#sam was the one being genuinely unkind and mean and even going so far as to bring physical violence into their interactions

[enobariasdistrict2]

not someone trying to call maya an abuser to diss lucaya like... she gave him a few nicknames. the entire show all she did was give him nicknames and that was pretty much the entire extent of her teasing him. and he gave back equally in their dynamic too. yes it's probably unkind to call people nicknames especially when they express discomfort with it i'll admit that much, and lucas didn't seem to be too happy about it (honestly most of the time he was fond of this habit too and enjoyed the experience hence "putting thought into their little game") but that does not equate to abuse bestie! that's an extreme place to go just because you don't like a ship akdjfjfjfj

and it's admittedly mean to make fun of someone's heritage, but even that didn't really go to a level where it became uncomfortable either. lucas is from texas and maya made occasional jokes about it based on stereotypes? which may not be that great but this is a show about middle school characters and while i'm not saying maya's actions are okay and acceptable, she is a literal child! i guarantee y'all were just as annoying and mean when you were in middle school XD

[clairenatural]

destiel, 1.9k, post-series human!cas. this isn’t fully angst but it is me addressing castiel’s trauma since the writers never will. hurt/comfort-esque. cw for the stuff he went through at the beginning of s9. also: stargazing.

Castiel’s grace burns up when they pull him out of the Empty, but he doesn’t care—he doesn’t even notice, really, not when Dean is clinging to him, and kissing him like he needs him to breathe, and filling the gap his grace left with a love that feels even more holy.

It hits him halfway back to the bunker, when he’s riding shotgun and Sam is asleep in the backset and a passing streetlight bathes Dean’s freckles in yellow-gold. He’s been in love with Dean Winchester as a human before, and it was overwhelming, all mixed up in guilt and panic and a bone-deep betrayal he’s been trying to forget. But this time—this time is different, right? This time…it’s okay. It has to be. He’s not quite sure what he’s allowed, just yet, but he takes the risk anyway and reaches out for Dean across the bench seat. Dean meets him half way, catching his hand with his own, and it calms Castiel’s newly-human heart.

He wakes up the next morning, in Dean’s bed, and he’s forgotten how nice sleep is. Real, human sleep, on an actual mattress—memory foam, he remembers Dean proclaiming, excited. It’ll remember you now, too. He tries not to remember the concrete floor of the gas station, and his cold, thin sleeping bag, because now—now, he’s warm. He reaches out for Dean, who is still asleep but moves on instinct, lifting an arm so Castiel can curl up against him. He lets his bones sink into the warmth of Dean, the comfort of the mattress. He tries to remind himself he’ll never sleep on a storage room floor again.

He stays in bed even longer than Dean, which Dean calls impressive when he returns to the bedroom with coffee. Castiel plays it off as being exhausted, which is true, but he’s also trying to commit the feeling of the mattress to memory.

When he drains his coffee and finally decides to go brush his teeth, he stares for a long time at the toothpaste tube. Long enough that Dean comes looking. He leans against the bathroom door with a smile, raising an eyebrow at the sight. “It’s not gonna bite you,” he starts, and pushes off the doorframe to walk closer. “You have done this before, right? You know—last time?”

Castiel blinks and then nods. It’s just toothpaste. “You know, the first time I did this, I—” he pauses to smile, attempting levity. “I squeezed the tube directly into my mouth,” he chuckles then, trying to joke at his helplessness, and he thinks Dean will too—and he does smile, eventually, but not before a look halfway between guilt and grief crosses his face. Castiel isn’t meant to catch it, but he does—he sees all of Dean. He knows every expression better than he knows his own.

Dean doesn’t respond to his toothpaste comment, but he does wrap his arms around Castiel’s middle from behind, more securely than the situation demands, and he hooks his chin over Castiel’s shoulder with a hum. Castiel stares at the whole picture in the mirror, himself and Dean and his toothbrush, and he can’t help but smile when Dean brings a hand up to brush his thumb across his cheek. “You’re already gettin’ peach fuzz,” he murmurs. “Remind me to teach you to shave sometime.”

The smile falls as something thick settles in the pit of Castiel’s stomach. He remembers stumbling his way through a razor. “Oh. I, um. I taught myself.” The last time is unsaid.

“Oh.” Dean’s arms loosen around his waist, and the stricken look is back. “That’s—awesome.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Castiel turns his head to try and look at him, but Dean is already stepping away. “I’ll let you get to it,” he mumbles, and claps Castiel on the shoulder as he leaves the bathroom.

He watches Dean leave, then stares at the empty doorway for a few long seconds before turning back to his toothbrush. His hands are shaking as he squeezes out the toothpaste.

When he wanders into the kitchen a few minutes later Dean is waiting for him, armed with more coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, and he grabs Castiel by the shoulder and guides him into a seat at the table before sliding in across from him. He’s smiling—he’s eager—and it’s such a tone shift that Castiel briefly wonders if a witch snuck into the bunker while he was brushing his teeth.

But he knows this. He’s seen it before, with Sam—how Dean will set a meal down in front of him in the library and won’t leave until he takes a bite, waiting for approval. It’s love.

“Dean, you didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, I did,” he cuts him off in a tone that’s not unkind, but is final. “Wanna take care of you,” he shrugs and covers up the intimacy of that statement by reaching over to steal a slice of bacon, and Castiel hears the I love you buried under all the layers, so he smiles and eats. Predictably, it’s delicious.

“This is much better than molecules,” he commends, because he knows Dean’s waiting for it, and Dean grins and it’s beautiful and all the weirdness of the morning is forgotten.

They talk, and they eat, and they laugh, but when Dean clears the dishes he sits back at the table with a much more serious expression. “Alright, come on. What do you want to know?”

Castiel raises his eyebrows. “About…?”

“Being human.”

Oh.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s already stumbled through all the basic human functions, albeit clumsily, and he’s trying to figure out a way to explain to Dean that being homeless gives you a painful crash course on how to survive without putting that sad expression back on his face when he realizes Dean is still talking.

“Listen, Cas. I know I fucked up last time, alright? Big time. I should’ve been there to teach you to brush your teeth, and shave, and—and tie your freakin’ shoelaces, and I can’t take that back now, okay? But maybe I can—I don’t know. Do it better, this time. I know you already got most of it figured out, but I could—”

“Dean, it’s alright.” He reaches out to place his hand over one of Dean’s, which he’s been fidgeting on the table. “I forgive you.” Dean looks up, then, and they make eye contact, and Castiel does forgive him. Of course he does. There was never another option.

Dean breaks the eye contact but he moves his other hand on top of Castiel’s and squeezes. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t mean it’s okay,” he grumbles, and Castiel loves him for that.

“You can teach me to cook,” He offers, after a moment, and Dean looks up at him with a genuine smile. “I never got much further than PB&J.”

“Hell yeah,” Dean is already standing. “Come on, let’s go.”

Castiel blinks up at him. “Go?”

“To the store,” Dean rolls his eyes, as if this was obvious. “I ain’t gonna teach you to cook with whatever we have lying around.”

He’s already off before Castiel can clarify he just wants to start with grilled cheese. Dean buys the fanciest cheddar in the store anyway.

Castiel manages to burn it on both sides.

“I’m sorry,” he stares down at the mess, mournfully, and manages to look pitiful enough that Dean picks up the blackened sandwich to take a bite anyway. He grimaces when Dean chokes on it, but he’s trying so hard to not visibly react that it makes Castiel’s heart warm, and by the time Dean finally gets the lump washed down with beer, he’s staring at him with a wry smile.

“I've fed Sam worse,” is his only comment, and Castiel can’t help but huff out a laugh, and then Dean is grinning back, setting the plate down, and reaching out to pull him close. “Tomorrow we’ll tackle spaghetti.”

Castiel scoffs. “Do you enjoy burnt tomato sauce?”

“Sure do.” Dean tilts his head down, and Castiel meets him in the middle. He tastes like burnt toast, but Castiel smiles against his lips and grins into the space between them when they separate to lean their foreheads together. “What’s next, Cas?”

“Teach me how to drive.”

Dean pulls back farther, surprised. “You can drive.”

“Not well.”

Dean snorts, then sighs. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow though, alright? It’s getting dark.”

Castiel considers him for a moment, then nods. “Then drive me somewhere. I want to see the stars like this. Human.”

Dean hums and presses a kiss to his forehead. “That we can do.”

He misses the contact as soon as Dean steps back, but then Dean takes his hand and leads him into the garage, only letting go long enough to climb into the car. They drive through the sunset until the stars are peeking out, and Dean pulls onto the shoulder by a field far enough outside town to avoid all light pollution. He climbs onto the hood and Castiel follows, sitting close enough that their shoulders brush.

Castiel can feel Dean staring at him but doesn’t look back, not yet—he’s staring straight up, at the stars. He misses them, aches for them like he aches for his wings, but he also feels warm in their presence. The stars are solid. They are unyielding. They are trustworthy.

“How you feeling, Cas?” Dean asks after a moment, quietly, not loud enough to disturb the silence. Castiel hums before responding.

“Small.” He feels Dean shift, leaning into his shoulder.

“Small?” He questions, and he can hear that Dean’s worried. He shouldn’t be.

“Small,” Castiel confirms, tearing his gaze from the night sky to smile warmly back at Dean. “Back then—” last time  “—it was terrifying, being this small. I thought I was going to drown. The stars were out of reach. I longed for them.”

“And now?” Dean has shifted, angling himself so he’s facing Castiel.

“The stars are out of reach, but they’re still there. And you are also still here,” this time, “and you are not out of reach.” Anymore. Ever again. He reaches out for Dean’s face, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone. “I’m small. But we’re small together. And that makes it alright.”

Dean stares at him like he does sometimes, like if he blinks Castiel might disappear, and then he leans forward and kisses him like that first time, like if he stops he’ll forget how to breathe. He pushes Castiel down onto the hood of the car and doesn’t break for air until the metal groans under the pressure. When he backs off, then, it’s still not far—not out of reach.

“What’s next, Cas?” he asks, and Castiel knows what he’s asking. And that’s the thing—the biggest thing—he wants to forget about last time. 

He looks up at Dean, who looks like he’s holding his breath. He thinks maybe he can still let Dean teach him that, too, if he wants him to. He thinks he does want him to. 

“Let’s go home,” he replies, finally, and Dean breaks into a grin before the words are fully out of his mouth, “and you can show me.”

