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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 2 years ago

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Andraste 1: 1

Okay, here’s the actual beginning of this AU, finally. It’s a bit of a doozy, but part of that is because the game’s opener is really just that long. We introduce all the central players here and start to hint at some of the critical details of this story. I hope you like it!

Even weeks afterward, you can’t say with certainty what happened to you in the Fade. It’s all a big, green, glowing blur.

You were laying in your bed, watching water drip from the crack in the ceiling of your cell, when you heard heavy-booted feet running past the bars. You looked up, but they were already gone. Thinking that one of the other prisoners might just be trying to escape, you settled back down with a huff. They were an idiot, whoever they were. No one had managed to escape Aeonar in the 11 years that you’d been here. Anyone who tried was butchered by the Templars before they could take a single step outside.

Sure enough, shouts and screams started to echo through the walls, a lot of them. There were sounds of fighting too, steel clashing and magic flying. You sat up again, peering out through the bars as best you could. Maybe someone had started a riot.

You debated crawling out of your bed to go see, but before you could decide, your cell door swung open, and Sir Francis stood in its frame. Her ugly, wizened face was smirking at you, as per usual. But what was unusual was the fact that her sword was drawn. You were no stranger to her beatings, but she never used her sword for that, generally preferring a switch or a whip. She stared at you like a wolf stares at a rabbit, sending a shudder of fear through you that you could not suppress.

“Sir Francis? What’s going on?” You asked, much more meekly than you wanted. You had learned quickly upon your arrival that showing your fear only made things worse, so you hid it behind subtle defiance and jokes that would frustrate rather than excite. Something about this, however, about the way she looked at you, made you forget any quips or taunts you might have said.

“The reckoning has come, child,” Francis said, sounding far too pleased with herself. “The Maker is at last bringing His wrath upon your unnatural souls.” Without another word, she marched up to you, heedless of how you tried to scurry back on your useless legs, and raised her weapon above her head, bringing it down in a deadly thrust.

She stabbed you. She actually stabbed you through the chest, hard enough to drive her sword through the bed beneath you. You almost didn’t feel it, you were too shocked. The pain took several seconds to register, but by that point you couldn’t scream, only cough up blood helplessly as she pulled her blade out again with a sickening, wet sound.

She watched you choke on your own blood, fingers scraping over the gushing wound in your chest, and she smiled, bright and exultant. “Pray to Him while you can,” she advised, downright fucking gleeful. “He may yet have some mercy to show you.” Then she left. She just walked the fuck out, leaving you there in your bed as the world started to dissolve around you.

You whimpered, trying uselessly to put pressure on the wound, unable to sit up or even roll over to spit out the blood or the tears now streaming down your face. Someone, anyone please, I don’t want to die…

At first, you thought your prayers would go unanswered, that the Maker, if He was even real, had truly turned His back on you. But, as you started to lose yourself to the darkness behind your eyelids and the cold spreading from your chest to the tips of your fingers, you felt Her. Your Friend, the only one who had ever stood by you. You felt Her hand, incorporeal though it was, close around yours over your wound. Her warmth enveloped you, pulling you in, keeping you safe as your eyes fell shut.

From here, it starts getting fuzzy, and it doesn’t really become un-fuzzy until you wake up in a freezing cold prison cell with a circle of blades pointed at your throat.

You remember… a green-tinted wasteland, of craggy rocks and dead trees, a landscape distorted and discolored by an eerie, veridian glow. You remember being able to move (move, child!) and stand (get up!) for the first time in over a decade, and how you immediately had to run (run!!) from a horde of monsters determined to eat you alive or worse. You remember a figure, gleaming green and gold, reaching out its strange, ethereal hand to you, and you remember the more familiar hand of your Friend gripping you by the forearm and stretching your arm across the last few inches.. But when your fingers touch, the memory ends abruptly, and all is foggy until the door to your new cell creaks open, and the most intimidating woman you’ve ever met stands in front of you.

