#now go poke fun at him (he's called fen by the way)

[baka-writings]

𝕆ℕ𝔼ℝ ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕤𝕖𝕩𝕪 𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

Warnings: smutty, maybe language and Mu Ziyang..

Summary: You're in a club/party, both of you under the influence of alcohol and the party itself, dancing to some songs and well..it gets heated

Also this is without Bu Fan Fan, If you'd want him too I can make a separate post😌

Also² i have no idea what this is, it's a mess so am i.. i'm sorry

all gif cr. to owners

𝕐𝕦𝕖 𝕐𝕦𝕖

he knew it'll be trouble when you accepted the party invitation to Qin Fen's weird party

but you managed to talk him into it, would call him an old man if he was ruining your party vibes

and he'd not like that

while you were having fun with Fen, who was getting you drunk, he was drinking with his friends

and yes at that time the trouble appeared

after a few shots you'd find yourself dancing with him to some weird suggestive songs, not realising your touch makes him horny two times as fast since he's drunk

the alcohol would make you both kinda forget you were in public

his hands would pull your hips closer as he'd be back hugging you and move his hips so you can feel his hard i want to feel it honestly

his hands would roam all over you body while still moving to the rhythm of the song

he'd whisper some dirty shit into your ears

you'd have to sober up a bit if you don't want to be fucked right there and tell him control himself for a bit longer until you get home

he'd do that yeah, but would not be able to eye fuck you tbh

NSFW part ahead

Okay so when you got home, he pinned you to the nearest wall with so much force it'd almost make you unconscious. He wouldn't do it on purpose of course, but he'd still be tipsy from the alcohol. He'd start giving you sloppy kisses while quickly undressing you. Since you're tipsy too, these actions would be enough to make you moan and turning him on even more if that's possible.

"Fuck me already" you managed to breathe out in-between his kisses and touches. He smirked at you and did his ✨best✨ to slam himself into you. Lovely.

He'd be fucking you against that wall until you both come, then still keeping himself inside you and taking you to somewhere else for a few more rounds. Just to show you he is not an old man he is.

The next morning he'd be kinda embarrassed, but also lowkey cocky. Embarrassed because he let the alcohol to lead him and cocky because well... he showed you he ain't old.

𝕄𝕦 ℤ𝕚𝕪𝕒𝕟𝕘

ooof

okay let's say you went to a club to celebrate oner's comeback

as it naturally goes, both of you got some drink together with his members too

but both of you are responsible drinkers, so in this case the alcohol wouldn't play as much of a role

honestly I don't think anyone would need alcohol to be seduced/charmed by this man 😏

one of his favorite songs started playing, which was obviously the sexiest song you've ever heard befor

just because it's Ziyang

and he of course dragged you with him

you'd start dancing casually, yet seductively

however after some time he'd start giving you looks similar to that in gif

I'm not afraid to say even more dangerous ones

he'd not be ashamed to move his towards you in a very naughty way

you on the other hand would like that way too much than you'd ever admit to him

by the end of the song, both of you'd be turned on and a small quick look at him would tell you that he's not done yet

NSFW part ahead

He then grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the nearest restroom, not even locking the door. The idea of getting caught would high-key arouse him not gonna lie.

He'd then attack you with his whole body, not giving you any time to protest or something. Well since you don't have much time he wouldn't bother undressing you, not yet anyway.

He'd most likely pin you against the door and fuck you quick but hard, his lips and teeth on your neck and leaving marks. He'd not care If you were loud, I'm not afraid to say he'd even want you to be loud. He would give you the same dangerous look but would add some smirk to it during his last thrusts before he cums. Honestly I think he would not even wait for you to come and be a little shit and finish it when you get home. But the fact he'd keep you unfinished for such a long time is rude. So he better make it up.

𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕠

oh god this child pls save him

he's frankly new to all of this alcohol shit and that's why he gets drunk easily

and it'd be this case as well

you'd be casually dancing with Ziyi and chatting with him as you were long time friends

when drunk Didi storms there and clings onto you while dances away with you in his arms

you'd ask him what the hell is he doing, but no answer

he'd be just back-hugging you while slowly dancing with you in his arms

you were confused on the fullest level as this was not the typical Ling Chao

you were thinking about it way too much that you didn't notice the song change to a sensual one

but well Didi would notice right away, maybe because he'd be in mood before that anyway

as he's dancing with you, his arousal pretty much poking your lower back, he'd whisper some weird shit into your ears

not weird in general, but weird coming from him him

honestly you'd be lowkey turned on by all of this not gonna lie

but on the other hand you'd be a bit embarrassed to even admit that you want him and his horny self to pleasure you

NSFW part ahead

After ages of his whining about how much he wanted you, you finally gave in. Since the party was in one of your friend's house, there was plenty of free rooms. You dragged him to one of them, quickly locked the door and attacked his cute face with kisses. You wouldn't bother undressing him, maybe later, as you knew where you were going.

You dropped on your knees, kissed his still clothed arousal, earning a a high moan from him. To that you smirked and continued your way to his dick.

You took him fully into your mouth, moving your head in a slow pace while your tongue was teasing him. He'd enjoy that too much, judging by his moans. Since he's needy, he'd grab your hair, but only lowkey motion you to go faster. Which you'd of course do. No time for teasing right now.

With a few more licks and sucks he came into your mouth, making him embarrassed as he was starting to sober up.

While you were cleaning yourself up, he'd shyly speak up and maybe apologize for "demanding sexual stuff". You'd have to tell him it's okay and it wasn't demanding at all... And maybe that you can continue when you get home.

𝔹𝕆ℕ𝕌𝕊:

[nalgenewhore]

crossing line - part one

Lorcan Salvaterre was in love with his best friend. There was not one ounce of doubt in his soul that he was a complete goner for her. 

Right now, they were on their way to the football game and there she was, sitting in the passenger seat and rapping along to whatever song she had chosen. 

Uh, Martin had a dream

Martin had a dream

Kendrick have a dream 

“All my life, I want money and power,” Elide was smiling, her lips, painted bright red, pulled into a wide grin, “Respect my mind or die from lead shower, I pray my dick get big as the Eiffel Tower, so I can fuck the world for seventy-two hours!” 

Lorcan just shook his head at her antics and turned his gaze back to the road that lead to Elide’s school. 

Even though they lived barely ten metres apart, they were technically in different districts so they attended separate schools. 

She laughed as they pulled into the parking lot, rolling down her window and blasting Backseat Freestyle when she spotted a boy with beautifully brown skin and bleached hair, shorn short, meticulous wave patterns over his skull, his silk head wrap hanging from his bag, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Fen!” 

The boy turned and cheered, holding his fist to his mouth as he rapped alongside her, “I’ve got twenty-five lighters on my dresser, yessir! Put fire to that ass, body cast on a stretcher!” 

Elide was opening the door and racing across the parking lot to him before Lorcan had even pulled into a spot, throwing her arms around Fenrys’ neck, “You didn’t show up to movie night!” 

“Yeah, I got a life outside the squad, Ellie,” he said, smiling as he set her down, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “Cute bow,” he flicked her cheer bow, attached to the base of her high ponytail. 

“Cute pants,” she shot back at him, slapping his ass. Fenrys snapped his teeth at her and they slowly started walking to the field, chatting quietly.

Just as they reached the gates, Elide swore and paused, “Fuck me, I forgot my poms! Shit, I’m so fucked.” She spun around, about to race home in Lorcan’s truck to get them and then saw Lorcan walking up, his football bag slung over his shoulder, her poms in his other hand. 

“Looking for these?” he asked, a brow quirked up and he smirked down at her. 

Elide nodded and smiled, reaching for them when he lifted them high above her head. She pouted and crossed her arms, sticking her bottom lip out, “Hey, that’s mean!” She just waited, fake sniffling and his restraint was shot, she was too cute and perfect. Elide grinned triumphantly as he passed them to her and rolled his eyes. “Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. 

Lorcan sighed through his nose and dropped a kiss on her head “Anytime, E.” They walked in step to the field. The guys were standing by the benches, smirking at the two of them and the look in Lorcan’s eyes promised a slow and pain-filled death.

The smirks dropped from their faces and Elide slid away from him, rocking on her tip-toes to press her lips to his cheek, “Good luck, I hope you lose.” 

She pranced away and he called after her, “I hope you fall and break every bone in your body.” Elide just flipped him off over her shoulder and he watched her for a few seconds as she joined the rest of the cheer squad. 

When he turned back to the team, they all had shit eating smiles on their faces. “What.” he snarled, tossing his bag to the bench. “Stop looking at me like that.” He used the hem of his shirt to wipe away the lipstick mark she had left.

It was Fenrys, of course it was fucking Fenrys, who began, “Lorcan and Ellie, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” promised Lorcan, feigning a move at Fenrys, who shrieked and cowered, waiting for a hit that never came. “Ha, got you.” 

“This is bullying, you know.” 

“Boy, shut your bitch ass up or I’ll do it for you,” warned Lorcan, his hands busy with adjusting his head band to keep his hair back. 

Fenrys just smirked back at him, “No you won’t, Ellie won’t let you.” 

All Lorcan could do was scowl, “Fuck you.” But it was completely true. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

At halftime, Yrene stood next to a seated, half dressed Lorcan, his jersey and padding on the ground next to him. She held his arm and twisted it this way and that, asking him where and when it hurt. “Y, I’m telling you, it’s not that ba-ah, fuck.” 

“Not that bad, huh?” she asked, her eyebrow raised. “Sure, Salvaterre. Wanna go back on and tear it more? No? Didn’t think so, you’re not playing.” 

“But-” 

Their team physio-therapist shot him a hard look and he promptly shut his mouth, glowering at the ground. “Lorcan, I know you wanna play, but if you’re trying to get signed to a university, you can’t be hurting yourself in exhibition game, ok? Save yourself till playoffs.” 

“Yeah, fine.” He took the instant ice pack that she passed him and the roll of tape, fully prepared to wrap it himself, but then Elide appeared in front of him, worry on her face, her brows furrowed. “El, I’m-” 

She slapped him upside the head, frowning down at him. “You idiot, you told me you were fine!” 

“Ow, I’m injured, you can’t hurt the invalid!” he protested, passing her the ice and tape when she held her hand out for them. “I can do it myself, you know.” 

She snorted as she moved behind him, lifting his right hand to hold the pack on his left shoulder. “Oh, I can just go back, then, if you don’t need me?” 

“Shut up, you know I need you, I’m useless without you.” 

Elide laughed, the sound melodious and full. It was the soundtrack of his dreams, a sound he would follow when he woke only to have reality crash down on him. “Don’t you forget it,” she said, her tongue poking out of her lips as she concentrated on snugly wrapping the tape. She glanced up at him and he was sure that the blush on her cheeks was from the cold. “That good?” 

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied. He leaned to his bag to grab his cutoff tank top, pulling it over his head and missing the way her eyes ogled his bare and sweaty chest, warm brown skin with copper undertones glowing under the lights as she helped him get his left arm through the hole. “You cold, E?” 

“Um, yeah, I guess?” 

“Mm, take my hoodie,” he said, passing it to her. She grinned and accepted it, the article of clothing practically drowning her, not that she minded. Elide turned back to the field and Lorcan stood, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, his chin resting on her head. 

Elide hummed and held onto his forearms, tilting her head back to smile at him. “Am I staying at yours tonight?” 

“Yeah, whatever you want,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “Oh, I got your ticket.” 

Elide turned in his arms and looped hers around his waist, “Ticket? For what?” 

“My prom.” 

She scowled at him, her voice monotone, “Wow, what a beautiful and romantic Promposal, thank you so much, Lorcan, of course I’ll go with you.” 

“You won’t go unless you get a Promposal?” he questioned, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. “Spoiled brat.” 

Elide pinched his side, hard. It was somewhat of a specialty of hers. “Obviously I’ll go with you. That means you have to go dress shopping with me, we’ll go tomorrow.” With that, she slid from his arms, halftime almost over. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Who’s hosting tonight?” asked Elide, the game over and won by Lorcan’s team, not that that was a surprise, Staghorn Secondary had the strongest team and dominated over every other school, as well as Orynth Secondary, Elide’s school. 