[evakuality]

Mia, episode six

1.  Mia is faaaaaar too nice, even if it is because she’s happy after the evening before.  There’s no way I’d clean up someone else’s mess like this.  I mean, I had to once but that’s because it was New Year and in our open doorway and the guy was passed out.  But I literally only did it so I could close the door and keep the place safe overnight.  In a situation like this, you can bet that guy would be cleaning it up himself.  This puts an interesting spin on Hans and his irritation at Matteo for not helping clean after their party, though.  Like.  He really doesn’t have a leg to stand on here.  Poor Hans, though - has the unfortunate honour of being the one who gets confused by happy flat mates who are acting out of character because of the guys they like.

2.  I don’t remember the og for this very well, but did they give a reason why it had to be kept secret?  I don’t feel like I’ve had an explanation for why Mia thinks they need to keep quiet that they’re together.  I assume it’s the Kiki thing, but I haven’t seen it articulated yet?

3.  This little interaction between Hanna and Mia is so nice, though.  Hanna is such a sweetheart; I adore her.  I love that they have this friendship with the two of them.  It’s so nice to watch it growing more through the two seasons and seeing the consistency of that friendship over time as well.  I’m glad they decided to bring this through from the og.  I also really like that the Hanna/Jonas thing is different to the og’s one with Eva and Jonas.  Parts of that one I found quite.... uncomfortable, I guess.  And I didn’t think they should get back together.  Much as I disliked him, I did think P Chris was a better fit for Eva than Jonas, so the whole turn of that at the end was blah.  But here, I do believe Hanna and Jonas work together and I like seeing the way they work through this over the seasons.  By the time they get back together, I actually believe it.

4.  This whole ‘we have to keep it secret from Kiki’ conversation with the girls should imo have come before the morning meetup with Alex.  The whole ‘but Kiki was all cool with it’ ‘yeah no she wasn’t’ vibe works better with Mia making sure Alex keeps it quiet AFTER hearing that.  I don’t know.  This is a consistent problem Druck has.  Much as I love it, pacing etc isn’t their strongest suit.  But I live for my woman Sam being out here and making sure Mia knows exactly what she’s doing if/when she decides to carry on with Alex.

5.  Mia trying to slow Kiki’s exercise/healthiness drive and getting left further and further in the dust is truly funny to me.  I know of course that what Kiki is doing isn’t healthy at all and her obsession is too much.  But the fact that she’s clearly fitter than Mia does shine a light onto Mia’s way of going about stuff.  She is always certain she knows what’s right for other people, and that her way is always the right way.  While Kiki is taking things too far, Mia doesn’t have all the answers either.  Giving Kiki some respect and allowing her to voice how she feels is a better strategy, but it’s not one Mia (who we already know is super in need of being the one in control) is very good at doing.  Given that Sam literally just told us that Kiki semi-worships Mia, this whole image is interesting.  They are two different people with two very different sets of needs (in all aspects of their lives, but visually we are seeing this in the exercise) but neither of them is allowing the other to be who she is.  Mia tries to micromanage Kiki and Kiki tries to make Mia do exercise/live exactly like her.  There are clear reasons for this of course but the upshot is that they aren’t able to communicate effectively because they each assume the other needs what they themselves do.

6.  I have nothing much to say here except that I still really love the Hanna and Mia friendship.  I love that they discuss stuff with each other that’s quite important to them and worry about what’s troubling them.  If Mia struggles to communicate with Kiki, she doesn’t with Hanna.  And it’s nice that she’s got this person.  But what I don’t like is this sneaking around Mia’s doing.  She literally told Hanna about Alex, so there’s no reason to be this evasive about meeting him.  It was also a weird decision to have the lipstick thing be with Leonie and Sara rather than the friend group.  In the og it made sense and heightened the tension with Vilde.  Here, it’s just a random nod in a meaningless way.

7.  This scene with Mia and Alex should feel sort of lovely (they certainly have a nice chemistry together as actors), but I’m not feeling it because it’s such a short time since he was apparently the depth of all that is wrong with men, and I just didn’t believe her change of heart.  I’m not sure how you go from the awkward sort of ‘he is an asshole but I’m drawn to him anyway’ to this very easy happy moment.  Best thing here is Amira and her absolute insistence that no-one cam know she has a job - and also, like Sam, telling it like it is.  Keeping Kiki in the dark is both difficult and unkind.  But we already saw that Mia and Kiki are on different playing field so to speak and so obviously this is going to be an issue.  But now that literally all of her friends know, Kiki is going to be super devastated once she finds out they kept it from her.  Mia calling Amira out about having a job and not telling is real sidetracking as well - it’s not the same.  Amira having a job affects only her.  Mia and Alex affects other people and as Kiki’s friend, Mia should be telling her.

8.  It’s really interesting seeing Linn in this season.  I know her, obviously, from Matteo’s and in that one she’s not quite so bizarre or alarming.  She’s still quirky, but standing in someone’s room or hovering like this while talking nightmares isn’t really part of her thing there.  I’m finding her quite creepy in this and I’m glad this wasn’t my first introduction to her.

9.  But also, I do have to commend the acting in this season.  Mia is so comfortable around both Hanna and Alex, but with Kiki she’s so much tighter, more wound up and anxious.  And there’s a reason for that, of course, but it’s done so nicely.  And the way this scene with Kiki plays out is very good.  They both do a stellar job of expressing the emotions of the two characters.  And at least Mia told Kiki - clearly her friends talking to her has had an impact.  The way the scene is shot makes it all the more painful too.  To start it is, like Kiki jokes, like a date.  Very close and intimate, lots of PoV shots across the table, but by the end there are a lot more shots of them with the wide expanse of the table between them.  The more distanced they are emotionally, the more often we get that shot.  

10.  I know we’re supposed to feel Mia agreeing to give up Alex for Kiki’s sake is a wrench and we’re supposed to be heartbroken about it, but I can’t feel it.  There wasn’t enough of ‘nice’ Alex after the assholey bits for me to genuinely believe that giving him up would be a struggle.  Kiki even reminded her - she thinks he’s an asshole.  He is an asshole.  Just because he’s nice to her when he wants to be doesn’t change all that other stuff.  So, yeah.  The end of this scene really isn’t having the impact on me that I think it’s supposed to.  The acting is great, and both of them are doing a wonderful job here, but the romance to this point was too rushed and/or he was shown to be too much of an asshole for this to actually have any impact on me.  

11. And the fact that she literally goes from Kiki and that conversation to Alex makes me actually dislike her.  He is not worth it.  Plus, if she was going to carry on seeing him, she should have been honest with Kiki.  Yeah, I lost a lot of respect for Mia after that.  Yikes.  I don’t remember this from Noora’s season at all, not being so direct in saying ‘yeah I’ll stop seeing him for you’ and then literally running straight to him.  But I could be wrong - I did block out a lot of her season, after all.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 8 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: some gets physically sick, discussions of death

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 8

"Hey, is it just me, or is the floor moving?" Danny questioned as he stared at the moving stone.

"No, it's not just you," Sam confirmed as she glanced at her friend. Although he was sitting rod straight as he watched, his coloration was still flickering, and there now seemed to be a green tinge to his cheeks.

"Don't you think we should run?" Tucker's question nearly made Sam snort. With Danny getting worse, there was no way he'd be able to escape with them.

Before anyone had a change to respond, the stone completely lifted and shifted to the side, exposing a hole. Seconds later, a furry head popped out. They watched in silent horror as it flicked one of its ears as if hear them and turned to face them.

The face that greeted them was terrifying. If Sam had to describe it, the appearance was like an angry polar bear who happened to have icy horns. Maybe calling it a yeti would be more accurate, but she could argue with herself about the semantics once she was out of this mess.

They just stared at the thing in the floor until it smiled at them. Whatever spell its sudden appearance held over them was broken, and they yelled in terror. There where several seconds of confusion as the three of them tried to escape. Tucker was halfway to the door while Sam tried to help Danny, who had fallen off the table, when the thing spoke.

"Children, please do not be alarmed," it gently requested as it raised itself up from the floor. Its entire body was covered in that same white fur, save for its one arm, which appeared to be made from ice. In an almost bemused afterthought, Sam noted it wore a blue clothing article which may have been a kilt. "We don't have much time before Plasmius returns."

When they didn't respond of move, the creature continued to speak as it tried to look as non-threatening as possible. "I am call Frostbite, the leader of the Far Frozen. I am lucky to have found out about you when I did. Plasmius has killed many humans in his experiments. If you allow me, I will help you return to your home."

"Why should we trust you? How do we know you won't take us somewhere and eat us?" Tucker demanded as he inched closer to Danny and Sam.

It laughed heartily at Tucker's question. "Myself as well as my clan do not eat people. We have made it the goal of our afterlives to try to assist as many wayward humans as we possibly can." Frostbite's smile faded. "However, I acknowledge your concern. This is the first time we have met, and if Plasmius has been your first encounter with the those of us from this realm, then you most likely do not think highly of us." It, possibly he, glanced at Danny as his coloration cycled again. "You are ill, and if you do not leave this place soon, you may not be able to return to the land of the living."

There was a tense moment as Sam and the boys stared at Frostbite. It… no, he… seemed genuine. Although his face was frightening, his eyes were sincere and almost seemed to plead with them.

"Alright," Danny eventually stated as he slowly stood, "but, you have to swear you won't hurt them!"

"I swear it on my honor, young one."

"Psst, Danny, what are you doing?" Tucker angrily whispered as he tugged on Danny's sleeve. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Call me crazy, but I think it's much less risky to go with him then it is to stay here and wait for Plasmius," Danny responded as he tested his footing. "He's a lot more honest than Plasmius, that's for sure."

"You noticed it too?" Sam was impressed he picked up on it. Although, Danny was often clueless when it came to certain social cues, particularly flirting, he did have an amazing talent for picking up on whether someone was being honest.

Tucker looked at both of them for a disbelieving moment before he shook his head. "Alright. I'll follow your lead on this, but if we get eaten, I'm blaming you."

"Young one, do you require assistance?" Frostbite asked as he eyed Danny, who appeared to be somewhat lightheaded as he tried to walk.

"It's Danny, and no, I can handle it."

A frown crossed Frostbite's face for a moment before he scurried forward and scooped Danny into his arms. "I understand your desire to escape on your own, but you are not well, and time is of the essence." Frostbite then instructed Sam and Tucker to enter the hole in the floor first. Once they were safely inside which was revealed to be a tunnel, he handed Danny to them. He then entered the tunnel and carefully replaced the floor's stone.