She introduces herself as Mother Superion, which is an immediate red flag in your book. That first impression is not helped when she starts interrogating you, hounding you with questions about explosions and Divine Justinia and a Conclave. She thinks you did something, that you killed people. She prowls around the room, stopping next to you, and then you feel her bony fingers, far stronger than they look, close around your left wrist and yank it upward. “Explain this,” she demands coldly, as a burst of green-gold light briefly illuminates the room.

“I can’t!” You shout, turning as best you can to look at Superion as she stalks behind you. “I don’t even know what that is! Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent! I don’t even know where I am!”

The interrogation is put on hold by the arrival of bad news, delivered by a steely woman in steel armor, with a big eye emblazoned on her chest plate. This woman glares at you with unmasked anger and mistrust, and Superion addresses her as Lilith. Lilith tells Superion that the “Breach” is “expanding again” and demons are pouring through it faster than before. “We cannot remain here,” she insists. “Beatrice and the others will not be able to hold the line much longer.”

“You are right,” Superion concedes, before regarding you with a piercing, quizzical stare. You wonder what she could possibly see that seems so dangerous. A teenage girl in chains, dressed in the same bloody, threadbare fatigues you had been wearing in your cell? No weapon, no staff, not even a trusty rock, you could hardly be considered a threat. “As for you,” she says, standing in front of you once more. “We have urgent matters to attend to, and you will be coming with us.” Her tone and expression demand no argument, which would normally encourage you to argue, but you rein the urge in. “As to your guilt…” Someone clearly hasn't heard of “innocent until proven guilty”, which is frankly on par for Chantry Templar assholes. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” She nods at the soldiers still pointing swords at your neck. At her silent command, they withdraw, and one of them roughly grabs your bound wrists to unchain them from the floor.

You rub your wrists idly and stand with all the grace of a baby halla. You haven’t had time to process the fact that your legs suddenly work, and you aren’t given the time now. Mother Superion is already outside the cell, and a hard poke against your lower back nearly knocks you to the floor again. “Move!” Lilith snarls, having evidently jammed the pommel of her sword into your spine to force you forward.

It’s even colder outside the cell, where no walls offer protection against the icy winds. You can’t contain a yelp when your nearly bare feet touch the snow, earning an eye roll from Lilith. Frowning, Mother Superion summons an idling soldier with the snap of her fingers, ordering him to fetch boots and a small, green gambeson. These she hands to you, not ungently.

You accept them with what you hope is evident skepticism. “Why are you giving me these?”

This earns you another eye roll. “Put them on,” the Mother commands. “It’s a treacherous hike from here to the Breach, and I won’t have you dying of frostbite before your trial can be held.”

“How kind of you,” you snark sourly, even as you clumsily pull on the boots and gambeson. At least you’ll be warmer now. “You keep mentioning this Breach thing. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that.” Superion points her cane toward the sky, and oh… okay yeah, that’s… bad, that’s really bad. Off in the distance, the sky has been rent open, at a singular, bleeding point above a smoking ruin. A familiar, eerie green light is pouring from the wound, along with strange falling objects that strike the earth with concussive impact. The air is alive with thunder and a wailing too unnatural to be the wind. “We call it the Breach, a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It is not the only such Rift, just the largest. There are many, all caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?”

The Mother inclines her head. “This one did. And unless we act, it may grow until it swallows the world.”

As you stare, dumbstruck, you feel your left hand explode in pain. You scream, falling to your knees on the snow-swept stones, writhing as the same green light of the sky wound emanates from your palm. After several eternal seconds of agony, feeling like someone is tearing the flesh from your finger bones, the light fades and the feeling passes. You are left gasping, curled around your left arm, free hand clutching mindlessly at slush.

“Each time the Breach expands, your Mark spreads, and it is killing you. It may also be the key to helping us stop this. If you want to see another sunrise, you will help us stop this,” Mother Superion explains coldly, but honestly.

“Shit, fuck,” You curse, still trying to get your breath back to speak coherently. “You say it may be the key? To doing what?”

“Closing the Breach,” Superion explains. “Whether that is possible is something we will discover shortly.”

“And you still think I’m guilty? You think I would do this to myself?”

“Not intentionally. Something clearly went wrong. But if you wish to prove your innocence, this is the only way.”