“Nobody, Fen and Con are never allowed to host again after last weekend and V is still grounded and Ro has plans.” Most likely with Aelin, the two had been skirting around a relationship for years.

“Fuck, that was so fun, though!” 

“Remember the next morning?” Lorcan nudged her, chuckling at the memory of her still faded the next day. 

“We don’t talk about that, what happens at Fen and Con’s, stays there.” She smiled at the memory, recalling how she had managed to convince Lorcan to go out and get her food, not that it ever took much for him to do something for her. She had him completely wrapped around her baby finger. “Oh, gods, and you hooked up with that girl, what’s her name?” 

Lorcan gritted his jaw, “Don’t remember.” 

“You so do, I’ll just ask Ace-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare, she-devil. Leave it.” 

Elide cackled as she dug her hand into his pocket and grabbed his keys, sauntering off, his eyes on her ass in her green and gold cheer uniform, a mini-skirt that hit just above mid-thigh and a tight, long sleeved crop top, her dark hair pulled up into a tight ponytail and topped with a gold bow. He barely realized that she was in the driver’s seat and starting up the truck. 

“C’mon, I wanna get food,” she whined, honking the horn to get him to move from where he was frozen in place. “Hurry your skinny ass up!” 

Lorcan bared his teeth at Elide, “I’m thicker than a Snicker and you know it. You wish you had cake like me.” She was completely unimpressed as he tossed his bag into the backseat and slammed the door shut, his shoulder barking in pain as he swung himself into the passenger seat.

Elide busied herself by adjusting her seat, moving it as far as it would go so that her feet could reach the pedals. She then jacked it up, still barely tall enough to see over the dash. Lorcan was utterly in love with her, How does one person become so fucking cute and beautiful? 

Soon enough, she was pulling onto the road, the windows all the way down and the sunroof open. A couple moments later, trashy country music was blaring through the speakers and Elide was belting the lyrics, her voice like honey and sugar, even when it was hoarse after cheering. 

Lorcan just watched her, falling for her over and over again. With every little, teeny voice crack, his heart fluttered in his chest and eventually she glanced over at him, “Sing!” 

“Not gonna happen, princess.” To really make his point, he crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “Turn up here,” he nodded his head to the road that they lived on. 

“I know where we live, you asshole, and yes, sing for me, you have such a pretty voice!” Elide pointed at him as she sang, “But he don’t knooowwww…..” 

Lorcan rolled his eyes and sighed, but still, “I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive, I carved my name into the leather seats...”

Elide laughed and turned onto their road, “Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, I slashed a hole in all four tires, maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats,” she sang, turning the music low as she pulled into his driveway. She sighed contentedly, shutting off the truck and hopping out before Lorcan had even unbuckled his seat belt. 

By the time he caught up to her, Elide was perched on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs as she spoke with his mother, Odette, she turned to stare at him with a look of complete disbelief, You still haven’t told her, have you? 

He subtly shook his head and she sighed. Odette noticed his shoulder and glared as she moved closer, her long onyx hair swaying, “I told you not to play!” She began poking and prodding, turning her son this way and that. “You idiot, you’ve only made it worse!” 

“Leave me alone, Hellas below, I’m resting, I promise.” 

“You also promised us you wouldn’t play if it hurt,” commented Elide, munching on dry cereal, straight from the box. 

“Hey, E, fuck off,” he said, batting his mother’s hands away. “I’m fine, I’ll take an ice bath tonight, it’ll be fine.” 

“Ooh, sounds fun,” Elide teased, hopping off the counter. “‘K, I’m gonna go home and get some stuff and say good night to my parents, I shall return!” With that, Elide was gone, leaving out the back door attached to the kitchen. 

“You should tell her,” Odette stated, picking something off of his shirt. “You should hear how she talks about you when you’re not here, baby.”

“She talks about me like I’m her best friend. And that’s it.” 

“Oh, baby, you know I love you, but you are just so mind-numbingly stupid.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+* 

Lorcan was sprawled across his bed when Elide arrived, her makeup washed and her hair in a messy bun on the top of her head. She still had on her uniform when she walked in. “Hey,” she greeted him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. 

Lorcan snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her into bed with him, nuzzling his face into her hair. “Hi.” 

She sighed and melted against him, “I’m gonna get changed and then I’m sleeping. I’m pooped.” 

He chuckled and nodded his head, sitting up and pressing his lips to her temple. “Me too.” 

She smiled softly and brushed his hair off his brow, her long nails scratching his scalp. It was times like these, these soft and warm and intimate moments when the words were sitting heavy on his tongue, but he couldn’t ruin any of these fleeting seconds, precious and so incredibly temporary. He stayed silent, grinning sleepily up at her. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, seeming like she felt the fragility of this second and wanted to preserve it. 

Lorcan flopped back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, cursing himself for everything. He was so, so fucked. Groaning slightly, his shoulder screaming in agony, he sat up and turned on his music, the soft vibes of Frank Ocean floating around the room. 

Round the city, round the clock

Everybody needs you

No, you can’t make everybody equal

Although you got beaucoup family

You ain’t even got nobody being honest with you

A soft grunt was pulled from him as a body launched onto his lap, pinning him to the bed.

His best friend was wearing a pair of his sweats, emblazoned with Staghorn Secondary’s mascot on the thigh, his number thirteen beneath it, as well as his initials. She wore a black sports bra, her thick hair still pulled into a bun. Elide grinned as she straddled his lap, holding up a container of something. 

Lorcan shook his head, “I’m not doing it.” 

Elide sighed and she unscrewed the cap, leaning back to place the lid on his bedside table. The scent of freshness permeated the air around them as she scooped out a dollop of the face mask with her finger, “You are.” 

“I don’t want-” 

Too late, his protests went unheard and Elide dabbed it on his cheek, her brows furrowed as she carefully spread the clay mask on his face, making sure to leave his stubble alone. “Come on, it makes your skin so so soft,” she said, a light sparking in her dark irises. 

Lorcan just sighed through his nose and let it happen, his hands running up her legs to hold her thighs. He resigned himself to the knowledge that Elide was the love of his life and he just didn’t have the luxury of being hers. 

@myfeyrelady @schmlip-scribble @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior​ @westofmoon​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @rhysands-highlady​ @city-of-fae​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tangledraysofsunshine​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​ @flora-and-fae​

songs (if u were wondering at all) (by order of appearance):

Backstreet Freestyle - Kendrick Lamar (good kid, m.A.A.d city, 2012) 

Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood (Some Hearts, 2005) 

Nights - Frank Ocean (blonde, 2017) 

[empire-of-wildfire]

“If you carve a dick on this pumpkin, I swear to god.” Fenrys and Aelin just a couple of bros being bros don’t make this romantic or I’ll kill myself

Okay love, I hope this is up to your standards 😉 I wouldn't want to disappoint my queen  Your commentary on your prompt requests is one of my favorite things btw

----------

Aelin walked out of the grocery store with a sigh, thinking about the boring weekend ahead of her. Rowan was in Perranth for the weekend for some work conference and she had the house to herself, but nothing to do. She’d cleaned the already immaculate house, run errands, and decorated for Halloween, and now she was out of ideas for what to do. And it was only Saturday morning. She supposed she could always find a book to read, but she didn’t really feel like reading. She cursed her husband for having to go out of town, leaving her to her boredom.

She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text. You’re the worst for leaving me this weekend, I’m already bored out of my mind.

Rowan replied quickly. I’m sure you’ll find some way to amuse yourself. I’ll be home tomorrow night, try not to kill anyone between now and then.

She rolled her eyes and drove home, contemplating what else she could do. As she pulled into the driveway she had an idea. She opened her phone, scrolling till she found the person she wanted and hit call.

“Hey Fenrys, you busy?”

“Just got back from the gym, what’s up?”

She tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear, reaching into the backseat for the couple bags of groceries she’d bought. “How do you feel about carving pumpkins? Rowan and I have a bunch from the pumpkin patch last week that we haven’t had a chance to carve yet and I’m bored.”

Aelin could hear sounds of him shuffling things around and what she assumed was the jingle of his keys. “Sounds fun! I just walked in the door, so let me shower real quick and I’ll be there in like 45 minutes.”

“You’re the best! See ya soon.” She quickly hung up and smiled. She could always count on Fenrys to be down for anything.

Since she had some time to kill, she decided to put away the groceries and get everything ready for when Fenrys got there. She cleared off their dining room table, grabbing a few of the pumpkins and setting out some small serrated knives, some spoons, and a couple sharpies on the newspaper she’d laid over the table. Just as she finished getting everything prepared, she heard her front door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Fenrys teased as he poked his head around the corner. “Oh good, you’ve already got everything. Look at you, planning ahead.”

Aelin laughed and rolled her eyes, walking over to give him a quick hug before turning back to the pumpkins. “Thanks for coming over, I was gonna go crazy if I was by myself for too long. We bought like eight of these last week and haven’t done anything with them, so I figured now would be as good a time as any to carve a few of them.”

“Sounds good to me.” Fenrys looked over the pumpkins, debating which one he wanted to carve. Finally he picked up a tall, almost oval shaped one. “This one’s mine,” he declared, an evil little smile on his face.

“Knock yourself out,” Aelin laughed. “But if you carve a dick on that pumpkin I swear to the gods, I’ll hurt you.”

Fenrys’s face fell slightly. “Come on Ace, that’s no fun! Not even a little one? Like in the background.”

“I’m not having a pumpkin with a dick carved on it at my house!” Aelin rolled her eyes and pointed one of the small knives at him as she sat down. “No dicks. Or anything relating to dicks.”

Fenrys pouted as he sat next to her. “Fine. You’re such a buzzkill.”

“And you’re a twelve year old,” Aelin retorted, reaching over to flick him on the forehead. “Now get carving and quit pouting.” She immediately started carving, forgoing sharpies and outlines.

Fenrys scowled and pulled his pumpkin in front of him, reaching for a sharpie to trace his design. “So Rowan is out of town for the weekend?”

“Yeah, some company thing in Perranth. Plus Aedion and Lys are in Rifthold still, so its like half our friend group is gone now.”

Fenrys chuckled under his breath. “Well at least you still have a pretty face to look at while they’re gone.”

Aelin snorted and replied, “Mine’s still prettier, don’t get too ahead of yourself Moonie.”

“Oh come on, you know I hate that nickname,” Fenrys groaned, setting his sharpie down and reaching for a knife.

Aelin smirked. “Oh I’m sorry, how silly of me. Would you prefer Moonpie?”

“Somehow that one is even worse,” Fenrys grumbled as he started to carve.

“Moonpie it is then!” Aelin decided with a wink.

“Hey, you asked me to come over. I can go and leave you here with your boredom and nobody to keep you company but the voices in your head,” Fenrys warned.

“Oh fine, I’ll stop you big baby.” Aelin sighed and changed topics. “How’s your brother? Rowan said he hasn’t heard from him in a few weeks.”

“Connall’s good, he’s adjusting to the new job in Banjali so I think that’s been taking up a lot of his time. Plus when I talked to him last weekend he mentioned a guy, but he wouldn’t give me much information on him so I don’t know who he is.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to do some digging and see if I can figure anything out then,” Aelin said with a small smile. “How about you, anything new? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Fenrys coughed a little, his cheeks turning pink as he stammered, “Uh, well, I umm… I’ve gone on umm, a couple dates recently, with uh, Asterin actually.” He looked sideways over at her, not fully wanting to see her reaction.

“Seriously?! How long has this been going on?” Aelin screeched, smacking him in the shoulder as she turned to face him fully, pumpkin abandoned for the time being.

“Umm, just a few weeks. We’ve only gone on a few dates, but she’s really great,” Fenrys said hesitantly, still waiting for the storm to hit.

“That’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me?! I’m really happy for you Fen,” Aelin gushed, grinning at him.

“I didn’t think you guys really got along, I didn’t want to make it weird or anything,” Fenrys said sheepishly.

“Fenrys. You’re one of my best friends, how could I not be happy for you? If you really like her, then of course that’s great. It’s not going to be weird, I promise.”

Fenrys exhaled, clearly relieved. “Okay good. I just didn’t know how to tell you honestly, it just kind of happened.”