There was little light in the tunnel save for the slight glow Frostbite and occasionally Danny produced. As if sensing their concern, Frostbite held up his hand (or was it more of a paw?) and created a soft blue light. "This way, children," he instructed as he began to walk. "I am sorry I cannot produce a better light source, but if I generate much more energy, Plasmius may discover our location."

"I was wondering why we were doing things so old school," Tucker whispered.

As Sam rolled her eyes at him. If it wasn't for the fact she and Tucker were both supporting Danny as they walked, she probably would have smacked him for being rude. But, his statement did bring up an interesting point. "So, you could have gotten us out in an easier way, but Plasmius would have caught us?"

"Correct. Most sentient ghosts can easily phase through walls, unless the object is something native to this world or is coated in something that disrupts our powers or repels us. Plasmius' palace is unusual as much of it is created from materials taken from the human realm, but his reputation and the barrier he uses is able to keep most ghosts away. He is very unkind to trespassers." Frostbite glanced back at them. "I know young Danny's name, but I have yet to learn yours."

As weird as it sounded, Sam was embarrassed by that lapse in courtesy. She quickly introduced herself, and Tucker followed suit.

"Sam and Tucker! Such fitting names!" The strange ghost seemed pleased, but after a moment, he stopped walking, so he could turn and look at them. "Please alert me immediately if you notice you are not feeling well or notice something strange about yourself." After they promised, Frostbite nodded and continued forward. "This world can do strange things to those who unintentionally enter it, and there are many ways the changes can occur."

"Can… can I ask a question?" Once Frostbite agreed, Danny continued, "I'm sorry if this is a bit rude, but were you human?"

"That I was." The ghost didn't appear bothered by the question. "While many of my human memories have faded over time, I do remember that I was once an explorer. As for how I came this this realm, I am uncertain, but I do know that by the time I once again found a way back to the world of the living, I appeared much how you see me now. Many of my clan seem were also explorers or those who spent a great deal of time in the woods or mountains. We are not sure why we have taken this form, but we use it to our advantage. We often patrol areas where portal formation is common and try to scare humans away from them. However, more recently we have been finding more and more humans who seem to be looking for us." He seemed absolutely puzzled by the concept.

Sam shared a look with her friends. Did that mean that he and his clan were what people considered Bigfoot? Maybe she was reading too much into it, but that's what it seemed like.

"So, does that happen to everyone who dies? Cuz I don't know if I can handle the fact I might not keep these good looks when I die," Tucker whined.

The soft blue light flickered as Frostbite chuckled. "I don't believe you have to worry. While it is possible, you are unlikely to become a ghost if you expire outside of this realm. However, I am no expert regarding the mysteries of life and death."

"But what happens if you die here?" It was Sam's turn to ask a question.

"It seems to vary. Some die, but their souls do not remain here. For others, their body and soul mingle and change, creating a ghost."

"That almost sounds like a zombie," Sam mumbled to herself.

Frostbite chuckled again. "I understand why you would think as such. However, zombies can only exist in your world. They are corpses reanimated, often through magic, but lack a soul. For us, our earthly bodies are somehow a catalyst for the new form our soul takes, but even though I have seen it happen, I do not understand the process."

His explanation somewhat made sense, Sam mused. It also lined up with what Plasmius mentioned about how his experiments didn't always work. Although, it posed a more troubling question. What exactly would happen to Danny? If he really did die and become a ghost, did that mean there would be no body for his family to bury? It was a troubling thought that wouldn't go away no matter how much Sam tried to think of something else.

However, something Sam also noted was that Danny was avoiding asking questions regarding what was happening to him. Other than when his hands flickered in and out of visibility in the lab, he hadn't brought up the subject. It was possible he was focusing on escaping. However, with the new knowledge Frostbite had given them, he was probably in some sort of denial. She wasn't certain if she'd be able to be as calm if she was the one affected.

What seemed like an hour later, although her sense of time could have been altered due to the darkness, they finally reached the end of the tunnel. It wasn't a moment too soon as Danny had fainted when they had first caught sight of the exit. Once outside, she and Tucker carefully sat Danny down, so they could take a quick break. Once she was certain Danny was settled, she took the chance to look around.

In front of them was a think yet somewhat dead looking forest, like what they first found themselves in when they fled from the first ghost. Behind her was the tunnel which had been cut into what appeared to be a rock outcropping. If it wasn't for the strange coloration, it could have looked like something found in the forests back home.

She started when Frostbite gave a quick whistle. Moments later, four more ghosts who had similar appearances to Frostbite appeared from within the forest. They had to be part of the clan the ghost had mentioned while they were escaping. The group exchanged a few words before Frostbite beckoned to the humans behind him.

"Children, do not be alarmed. These are members of my clan, and they will be assisting us in your escape. However, we need to stop at our realm first as we have an object that will help us locate when and where a portal will open. I would also like to assess Danny's health." The ghost frowned at the form of the unconscious teenager. "You have probably guessed this realm has a grip on him, but he is resisting the change more intensely than I have ever seen."

"That means he'll be able to come home with us, right?" Tucker's question was full of a wary hope.

"I am… uncertain. We may have to seek the wisdom of an older entity to know for sure."

…

The world wouldn't stop spinning when Danny finally came to. After rolling over and relieving the contents of his stomach, he finally was able to think clearly enough to take stock of his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be some type of medical room. Although the walls appeared to be made of ice, there was a light and almost friendly atmosphere about the place.

A sound caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see white creature duck out of the room. Puzzled at the reaction, it wasn't until it returned to the room with Frostbite that he realized it was simply retrieving the other ghost.

"You've wakened, young one!" Frostbite seemed exuberant as he examined him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got spun around in one of those centrifuges at space camp way too many times," Danny replied as he rubbed his head. Although the dizziness had subsided, he still felt somewhat ill. "Where are Sam and Tucker?"

"They are resting in another room. They've been eagerly waiting for news of your awakening."

Danny sighed in relief at the news. "Will I be able to see them?"

"Absolutely, but first I would like to discuss something with you," Frostbite sat down at a chair near the bed Danny was using. Somewhat unnerved by how serious Frostbite seemed to be, he carefully sat up and gestured for him to continue. "Your circumstance is nothing like what any of us have ever seen before."

"My circumstance?" That didn't sound good. Did it have to do with something Plasmius did to him?

"Yes. Before I explain, I need to ask if you've eaten anything while you were here?"

Danny shook his head. "Unless Plasmius fed me something when I was unconscious, then no. Wait," he paused for a moment as he tried to remember what Plasmius had told him, "maybe? Plasmius said something about taking care of me when I got lost when I was six."

"How odd, but as you must have returned home afterwards, it might have something to do with the unexpected results. Did Plasmius explain what he wanted from you?"

"He wanted me as his heir? I think?" Before he or Frostbite could say anything else, Danny felt something clench in his navel. Immediately afterwards, what seemed to be a flash of light momentarily blinded him. Terrified, he yelped and tried to move away. "What-what just happened?"

"This is what I have need to discuss with you." The ghost then rose and picked Danny off the bed before carefully setting him down in front of a mirror at the far end of the room.

It was the first time since he had come to this world that he had a chance to take stock of himself. However, the image looking back at him wasn't what he was expecting. His eyes weren't his usual blue but were instead an unnatural green. His skin had tanned, but the color somehow seemed unhealthy. His hair was now a silvery white instead of his black, and if he wasn't imaging it, he was admitting a slight glow. "What's wrong with me?" he asked in a horrified whisper.

Before he could get his answer, he felt the clench in his navel again. When the light subsided, he was greeted with the reflection of how he originally looked. Uncertain if his mind was playing tricks on him, he checked his hands and what he could of his bangs. Everything appeared normal.

"Usually," Frostbite started, which caused Danny to pause his examination and look at the ghost," when this world claims someone, they can no longer return to their human form. If they do, they often end up dead. You are somehow able to keep your human form, yet you produce a ghost form. In all my years, I have never seen such a thing."

"What exactly does that mean? What am I?"

"Unfortunately, I do no know. From what our tests showed, you have both a functioning human heart and a ghostly core, which is our equivalent of a heart. You've been switching back and forth between forms for some time."

======================================

Notes:

1) So… the Bigfoot mention. This is something that I've heard before. There are 2 major lines of thought regarding the famous cryptid. 1) Bigfoot is a flesh and blood creature, and 2) Bigfoot is an interdimensional, extraterrestrial, or spiritual entity (I seriously had a professor who believed Bigfoot could travel through dimensions. He even wrote papers about it). For this story, I'm going with the concept that people are catching brief glimpses of Frostbite and his people as they patrol areas known for spontaneous portal openings.

Interdimensional aspects are popping up more and more when it comes to paranormal topics, and they're a major theory when it comes to unexplained disappearances and weird creatures. Personally, I find the concept intriguing, but it's not something that can currently be proven. Though… there are a lot of rumors about how CERN is trying to do that. I know that group is just supposed to be studying particles and quantum physics, but there are sooooo many weird rumors about CERN.

2) For this story, I'm borrowing the type of idea where a ghost can't be created unless its former vessel (body) is used as a medium. You see things like this for Revenants, Strigoi Mort (Romanian ghost/zombie/vampire thing), and Gjenganger (Scandinavian ghost/zombie thing similar to a Dragur), and others. For those stories, the only way to get rid of them is to damage/destroy the body in specific ways which vary from region to region.

3) human centrifuges are real things. They are used by to help test the effects of G-forces on people, and astronauts receive training to handle said forces in them. They do, at least used to have, a version of it at space camp.

[the-peachpit]

ENDER MIRROR

No Romantic Relationships

Fandom: DSMP

TW: Past Abuse

“Damn it,” Tommy breathed out, “Ah fuck it!” he pulled up his fishing pole seeing the third empty line, not even a hook attached to the end. “You fuckers!” The blonde shook his fist at the river.

“You’re too loud,” Ranboo set his pole to the side letting it lay on the wooden dock they had built, “You’re scaring away the fish.”

Tommy threw his fishing rod to the side, “Stupid fucking fish.” He pulled his knees up to his chest resting his chin on them.

He caught Ranboo tying another hook to the end of his line without even asking-Tommy groaned. He was done fishing was frustrating and no fun he could think of a million other things he’d rather do.