You stare each other down for several seconds before you give in, knowing she’s right. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

“It is your only choice,” the Mother responds before turning and setting off down the path, letting Lilith drag you to your feet.

As a trio, you make your way as best you can towards the ruins underneath the Breach. Soldiers run in all directions around you, panicked and disorganized. Some stand shivering behind wooden barricades, eyes fixed forward like their lives depend on it. One sprints past you in the opposite direction, declaring, “Maker! It’s the end of the world!” Other people, civilians by your assessment, mill about nervously, gawking and glaring at you as you pass.

“They have decided your guilt,” Superion says grimly. “They need it. All of Haven mourns our Most Holy, Divine Justinia.”

“I don’t give a shit what they need. I’m not guilty!” You bark, loudly, returning each of their glares with your own. Lilith shoves your shoulder to keep you marching forward.

The Breach pulses once more during your trek, sending shockwaves of pain through you again, forcing Lilith to drag you to your feet a second time. “The pulses are coming faster now,” she says to Mother Superion, as if you’re just a sack of flour that had fallen from a wagon.

“The longer we tarry, the more the rifts appear, and the more demons we face. We must press onward.”

“You guys still haven’t told me what happened. Or where this place is. I was in Aeonar, I’ve never been here before in my life,” you insist, trying your best to keep pace with Mother Superion.

The Mother looks uncertain as she considers these words. “This is Haven, the nearest town to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where the Conclave was to be held. They say you stepped out of a Rift, and then fell unconscious. They say a woman was with you, but no one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple.”

Well, that answers approximately none of your questions.

The real trouble doesn’t start until you reach the bridge. What should have been an easy jog from one side to the other is completely undone by one of the meteors expelled by the Breach. The stone beneath your feet falls away, sending the three of you plummeting into the ravine below, hitting several hard rocks on the way down.

Mother Superion lands with the most grace, although that isn’t saying much, and Lilith softens her fall by performing a roll upon landing, ending in a crouched position on the ice. You, conversely, land flat on your face, with your forehead split over and your nose dripping blood. Coughing, you pull yourself up as best you can, grabbing onto a wayward staff that had fallen from the bridge with you. You lean on the staff to get your bearings, and curse again when you see another meteor crash into the ground in front of you.

Monsters, demons, emerge from the smoke, their snarling mouths shrieking and their talons primed to tear into your flesh. Lilith charges the nearest one with a roar, driving her sword into its chest while blocking its claws with her shield. It screams and disappears in a puff of smoke, but another is quick to take its place. Mother Superion battles her own opponent, pulling a hidden blade from her cane and slashing away with practiced ease and efficiency. Okay, the two of them seem to have things well in hand. You are more inclined to take your new staff and find somewhere to hide until they win. You can barely walk, let alone fight. Combat magic was forbidden in Aeonar, on pain of execution.

This plan goes out the window the moment a demon gets up in your face. It bursts from the ground in front of you in a haze of rage, claws already primed to tear you apart. Combat magic or no, you’re going to have to deal with it. The demon strikes, and you block with the staff, only to be sent wheeling to the side, and you barely have time to right yourself before it attacks again, scoring a deep slash in your arm. Fuck.

Your heart pounds with fear as blood leaks down your arm. Hiding was Plan A, defending was Plan B. Both have failed, leaving you only with plan C, your worst one yet: offense.

You summon your magic and swiiing! the staff with all your might, managing to hit the demon in the head as it gears up for another swipe. When the end of the staff connects, there is an explosion of fire, a veritable inferno blowing the demon to smithereens where it stood. You are left standing gobsmacked, looking between the staff in your grip and the scorched ice where the demon once stood. Well, maybe you know some combat magic after all.

Lilith and Mother Superion are killing off the rest of the demons while you’re still coming to terms with what you just did. The pain in your face and arm are fading away, but your attention is stuck on your hands where they clutch the wooden staff.

You look up just as they finish, to find them staring at you with shock and anger. Lilith stalks toward you, sword still in hand, and points the blade at you. “Drop the staff! Now!” She demands.