They spent the next couple hours updating each other on all the important things they’d missed, teasing each other about the silly, slightly stupid things they had both done. Aelin finally finished her pumpkin and turned it so Fenrys could see. She’d made a witch stirring a large cauldron, and had even carved it in a way that made it look like there was steam coming from the cauldron.

Fenrys whistled appreciatively, and turned back to his pumpkin, putting the finishing touches on it and turning it to show Aelin. When she saw what he’d carved, her mouth actually fell open in surprise.

Fenrys had carved the face of a wolf. But not a regular wolf, this one looked like it was growling right at her, teeth bared and so detailed Aelin was in awe.

“How did you even do that? That’s amazing Fen!”

Fenrys shrugged. “Connall and I were really competitive as kids during Halloween time over whose pumpkin looked better. This is the first time I’ve ever carved a wolf though. Here, take a picture of me and the pumpkin so I can send it to him!” Fenrys handed Aelin his phone and posed with the pumpkin.

Aelin laughed and took the picture. “Clearly the competitive spirit doesn’t wear off as you get older,” she teased.

Fenrys snickered. “What can I say? Some things never change.”

------------

@highqueenofelfhame @kandasboi @myfeyrelady @schmlip-scribble @westofmoon @nalgenewhore @city-of-fae

[wootensmith]

Ataashi

The late summer sun warmed the Crow Fens to a thick, cloying haze. The ferns were fragrant in the heavy heat, and the long dry spell had killed off most of the insects, so it was an improvement over the Fallow Mire. At least, Solas considered it one. If it weren’t for chasing wyverns through bracken and over tumbled rock, it might even have been pleasant. Cassandra had initially been reluctant to travel to the plains in search of a rare ingredient for Vivienne, fearing the Inquisitor was becoming distracted. But once they’d arrived and found Leliana’s agents battling back wyverns on an almost hourly basis, her hesitation died and there’d been no complaints from anyone since. Iron Bull’s good natured conversation about technique with Cassandra had been a comforting sort of drone all afternoon a few dozen feet ahead, punctuated by short bursts of combat, and Solas was tired but in a satisfying, well-worn sort of way. It felt gratifying to be set on some small purpose, some easily achievable task. To put the larger ones out of mind for a time and just let his body and magic do the heavy lifting.

After their quarrel over the Qunari, he’d been terrified the Inquisitor would leave him behind again. That she’d decide it wasn’t enough, what he’d said, what he’d tried to do. By all rights, he knew, she should have. She’d watched him, watched how he spoke with the others, how he’d reacted when she’d told him Iron Bull would be along for the mission. She’d walked, once, out to the crumbled statue beyond Skyhold. He found her there, staring at the rubble and tried to apologize, but she’d only asked, “Why this one?” He should have told her the truth. Should have lanced the wound completely. It was an ideal moment to do so. She was calm, kind, open. Instead, he said only, “It was not a rational action. I was— not myself.” She’d slipped her hand into his and led him away from the stones and said nothing more of their argument. She’d remained close to him throughout the trip and he’d forgone too much sleep in order to sit with her during her nightly watch, but he could not regret it, tired though he was.

They’d found the white wyvern near the noxious sulfur pools and chased it through the steaming mud nearby. The smell made Solas’s eyes water and he could hear Cassandra coughing before the wyvern had fallen to her sword. “We need to get out of here, Boss,” rasped Iron Bull. The Inquisitor was elbow deep in the beast’s carcass. “Vivienne needs the heart,” she gasped. “Let me drag it out of here then.” “Almost finished.” “Inquisitor, do you know how to field dress a wyvern?” coughed Cassandra. She hesitated. Iron Bull grabbed the scaly tail and heaved it through the thick muck toward cleaner air. When they were breathing easier, it was Cassandra who took over the butchering. “Used to do this with Anthony,” she said, shooing the Inquisitor away. “I know how to do it without damaging the organs.” Solas poured some water over the Inquisitor’s bloody hands. She laughed softly. “It’s a losing battle, my love,” she told him. “We are covered head to toe in mud as it is.” Iron Bull stretched with a sigh. “Can’t wait to sink into the river. Too bad it’s such a hike from camp. It’ll be dark by the time we get back.” “We’ll go to Riverwatch instead,” said the Inquisitor. “I have messages from Loranil for his clan anyway and Riverwatch is far closer.” “One more moment,” muttered Cassandra. “Do you have something to carry it?” “I have it.” Solas slung his pack from his shoulder and pulled out the enchanted box.

He had his suspicions about the heart’s use, but the Inquisitor had said little about Vivienne’s request and the simple ward against decay that wreathed the box told him nothing about her intentions. “Leave it,” the Inquisitor had told him when he’d asked. “She wants no aid except to retrieve this piece for her. I’ve already offered.” And because the argument over Bull had still not completely vanished between them, Solas had dropped the question of the heart rather than press for more information. There were few tinctures he knew of that could make use of it and though Vivienne obviously had her own ambitions, he could not believe any of them conflicted with the Inquisition. She would never use it to harm them. He opened the box’s lid and held it out to Cassandra. The heart dropped heavily into the wooden case. He was busy trying to find a decent spot in his pack for it when they heard the first roar.

The marshy water rippled under the sudden breeze as a massive wing beat overhead. “Maker’s Mercy,” sighed Cassandra, rising from the wyvern carcass, “What now?” “Oh,” said Bull turning to follow the sound, “Today is a good day. Today is a very good day.” He pulled the mace from his back. The breeze dissipated the clouds of sulfur steam in great curls and Solas could see the dark violet scales of the dragon as it landed beyond. “No, Bull,” the Inquisitor cried even as he took off toward the enormous beast, “Dorian will kill me!” “C’mon, Boss,” he called back, “We needed a little excitement. Get your blood racing.” “It is very close to the Inquisition camp, Vhenan,” said Solas. “And we’ve wiped out its hunting ground. It’ll look farther for prey with the wyverns gone.” “Female, too,” added Cassandra, already drawing her sword. “That’s a nest she’s building back there.” The Inquisitor sighed. “Very well. I can see I’m outnumbered.” “Yes!” cried Bull. “Stay out of the water,” called Casssandra, “it’s a stormrider.” The Inquisitor jogged beside him through the closing clouds of sulfur. “I won’t be much help then,” she muttered. “Your barrier will be invaluable,” said Solas. She ducked as the beast’s enormous tail arced toward them, pulling Solas down with her. The air above them crackled as it swung past. Her barrier welled outward, slipping over and past him and she tugged him toward the others, crouching as they ran. Iron Bull was already swinging before her barrier had encircled him.

“Come on, Seeker,” he called back over his shoulder, “You aren’t going to let me have all the fun, are you? Get in there, the scratches in your armor will buff out.” Cassandra grunted and slammed a shield against the dragon’s jaw, shoving it up so that Iron Bull could get a better shot at its thickly scaled neck. The dragon’s head whipped back and Solas sent a wave of ice into its side. His feet tingled slightly and the Inquisitor grabbed his shoulder, pulling him from the muck onto a stone poking from the water. The barrier sizzled with angry silver veins as the dragon’s lightning skittered over it. Iron Bull swore and shook his hand trying to ease the small shock that made it through the Inquisitor’s barrier. It only made him swing harder. “Watch your flank,” Solas called, flinching as a foreclaw missed Bull’s shoulder by inches. “That’s what the Seeker’s for,” he rumbled. But Cassandra went flying as the claw connected with her shield and landed on her back in the mud. The Inquisitor called out beside him and Solas had the strange expanding sensation as the Veil stretched violently around him. The dragon froze as if paralyzed. He hated when she activated the anchor that way. It was always a panicked, wild thing. He suspected it was hastening the spread of the mark in her palm. “Don’t do that,” fumed Cassandra, scrambling up. “I’m well. And that always makes my flesh crawl.” She hacked at the giant claw that hung still suspended above her. Solas glanced over at the Inquisitor. Her expression was pained and her hand shook, but the mark held the beast in place. If she insisted on using it that way, he wouldn’t squander the time she bought them. He cast a boulder at the dragon’s skull, knocking its jaw farther up. “Hit it, Bull. Before the Veil wavers.” Iron Bull roared, spun his mace and struck true, crushing a large swathe of scale until they flew in jagged shards from its chest. “Hurry!” gasped the Inquisitor. Solas could feel the wobble as the spell began to fail, and the prickle of lightning gathering around the dragon. “Now, Seeker!” he cried, building a thin shell of ice over the beast’s hide. Cassandra dropped her shield, gripped her sword with both hands and lunged forward, her sword sinking into the unprotected gap below the dragon’s throat. The mark sputtered and the spell failed. The dragon’s head whipped down, hissing. Lightning snapped in narrow arcs between its jaws. “It’s going to strike,” warned Solas, already weaving his own barrier to replace the Inquisitor’s. Cassandra yanked, opening a wide slash. The water beneath the beast’s feet bubbled and sizzled. A gout of blood poured from its chest and the massive head plowed forward. Solas got the barrier up. Just barely. An enormous flash and heat pulsed around them, the water vaporizing into a thick cloud. Solas felt the stone shake beneath him, but could no longer see the dragon or Cassandra and Iron Bull. The Inquisitor caught him before he could topple. A triumphant shout echoed through the fog.

“Are you well?” he asked, turning to her. She was still flexing and closing her marked hand as if it pained her. “Yes, I—” “Taarsidath-an halsaam!” shouted Bull from somewhere deep in the mist. Solas coughed and flushed. Maybe his Qunlat wasn’t as inadequate as he’d feared. The Inquisitor shook her head in confusion. “Bull says he’s well, too,” he offered her. The fog began to settle, condensing on his skin, sparkling in her hair. She stepped from the rock into the mud, headed for the others. Iron Bull leaned against the dragon’s head, rubbing Cassandra’s shield with his forearm, trying to clean the dirt from it. “You don’t have to do that, Bull,” said the Seeker, rocking her sword slowly free of the beast’s clavicle. Bull shrugged. “I know you like it to shine. But I sure do enjoy when you scratch up the paint a little. That was a magnificent strike.” “You softened it up for me. Quite literally,” she laughed. She pulled the sword free and scowled at it. “It’s unbalanced now. I’ll have to take it to the smithy.” “You’re both uninjured?” asked the Inquisitor. Iron Bull stretched his arm. “Little stiff and I could use a bath, Boss. You? You look— tired after that thing you did with the mark. Always seem tired after that.” He glanced in Solas’s direction and Cassandra sheathed her sword and wrung her hands. They were both worried. “I’m well,” said the Inquisitor. “It’s just been a long day. Let’s inform the agents and then head to the river. We can send word to Loranil’s clan. There is much to salvage from the body. It’ll help them until their hunters return. U— unless you wish to—” Cassandra shook her head. “No. I think it a fine plan. The Inquisition has not even properly stored the bones and scales from the last dragon you slew. It would only go to waste.” “Tell them I’ll pay them a sovereign for a tooth,” said Bull. He picked up his mace.

The sun was sinking over the river by the time they reached it. Solas’s robes had stiffened and chafed with the thick coat of dried mud and wyvern blood. They were all too tired to stand on ceremony or even to talk much as they stripped off the filthy outer layers of clothing and armor and plunged into the water. Iron Bull sunk and then bobbed up with a contented sigh. “This was a good day,” he said. “It was,” agreed Cassandra easily, rinsing her hair. “I didn’t expect it to be quite so— satisfying a trip as it has been. The events at Adamant made me forget there are times like these. To just— be in the world. Without fear and destruction and madness constantly threatening. It is— pleasant to be out here. With all of you.” “Indeed, it is a relief to be facing only dragons and wyverns,” said Solas. “Though Dorian might have disagreed.” “Mmm,” said Bull. “I think the Boss only gave up the remains so there’d be no evidence. I won’t tell if you won’t.” The Inquisitor smiled, rinsing her hands. “You think he’d be angry with me? He only just let you out of his sight after the trouble with those assassins. He’d lock you in the mage tower if we told him.” She said it lightly and went back to her washing, but Solas could see the unease beneath. The way she drifted off as the other two talked and laughed. The way the tiny muscle at the corner of her jaw, pulsed occasionally, the way she rubbed at her marked palm. He waited until they had settled on the beach, the fire crackling, new clothes warm and dry around him. She stared pensively at the flames. Cassandra had gone to write her report and Iron Bull was bartering for dragon pieces with a very pleased Dalish messenger.