“You swear too much,” Ranboo concentrated on tying a small metal hook to the end of the clear wire.

Tommy had already stabbed himself five times with the hooks not even trying to attach them to the line one of them was from a bad cast. He had brushed them off before now looking down at his fingers he noticed two of the red marks where the hooks had stabbed the tips of his fingers. Ranboo had offered him one of the Band-Aids he carried around for Michael and secretly Tubbo. He turned it down a little dirt was good for a wound, it’s what Wilbur always said. Wilbur never carried Band-Aids. Tommy closed his hands into fists-well not after they left home. A stick from a hook was nothing he couldn’t shrug off.

“Earth to Tommy,” Ranboo held the pole up waving it towards Tommy.

Tommy snatched the wooden end, “Would you stop waving that thing around. Can we go do something else? You don’t even like fish.”

Ranboo cast his line, “Tubbo isn’t a big fan either, “He scrunched up his weird enderman mouth the small slitted sides caving in, “But he enjoyed fishing.”

Tommy snorted, “There’s no way Tubbo would be into this it’s so boring!”

“He thinks it’s relaxing,” Rnaboo’s green and red eyes were on the water.

Rolling his eyes Tommy watched trying to focus on Ranboo’s line almost transparent against the gentle current. It was swallowed up and then released searching for prey.

“I can’t picture him standing still this long,” Tommy let his feet dangle off the end of the wooden pier the water gently lapping to graze the bottoms every once in a while. “But I don’t really know Tubbo much, anymore do I?”

“That’s literally the exact opposite of why I brought you out here,” Ranboo leaned forward his shoulders scrunched up by his ears.

Tommy looked at him cocking his head to the side.

“Stop acting like I replaced you, it’s getting old,” Ranboo turned his head.

Green and red eyes that were split across the middles starred at Tommy. He looked annoyed but more annoyed than when Tommy would be loud and obnoxious and annoyed that felt familiar. Ranboo actually looked upset with him-Ranboo never looked upset with anyone, not genuinely.

“Tubbo married you,” Tommy gagged at the word married, “Can you get more replaced than married?”

Ranboo laughed but Tommy couldn’t see what was so funny. He watched the man sitting cross-legged keeping his delicate skin far away from the water. Instead of his regular suit, he wore a black tank top that almost matched half of his skin and black shorts. If he weren’t an enderman hybrid he’d look boring. Tubbo didn’t really like boring people though.

“The second you came waltzing back I was getting myself ready for a divorce,” Ranboo wheezed.

Tommy raised a blonde brow, “Why?”

“I knew what Tubbo was doing,” Ranboo shrugged, “He was replacing me, he had you to elan n his whole life, and suddenly you were dead. He couldn’t cope and I was there to fill a hole. When you came back, and he stayed I was just as surprised as you.”

Tommy shrugged, “He likes you a lot, and I guess,” he deflated his shoulders sagging, “I guess I don’t totally hate your guts anymore, but you’re always on thin ice.”

“Noted,” Ranboo nodded, “You know,” he leaned back on his palms, “You’ll always know more about him than I do. His scars are the biggest mystery to me, and I don’t pry, but I wish he felt comfortable talking to me about them. They keep him up at night sometimes itching, and sometimes his body aches in a way he can’t get out of bed.”

Tommy looked back down at his hands the scars running across his fingers and palms-he was covered in scars. Small reminders from head to toe of a life he lived too long ago. His skin wasn’t a map like Techno’s-but it was close. He found them mostly on his arms and legs-the biggest addition was to his forehead. Where Dream had bashed his skull open. Tommy grew his bangs long the white streak prominent-he didn’t think he’d ever get them short again.

Ranboo pulled up another empty line, “Tommy,” his voice was soft losing the playful edge, “Are you okay?”

Opening his mouth Tommy felt his heart thump against his ribs, “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Gentle hands held the translucent wire Tommy watched the wisps of steam rise from Ranboo’s hands. Even the small drops of water hurt his sensitive endermen skin. Ranboo returned Tommy’s confused look, “I think it’s pretty obvious, you never talk about your past with malice, but you went through so much.”

“Bit dramatic don’t you think?”

Ranboo looked out to the river, then back to Tommy, “Do you not,” He cocked his head to the other side swaying his long white and black bangs along with his floppy ears, “Do you not realize you’ve been wading in tragedy for years?”

“You’ve lost me Ran,” Tommy shrugged watching the river spotting a stupid salmon.

“You’re a child soldier for starters,” Ranboo frowned.

“L’manburg was our dream.”

“It sounds more and more like Wilbur’s dream every time I hear you talk about it.”

“Come off it, Tubbo can tell you-“

“We’ve talked about it,” Ranboo cast his line, “You two were bonded over being brainwashed into thinking you were bigger than you were. Wilbur sunk his claws deep into you being your brother.”

“Wilbur was,” Tommy looked down at his hands. Why was his skin so hot?

“Killed,” Ranboo said the word effortlessly, “By your own father who was never around- in front of you.”

He was blunt. Was that really what happened? It wasn’t that simple, there were layers he was skipping things. Tommy was there he saw it all it wasn’t bad.

“I was happy Ranboo when we were building L’manburg,” Tommy back peddled the conversation.

“You always reminisce in those days. Was it the last time you were happy?” Ranboo asked.

Tommy felt the heat creep up his neck, “That’s fucking stupid, I’m always happy.”

“That’s the problem,” Ranboo’s voice rose, “You died a month ago-like permanently in hell died. You came back fine.”

Tommy could hear his heart in his ears and desperately tried to breathe louder to prove to his throat it wasn’t closing.

“I-I,” Tommy stuttered, “It was all my fault. L’manburg, Wilbur-if I was better it could have been avoided. If I wasn’t me, maybe we’d still be in L’manburg and you’d be married to someone who wasn’t reliving dying in the middle of the night. I ruin everything. I started a war I couldn’t finish. I watched Wil change and didn’t reach out and he died. I betrayed Technoblade and hurt him. When Dream beat me to death, I thought I deserved it, the world would be free from Tommyinnit. I’d be free from hurting.”

Never putting it into words before Tommy felt the weight of his actions from the past few years. All he did was cause trouble, his father knew it, his brothers knew it, even deep down he knew his best friend knew it. Everyone always got into shitty situations because he ran his mouth thinking it was clever. The first day Tubbo said Tommy was quiet Tommy felt pride, being quiet meant being better. Sitting on that bench where an empty grave sat built by the only person who really cared Tommy dug his nails into his palms. Anything to not feel swearing the grave was his new beginning. Anytime Tommy felt too strongly he would dig into his palms until he could trace the crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s not your fault? None of it was your fault alone.”

Spinning his head to the side with wide eyes when he heard Ranboo shift Tommy thought the worst. Ranboo was toying with him, trying to get into his head before killing him. Maybe by pushing him into the river, holding him under. Lifting his arms in front of his face bracing for impact-he’d stopped fighting so long ago. Strong arms that could have easily broken his neck, strong arms had ended his life, but now they encircled him. With no malice, they embraced him tensing Tommy’s ragged breath made him feel like he was choking. Pressed against soft cloth Tommy was certain he’d be smothered. He accepted it his fight long gone. Stiffly Tommy sat in a hug, not one that was too tight like Wilbur’s when he told Tommy he could do better. Not uncaring and lazy like when Dream would visit in exile. A hug. Simple and gentle. Slowly Tommy felt a bubble rise from his chest. It traveled along his windpipe expanding as it broke to the surface.

A tear fell stinging its way out of Tommy’s bright blue eyes that had lost their shine. A singular warning to the start of a flood. It felt good, reliving to feel the wet cool water slip down his jaw. The bubble burst and Tommy did something he’d never done. Not when Wilbur yelled, not when Schlatt yelled, not when Sam yelled, not when Technoblade, not when Dream or anyone screamed at him. He took every blow with a smile for years being above it all. He didn’t know it was being stored away in his heart festering into his self-doubt and anxieties. It was the force suffocating him. As he cried into Ranboo’s shirt he finally felt like he could breathe. The bubble in his throat bursting as he screamed back at everyone who assaulted him verbally or physically.

He was scarred by unkind hands and instead of bandaging the wounds, he let them fester with mud, dirt, and hatred because he thought he deserved it. Finally feeling peace for the first time in months all it took was him dying for everyone to finally feel free. When he came back it all felt so painful and finally, he’d be what he always dreaded-alone. However, Tubbo and Ranboo accepted him so easily back into open arms. Invitations always felt like a trap to Tommy, but they were genuine. Caring for him gently making sure every hour he was holding it all together. He held it together for them. Being told he was allowed to not be okay, to feel and cry, it was crushing like a wave. Yet relieving as a cold drink on the hottest summer day. Tommy was free from the clutches of every pair of hands that circled his throat, held a sword to him and his friends. He wasn’t a hero gilded in gold expected to save or protect anyone. He was free to be anyone in a future that was stretched out bright in front of him in a small nation.

After what felt like hours but was realistically twenty minutes Tommy pried himself away from Ranboo worried his tears may have burned the man. To his relief, the enderman hybrid was unharmed protected by his clothing. Gently Tommy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before looking back out to the gentle river. He pretended every current that whisked by was carrying every one of his fears away for the last time.

Looking back down at his hands Tommy saw the red pinpricks from the hooks.

“Hey Ranboo,” Tommy flexed his fingers, “Can I have some Band-Aids?”

Ranboo nodded digging into his pockets, “Sure thing.”