You gape at her. “Drop it? That thing almost killed me and you want me to—”

It’s as if your very blood is set on fire. Suddenly, every one of your nerve endings is alight with blinding pain. For the third time in less than an hour, you fall to your knees, screaming. She’s doing this to you, that bitch. You remember now, one of the punishments used in Aeonar to discipline prisoners. The Templars would force them to drink a potion that would leave them convulsing and shrieking on the floor. It had never been used on you (Francis had always favored more traditional forms of violence), but you’d seen it done enough times. Somehow, Lilith is doing it to you without a potion, and you now understand how even the scariest prisoners, the ones there for actual crimes, could be reduced to whimpering piss puddles by the end of it.

“Lilith, enough!” Superion calls out. In an instant, the pain stops, leaving you boneless, wheezing, and dripping sweat onto the ice. Lilith looks aggrieved at being told to stop, lowering her arm but gripping her sword even more tightly.

“What… the fuck did you do to me?” You whimper. “Fucking Templar bitch!”

“Quiet, girl!” Superion hisses at you. “Get up. We have to keep moving.”

“Tell that to her! How does she expect me to get there if I can’t even defend myself?!”

The Mother looks displeased, but she concedes to your point. “That is true.” She looks at Lilith. “We cannot protect her against so many. She will have to fight for herself.”

“And you’re trusting her not to burn us alive the moment we turn our backs?” Lilith questions hotly.

Superion looks back at you dispassionately. “Even if she succeeded, she would die from the Mark’s growth within a day. She knows better than to try.” She says this with confidence while also staring you down like she thinks you’re still considering it. Which, sure, maybe you were when Lilith was using her Templar bullshit on you, but the following seconds provide you with renewed clarity of purpose. She's right. You really, really don’t want to die (again), so until you figure out how not to do that, you’re going to stick with the people that can slice through demons like soft cheese.

Once you can stand again, the three of you continue on. You encounter more demons along the way, and you wield your staff with more competence than you’ve ever felt. You clumsily but effectively fling balls of fire at wraiths and shades, pushing them back when they get too close and even killing a few.

As you draw closer and closer to the Breach, the sounds of combat grow louder. “Who’s fighting up there?” You ask Mother Superion as you ascend a set of snow-covered stairs.

“You’ll see soon,” she says. Vague bitch. “We must help them.”

Sure enough, the scene you stumble across at the top of the stairs is fucked. A large group of shades is closing in on a trio of combatants. Two are mages, to your surprise, an elf man and a human woman, both of whom wield their staves with grace and power you can scarcely dream of having. The third person is a woman standing off to one side, firing on the demons with some kind of crossbow. One shade moves to attack her, only to get the heavy butt of the crossbow slammed into its head, followed by a rapid succession of steel bolts through the chest until it vanishes. Despite their obvious prowess, the demon horde doesn’t let up. New shades and wraiths crop up almost out of thin air, and above the scene sits an ominous glowing mass of green stone and magic.

Lilith and Mother Superion charge in without hesitation, falling into formation with the other three with practiced efficiency. You are a second slower on the uptake, but you do participate, joining your fire with the elf’s frost and the woman’s lightning. The demons don’t quit, and the strange crystal orb above suddenly bursts apart, becoming a hazy cloud of green light. Even more worrisome, the mark on your hand seems to respond to it, beginning to glow the same color.

In an instant, the elf mage is next to you, gripping your forearm firmly but not roughly. Up close, you notice that he is bald and has inquisitive gray eyes that seem to look past you to something deep inside. You suppose he’s handsome in a uniquely elvish way, but it doesn’t do anything for you. He stares with furrowed brow at the glowing mark before turning and thrusting your hand at the strange green light.

The connection is instantaneous. As though matching like to like, the energy pouring from your hand extends outward and twines with the magic of the cloud, forming a chaotic, swirling beam like a lightning bolt between them. It’s unequal. In fact, whatever power is coming from your hand seems to be too much for the cloud. You watch as it is overtaken and drawn inwards, contracting until it is forcibly coalesced into a single point, which then expels a final burst of mana before disappearing entirely and taking the demons with it.