“What troubles you, Vhenan?” he asked her at last. “Is it the anchor? Is it painful?” She shook her head. “I am well,” she said, though it was obvious that she wasn’t. She watched Iron Bull and the messenger intently. Then she reached for her pack, frowning into it as she rummaged through it. He thought it best not to ask and was surprised when she at last spoke again, a deep flush coloring her cheeks. “Do you— could I possibly borrow a silver?” she asked. “I forgot that I lost my ironbark bracelet in the explosion.” “You want to buy a bracelet from Hawen’s clan?” he asked, already reaching into his coin purse. She’d never shown any sort of desire for jewelry before, but it was a simple thing and— “No,” she said, cutting off his thought. “I— you will think it foolish. Please, Solas, lend it to me this once. I’ll ask the clan to repay you.” He pressed the coin into her palm. “It is a gift. I will not ask what it is for, if it will put you at ease. But I will ask the ambassador why you’ve been given none of your own when we return. You should not be searching your pack for heirlooms when need arises.” “Thank you,” she said, kissing his cheek before hurrying to the messenger. He was troubled by the way the Dalish man’s grin evaporated after a moment speaking to her. And by the way Iron Bull scratched at the base of his horns as if he were nervous, but Solas had promised not to pry, so he left it. She seemed more relaxed when she returned and he was lulled into thinking it had been some small vanity that she had indulged.

The trip back to Skyhold had been easy, if long. When they returned to the fortress, however, they found work had piled up while they were away and that Vivienne’s need for the wyvern heart had only grown more urgent. Solas wasn’t able to discover that it was meant for her Duke until after the potion had failed. The dragon and the coin were long forgotten, lost under the growing pressure of anticipating Corypheus’s next move. It was almost two weeks later that the entire incident came back to haunt him. It was late, long after the midnight bell when Varric pounded on the door of his quarters. It took several seconds to disentangle himself from his dreams and Varric was already yelling through the door by the time Solas rose. “We could really use some help out here, Chuckles. We’ve got maybe five minutes before Iron Bull and the Inquisitor slaughter each other— depending on how drunk they really are.” Solas opened the door. “My money’s on Iron Bull being less drunk than her. You know, size difference and all,” said Varric, “but that just means the Inquisitor’s at risk of setting the keep on fire when a lightning bolt goes wide.” “I’m uncertain what you’re—” muttered Solas, but Varric grabbed his elbow dragging him out of his room. “No time. I’ll explain on the way.” He trotted along just ahead of Solas, who hurried to keep up. “It was that damned dragon. It’s always the damned dragons. Never fought one without it being a bad idea. I used to tell Hawke—” “Varric,” Solas called after him, “What has this to do with Iron Bull and the Inquisitor?” “Right, right. Iron Bull proposed a drink to celebrate the dragon you downed in the Crow Fens. I told him that turpentine was too strong. She’s used to Cabot’s watered-down ale. And even that’s not often.” He tripped over a flagstone in the dark and Solas reached to haul him up before he could hit the pavement. “Easy,” he said, casting a spell to light the stairs to the rotunda.

“Not me you should be worried about.” Varric ran down the steps. “They started arguing, three or four drinks in,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Something about blasphemy and Elven gods. Should have come to get you then, but Dorian thought he could handle it.” Varric yanked the door open and the ravens sleepily cawed at the disturbance. He ignored them and led Solas down the rotunda. “I thought she’d just drink herself to sleep and Tiny would carry her up to her bed and that’d be the end of it, so I just… left it. Sorry.” “It’s still unclear why you’re in such a panic,” said Solas. “I lost most of the argument, some of it was about old stories, very old, and then Sera and Blackwall pulled me away for a game of cards, but it got— loud. And before I knew it, the two of them were headed for the sparring ring with Dorian trying desperately to slow them down. He yelled for me to find you and— here we are.” He opened the door to the causeway and Solas could immediately hear the murmur of several voices below. “Great,” sighed Varric, “They’ve drawn a crowd. Cassandra’ll have a fit.”

A bright gold flare erupted from the sparring ring. Dorian’s barrier. His voice traveled over the low drone of the crowd. “You idiots. Stop it. You’ll hurt each other, especially in this state. And you’ll regret it in the morning.” “Move out— out of the way, Dorian,” the Inquisitor’s voice slid and wavered. Solas couldn’t tell if she were just intoxicated or if there were some weepiness in it. He pushed past Varric and sprinted down the steps. “Not gonna hurt her, Kadan,” rumbled Bull. “Jus’ gonna— whass that Cass always calls it? ‘Ven’ her spleen’. Think thass it.” “You better not hold back, Bull, I won’t,” warned the Inquisitor. “Look atcha, Boss. Can’t even lift the damn thing. Get a lot further with your staff.” “Don’t help her, Bull. Swords I can stop. But a spell goes wide and— my barrier is only so big,” said Dorian. Solas had reached the small knot of people next to the sparring ring and wove through them. Half were listing and reeked of ale. The others were guards who should still be on rounds, distracted by the sudden noise and activity. “Ssorry I hafta kill you, Bull,” said the Inquisitor. “You don’t,” snapped Dorian. “Do,” insisted the Inquisitor. “’S blas— blaphem— wrong what 'e said. Don’ want to hurt him. Love you, Bull. But hafta avenge what you said.” “It was meant in a respectful way,” cried Bull. Solas had reached the edge of the ring. The Inquisitor was on the far end, trailing an enormous sword in the dirt and leaning alarmingly to one side. She was weeping. And a mess. Iron Bull stood close to Solas, only a shield on his arm. He looked as if he might weep as well. Dorian’s barrier shone between them, a giant orb and Dorian furious in the center. “You can drop this whole thing. Let your Mythal defend herself if it’s so important,” he fumed and tried to disarm the Inquisitor with a spell, but it seemed she was not so impaired as she appeared. Or the deflection was just muscle memory by now, Solas wasn’t certain. The ragged laugh from the Inquisitor— that was not inebriation. It was the same despairing, hideous rasp of terror he’d heard her utter when she was recovering in the Western Approach. He leaped over the low fence at the edge of the ring.

“She can’t. So I must. Move, Dorian. Be ready, Bull.” She raised the sword with great effort and it almost tipped her. “Aw, come on, Boss. I didn’t mean it that way. And you’re crying. Can’t hit you while you’re crying. Less jus’ go back to the tavern. Have an ale and a card game, whaddya say? Forget the whole thing. I won’ say anything else about the dragon—” He raised his shield because she was careening toward him. Solas wouldn’t make it across the ring in time and she simply ran past Dorian. Solas stepped in front of Iron Bull. “Stop, Vhenan,” he said sternly and she skidded to a stop. The weight of the sword pulled her over and its tip buried itself in the dirt. It took her a moment to right herself, but she left the tip of the sword dragging, the hilt loose in her hand. “Move, emma lath. He must answer for what he said.” He didn’t, though Bull tugged gently on his shoulder. “She won’t hurt me, Solas,” he said quietly. “Let her get it out. So we can be friends again.” “You’ve never been one to jump to judgment, Inquisitor. What is it he said that could possibly warrant this?” he asked instead. “That he—” she leaned toward him and continued in a reeking, breathy whisper. “That he got sexual pleasure from our kill. And that he believed the Qunari mated with dragons long ago.” If she hadn’t been standing there still holding a sword and her face streaked with tears at the thought of harming her friend, Solas might have laughed. As ridiculous as the whole situation appeared to him, he could tell it held some sort of deadly serious drunken logic in her own mind. Bull’s too, somehow, if the man’s clenched grip on his shield were any indication. “I don’t understand,” Solas admitted, still planted solidly in her path. “What do either of those things have to do with you? Or with the Pantheon? Why is it worth hurting an ally?” “Dragons are Mythal’s. SSacred. Not for— for that. I should not have killed the one in the Crow Fens. I would be doubly damned if I allowed such sspeech to go unanswered,” she slurred. “I thought— after Orlais, that you no longer believed in the gods.” The sword did drop from her hand and landed with a puff of dust. “I want to. I want to believe in them,” she cried and covered her face.

Solas turned to Bull. “You should go now,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to— I thought it would be a celebration—” “This is not your doing. Go to bed. And take the crowd with you. She’ll be better, if embarrassed, in the morning.” Dorian had reached them and pulled Bull back toward the entrance of the ring. “I don’t know what I did, Kadan,” Bull muttered. “Aside from that rotgut you call a drink, I’m not sure either. Best let Solas sort it out. You’re both ridiculous, but you both survived, that’s good enough for one night.” The Inquisitor had crouched into the dust, her face still covered. Solas knelt in front of her as the space behind the ring slowly emptied with Varric’s encouragement. She stank as if she’d been steeped in torch fluid. He doubted she was rational enough that anything he said could truly affect her train of thought. What he ought to do was simply comfort her. Put her to bed. Let her nurse a hangover and some shame in the morning. That would be kinder. Cole appeared, leaning against a training dummy. “She won’t believe you,” he said. The Inquisitor did not look up, and Solas knew she could not hear Cole. “She’d want to, but she won’t. ‘Kinder in the long run,’ that’s what you said you wanted. Even if she did believe you for the night, it’s not the long run. You’ve taken everything. Can’t you leave the truth in its place for her to lean on?” He flickered out. Solas closed an arm around her waist. “Come, Vhenan. You need a bath.”

The baths were empty this late. As safe a place to talk as any and less likely to draw the attention that carrying her to her quarters would have. The warm water seemed to restore some of her awareness, if only slightly. He wondered how much she’d recall in the morning. “I’m sorry,” she said, as he scrubbed the overpowering smell of alcohol from her hair. “We’ve all overindulged from time to time. It’s never proven a habit with you. I’m not upset.” “Not about— well, yes. But about the coin, too.” “The coin?” he asked as if he’d forgotten the strange request, though he could still feel the warmth of the silver under his fingers when he’d pressed it into her palm. He poured a pitcher of water into her hair, rinsing the stench away. “I—” her voice caught for a second. “I used it for an offering to Mythal. I asked Hawen’s clan to make it on my behalf. For killing the dragon. I feared— I feared it would only worsen my punishment if I made it myself. Because I could no longer believe.” He sighed, frustrated, but she pressed on, quickly, as if she feared he’d interrupt her. “I would have used the bracelet. I should not have asked you for the coin. I knew if I told you what I intended, you’d refuse. I’m sorry.” He was uncertain how to comfort her without encouraging the lie she continued to chase after. “I would not have refused,” he settled on at last. She turned her face toward him and he wiped away the drops of water that slithered down her neck. “It will help the clan. It is a small thing that can do a great good. They will be able to buy food or warmth or safe passage with it.” She watched him, her face tired and worn. He wondered if she’d really been as drunk as the others thought. Perhaps she’d only let them think it so she could let go without alarming them. No, she’d never threaten Bull if she hadn’t been, he thought. “But Mythal doesn’t care, Vhenan,” he added. “Not about what Iron Bull says. Nor about removing a dragon that was threatening settlements. Nor— nor about your offering. Or even you. Ir abelas, emma lath. I know that hurts.” “But it is her symbol, her form—” “Yes. And it is also a beast. That requires food and nesting space. That hunts what it can, including us. That mates and bleeds and dies. That is all. You could as soon have made an offering to the Old Gods of Tevinter, if symbols were truly that important. They are no more gods than Mythal is. And that is far more blasphemous than anything Iron Bull said. Will you strike me down, instead?” “You know that I will not,” she said, though her expression was deeply troubled. “Perhaps Mythal will then? If she cares so much, perhaps it will draw her from her long silence and she will strike me down for blasphemy. But she has not done so yet.” “Don’t say such things,” the Inquisitor turned and stopped his mouth with her fingers. “Don’t tempt her.”