It was never too late to heal

[rather-impertinent]

Happy Endings Are No Myth

A/N: Good morning, friends! This fic is inspired by 2 particularly lovely promo shots from 5.08, so there are possible spoilers ahead. There is also fluff ahead. So much fluff. Remember that cosy blanket at your grandmother’s house? This fic is that. Enjoy xo

~~~~~~~~~

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Samuel Carne!”

Cheers rang out from the wedding party as the bride and groom shared a shy kiss. Demelza, Jeremy and Clowance quickly and gleefully showered the newlyweds in flower petals.

Sam’s joyful laugh could be heard above the breeze and throughout the small village of Sawle as the rose petals showered around him. He looked down at his bride and smiled widely at her; Rosina returned his grin and kissed his cheek.

The fiddler led the way in front of the newlyweds, playing a lilting traditional Cornish tune. Sam and Rosina smiled softly at each other, betraying their solidified camaraderie and blossoming feelings of love.

“Oh, I’m that glad for Rosina,” Demelza gushed to Ross once the procession began to move towards the green where the party would be.

Ross’ lips twitched in amusement. “You’re glad for Rosina but not your brother?” he provoked, before he felt a soft nudge to his rib-cage. They slowed to a crawling pace and hung back so that eager villagers could scurry past them.

Demelza cackled and linked her arm through his. “No, Ross, ‘course I be happy for Sam, too,” she laughed. “I just think Rosina d’ deserve some happiness after all she’s been through!”

“I second that,” Dwight chimed in from behind his two dearest friends, remembering Rosina’s hardships from such a young age from her lameness to her being jilted a fortnight before her wedding. And then again on the day a few years ago. Not to mention her father’s recent trouble.

“Dr Enys has always had a soft spot for Rosina and her temperamental knee,” Caroline supplied, a teasing smile stretched across her face as she hung off her husband’s arm. “Did you know I once considered her my closest rival? She can knit a scarf much neater than I. I believe Dwight still has it in a cupboard upstairs,” Mrs Enys told Ross and Demelza, who laughed at her.

Dwight gently rolled his eyes at Caroline. “I assure you, my love, there was no contest,” he murmured.

“Indeed, there was none,” Ross insisted with a cheeky grin. “Besides scurvy at the mine, Dwight talked of nothing else but you for an entire year!” He laughed when Dwight drew him a warning look.

“Oh?” Caroline asked Ross, her interest piqued. “Pray tell.”

A scarlet blush rose on Dwight’s cheeks, which was ridiculous, he realised, seeing as he had been married for 8 years now. “Ross, please, no.”

“Alright,” Demelza chirped, evidently more than happy to step in on her husband’s behalf. “Dwight would often come to tea with I and talk my ear clean off about you and the lights of your hair and your cornflower blue eyes and your laugh and how red your lips were and how propriety be damned and he would simply have to elope with you and how he’d walk to the ends of the earth if it meant you two could be together,” Demelza concluded with a teasing romantic sigh as she brought her hand to her forehead to imitate fainting; Ross snickered against her shoulder. “Am I mistaken, Dr Enys?”

Dwight, torn between cringing and laughing at the jest, smothered a smile. “Some parts are greatly exaggerated.”

“I should hope not,” Caroline said with a mock pout, leaning closer to her husband. “So you would not walk to the ends of the earth for me, Dr Enys?”

Dwight smiled softly at her; they all knew that he would. An idea then occurred to him, a payback of sorts. “It is worth noting that Ross does not have a leg to stand on in such regards,” Dr Enys announced with a smirk.

Ross frowned in genuine confusion. “To what are you referring, Dwight?”

Dwight looked at Caroline and betrayed his meaning within that single look; Caroline laughed and winked at her husband. “Dr Enys is correct, Demelza,” she insisted, glancing at her red haired friend, “you ought to hear how Ross speaks of you while you are not with him.” Caroline shot Ross a gleaming, mischievous smile.

“Oh, please, God, no,” Ross muttered, placing his hand over his eyes unable to watch whatever spectacle was about to unfold.

“‘Oh, I wish Demelza were here, she would know what to say’,” Caroline mocked in a deep voice, imitating Ross’.

Dwight laughed and gently nudged his wife, with whom he was now in cahoots. “‘I miss Demelza, do you suppose she and the children would come now if I sent word and asked?’” Dwight cited from a conversation they had three months ago in Ross’ London lodgings.

“‘Demelza would love this meal, I must bring her here next time she is in London,’” Caroline quoted, her tone still teasing.

“‘That gown would look fine on Demelza’,” Dwight continued.

Demelza giggled behind her hand though shot her husband a genuinely touched look.

“Alright!” Ross half-laughed, half-whined. “Is it a crime for a man to miss his wife?!” he wondered, crossing his arms defensively.

Gently placing her hand on his cheek, Demelza murmured: “No, it is not.” She then placed her other hand on his other cheek and kissed him deeply. Gazing into his hazel eyes, which crinkled in contentment, Demelza could not think of a more opportune moment to tell him of her news. She was never certain how he would react to such a thing, but it was better to catch him in a good mood than a sour one. “Dwight, Caroline, could you give Ross and I a moment?”

Caroline’s slightly narrowed gaze flickered suspiciously between Ross and Demelza. “Of course,” she said, breezily linking arms with Dwight and leading him away.

Standing on the sandy cobblestones in front of Mr Hosking’s house, Demelza bounced anxiously from one foot to another and back again, wondering how best to broach the subject. Would frankness be more fitting or would a teasing, romantic hint be more appropriate? Then again, picking up on hints was certainly not one of Ross’ strengths.

“Well?” Ross asked after a few moments of silence. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”

“I- I’m tryin’ to find the right words,” Demelza stammered, trying to exhale her jitters. Logically, she thought Ross would be pleased, but if there was one thing Demelza had learned thus far it was that life was not always logical.

“Should I fetch your red dictionary?” he taunted playfully, recalling how in the early days of their marriage Demelza would pour over the dictionary so that she would sound - in her own words - ‘less common-like’, so as not ‘embarrass’ him in public.

“Ross, don’t tease me, I’m tryin’ to tell you somethin’,” Demelza complained in a despairing whine, though a smile tugged on the corner of her lips.

Ross took a step closer to her, a teasing smile etched on his face. “Then tell me,” he said, shrugging casually.

“Alright.” Demelza gently grabbed hold of the lapels of his coat and smiled softly. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m with child,” she then announced, meeting his gaze and unable to contain her smile.  

Ross did not offer a verbal answer but his excited laugh echoed and was carried away with the wind as he quickly but deeply kissed Demelza before enveloping her into a spinning hug.

“Wait one moment, Dwight,” Caroline softly commanded, thinking she knew exactly what Demelza wished to speak to Ross about. “Look.” She pointed to the Poldarks several feet away from them; Demelza was fidgeting nervously and Ross was teasing her somehow.

“Caroline,” Dwight said a bit anxiously, trying to gently pull her away. “Their conversation is none of our business,” he insisted, feeling as though they were intruding.

Caroline theatrically rolled her eyes. “Dim your halo for one moment, Dr Enys, and watch,” she ordered.

Dwight looked upon his friends just in time to see Ross sweep Demelza from the ground and spin her around like a crazy schoolboy; their joyful laughter filling the air. A smile slowly spread across the doctor’s features. “What- is- does that mean what I think it means?” he asked his wife, who smiled in victory next to him, smug that her observations of Demelza’s behaviour these past few weeks had culminated in her being correct in her assumption.

“Yes,” Caroline murmured, pleased there would be another Poldark child; hopefully it would be as lovely as dear Jeremy and Clowance.

“You knew?” Dwight checked, women often shared such confidences before the news was relayed to husbands.

“Not for certain, Demelza said nothing,” Caroline informed him. “We women just know things that men can never hope to, even physicians,” she stated mysteriously, arching an eyebrow at Dwight, who accepted her claim without comment.

Linking his arm through hers again, Dwight led them back down the subtle slope so that they may go congratulate their friends. “It seems it is catching,” Dwight whispered happily, thinking of their own happy news Caroline had shared with him just two days ago.

Running a hand over her still quite flat abdomen, Caroline smiled softly. “It would appear so.”

“Demelza is with child!” Ross loudly announced as his friends approached, knowing it was already obvious from his reaction but wishing to proclaim it out-loud all the same.

The Enyses smiled widely at the Poldarks. “It is the most wonderful news,” Caroline enthused, looking between her two friends, who could barely stop grinning at each other.

“Well, not the most wonderful,” Dwight teased, his mouth swishing from side to side in an attempt to contain his grin.

Ross and Demelza frowned in confusion at Dwight’s comment. “What do you mean?” Ross asked; what news could be more wonderful than this?

Caroline bit her lip; she had no wish to steal Demelza’s thunder but she could sense that Dwight was practically dancing in his boots at the providential timing of it all. Besides, she knew that Demelza would not see it as unkindness, indeed, she’d probably cry of happiness. She nodded her permission at Dwight to relay the news.

“We, too, expect a new arrival in the coming months,” he announced, narrowly escaping bursting with pride.

The Poldarks both breathed a joyful laugh and Demelza’s eyes filled with happy tears.

“How magnificent!” Ross exclaimed, pulling Demelza closer and squeezing her with his arm. “And the children shall be so close in age! I’ve no doubt they shall be inseparable.” Much like their parents, he might have added.

“The coincidence is positively cosmic, is it not?” Dr Enys enthused, pleased that he would be both a father and an uncle again and in such quick succession.

“Must you always be so intellectual, Mr Science Man?” Caroline asked Dwight in a tease.

“Oh, ‘tis fate, I d’ feel it in my bones,” Demelza gushed, offering everyone in the group a teary smile. They had all endured such loss and hardship, and they had endured them as individuals and as a unit. Having survived their ordeals with grace, it was now their turn to be happy. “Well? Someone give me a hug!” Demelza ordered with a laugh; Caroline beat Dwight to it.

“When do you expect?” Demelza cheerfully asked her friend as they broke their friendly hug.

Caroline considered the question for a moment. “I think perhaps May, but I’m not certain. Indeed, it would be quite difficult to be certain,” she inferred suggestively.

Demelza smirked. “I d’ feel your ‘pain’.” The two women shared coy glances and smiles.

“Have you any idea?” Caroline wondered, lightly linking arms with her.

“I think perhaps February,” Demelza calculated, if with a little uncertainty.

Caroline’s mouth fell open and her arm slipped from between Demelza’s. “But, my dear, that is so soon, and one cannot yet even tell that you are with child!”