The elf releases your forearm, regarding you with a mysterious smile. “What did you do?” You ask him, looking between his face and your hand, which no longer glows.

“I did nothing,” he says mildly. “The credit is yours.”

“I did that?” You question, looking up at the now empty air.

“Whatever magic created the Breach also placed that Mark on your hand,” the man elaborates. “I theorized the Mark might be able to close the Rifts that opened in the Breach’s wake. And it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” Mother Superion says from behind you, making you jump.

“Possibly,” the man concedes. He looks at you again, that odd smile unwavering. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know,” a wry voice speaks from your right. It’s the woman with the crossbow. She’s pretty too, and serving major badass vibes with her long black coat and shiny crossbow. Something about her is familiar, but you can’t place what. “Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” She struts toward you with casual confidence. “I’m Mary. Nice to meet you, kid.” She doesn’t ask your name or offer a hand to shake, so you’re left a little lost on how to respond.

“Um, that’s… a really nice crossbow,” you stammer, cursing yourself silently for how stupid you sound.

She smirks at you, but her dark eyes are sharp, like they’re sizing you up. “This old girl?” She says. “Her and I have been through a lot together. She’ll be great company in the valley.”

“Absolutely not,” Lilith growls, stepping forward to glare at Mary. “Your help is appreciated, rogue, but—”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Mary cuts in. She tsks, shaking her head. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

“What we need are trained warriors with competent combat skills,” Lilith denies angrily.

“Baby girl, I have an automatic crossbow,” Mary counters with sanctimonious gentleness. “When you have an automatic crossbow, you don’t need combat skills.” Okay, you like her. You’ve decided it.

“She is right, Lilith,” Mother Superion says, unexpectedly. “Mary and I have fought many battles together. She is more than competent, and her help will be invaluable.” Lilith concedes unhappily, but crosses her arms and glares while Mary keeps on grinning, smug as anything.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” the elf says. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

“What he means is ‘I kept that Mark from killing you while you slept’”, Mary elaborates.

“Not just me,” Solas counters. “Beatrice also helped a great deal.” He looks toward the human mage, who has yet to say anything. You turn to look at her too.

Your first thought is that she’s beautiful. Holy shit. Wow. She might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. She stands tall but unassuming, dressed in sleek, black combat robes. Her long black hair is pulled up in a tight bun, her skin is tan, and her cheeks are dusted with freckles. Her dark eyes watch you calmly, expressing neither mockery nor anger. There’s a quietness to her presence, a steadiness that makes you want to trust her, something you’ve never felt toward anyone before, let alone someone you’ve just met.

“Solas did most of the work,” she deflects humbly. “I merely assisted.” Her accent is Fereldan, which catches you off-guard. It’s the posh kind of Fereldan that speaks to nobility, but if she never spoke you would have assumed she was Orlesian, maybe from Montsimmard.

You have trouble tearing your eyes away from her, but you do have a pressing matter to address. “I’m Ava. You guys seem to know a lot about this thing,” you say to Solas, holding up your left hand.

“Solas is an apostate,” Mother Superion explains. “He is well-versed in such matters.”

“Technically all mages are apostates now, Mother Superion,” Solas responds matter-of-factly. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Beatrice shift uncomfortably at these words. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage.” There’s a pompousness to his statement that grates against you, even as he looks apologetically towards Beatrice and adds, “Not to offend or diminish your prowess, Beatrice.” To Mother Superion, he says, “Speaking of prowess, however, you should know that this magic is like nothing I have ever seen before. Ava may be a mage,” he says, indicating you. “But I find it hard to believe that any mage could have such power.”

Mother Superion looks between him and you. “Understood,” she says, her tone giving nothing away. “We must proceed to the forward camp.” She sets off without another word, Lilith and Beatrice falling in line behind her immediately. Your eyes follow Beatrice shamelessly as she goes. Solas follows at a slower pace, and Mary brings up the rear with you.

“Come on, kid,” she says, patting your shoulder. “We’ve got demons to kill.”