He shook his head with a soft smile. “She does not care. For better or worse. A real god has no need to prove herself. Your dragon slaying does not touch a real god’s power. Nor does Bull’s lust. Nor my unbelief. And if it did, then she would not be worthy of your offerings. I understand why you want to believe in them. I understand the comfort that can bring. But everything you want them to provide— it’s already here. Kindness and purpose and dignity— you do not need the gods.” He spilled a handful of water over her cheeks, washing the tear tracks away as she shut her eyes. “But you are tired. And not at your most rational. If I cannot ease your fear of Mythal’s anger, then at least believe this: whatever you or Bull have done or neglected to do, whatever slight you imagine will bring about her wrath or the wrath of any of the Pantheon, I swear to you, my own heresy is worse. And yet I remain whole. No divine punishment has reached me yet.” She opened her eyes. “There was a hole in the sky, Solas. And we’re facing the possible end of the world.” “And it threatens the devout and unbelievers alike. Is Hawen’s clan deserving of that terror? Cassandra who believes so ardently in her own god? Iron Bull who keeps the Qun even after his own people have banished him? It seems a very broad punishment if that is, indeed, what it is. This is not the hand of the gods, my love. Just the madness of a man who yearns to take a god’s power.” “How do you know?” she asked, her eyes filling again. He wondered if she were asking about more than the Breach. He chose to answer the simpler question and smiled, brushing her cheek again. “Because all of it led me to you. And I am wholly undeserving.” “You aren’t,” she protested. “That is why it is so flattering. You chose me of your own accord, not as a result of some mythical god using you as a reward. You are free, Vhenan.Your actions are a result of the world around you, just as Corypheus’s actions are. As are the consequences. They are not a judgment meted out by a god. The only thing striking Bull would do is to hurt a friend. Just as the only thing that coin will do is buy a meal or two for some hungry elves.” “It’s too much, Solas. Too much to think that if I fail there will be no intervention. No justice.” “But there will be. There always is. It will not be an intervention from any god, but from your colleagues. From your descendants. From me, if any breath remains. Your faith should be in them, for theirs is surely in you, no matter which god they may claim you for. There will be justice, at last, no matter whether Corypheus is stopped by your hand or by someone’s far after our lifespans. And it will be because of what we tried to do.” “If you’re wrong? If Mythal is only sleeping? If the Dread Wolf only locked them away?” He laughed softly and curled around her. “If I am wrong and they are truly gods, do you think your wickedness is enough to break the enchantment Fen’harel wrought centuries ago and call them forth? You think that Iron Bull was the first to blaspheme? Or that the dragon in the Crow Fens were the first to be slain? It is not even the first dragon you have slain. I told you. I have done far more to earn their ire than you ever could. They would seek me out long before they reached you or Bull. As long as I still stand, you are safe from them.” She frowned. “They cannot have you. Or they must take us both.” He kissed her forehead. “They have not appeared yet. And you left your sword in the sparring ring.” She began to laugh and he smiled fondly. “Come to bed, Vhenan,” he told her. “We can battle the gods in the morning, when your head is clear.”

[bookofmirth]

TROPE MASH-UP TIME!!! Mashing up tropes that sound like they shouldn't go together at all! 39. Survival/Wilderness Fic/ 43. Dance of Romance?

This made me laugh SO HARD when you sent it and the result is 1000% ridiculous.

*****

Aelin woke up with a grumble. The sunlight was definitely shining in her eyes, and it definitely wouldn’t have been doing that if she had been indoors. But no. She and Rowan were in a tent that he had set up the evening before, a tent which he had assured her would keep out most if not all bugs, 99% of spiders, and 100% of the morning sunrise.

Sitting up, Aelin looked at the entrance to the tent. It was open a sliver, just enough to let sunlight in to shine on her face. Rowan was on his stomach, face buried in blankets. Reaching over to grab her pillow, Aelin hit Rowan in the head with it.

“Wake up!”

Rowan flopped over. “What the fuck.” He rubbed his face and sighed, blinking himself awake.

“The sun is up, so we’re up.” Aelin stood and began arranging the blankets she had insisted on hauling with them. “We’ve got to get going if we’re going to make it back to Orynth by nightfall.” Pulling her nightgown over her head, Aelin began to dress while Rowan watched.

“Are you sure we need to go now?” He made a move to grab her, but Aelin slipped from his grip.

“This is your fault.” She pointed a finger at him. “If you’d made this place more light-proof, I would still be asleep.”

Stepping from the tent, Aelin breathed in deep, appreciating the clean, cool morning air. They were on a path that was well-worn, though a storm the afternoon before had halted their progress. Rowan had assured Aelin that a quick camping trip would be fun, but she had been fairly certain that living in a castle had rid her of the ability to live without the basic luxuries in life. Luxuries like running water and being able to sleep in.

Aelin stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the camp. Everyone else was still asleep, though they would have been awake at at attention if they realized their queen was up and ready for the day.

“I’ll get the others to start packing up our things, so once we’re done with breakfast we can leave.”

Rowan pulled Aelin against him, his chest warm against her back. He nuzzled his nose into her neck. “We can go back in there and pretend we are still asleep.”

Aelin pulled away. “You made me sleep on the hard ground.”

“We had ten blankets beneath us, and more on top,” Rowan protested.

“And I am definitely not in the mood for whatever you are trying to suggest,” Aelin finished. Somewhere in the valley - it was impossible to pinpoint where, since the sound echoed off the hillsides - a bird called out in the morning. “At least we aren’t the only ones up so early. What kind of bird was that?” She turned to Rowan, and frowned.

Rowan had begun flapping his arms and bobbing his head in what could only be described as the mating dance of a bird far too puffed up on its own attractiveness. “It was a mating call.” He continued strutting, making his way towards Aelin as she slowly backed away.

Aelin snorted. “Don’t you need feathers to do that?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing and encouraging him, but it was to no avail. Instead of a proper laugh, a puff of air escaped her lips, opening her to full on, belly-aching laughter. They were alone in the early morning, but wouldn’t be for long if she kept on making those noises.

Rowan continued flapping, stepping closer and closer towards her. “You don’t think I did this a time or two in my other form?” He bobbed his head and turned, flaunting his rear end.

Aelin’s eyebrows narrowed. “Shouldn’t I be the one showing my rear end?”

Rowan slowed, but kept flapping his arms. “Huh. Maybe.”

A rustle came from behind Rowan, and Fenrys poked his head out of his tent, squinting at the sunlight. “Rowan, what the fuck are you doing?”

Rowan froze in midair.

“Showing her the bird romance dance?” Fenrys asked.

“Go back to sleep, Fen.”

Aelin gripped her stomach, hand clasped over her mouth to keep from making noise that would wake anyone else.

Fenrys shook his head and disappeared back into his tent.

Turning back to Aelin, Rowan cocked his head. “Shall we return to bed?”

Aelin shook her head. “Please never do that dance again. And no.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. Standing on her toes, she kissed the tip of Rowan’s nose. “I won’t be able to do whatever it is you wanted in there,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of their tent, “Without thinking of your ass shaking like that.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

Shipping meme: Beth/Marion ;D

Ship Meme || Accepting

Immediately begins to shimmy when maroon 5 comes on

Beth remembers laughing. There was nothing mean or cruel about it, but an innocent delight when Marion slanted her that Look the first time she played Animals. She couldn’t have possibly known then just why the other woman seemed disconcerted, or maybe confused. Certainly not thrilled by it. So what did she do? She turned the volume up until the beat vibrated through the floor and she started swaying to the beat, bare and tawny limbs almost a physical manifestation of the music. Eyes closed, she shimmied her way closer and closer, before reaching out, taking the Cajun by the hand and dragging her to her feet. Tiny delicate hands on her hips, Beth tried to get her to mimic the same moves she was making.

She’s still sure Marion hates the song.

Wakes the other up at 3am demanding pancakes.

It’s a euphemism. A dark one at that, but sometimes…necessary. Marion never makes the call lightly, or frequently. And Beth would be a liar if she said it didn’t worry her when she hears that raspy, wind-blown autumn leaves voice on the other end of the phone.But she always goes, crosses the trackless fens from one house to another. Sometimes she swims, sometimes…sometimes she even flies. She never stops to think that it’s unnatural, that in many ways even others of her kind would find this to be an abomination, but…she’s got a gift.And maybe for Marion, it’s kind of a sacrament, too. She always tries to be gentle, and sometimes, if Beth can focus beyond the agony, she swears she sees a kind of wonder in the other woman’s eyes.

Sends the other unsolicited nudes

“Mais non, chere,” she says. Shakes her head and waves a hand, but the ash on the cigarette never falls no matter how much Beth imagines it should.

“Why no? Ya lovely.”

“An’ yer a liar, you.”

No matter how often she asks, Marion refuses.

She stands in front of her canvas, considering what to paint when the text comes, almost frightening the little Hawai’ian. She doesn’t get many calls these days. She sets down her pallet, sets down her brush and goes to collect it. 

She’s silent for long minutes. She doesn’t know how. She doesn’t know why. She didn’t even think Marion had a cell-phone, but there it is. The woman’s frame is shadowed in places, blurred in others, a little out of focus, but just as expected, there’s so much life in them. 

Beth takes the phone back to the easel and changes out paint. She spends hours at her work, days, maybe a life time. And when she’s done, she carefully deletes each naked limb, each curve, each bit of Marion that has been sent, exactly as she promised.

After snapping a couple of photos to show her later, Beth hangs the portrait of Marion in her sanctum, to live with all of her other flowers.

Brags about knowing karate even though they never made it past yellow belt

“Is true!”

Another slanted look full of disbelief as Marion takes a sip of her beer.

“Okay, okay. Mebbe he was jus’ playin’ nice, but I don’ t’ink he was. Had dis look on his face, starin’ up a’ me from da floor. Firs’ I t’ought he was gonna get up an’ murder me righ’ den an’ dere, yeah? Saw m’ whole life flash in da abyssal pits of his eyes an’ every kine. But den…hand t’ god an’ alla His angels, he smile. An’ dere was dis look of pride dat I manage to drop him.”

But the delight in her eyes dimmed after admitting that. “Kinda stopped teachin’ me t’ fight aftah dat.”

“Ya blame him? Men don’ like t’ be shown up.”“I guess.”“Still. Ya should be proud of yaself.” Marion grinned. “If it’s true.”

Comes to a complete halt outside bakeries/candy shops

Marion is determined to prove to Beth that for all it’s fame, the Cafe du Monde isn’t the only place to get beignets. Some times, Beth feels like she’s cheating. Marion assures her that fried lumps of dough don’t have feelings, and how does she know she’s not going to like something if she doesn’t try it. Beth’s brother used to tell her that all the time, so she can hardly belabour the point.Every once in a while, though, Beth has to wonder if they’re really talking about donuts.

Blows sarcastic kisses after doing ridiculous shit

Marion’s fingers are surprisingly gentle when she trace’s Beth’s scar, though the lines, the whorls, the callouses are far rougher than they ought to be. They remind Beth of sharkskin. And when she reluctantly tells her the story, Beth is absolutely sure that Marion will make fun of her. Everyone who’s ever heard it always does.So when she doesn’t, Beth is…confused.

“Wha’ don’ kill ya…makes you stronger. So why would I poke fun at ya, girl?”

Beth looks away, maybe a little ashamed for having misjudged her.“But keepin’ gators as pets…is pretty stupid.”

Killed the guy (also, which hid the body)

She doesn’t come around for weeks. Why, she can’t say. It’s not fear, it’s not even really surprise. Maybe it’s because she has to take time to process her feelings about things, maybe it’s because she feels like she stole the secret and she’s not sure what Marion will say to her, if she even let’s Beth visit.

But the rain pours down behind her, and a few drops collect under the decaying porch. The screen door hangs limply from its frame. On the other side of it, not a little unlike being on opposite sides of the Confessional, Marion’s face is…hard.

Something about her eyes hurts Beth and all the words she thought she was going to say evaporate on her tongue, leaving prolonged silence to eat at them. And maybe that was the wrong choice of words.

“I don’ care,” she says eventually. “No, dat’s not it. I do. I mean. Ya no can jus’. What I mean…”

Marion’s mouth twists into an ugly snarl. “Didn’t need ya advice or ya permission, but thanks.”

The little witch snaps then, not meaning to, planting her bare, muddy feet like oak roots. “And ya gonna lissen f’ me. I care… because I care about you. So if ya gonna go ‘round eatin’ people, well…firs’ ya gonna prolly have t’ explain dat t’ me, an’ wha’ ya are… an’ den…mebbe…work some kine out.”

A small epoch passes, but eventually, Marion pushes the door open and walks back into the recesses of her house.But it’s a start.