“That has always been true of Demelza,” Ross supplied. “She never shows until the last few months. She starves my growing children, you see, on account of not wishing to waddle around like a goose.” Ross winked at her.

Demelza shot him a look before she was fondly enveloped by Dwight.

Demelza hugged him tightly in return; she had long considered him an extra brother that she did not need but gladly accepted. “Oh, Dwight, I cannot recall being happier for another body than I feel for you at this moment,” she murmured; remembering how keenly he had felt the loss of Sarah, as she had with Julia. A second child was not only a blessing but a balm to heal the wound, and Demelza thanked God for Jeremy every day.

“Thank you,” Dwight said thickly as he released her from their fond embrace; their eyes shining. “You must take care of yourself,” the doctor told her, motioning to her small bump, which was only noticeable if one knew to look for it.

Demelza rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t start,” she scoffed lightly. “You d’ sound like Ross.”

“Can you ask Dwight to make up some posets for Demelza?” Ross whispered to Caroline as he hugged her. “I wish her to keep well.” He had whispered because he knew the matter was always a sensitive topic for Demelza and he did not wish to upset her with his fussing.

Caroline nodded in understanding. “I shall invite her over for tea and discreetly slip them into her cup as Dwight does mine,” she vowed, turning her attention back to Dwight and Demelza.

Ross exhaled, hardly able to believe so much joy could live in a single day. “If one is a boy and one is a girl then we shall marry them to each other,” he proclaimed.

“I’ll drink to that!” Dwight joyfully agreed with a grin.

“I shall not,” Caroline insisted with a mock frown of discontentment. “I should think our offspring could do better than a Poldark, Dr Enys.” In Caroline’s mind, there could be no one better.

Dwight schooled a smirk, immediately understanding her game. “That is true, my darling. They are exceedingly selfish and impulsive,” he said, pointedly eyeing Ross with a barely contained grin.

“And those Enyses, Demelza,” Ross said to her, feigning contempt, “are more stubborn and opinionated than any beings on earth.”

Dwight, Caroline and Demelza all laughed. “Hmm that all may be true, my dears, but ‘twould be no concern of ours seeing as the children would then be grown, and so we may sit back an’ enjoy the show!” Demelza concluded with mischievous chuckle.

“Now that I shall drink to!” Caroline exclaimed.

“In that case, shall we join the others now?” Demelza asked the group, smiling widely. It had been a long time since she felt so content. Nay, she thought, content was not strong enough, this was happiness, joy, elation.

Ross groaned softly to her left. “Must we?” he whined; his hatred of parties had softened none over his 42 years on earth.

“We must,” Demelza confirmed. “Come along Cap’n Poldark, we’ll see you get a cup o’ gin and then perhaps I might even persuade you to dance with me,” she flirted.

Ross laughed and comfortably linked his arm through hers. “Four cups and I might be tempted by the Six-Hand Wheel,” he wagered diplomatically, having honed his skills during his time as an MP.

“Nay, Ross, four cups be too much! You’d be fallin’ and staggerin’ about like a newborn lamb afraid of the slaughter!” Demelza insisted seriously; Ross barked a laugh - Demelza had the best descriptions for things. “Three cups are plenty.”

“Three cups, then,” he repeated in agreement.

The gathering was in full, jovial swing by the time they walked the five minutes it took to get there. Flowers were tucked into every crevice of the ground, attempting to liven up the dulling winter landscape. Fires were lit in droves on the borders of the area, including one massive bonfire which stood commandingly in the centre of the field; everyone danced around and next to it. Despite the slight winter chill, the flames were not needed, for warmth did not want here today.

“Are ‘ee happy?” Sam asked his wife as she sat on his knee as they watched their guests enthusiastically dance in front of them.

Rosina looked up at him, enraptured at being wed to such a fine man. “I am,” she confirmed.

Sam sighed happily. “‘Take delight in the Lord and he will-‘“

“‘-give you the desires of your heart’,” Rosina completed with a soft smile, resting her head against Sam’s shoulder.

“Shall we sit here?” Caroline asked, motioning to two free spaces to her left not too far from where Drake, Morwenna and Loveday all sat engrossed by each other’s company.

Ross’ arm went around Demelza’s waist as they walked over. “Perfect.”

An hour and five gins later, Ross and Dwight watched in amusement as a tipsy Demelza demonstrated the steps to the Mesk yn Merth to an even tipsier Caroline, who - despite considering herself half-Cornish - had never attended a proper Troyl and so did not know all the more traditional dances. Both women laughed as their arms got entangled when they bumped into each other; they hung onto each other’s waists for support as they cackled at their mistimed folly.

Ross sighed happily at the sight of Demelza’s smiling face. Though he knew nothing of how far along she was, her face already had an ethereal glow to it. “Are they not wonderful?” Ross asked his best friend in a slight slur, whose eyes were set adoringly on his own wife.

“They are,” Dwight sighed in agreement, still smiling softly as he watched the dance tutorial several feet in front of him. “We landed quite the windfall when we married them, did we not, my friend?” He looked at Ross.

Ross smiled. “We did,” he agreed. “Though I did not always realise just how lucky I was,” Ross admitted, thinking of a distant moment of spectacular idiocy and misjudgement.

“Nor I,” Dwight admitted, thinking of recent times. Ross looked quizzically at Dwight because of the admittance; Dwight smiled and shook his head. “But no matter, all has come well.”

“All has come well,” Ross repeated, the sentiment ringing truer than any he had uttered before. Ross nudged Dwight and raised his cup. “To Demelza and Caroline - and to the future.”

“To Demelza and Caroline and the future,” Dwight repeated, holding his cup aloft. “Cheers.”

“Cheers, my friend,” Ross said, clinking their cups together.

Without warning, Demelza and Caroline fell onto their husbands laps, causing them both to spill a little of the contents of their tankards. Demelza smoothly store Ross’ cup of port and drank it greedily, a powerful thirst upon her after dancing. Dwight did not wait for Caroline to steal his and simply offered it to her instead; Caroline privately lamented that it was not as fun this way.

“What mischief be goin’ on over here, Sirs?” Demelza asked, tone teasing and filling the air around them with light-hearted camaraderie.

Caroline placed a quick kiss on Dwight’s mouth and chuckled when his mouth chased her own as they parted. “I would rather not know, I think, Demelza. Dr Enys seems entirely too sentimental at present and I fear his comments may embarrass my good unfeeling name,” said Caroline, her eyes alight with mirth as Dwight’s soft eyes met hers.

He feigned consideration. “Do I embarrass you?”

“Daily,” she joked with a sigh.

Suddenly, Demelza spat out a mouthful of Ross’ port onto the grass; he looked at her, appalled at the waste of liquor. “Is- is that Sam?” Demelza stuttered, squinting her gaze from where she sat and nearly falling off Ross’ lap in shock. “Dancin’?”

The small group looked in front of them and were met by the sight of the bride and groom twirling together; Sam looked a little like a newborn deer uncertain of its steps but judging from the smile on Rosina’s face, she did not mind at all.

Ross smirked. “It seems some things after worth sinning for,” he murmured, the overindulgence of gin making him unusually sentimental. He looked at Demelza in such a way to suggest that the initial sin of their out-of-wedlock coupling and its subsequent result would be worth an eternity in hell.

“Or Rosina is a witch,” Caroline offered in a jest. She then covered Dwight’s eyes with her hand. “Avert your eyes, Dr Enys, lest you fall under her spell again.”

Dwight, Demelza and Ross’ laughter echoed and floated into the crisp air.

“We must dance soon - when they begin the Corwedhan,” Demelza insisted.

Murmurs of agreement rang out; for now, they were all content to wait their turn dancing, simply enjoying being in one another’s company with little cares and fewer worries.

A few hay bails away, Drake breathed in the smell of the damp grass and the spicy ferns, their fragrance heightened by the earlier light rain shower. The fires - dispersed like hen feed across the large field - crackled softly in a warm, enticing glow. Drake drank in the sight of everyone’s happiness; it seemed to outweigh the oxygen in the air. It was as though they all, in this moment, existed in a bubble, one which was tinted rose and gold with love and contentment. Drake prayed it would never burst.

“What are you smiling at?” Morwenna asked her husband, a small smile on her elvish features as she looked at him. In her arms was a small bundle of blankets within which two-month-old Loveday Carne could be found sleeping soundly.

Coming out of his trance, Drake turned and looked at them both with adoring eyes and his smile grew wider. “Just life, my love,” he murmured.

“What about it?”

Looking about him, Drake sighed in contentment. “You and I,” he began dreamily, “and Miss Loveday ‘ere,” he bent down and softly kissed his daughter’s hand, “Brother and Rosina,” Drake motioned over to the two dancing and laughing newlyweds, “Sister and Cap’n Ross,” he murmured as Ross placed an enthusiastic, drunken kiss on Demelza’s cheek, “Dr and Mrs Enys,” Caroline’s arms were about Dwight’s neck and her eyes were closed as her head rested on his shoulder, “And all who be ‘ere,” he concluded with a happy sigh.

“Oh, Drake, I so admire your love of life,” Morwenna told him, her tone adoring and sincere. It was Drake and his unfailing patience, kindness and optimism which had pulled her from the shadows and into the light.

Drake grinned and leaned over to kiss her, his hand tucking a rouge strand of hair behind her ear. “Life always be worth livin’ so long as we ‘ave somebody to love, Wenna. And there be a lot of love here.”

[soltwater]

stuff

Last night as I was falling asleep, I tried to list the things Brendan did to me to make whatever that was as traumatic as it was.  

It’s hard because he really, really hurt me.  And it’s easier to think he’s a piece of shit, forever.  And I think there’s no harm in me thinking that.  But when I list out what he did, and understand that no one else could see it, I understand how people chose the side of indifference.  But that doesn’t undo the trauma it did to me anyway.  They weren’t in charge of how I reacted, I understand that, and as an extension, they don’t get to try get me back into their lives when I want them far, far away.  I feel crazy, I feel so sad that this one boy broke me in so many ways.  But I think, three and a half years after the fact, maybe I can write it down with an air of facuality, and stop my heart and my anger from getting in the way of writing this all down.  As a catch-all for if I ever want to reconnect with people I left behind, or if I want to explain why I can’t.

This still makes me want to cry, it feels like my brain is giving birth because even beginning to try and process this is so much.

- The first instance of abuse:   The first time I got drunk at a party.  I had never held hands with a boy, let alone kiss them.  He tried to walk me home, took me the wrong way and fingered me.  He then started bawling and saying sorry.  The next day he asked me what I remembered.  Was this a rapist trying to see what their victim could recall or was it a teenaged boy having hormones, not hearing a “no” though I was drunk and couldn’t consent, was it a mistake?  I don’t know.  I don’t know which one hurts less.

