. “How is that fair? and Self-sacrificing is my job”

“Maybe you can ask him for one when he returns. also, self-sacrificing isn't a job" Aria took the letter that she had tried to rid herself of–thank you Nels–and began to write a response deciding that it was better than the alternative of Viago storming into the lighthouse or bombarding her when she visited the Diamond next.