Wears the least clothing around the house

Marion considers allowing Beth to keep a spare set of clothes at her house. She  understands that there’s limitations to the witch’s magick and Beth confesses never being able to figure out how to change shape and retain clothes at the same time. Beth tells her it’s got something to do with the Spheres, as she calls them, and how Matter and Life aren’t the same, how nature …and around there is where Marion kind of tunes her out. 

It’s not that hard to grasp but it’s unnecessary and if anything Beth talks a lot. Like she has all these words saved up and they tend to spill out at the least provocation.

She’s offered Beth use of a shirt now and then. Girl goes out of her way to return it, primly folded and laundered. Sometimes it’s still warm as if fresh from her skin. And it always smells like her…faintly tropical, faintly earthy, sweetness and spice.

Has icky sentimental moments for no apparent reason

She’s a touchy little thing, Beth. If it’s not the dancing a little too close, she likes to card her fingers through Marion’s hair. Sometimes it’s a hug before she slips out of the door and into the trees. Sometimes, it’s dropping her chin to look over Marion’s shoulder. Or an ‘aloha’ peck on the cheek.

Beth seems to like to play with fire, and she doesn’t think the girl understands just how dangerous that inclination is.

One of these days, she’ll find out the hard way, and Marion hopes, for Beth’s sake, it’s long in coming.

[wolf-in-the-stars]

PROMPT: “My kid followed you out of the store because you’re wearing the same coat as me and they got confused” AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

I know, I know, I promised this week’s (months) ago but I’m literal trash and have so busy but I hope you guys like it!! tw: abusive past relationship.

- Remus couldn’t stop smiling all day.

- Sirius had texted him first thing that morning, then continued throughout the day.

- It started off with Sirius wishing him a good morning and talking about last night.

- Then they started flirting, talking about what their first date would be like and how Sirius would definitely woo Remus with all the chocolates.

- Then they started sending silly joking messages that made Remus let out a breathy laugh each time.

- He could feel his stomach fluttering and his cheeks heat up everytime his phone buzzed in his pocket.

- Dora kept poking fun at him, but kind heartily.

- She was over the moon that Remus finally seemed to let someone into his life.

- He had a rough past when it came to relationships.

- He’d only ever been in one real relationship, and that ended badly.

- To be honest, the whole relationship was bad.

- Dora despised that man that Remus used to be with when they were 16.

- The way he used to treat Remus disgusted her.

- Fen was older than Remus by at least 5 years.

- At the beginning, Remus felt special that an older man wanted him.

- That was until 5 months into the relationship when the abuse started.

- It was a long three years when Remus was with Fenir Greyback.

- He tried to leave, but he couldn’t. 

- Fen had a hold over him that frightened everyone.

- Since the end of that relationship, he decided to never to get involved in another one.

- And that was over ten years ago.

- He had the odd fling now and then, but nothing note worthy.

- But since having Teddy, the flings had stopped.

- This Sirius person, however, seemed to be wonderful and really captured Remus’ affection.

- And for that, Dora will always be grateful to them.

- Teddy was sat on a cushion on the floor in the living room playing Batman Lego and chatting out loud to anyone that would listen.

- He couldn’t stop talking about how fantastic last night was playing with Harry and Padfoot and kept mithering about when they could go visit again.

- Sirius texted and asked Remus the exact same question.

- Remus was sat in the armchair watching Teddy play his game and holding his phone to his chest, awaiting the next reply.

- Dora walked into the room holding a brew for each of them.

- She placed Remus’ down on the table next to him and earned a “thanks love” in reply, though he didn’t look away from the TV screen.

- “Go out with them tonight, Remus.” She pushed.

- Remus looked up with a start.

- “Don’t you think it’s too soon though? I mean, we only met yesterday …” Remus fretted whilst picking at the edges of his phone case.

- “Does it feel like it’s too soon Remus? Honestly?” Dora placed her open palm on his shoulder. 

- “I think they really like you, and I think you really like them. You owe it to yourself to at least try.” 

- Remus was silent, but nodded slightly.

- Dora sighed heavily and dropped down into Remus lap.

- “You’re insufferable, Lupin,” she complained. 

- “Yeah, whatever Tonks,” he rolled his eyes and nudged her with his shoulder.

- She chuckled lightly and ran her fingers through his hair as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

- “You’re scared it’s going to be like last time, aren’t you?” She whispered so Teddy couldn’t hear.

- He had finally stopped chatting about Harry and Padfoot and was enthralled in his game.

- Remus bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at his phone.

- “I don’t want to loose myself again, Dora.” He confessed, “I have Teddy, you and Fleur. I don’t want to loose my independence and become solely reliant on them.”  

- He sighed heavily and leant around Dora to pick up his cup of tea and took a small sip.

- “Fen was nice at first, too.”

- “I know, love. But I think Sirius will be different. They already sound amazing.”

- They fell silent watching their son who was oblivious to the melancholy mood that had fallen over the room.

- The front door suddenly opened with a call of hellos.

- Teddy gasped and jumped up in cheer and ran towards the hallway.

- “It’s maman!” he chanted. 

- “Salut la famille!” Fleur smiled as she walked into the living room, Teddy attached to her hand, looking up to her in awe.

- When she saw Remus and Dora cuddled up on the arm chair, she threw her hand to her mouth with a comical gasp.

- “Unhand my femme, Monsieur Lupin!” She playfully scowled and pointed at him.

- “Never!” He wrapped his arms around Dora’s waist to keep her from moving who jokingly squirmed in his grasp to reach her wife.

- “Teddy! The terrible Pirate Monsieur Lupin has taken me hostage!” 

- Fleur fake gasped and bent down to Teddy’s level.

- “Theodore, whatever shall we do to recuse the fair maiden?!”  

- “I’ll save her, Maman! For Mummy!” He howled his battle cry and ran towards his Daddy.

- Remus chuckled and held his hands up in mock surrender.

- Dora quickly jumped up and over to Fleur and planted a sound kiss onto her lips.

- Teddy screamed with laughter and dived onto his Daddy, tickling his small fingers under his arms. 

- “Argh, ye got me, ye got me! I handed da booty!” He chuckled like a pirate, tickling Teddy’s sides in retaliation earning childish squeals in return.

- “How was your trip, love?” Remus smiled whilst manoeuvring Teddy into his side for a cuddle.

- Dora pulled Fleur over to the sofa on the wall near the chair and wrapped herself around her.

- “It went well,” she smiled, settling herself against Dora’s shoulder, “anything exciting happen whilst I was away?”

- Remus blushed slightly whilst Dora beamed.

- “I made new friends, maman!” Teddy pushed out his chest with pride.

- “And also ran away from Daddy whilst at the supermarket, didn’t you mister?” Remus furrowed his eyebrows with a mischievous smirk.

- Teddy bit his lip with a shame face.

- “Teddy.” Fleur scolded.

- “But, that’s how I met Harry and Padfoot, Maman!” He whined.

- “Ooh, Harry and Padfoot? Is that your friends dog?” She smiled with genuine interest.

- Remus barked with laughter whilst Dora giggled into Fleur’s neck. 

- Fleur furrowed her perfect brows with confusion.

- “No,” Teddy said as-a-matter-of-factly, “Padfoot is Harrys God-Daddy! He’s is Daddy best friend and his Papa’s brother, Harry told me!”

- “Yeah, and Remus and Teddy went over for a play DATE yesterday, didn’t you?” She winked at Fleur, hoping she’d pick up on her meaning.

- Which of course she did if her bright smile aimed at Remus was anything to go by.

- Remus blushed even harder than before and sunk a little lower in the chair, jolting Teddy on the way.

- “Yeah, and it was soooo much fun! Daddy made hotpot!” Teddy patted Remus on the head in a loving gesture. 

- “Oh, hotpot,” She groaned, “what I wouldn’t do for some of your famous hotpot, Remus. I haven’t eat properly all day!” 

- “There’s some left in the fridge that I can warm up for you, Fleur,” he smiled, standing to his feet whilst picking Teddy up and putting him down in between his Mum’s. 

- He quickly placed a kiss to Fleur’s cheek and walked in to the kitchen.

- “I saw Daddy and Padfoot nearly kiss yesterday, maman!” Teddy whispered when his Dad left the room.

- “Really?” She cooed, her eyes shifting to Dora’s. “Do we approve?”

- Dora shrugged, cuddling Teddy tighter to them.

- “I haven’t met them yet, but they sound lovely. Remus looks positivity smitten today, and Teddy likes them, don’t you?”

- “Yeah, they’re cool.” Which was high praise from him.

- “Their name is actually Sirius, apparently Padfoot is a nickname but, yeah. They sound like they really like Remus, keeps asking to go on a date with him.”

- She heavily sighed and picked at a pick of fluff stuck in Teddy’s hair.

- “But you know what your Daddy’s like, don’t you pal?”

- Teddy nodded. 

- “But I think he should date them. I don’t like him being lonely.” 

- Fleur’s face fell. 

- “Your Daddy isn’t lonely, bébé. He has you! And us.” She caressed his cheek.

- Teddy sighed dramatically, leaning into her palm.

- “I knows, but what about when we go back to our house? Daddy’s on his own thens. He must get a little sad.”

- Dora lifted up her head at that. She hadn’t thought about that before.

- “Well, why don’t we go and set a little date up for Daddy with Padfoot then, hey?” She winked with mischief. “It’s got to be a secret okay? Can’t tell Daddy. It’s a surprise!” 

- “Yeah!” He cheered loudly, then slapped his little hand to his mouth.

- “Yeah” he whispered again, earning a giggle from his mum’s.

- “Come on then you. Let’s go see Sirius. Fleur-”

- “I know, I know, I’m distraction.” She winked, kissing both of their cheeks and walking into the kitchen after Remus.

- Dora gave herself a second to stare lovingly after her beautiful wife, before jumping off the sofa with Teddy in hand.

- They quietly snuck out of the front door and ran over to Sirius’ house next door, both of them tripping up over the step to knock on the door.

- The door open slightly where a person with a furrow eyebrow stood.

- “Oh hello again Teddy, you must be his mum.” They said, flinging their door open wider with a larger smile.

- “Wotcher Sirius!” Dora beamed, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Tonks. Remus and Teddy haven’t stopped talking about you all day.” 

- Sirius blushed prettily and ran their hand through the back of their hair.

- “O-oh, really? I hope they said only good things,” they bit their lip with a smirk. “Please, come in.“

- “Of course,” she winked and stepped over the threshold. “You’ve a lovely home.” 

- “Thanks.” He smiled brightly.

- “Anyway, I’m here to ask if you have any plans for the evening? Remus would love to go on a date with you, but he’s a little shy, bless him.”

- “Oh,” Sirius sighed a little, “are you sure it’s just being shy, and not the fact he just doesn’t … you know, want to? Go out with me, I mean?” They shifted a little awkwardly.

- “Definitely not!” Dora rushed. 

- With a quick look down to Teddy, she turned back to Sirius to whisper.

- “It’s not my place to say, but Remus hasn’t had good … experience when it comes to relationships or anything.”

- Sirius nodded and listened intently to her.

- “Do you think he would want to try? With me?” They seemed uncertain.

- “I think if he were ever to try, it would be with you.” She beamed. “He’s smitten for you.”

- “Yeah! His face keeps going all red when you text, like this,” Teddy rubbed his hands on his cheeks very fast so when he pulled away, they were red raw.

- Sirius chuckled.

- “Is that so? Well then, in that case.” They winked.

- “Brilliant! Say 7pm pop over to pick him up? I’ll make sure he’s ready. He likes Indian food.” Dora smiled.

- “I’ll be there. Thank you, Tonks.” 

- “Just make sure you treat my baby Daddy right, okay? I know where you live” She grinned.

- “I promise.” 

- Dora walked towards the front door, Teddy holding her hand again.

- She stopped with a jolt and turned back.

- “Wait a minute, Sirius … Sirius …” She mumbled to herself. “Is your last name Black?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

- “Erm … yes?”

- “Holy shit.” Her eyes widened.

- “Mummy! That’s a bad word!” Teddy scolded.

- “What?” She confusingly turned away from Sirius to her son, then back again, “Oh, yes, sorry, sorry Teddy you’re right, I meant shoot.”  