- The second instance: a couple of weeks into being ‘interested in each other’, Brendan found out I cut myself.  He would cut himself if he saw any cuts on me, but he would cut himself deeper.  He would one-up me, his reasoning being so i could “see how much it hurts him to see me like this”, but whatever his reasoning, he made something that was personal into a thing about him.

- He wouldn’t call my period a period.  It was ‘gross’ and I ‘was gross’ if I was on my period.  He wouldn’t see me when I was on my period.  Retrospectively, I don’t know if this is because I pushed him away because i felt ashamed of menstruating or because he was genuinely repulsed by it.  It’s been easier to just imagine he hated me and wanted to throw me away when I was on my period.

- He would stop talking to me if I upset him.  I did this, too, though.  

- He wouldn’t often have time for me, and I missed him terribly.  But again, this wasn’t abuse even if it hurt me very badly.  What was abuse was that if I didn’t leave my weekends open to him, and instead made alternative plans, especially with other boys, I’d suddenly get a flurry of messages that he missed me and wanted to hold me and why wasn’t I there?

- We had anal sex once and he liked it.  Then, months later, we got drunk and he wanted it again.  I said no, until he started begging me, nearly crying, so I said yes.  I wasn’t “clean” and spent the next three days in agony in embarrassment and questioning if that was rape or not since I did say yes.  I repulsed myself. 

This is pulling teeth.  This is going slowly and forcefully.

From this point, Brendan started to fall in love with Sam, a girl who had won the same scholarship as him.  The scholarship itself was an ugly ordeal.  I couldn’t be happy for Brendan like a partner should because I was poor and so anxious about funding university, but I knew he already had an excess of funds and didn’t need this.  I wish I could’ve just been supportive - but I wish more that I wasn’t fucking poor.

Sam lived in Christchurch, a flight away from Brendan and I, but he talked to her on facebook daily.  

-Brendan would come to my house and ignore me and message Sam instead.  I started to resent her.  When I told brendan I didn’t like her / I was scared of her, he told me I was being crazy.  The line he used that hurt the most was that i was ‘acting like my mother’.  

- I don’t know how actively he did this, but he pushed my mom and I so far away from each other.  And my friends were pushed away too because I only ever wanted to spend time with Brendan.  I found myself on an island, literally (we lived on an island) and metaphorically.

- When we found out I was going to get dux, not him, he acted immaturely.  He said that dux was stupid and didn’t mean anything.  But I was immature, too.  When I overheard him telling this to the most beautiful girl at the party we were at, I went and kissed one of my female friends in public.  It was blatantly to show I didn’t care about him, when obviously I did.  

- When we were breaking up, I asked him again to just tell me he had feelings for Sam.  He didn’t.  A few weeks later I cornered his best friend into telling me the truth, and Sam and Brendan were together.

The moment that I found that out, I remember how hot my body was.  I felt worse than if something had died - it would have hurt less if I died at that second.  I spent the last months of our relationship convincing myself I was a maniac when I was always right.  At the time, and for years after, the anger was just at brendan and at sam.  But now I wonder if some of that was at myself, because I knew that I was right but I didn’t protect myself because I was too busy being so, so in love.

This says nothing about what happened with friends afterwards.  Brendan sent a message to the “friend group” saying he felt excluded because he wasn’t seeing them.  He framed it as I was forcing people to not be with him.  I was proactive in organizing events ALL THE TIME because I couldn’t bare to be alone.  Because I was doing that, people felt less need to organize their own things.  But I did make it clear that if Brendan was invited to something, I wouldn’t come.  I don’t think I presented it as an unkind ultimatum, but honestly maybe I did.  I did push his friends away from him, but i did it cleverly.  My impulse is to immediately add here ‘he deserved it’.

Then one day Brendan had a fight with me on a boat commuting from Waiheke to Auckland.  I have no idea what the story was that got out, but I was aware I was painted as the ‘bad person’.  

It was something like a 9am boat.  I told my friend Sean I could take that boat, but I didn’t want to sit next to brendan.  Sean said that was great, he wanted to sit with me anyway, and I should still get this boat instead of waiting an hour later for the next one.  Brendan was, as we guessed, on this boat.   When Sean and I went to sit down at a table, Brendan asked if he could sit with us and Sean asked if it was ok if it was just him and I.  Brendan called me a bitch, or said “don’t you think that’s a bit unfair?” I don’t remember.  Eventually, my friend Bella and her dad also showed up and we all sat together.  Brendan eventually came to our table to yell at me, say that I was taking his friends away from him, etc.  Bella’s dad had to tell him enough was enough and he needed to sit down.  He sat on a table in clear view of us and began bawling.  We sent Sean to sit with him.  

After that, a group chat went silent.  It consisted of myself, Maya, Maia, Rina and Elle.  They were all my friends, but they have known brendan since he was five.  Maia has also been in love with Brendan.  So I had the traumatic boat experience, and then was left with no communication, and could only guess what happened because I didn’t feel like telling anyone what the fuck happened on the boat because it wasn’t their business.

I was so, so fucking tired.  It was the middle of my first year of university.  I don’t know how I finished that year.  I was in a daze of sleeping pills for the most part of it.  I would have violent, constant nightmares about Brendan.  I still do, three years later. Nowhere felt safe.  The boat was a constant source of terror, and so was my island home.  I’m shaking typing this and revisiting those feelings of trauma.  I couldn’t ever be alone, I needed an escort anywhere I went to even pretend to feel or be human.

So that’s where that is.

A side note that is sad but not relevant to any of this, was he was the only sex I have ever enjoyed.  Which also adds to my sadness at the way things went so, so wrong.  I’ve recently had a sexual encounter that was so forced and scary, I feel very fucked up about sex.  I hate that Brendan was the only sex I’ve had and really enjoyed.

[strivingscribe]

ILIC ~ CH 28

Happy Valentine's Day :)It’s Lost Its Charm by  MsMoon

Chapter 28 ~ Finally Plugged In

Chapters: 28/?

Chapter Navigation: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15,16, 17, 18,19,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28,

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age,

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence,

Relationships: I feel like it’s a little early for that…

Summary: As dreams went, she supposed being inside Dragon Age wasn’t too bad… At least she wasn’t the Herald (again). Or the Warden (again). Or Hawke (again).

Notes: Hope you guys enjoy this one :)

Amy breathed. Slow and deep as she stared down at the peer post. It was so hard to believe so much had happened so quickly. In the dawning light, it seemed so harmless.

 Heavy footfalls drew her attention to her far right. A very familiar silhouette was emerging from the mist there. When the Iron Bull’s eye landed on her...her stomach sunk.

 “Bull?” her voice was reedy and rusted. Reasonably so after… whatever had happened yesterday. She took a single step back.

 The Iron Bull began to jog towards her.

 No… not jog. Charge.

 “Katoh.” she said, her voice soft, his approaching charge steamrolled over it. “Katoh, Hissrad.” a plea.

 She couldn't imagine a reply from the Qun would come so quickly. There was no way they’d already decided to eliminate her…

 She turned to survey her surroundings better… only to freeze.

 It was dawn. Still. No one was out here. It wasn't as if everyone in Haven needed to be milling about every day at dawn, but no one?

 When she looked back to Bull, the space between them was farther than it had been before.

 He was still running. She had not moved from her spot by the docks. Yet he was farther away. And the sun was still just cresting the horizon.

 Still.

 Everything was… Still.

 She turned to face him fully, planting her feet and squaring her shoulders.

 “I. Said. Stop.” Her voice was loud, echoing through the valley though she hadn’t raised her voice. His pace slowed, more of a purposeful saunter now, and within scant seconds he stopped three paces from her.

 It didn’t make any sense! ...it was like…

 Her eyes doubled in size.

 “Holy frothing frogs, I’m in the Fade.” she said.

 The Iron Bull that was most certainly not The Iron Bull smiled at her. It was… unsettling. A familiar expression in a familiar face that somehow... was anything except familiar.

 “What are you?” She demanded.

 “Long have I circled around you, always from my side of the veil.” The Bull’s voice, but in Fade-Acoustics, so it sounded distant-echoey-and-yet-near. “From others around you, I see you. But never you… like learning to look for an absence. And I know you.”

 Amy tried to stamp down her fear response, but it wasn’t easy. Every time she tried a breathing exercise she’d get caught up in the fact that she didn’t need to breathe. She literally had astral projected out of her body for this genuine Theadosian experience. She didn’t have lungs!

 But her brain thought she did.

 ...it was the weirdest ‘The Matrix has you’ situation… at least thus far.

 “Name yourself.” She commanded. She refused to call it a demon. If spirits were or could be as malleable as Solas suggested, she needed to keep a clear head.

 “I am Confrontation.”

 Oh.

 Wait.

 ...what?

 Was she…?

 …..okay, yes.

 She huffed out an astral-breath. “Seriously.” She couldn’t help the solitary chuckle that plopped out. “My first trip to the fade, first spirit I see...is Confrontation.”

 Their eye narrowed. “You do not allow excuses to stop you. You refuse to be intimidated. You act in spite of opposition. And you bring others together and force them to face what is between them.” They nodded, seemingly satisfied with their assessment.

 “Gawhd.” Amy grunted. “I am in the Fade.”

 “Yes and no.” The spirit said. “This is more… hm.” They tilted their head. “It is difficult to explain.”

 “It’s like a pocket dimension.” Siheta’s voice startled Amy, making her nearly jump away from the dock.

 Siheta squatted, perched atop the dock in an easy crouch, as though she’d always been there. Her entrance felt a lot like she’d somehow figured out how to be Batman in spite of all this brightness.

 “How?” Amy asked as the Kossith hopped down.

 “You’re technically still not quite in the Fade.”

 Amy’s eyes boggled.

 “So...So, I’m dreaming and there’s a spirit,” so motioned to the Iron Confrontation. “And a dreamer is here,” and she motioned to Siheta. “And yet, I’m still not in the Fade?” Siheta smiled at her indignation.

 “You’re dreaming the way you normally did before your crossing. You didn’t need the Fade there, did you?”

 Amy sighed, drooping. Of course Siheta was right. She knew she was right.

 “No.” she droned.

 “Well, whatever happened in your crossing that sealed up your magic...it’s…” she shook her head. “It's safe to say that Sam’s mark broke through it. So now your magic is ...loose. It touches the veil in a way that we don’t.”