- Sirius sighed heavily with a dejected look.

- “I guess you just realised who I am and want me to stay away from Remus, right?"

- "No, it's just-"

-"It's okay. I get it. Its because I’m the elusive ex-heir of the Ancient and -”

- “-Nobel house of Black.” Dora unconsciously finished. “Yeah … this is going to sound crazy but … we’re cousins.”

- “What?” Sirius and Teddy both said in unison.

- “I’m Andromeda’s daughter.” 

- Sirius’ eyes grew twice their size.

- “Nymphadora?”

Tiny cliffhangerrrrrr, I hope you liked it! Sorry it took so long, don’t hate me

[manascoundrel]

Trophy- Chapter 11

by Yarking Fandom: Dragon Age (general) Summery: Two troubled children meet at the Minrathous Circle. One is a magister’s heir, groomed to be the blood mage general of Seheron, without fear or mercy. Hopefully, that will keep people from noticing how very much an elf he is. The other is last born, least loved and most of his emotions involve academics and cadavers. They love each other, even if they’re not terribly good at it. Warnings for this chapter: references to past trauma (non-graphic) Special thanks beta, Autumn <3 AO3: here

It lasted.

Tertius hadn't really expected it to. Even when Cato woke up that morning, blinking away the sleep and looked up only to see Tertius looking down at him since he noticed the other boy's stirring, Cato had only had to think for a moment before tilting his head and smiling a sleepy, grateful smile.

"I didn't wake up!" he said, as if all of it was normal, as if he didn't regret falling asleep on Tertius' leg.

Cato's muzzy delight was infectious. "Did you have any bad dreams?" Tertius asked. "You were sorta twitching there for a bit and I didn't know if I should wake you up or not. You were really sleepy last night."

"I did, but it wasn't as bad as normal. I hadn't really slept in a while. The healer gave me stuff to drink so I would go to sleep, but I've been pouring it out," Cato explained, sitting up and stretching. He yawned, tongue sticking out as he did so.

Tertius stretched as well, toes splaying as he stretched out the leg that had been trapped under Cato all night. "Why come?"

"It makes it hard to wake me up. If someone comes and gets me I don't want to sleep through all the chances I got to stick 'em and get away. But I can start drinking it now," Cato said, surprisingly cheerful for just waking up. "Uh, I mean. If you wanna keep staying here at night, with me."

The stipulation had been sheepish, as if Cato wasn't sure Tertius would want to make last night's arrangement a habit. Which was absurd. Other than his leg being asleep itself, Tertius had been riding the giddy delight of his new friendship all night, only having to glance down at the smooshed and drooling face of his new best-best friend to confirm that it was real. If anything, it was Tertius that had more than half expected Cato to dismiss him when he woke, now that there was no bedsheet evidence to-

"Oh!" Tertius said, standing in the cramped space. He ignored the prickles in his still-asleep leg. "We gotta put sheets on your bed before everyone wakes up, or they'll get suspicious."

Cato recoiled. "But I don't have any sheets. The ones we sent to the laundry last night won't be done yet."

"That's okay. I have bed stuff that I brought from home, so you can have my Circle sheets and I'll just change mine. Come on!"

Tertius shimmied through the shelf, helping Cato through behind him, and they quickly returned the books they had dislodged to slip through before tromping off to the dorms. The light pattering the hall floors from the tall line of windows let through the pale pink light of morning, dusty but not yet bright. The first of the morning birdsongs began as Tertius slipped into his dorm room, motioning Cato to follow behind.

They stripped the bed as quietly as they could, the mumble of sleepy apprentices around them making them both jump and fear being discovered, but soon enough Cato had a bundle of linens all tucked up in his arms.

"Go ahead and put these on, I'll do my own, so we both don't get caught out," Tertius whispered, drawing up close so Cato could hear without waking the whole room.

Cato nodded seriously, and snuck swiftly to the door as Tertius pulled out the bedding where it was folded under his-

Tertius stared down at the yellow blanket in his hand, still for just a moment while he remembered.

Then, quick and wordless, he ran out to the hall between their dorms, catching Cato trying to open the door with his full hands just in time.

"Psst!" Tertius hissed, and Cato stopped and jumped, twisting to see Tertius, and gave a silent, mimed sigh.

"What?" he said in a stage whisper.

Tertius closed the distance between them and draped the half-folded blanket over Cato's shoulders. "My bedding is really puffy so I don't get cold. You can have this."

"Really?" Cato asked, delight lighting up his face. If Tertius wasn't sure of his decision before, he was now. "It's so fuzzy, I love it!"

"Right? But I gotta go. I'll meet you tonight at the library? A few minutes after lights out."

Cato's face flashed with something Tertius couldn't exactly place, but he liked it. Cato nodded and nuzzled against the fuzzy edge of the blanket. "Thank you."

Tertius beamed as Cato slipped into his dorms, feeling giddy and light and like he wanted to skip. He couldn't wait to tell Stardust about this.

--

Cato flopped onto his bed after history class belly-first, nuzzling and rubbing his face against the fuzzy yellow blanket like a cat scenting his favorite person. His books and papers scattered at his bedside, assignments already done in class while some of the other students had asked questions and needed help. His tutors had already taught him the basics of the Senate and how it came to be. It was, after all, his birthright, and he was expected to know all that plenty better than the students who it wouldn't really matter to. Cato was proud of his role, and excited to do well and make his family proud.

The longer he stayed in the Circle, the more he felt a stubborn pride in representing not just his district, but elves as well. Cato had a sneaking suspicion that the Circle's attendance was a good way to judge how many elves would be working alongside him in the Senate, and- he considered with a shudder- how some of the other magisters might feel about him being there at all, even if it was his right.

Cato pet the fuzzy blanket stretched across his bed. This he hadn't expected. The Danarius boy was strange, certainly. But nice. More nice than Cato had expected. More nice than he even knew what to do with. The gift and promise of meeting again tonight had struck at Cato's already weathered wariness, eroded with exhaustion and gratitude for what he had already done for him, both calling the dorm master and finding him a safe den to hole up in should trouble arise.

He would be able to sleep. How trying it had been to stay awake hadn't really occured to Cato until he no longer had to resist it. He would be safe, and because of that, he could sleep, and be healthier, and stronger and then even more safe. All because of the human.

Cato wasn't sure what to make of Danarius being so helpful, despite his humanity. Perhaps some were good.

If so, Cato didn't much care. Enough of them weren't. Enough of them took him in the middle of the night. His mother's warnings were fresh in his mind, and Cato slipped his knife under his pillow where he hid it when he was in bed and reading. It was daytime. He was safe. They wouldn't be that reckless.

All the quiet reassurance in the world didn't fade his fear as much as the promise of the library.

--

When Cato met the Danarius boy at the library the night, he brought his bookbag, overflowing with necessities and goodies and treats.

"Dan!" Cato whispered, hopping when he saw the other boy lingering shadily in the aisle of their secret cubby hole's entrance.

Dan turned to him, cocking his head and looking perplexed. "'Dan'?"

"Yeah, cos you're a Danarius, but the whole thing sounds stuffy and too much and you're my friend. So. 'Dan'."

"You know my name's Tertius, right? You remember?" he asked.

"Yeah, but most humans from important houses go by their house name, and 'number three' feels... I don't know. Rude, or strange. Both. Do you not like it?"

Dan beamed as he lowered himself to the floor and pulled out the books hiding the cubby. "No, it's nice! I just never had a nickname before. Especially not one with my family, since I'm not heir. Oh, do you want me to start calling you Fen'Rhea? Or maybe just Fen? I really like 'Cato' to be honest, that's what I've been calling you in my head." For a moment, Dan blustered, cheeks going pink as if he had mispoke somehow. "I mean, when I told Stardust about you."

"Naw, 'Cato' is fine, I don't need a fancy name. Tamas calls me and Aun 'fenris', sometimes. She said her tamas called her that and her tamas' tamas called her tamas that and... you get me. 'Fenris' means 'little wolf', so it's for all the badger-wolf kids," Cato explained, eager that Dan seemed as excited to learn about his family as Cato was to share. He can't imagine any of the other apprentices humoring him so much without making fun of his elvhen ancestry. "Tamas also said soldiers can earn a nickname when they do something out on Seheron. So I'll just wait for then. Those names aren't always nice, but they 'build character' and that's supposed to be good."

"'Fenris'," Dan repeated, considering it as if he was trying to decide if he liked how it tasted on his tongue. He slipped, legs-first this time, into the den. "That's a pretty name."

"Who's Stardust?" Cato asked, poking his head through after Dan and getting a faceful of his robes. He batted the robes away and waited for Dan to crawl up on the cushions before sliding in himself, dragging the book bag behind him.

"Oh! I never said, did I?" Dan said cheerily, knocking his heel on the paneling as Cato got comfortable. He continued, eyes shut and a delightfully smug grin on his face. "Stardust is my pony."

"What? You have your own pony? Wha-, that's so great, why did you get a pony!?" Cato gasped, happy for his friend, even if he was a little envious. He's not quite sure what a kid his age did with a pony. Could Dan ride it? Oh, but they're so small, the image was funny to even think about!

"Stardust is the best and most beautiful pony there is. My papa got her for me, and she's so nice and sweet, and she kisses me and she really loves sugar, and- oh! Oh, can I show you to her tomorrow? I visit her every day between classes and naps."

Cato grinned. He wasn't entirely convinced the pony even existed with how Dan bragged of her, so he was willing to call the potential bluff. And if it turned out Stardust was real and not "invisible" or "at home" like some of the other apprentices might try to pull, then at least he got to see a pony. "Sure thing! I know your group does different things than mine, since we aren't ever in the same class, but we have time after lunch when we can play or take naps. I'm never tired at naptime, so we can go then if you want to."

"She'll love you, I know," Dan said, very serious.

Cato climbed up onto the cubby's cushions and pulled his bag between the two of them. "I bought some things," Cato explained, dumping out his bag and picking out items. "Since this is our spot and no one else knows about it, we can hide stuff in here. Let's see... I brought a pillow and an extra blanket- I didn't bring the yellow one because I want to have that one out during the day since it's special- and a deck of cards. Do you know how to play Diamondback? It's really fun, I'll teach you! Uh... I have a couple of books. This one's of fables. You can read it and see if there's any you haven't-"

"Uh, Cato?" Dan interrupted.

"Yeah?"

Dan looked at the pile of stuff between them, picking up a puzzle game Cato had brought in case he got bored. "Where are you going to put all this stuff? We don't have much room to sleep already. I figured that's what you'd be doing here, right? Like what we did last night?"

"Well, yeah. But I'm going to put them in here," he said, patting the cushions. When Dan looked more confused than less, Cato hopped up and pulled Dan to a stand as well before lifting the cushions to reveal a hollow space beneath the nook. "You didn't know about this? It's so apprentices can put their bags someplace safe while they're reading. And since this place is a secret, this is extra safe. Nobody could ever possibly know where it is, so we can be really extra sure that the things in it won't get stolen."

Cato beamed, watching his friend as the gears so obviously turned in his head. "It really is like having our own room. But better! What else did you bring? What's that?"

Dan pointed to his folded game board and the small velvety bag of pieces. "That's for games. One side has chess and the other has Sternhalma. I can teach those to you too if you don't know. I'll try to tell you all the rules before we start; but chess has a lot and sometimes I get them mixed up, especially the horses and the Circles, for some reason."

Cato trailed off, distracted by the mystery of why did he get those two mixed up. His attention snapped back when Dan laughed. "I already know how to play chess. I've never heard of the other one, though. Sternhalma? Is that an elf thing?"

Cato laughed. "It's in Ander. It means 'Star-'... er, star something."

";Halma' is Arcanum for jump," Dan supplied. "Is it from that? If it is, that's really strange."

"Maybe it came from before the Imperium and the Anderfels didn't like each other," Cato reasoned. If so, that was really interesting. "I bet there's a book on it. We should probably find one, just in case we don't know if something's a fair move or not. That way we can look it up and it'll be-" he braced himself to try and pronounce this right. "Non-par-ti-san."

"What's that mean?"

"It's when two groups that usually are fighting each other agree on something. It's a fancy word magisters use sometimes when they don't want to assassinate someone they usually want to assassinate over something, so it's okay if you don't know it."

Dan looked unimpressed. "I don't know if I want to play a game where you're going to want to assassinate me if I play a wrong move."

"That's not-!" Cato chirped, afraid he'd been misunderstood, when he saw Dan trying hard not to smile. It had been a joke. Cato snorted, and shoved Dan's shoulder in mock-anger. "Maybe I should."

"I would like to learn," Dan promised. "But it's starting to get kind of late, and I found this really great book I want to look at, and you should probably try to sleep soon."

Cato wilted slightly. He was happy to be sleeping, more happy to feel safe doing it, but the entire endeavor had developed a strange sense of dread when he thought about it. Cato didn't want to look at that for too long- he had the impression that maybe there was something bigger that would snap at him and lash out if he poked too hard at it, and he was too grateful to actually get some sleep to risk spoiling that just because his feelings were all... bad.

"Okay, but let me finishing showing you all my stuff," he bartered.

Dan agreed, and Cato picked through his puzzles and games, night gown and change of clothes, and showed Dan his knife- briefly- before deciding he would keep this one thing out. Just in case.

"Can I use the hiding spot too?" Dan asked as Cato packed away the last of his little knick-knacks, pulled out the blanket and pillow and changed into his sleeping gown.

Cato shrugged, smoothing out the front of the gown. "Sure! There's plenty of room. What do you want to hide?"

"There are a couple books I think look really nice, but... I'm a little worried that the Librarian won't like me checking them out. So I want to hide them so the other apprentices don't take them," Dan explained, looking away and voice going a step higher. "It's not really important, but-"

"What kind of book aren't you allowed to check out from the library?" Cato asked, surprised. It had to be a really neat book for Dan to not be allowed to read it. All the enchanters say they should read every book they could, so this one had to be extra special.

Dan blushed, cheeks turning red. "It's... uh. It's got sssome pictures."

"It's a picture book?" What kind of picture book would be banned? Picture books weren't impressive- they were for little baby kids like Aunny who couldn't read.

"No," Dan explained, as vaguely as he could. "It's got p-pictures. You know. Pictures."

Dan was trying to suggest something, stressing the words with a certain fluster. The blush had spread out to the tips of his ears and down his neck. Cato still didn't get it. "...I don't get it."

"I can show you, but you have to promise not to t-tell."

Cato nodded, wanting to be in on the secret more and more as time passed. "Course! Best-friend promise."

Dan beamed at him, evidently accepting the oath. "I'll be right back then, I'll go get it."

Dan wormed his way out from the low shelf, and Cato listened to his footfalls until they disappeared. Cato waited, excitement slowly eroding as time passed in favor of worry.

Had something happened? Nothing happened. Dan was human. But what if someone knew Dan was his friend? What if they went after Dan because Cato liked him?

The more he thought about it, the more he was certain that that was precisely what had happened, that Dan was gone and hurt and it was his fault, because he had gotten him all tangled up in his mess. By the time he heard someone walking through the aisle toward their cubby's bookshelf, he was entirely convinced it was someone coming to drag him away, his whereabouts gotten out of his poor friend through some nefarious means.

Cato brought the knife up, pointing it down and trying not to think about whether it was enchanted or not. Eyes, belly and between the legs.

The books on the lowest shelf were pulled out, and-

And Dan's head popped through the hole, a smile and a blush on his face. "Sorry I was- oh."

"Sorry!" Cato apologized, placing the knife back on the shelf behind the books and sitting on his hands in abashedly. "Sorry, you were taking a while and I thought you might have been... someone else."

Dan's face was scrunched. "Okay, but can you not keep pointing knives at me? It's scary."

"I said I was sorry," Cato grumped, feeling guilty.

Dan shook his head and continued to climb through the shelf, dragging a large, new tome behind him. He sat back on the cushions and pulled it onto his lap. "Okay, you know how I like to draw?"

"Yeah," Cato nodded.

"And you know how I like inside stuff? Like muscles and organs and things like that?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Well, I like to draw pictures sometimes from these books that show all the organs and things, because you can see where everything goes. I read the books and a lot of artists do that, so they can get better. So I was thinking-"

"Okay, but what's in the book?"

"So I was thinking," Dan repeated, emphasis implying that he was getting there. "That I want to find books with pictures of people so I can draw people without them moving around all the time. So I was looking for books with people, and I found... this! Wait... one second. Let me... gotta find the page. Ah! This!"

Dan opened the book to a page with beautiful illustrations. Woodcut prints of women in all sorts of poses. Drawing water from a well, feeding chickens, doing laundry. It looked terribly mundane, except-

"They're naked!" Cato shouted, forgetting himself. Dan nudged his elbow into Cato's side and shushed him. Cato continued, quieter this time but with a conspiratorial bent now that they had proper, legitimate contraband. "Why are they naked? Is this... for bed stuff?"

"I don't think so- it was with the books with all the other regular pictures. It even has other regular pictures in it too! And besides, I don't think people really want to do... uh... 'bed stuff' thinking about girls feeding chickens," Dan reasoned cautiously. He flipped through to show all of the other pages, all sorts of random objects in all sorts of weird angles. "I don't really want to do 'bed stuff' at all. Maybe I'm just not old enough yet, but I really just like the book because it's really good at helping with my drawings. They have tons and tons of pictures of hands! Hands are really hard."

"Yeah, you probably grow into it. Like magic!" Cato agreed. Privately, he was glad that Dan wasn't terribly interested in the drawings on the page for those reasons. They were pretty illustrations, but he felt a similar disinterest in that sort of thing when presented with the pictures. The older boys in the mess hall always made crude jokes that Cato didn't get, and the seemingly universal understanding that girls had bodies that felt good when you look at them went over Cato's head. "I can see why you would think the librarian wouldn't want you to borrow this one, yeah."

"There are a couple more. More pictures of naked people, and also pictures of other things, too," Dan explained. His voice sounded frail. "Thhhe inside stuff I told you about before? They have pictures of people's insides. Elves and Qunari and Dwarves too! They're books for healers, so they know what can go wrong inside of you, but the pictures are really good and have lots of small little things that you wouldn't really notice. Can I show you?"

"Sure!" Cato agreed. If Dan was so excited about it, he wanted to know what all the fuss was about.

Dan pulled up a second book, flipping it open to a diagram of a human torso being spread out to show the intestines, kidneys, liver and stomach and how they all folded tidily into the body. "See? And up here is where the stomach would connect to the- Cato? Are you okay?"

Was he okay? He felt cold and away and sore, sweat prickling on the back of his neck and his body locked tight at the sight of the insides. He had seen those before. It had spilled out of the rat.

When Cato came to his senses, he was on the floor, legs curled so he could fit into the small space of the cubby. Dan was above him, tearstreaked and blotchy in his crying.

"Ck-" he managed, sniffing and sobbing as he leaned back. "Cuh- Catooo?"

"Yeah?" Cato asked, blinking away the strange sleep that overtook him. "What happened?"

"You fffell d-down. I thought mmmaybe you d-d-died," Dan only barely got out between his hitched breath.

"Sorry," he apologized, sitting up. He felt a little dizzy and eased himself back to the ground. He'd get back up in a bit.

"Are yyyou o-oh-okay?" Dan stammered.

Was he? What had even happened? "Ya huh," he decided. "I feel pretty okay now. Little tired. That was weird."

"D-don't you eeever d-do that to me aaagain!" Dan said. He took the pillow off the cubby cushions from where Cato had left it and flopped it at Cato's head, furious. Fhop.  Cato's hands came up and clawed at the air to defend himself, swatting at the pillow as Dan brought it back to his chest.

Cato tried sitting up again, feeling less cloudy and more lucid after the pillow attack. His ear, free from their cuffs for the night, swivled back in annoyance. "S'not like I meant to-" Fhop. "Grgh! I didn't mean to do it. Besides, I was still breathing, so-" Fhop. "Would you stop that?!"

"I thhhought-" Fhop. "You-" Fhop. "Died!" Fhop fhop fhop.

"Well I didn't!" Cato snapped, finally managing to catch the pillow as it came down and snatch it out of Dan's grasp. He twisted his body away so he was between Dan and his feathery weapon of choice, nose wrinkled. He stuck his tongue out in defiance for a moment, and Dan began to cry in earnest. Loud, wailing sobs, the likes only a five-year-old could achieve.

Ah jeeze.

"Hey," Cato tried, shoulders slumping and he prodded Dan's shoulder to get his attention. "Hey! I'm okay! See?"

Cato flapped his arms, demonstrating his obvious hail and hearty state. Dan mostly ignored him, stutter stuck as he wailed, "I- I- I-"

"Shhh, I'm fine. I'm okay! You gotta shush, Dan, or people are gonna hear and then they'll come and find us," Cato warned, his voice squeaky from worry. "They like seeing people cry, so you gotta stop. Here. Try this- this works for me. Just don't hit me with it."

Cato passed the pillow back to Dan, who buried his face in the side and gave a very muffled scream. Cato waited awkwardly for his friend's meltdown to subside, slapping his palms on his knees where he sat cross-legged in a random rhythm. Finally, Dan's wailing tapered into wet, nearly silent sniffles. "Yyyou ssscared me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to! I don't know what happened, I just.. there was a big... thing, and I fell asleep?" Cato explained, poorly. He gave a lopsided smile. "But I'm okay. I'll talk to the dorm master and see if they know what might have happened, so I don't scare you again."

"Yyyou swear you're okay?"

"Ya huh. It felt bad before I went to sleep, but I think you feel worse than I do now," Cato assured him. "I wish I brought snacks. I'd offer you one, but I was afraid we wouldn't eat them in time and they'd get moldy and gross. Or someone would smell them and find out about this place."

"Yeah, maybe don't," Dan agreed, his tears quieting to just jagged little sips of air. When he spoke, he sounded more embarrassed than angry or panicked. "You felt like you were dead."

"Huh?"

"Like how people who are alive feel like air, and dead people feel like swimming in water, sort of?" Dan continued, oblivious to Cato's confusion. "Only, it was more like alive people are air and dead is like... honey. You felt like water."

"What are you even talking about?" Cato asked again, completely lost.

"You <i>know</i>. That feeling when people are alive and when they're dead."

Cato's brow furrowed. "I <i>don't</i> know. Or at least, I never noticed before. I never heard of that."

"Yeah? That's weird. Maybe it's something that'll grow in, like magic or liking girls. I don't think I used to be able to do it," Dan explained, his voice trailing into near silence. It made Cato uneasy.

He didn't want to think about dead things. Even thinking about the book he'd been shown made Cato feel queasy and not good. "Dan, I don't think I should look at those pictures until I figure out what happened."

"Oh," Dan said, voice off. Probably disappointed. Cato hoped he wouldn't start crying again; he already felt bad. "Okay. That's fine, I guess. You should probably sleep anyway. Uh, d'you still want to meet Stardust tomorrow?"

Cato wasn't sure how that was related but he was glad he could at least say yes to this. "Course! He sounds like a nice pony."

"<i>She</i> is a nice pony," Dan corrected him, but seemed satisfied in that at least. Maybe Stardust <i>was</i> real, if Dan could remember that detail. Cato still decided he'd believe it when he saw it.

Dan continued, breaking Cato out of his thoughts. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"What?"

"It's not bad to like this?" Dan asked, genuinely unsure. "Nobody else does. Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with my head, since I like looking at that stuff. I already stutter. What if there's something else... different? I mean, you really, really didn't seem to like it, and you're good. Is it normal, you think?"

Cato suppressed a shudder at the vague reference to the book's contents, but swallowed down the squirmy feeling and nodded. "Don't see why not. Just because it made me-" Cato gestured, unsure of what to call his brief episode, "-doesn't mean it's bad. We don't even know why I-..."

Cato finished off by gesturing wildly again, pleased when he saw his friend's tearstreaked face light up at the playfulness. "So you're not mad at me?"

"Naw, not if you're not mad at me," Cato promised. Dan shook his head vehemently, as if the notion of being cross at Cato was downright repugnant, and Cato nodded. It was settled. "Alright. We're okay."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Cato?"

Cato looked to Dan, whose face seemed to glow now that that was resolved. "Yeah?"

"Go to sleep. The good kind this time."

Cato snorted.