 “Reaching out to you was not easy.” Confrontation added. “Even for those who have no magic, I can easily visit them. This required… effort.”

 Amy looked between them, worry puckering her brow. “You’re...you’re not trapped here?”

 “No.” Siheta assured. “Surprised at this turn of events, and smug that Solas hasn’t found his way here. But not trapped.”

 “I am not trapped either.” Confrontation assured. “Only this contact required effort.”

 Amy nodded, relief filtering through her. “Do you think Solas will show up here?”

 “As soon as he figures out how, I imagine so.” Siheta grinned. “I’ve learned how to listen for you. And we’ve all been rather preoccupied since you fainted.”

 “I fainted?” Amy demanded, appalled.

 “Right into Commander Cullen’s burly arms.” Siheta whispered, as though it were some secret to cherish always, her hands coming up to rest against her heart.

 “Let’s just keep that between ourselves, shall we?” Amy grumbled, face flattening at Siheta's antics.

 The woman's eyes widened expressively. “I’d love to, but Varric was nearby so…”

 “Fantastic.” Amy spat, the word sour in her mouth.

 Siheta smirked. “Had Cullen and Sam tripping all over themselves.” She muttered, shaking her head. “It was a sight.”

 “They enjoy controlling the dance.” Confrontation grumbled. “Being coy, fainting right and left to avoid what they imagine to be unpleasant.” They grinned at her. “Even incapacitated, you deny them that.”

 “Alright.” Amy murmured, having enough of whatever that was.

 “You could probably change this you know.” Siheta said, gesturing to their surroundings. Confrontation glared from the corner of their eye. Probably recognizing the diversionary tactic, and not appreciating it.

 “I uh… I’ll just learn to crawl before I run.”

 “Amy it’s you. Your head, your power, your dream.” Siheta soothed, her purple eyes kind and filled with delight. “I know, technically you aren’t a dreamer, but very few non-mages have the ability to control their dreams.”

 “I know I could try it, but I’d just...rather not.”Amy said, sighing down at the ice. “At this point… I’m liable to make it look like home, and that’ll only make me more heartsick.” Siheta nodded her understanding.

 “Because of your mother.” Confrontation blurted out.

 Amy crossed her arms. “Yes. I miss my mother.” her voice a challenge.

 “You aren’t upset because you miss her. You’re upset because you feel guilty and cheated, because you never told her that she is the measure by which you judge all women. Including yourself.”

 Amy’s expression darkened. “I will punch you in your not real face if you don’t back off.” she said plainly.

 Confrontation relaxed back onto their back foot. “Even when you wish to retreat, it isn’t without demanding it.” The admiration in that statement did not go unnoticed... Only, Amy wondered if that was necessarily the best thing to focus on. Was she unbearably relentless?

 “I suppose you aren’t wrong.” Siheta decided with a smirk, and Amy could only pretend to glare for so long before just letting it go. “Would you like a change of topic?”

 “Please?”

 “What’s the last thing you remember?”

 Amy took in a breath, letting it out slow as she tried to remember. “The doors of the chantry.”

 “That tracks…” Siheta murmured. “But is this.. I mean…” She squinted, trying to figure out how to articulate her question. “This is your first dream?”

 “Uh. Yeah.”

 Siheta’s eyebrows rose. “I went to sleep a couple of hours ago, and you fainted not long after lunch.”

 Amy’s brow puckered, not sure what that meant.

 “Navigating the Dreaming isn’t easy…” Siheta shrugged as though she were trying to dismiss whatever she’d started. "You'll learn. I have faith."

 “How…” Amy stopped herself, unsure of how to phrase any question as so many were demanding answers. “Ok.” She wet her lips. “How can we make it easier for Solas to get here?”

 Siheta pursed her lips. “It makes sense that if the Dreaming and parts of it can enter your sphere… parts of your sphere could enter the Dreaming.”

 “Uhhh…”

 “I’m just thinking out loud here.” Siheta assured. “For me to get here, it was a combination of listening and feeling. Traversing here isn’t difficult when one can open portals… But could you open your own portals?” she squinted. “I don’t know. Theoretically, the answer should be yes...”

 “The Fade strikes me as the sort of place one shouldn’t stumble about in.” Amy murmured.

 “Such things haven’t stopped you before.”Confrontation reminded. Siheta sucked a breath between her teeth.

 “You know the more I know you, the less I enjoy you.”Amy grumbled. Confrontation’s only response was one of those ‘I-call-it-as-I-see-it’ shrugs.

 Siheta was still smirking at this interplay, but it wasn’t an unkind sort of smirk. Amy cleared her throat in hopes of clearing the air.

 “Are you certain you want to try getting Solas here? Siheta asked.

 Amy took a breath. “You really dislike him.” The statement was an observation, of course, but it was also a call for validation.

 “I dislike how I feel about him.” Siheta refuted. Amy’s eyes sharpened. She wasn’t necessarily surprised to hear Siheta speak openly about feelings. She wasn’t typically the sort to cage herself, after all. “What?”

 “Just...that turn of phrase. It’s peculiar to me.”

 Siheta nodded. “Solas is intelligent and intuitive. He’s also much older than he seems, and that comes with a vast deal of knowledge. I respect him even when I resent him, and I don’t like that.” she shrugged. “He’s also...well, dangerous obviously. Anyone that powerful who can remain undetected is... But, there’s something shifty about him. In this world of ours, I understand wanting to remain as unremarkable as possible...but it goes beyond that with him. That makes me most uneasy. You don't do that unless you legitimately have a reason to hide.” Amy nodded that she understood, and Siheta seemed to relax. As though she’d been waiting to defend herself. “I’m not the only one who thinks it even if others don’t articulate it.”

 “Magpie?”

 “Magpie.” Siheta confirmed. “And Varic. And Bull to some extent.”

 “Ben Hass-hole.”

 “Quite.” Siheta surveyed their surroundings. “But even they’re beginning to relax around him.”

 “Hm.” Amy murmured. “Without revealing too much… I don't think it’s a bad idea to be mindful of Solas. At the same time.. I’d much rather keep him close. Even at the expense of my own feelings. Because…” she shook her head. “He isn’t an automaton. He has valid thoughts and feelings. And if he's close to us, and we form strong bonds and feelings with him, there’s a chance he’ll form bonds and feelings for us as well.” she shrugged, mouth scrunching to the side. “Doesn’t mean a break won't hurt, but he’ll have all that to inform him as he moves away from us.”

 Siheta’s expression was flat, grim. “Risky.” she announced before heaving a lonesome breath. “But worthy.” she finally determined with a nod.

 “So…”

 “Right.” Siheta took a fortifying breath. “How to invite the old sage in.” she eyed their surroundings till her eyes landed on Confrontation. The spirit had gone quiet during their discourse.

 ...and Amy wondered for a second how much of their presence was influencing all of this abject honesty.

 “How is this affecting you?” Siheta asked, and Amy blinked, her eyes darting between Siheta and Confrontation… it was only then Amy realized that Siheta was addressing the spirit..and Amy suddenly grew concerned.

 “Well enough.” Confrontation pronounced, nodding towards Amy. “This one is very concerned with keeping to herself… odd, as this space is herself.” They blinked, looking up and then around. “Honestly… I expected some friction.”

 Siheta nodded, her gauging gaze assessing Amy anew. “Commendable.”

 “Oi.” Amy grunted. “I’m right here.”

 Siheta chuckled, taking a long moment to corral her thoughts. “So… just so we’re all on the same page now. People in Thedas live in a physical world that is next to and within a realm of Dreaming that they call the Fade. It's seperated from them only by a very flimsy barrier they call the Veil. Mages have a stronger connection to that Dreaming and use its energy to manifest effects in the physical world. To be clear, everyone lives with the Dreaming overlapping them.”

 “Mages are just aware of it and connected to it.”

 “Right.” Siheta confirmed. “When you arrived here, you didn’t connect and the Dreaming didn’t touch you.”

 “So… I was like a vacuum?”

 Siheta nodded. “A void, yes. But as time passed, I realized it wasn’t so. The Dreaming adjusted itself around you, seeping in where it could… the physical realm, of course. The rest of you, your soul, it was encased in a shell, like an egg. But I could focus on you and feel you in a similar fashion to others.” She took a deep breath. “It took pointed focus to skim that eggshell of yours, but it was possible.”

 “Like a needle on an old-fashioned record player.”Amy mumbled to herself.

 “If it helps the explanation, why not?” Siheta said with a shrug. “I observed many things about your unique condition, and the more often I pressed in on that shell…”

 “The better you got at understanding?”

 Siheta winced, suddenly contrite. “Yes...but that wasn’t without consequence. You began to sing more and more, and it became clearer that your magic manifested through your song. And as you used your gifts, they became stronger. Whether that was from, natural practice or my interference… I don’t know.”

 Amy hesitated, uncertain. “...Your..?” How did Siheta ‘interfere’ exactly?

 “You mentioned a needle...well, my attempts to connect through your barrier isn’t unlike pressing a glass against a door… or… a needle through the wood to peek inside. And once there were cracks, parts of your magic cloud leak out...and parts of the Dreaming could leak in.” Amy stared at her, both shocked and something…a feeling she couldn’t quite name. There was fear, and she felt small and yet amazed at the same time. It was like… seeing a storm coming, and worrying that your house might not stand against it. “There’s no way to test if that process weakened the barrier, because it’s gone now.”

 Amy swallowed thickly. “...the explosion?”

 Siheta nodded. “The shell is gone. Now, it’s more of a...thin gooey barrier…”

 “Semipermeable membrane.”

 Siheta’s eyebrows nose and she nodded slow. “Semi-Permeable… a good name for it. Things don’t just float out or drift in, but it’s much easier.” Siheta smirked. “Like your own personal veil.” She sighed, softly. “That being said, you still aren't like other mages. That will make this instruction challenging. Not impossible… just difficult.”

 Amy nodded, the shock so thick she couldn’t feel crestfallen.

 “It will be difficult to invite Solas here, because it’s something that can be done, but it’s advanced. Also... I know how I would do it, but I don't entirely know what would work for you.” Siheta explained. “Instead, I think I should instruct you in the basics first. It will provide you with a better foundation to build on, and you would be safer.

 Amy nodded. It felt like a bit of a let-down, but it made sense.

 “Besides, once Solas is here, I doubt he’ll be interested in the basics.”

 Amy smirked. “You think he’d disregard that?”

 Siheta shrugged. “Solas can get rather caught up in forgetting that everyone isn’t like him, and that such things are normal. He’s like a qunari that way, confused how a woman can fight or a mage could be in command.” she sighed. “A fish can teach a bird to swim, so long as it remembers that they’re different animals and maintains respect for that simple fact.”

 Amy chuckled softly. “The simple often confounds the wise.” She relented, relaxing as she resigned herself to Siheta’s basic instruction. “All right. Teach me.” she said, newly determined.

Happy Valentine's Day :)