The next problem comes in the form of another Rift, positioned outside a sealed wooden gate blocking access to another bridge. Your little party charges into the fray as before, and you notice certain things about each of them as you fight. Lilith is like a bull throwing herself against the nearest enemy, but she’s not reckless. She keeps her guard up and never falters, able to return the harshest blow with one of her own in a dance she performs effortlessly. Mother Superion moves like a snake, sliding between foes and striking them down before they can hit the empty space where she was milliseconds ago. Mary keeps her distance but is always moving, always seeking to flank, always looking for weak points to exploit. Solas fights strategically, using his frost magic to isolate individual enemies and slow down groups before they can surround anyone else. He freezes a shade in place before it can attack Lilith’s flank, shattering it into a thousand pieces with another pulse of mana.

And Beatrice, well… Beatrice is just a full badass. For a mage, she doesn’t seem to care about keeping her distance. She weaves between demons, twirling her staff like a dancer, wreathing her body in arcs of lightning. She strikes as much with her staff as she does with her magic, cutting through wraiths with the sharp end and bashing shades with the blunt end. At one point, she even impales a shade, pushing it away from Solas before obliterating it with a concentrated burst of electricity. She makes you, with your flailing fire balls, look like a toddler waving a stick.

Solas directs you to aim your hand at the Rift to close it while he and the others occupy the demons. You do, and the same beam of Fade energy connects from your hand to the Rift, forcing it to close, and leaving your fingers tingling and throbbing in its wake.

“The Rift is closed,” Mother Superion calls out. “Open the gate!”

The heavy wooden doors creak open, held aloft by two battered looking soldiers, revealing the snowy bridge beyond. You’ve finally reached the forward camp.

Your group marches past the soldiers, the Chantry sisters tending the wounded, the rows of bodies hidden under tarps, and heads straight toward a man in Chantry dress leaning over a table. He looks up at your approach, and scowls at you specifically.

“Well,” he says, voice hard and carrying an arrogant, Orlesian lilt. “Here you are then.” He looks at Lilith and Mother Superion. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.” Okay, so he’s not friendly. Noted.

Mother Superion manages to look even more offended than you feel. “Order me?” She scoffs angrily. “You are a glorified clerk, Duretti. A bureaucrat!”

“And you are a thug,” Duretti counters. It's not the word you would have chosen to describe the Mother (and you can think of many), but she and Duretti seem to be familiar with each other, so maybe he knows something you don’t. “But a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

“I serve the Most Holy,” Superion asserts.

“Justinia is dead!” Duretti shouts, banging his fist on the table. “We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter.”

You roll your eyes, unable to contain your snark any longer. “So no one’s actually in charge here. Great, I’m really feeling the power of the Faith right now.” Somewhere behind you, you hear Mary snort, and even Solas’s lips quirk upward. Beatrice, however, frowns like you’ve insulted her family or something.

Mother Superion ignores your quip, as does Duretti. “Call a retreat, Suzanne,” he says, beseeching. “Our position here is hopeless.”

Superion (Suzanne, your brain catalogs for later) shakes her head. “We can still stop this before it’s too late.”

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with your soldiers.”

“We must get to the Temple,” Lilith insists, stepping forward. “It’s the quickest route.”

“But not the safest,” Superion counters, although her tone is ponderous. “Our forces could charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“But we lost contact with an entire squad on that path,” Beatrice says fervently, crossing her arms.

“It’s too risky,” Lilith agrees. “We must charge. We will lose men and precious time if we don’t.”

“Abandon this now,” Duretti cuts in, stubborn as anything. “Before more lives are lost.”

At that moment, the Breach pulses again with a thunderous cacophony, and your Mark responds in kind, drawing a pathetic whine from you. This draws everyone’s attention to you, and Beatrice appears at your side, hand outstretched as if to touch your arm, but unable to close the gap.

“Are you alright?” She asks, with genuine concern. You nod, unable to speak because you’re currently gritting your teeth against the pain. By her worried expression, you know she is unconvinced, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she asks you something most unexpected. “How do you think we should proceed?”

“You’re asking me?” You squeak, stupid with shock.

“You have the Mark,” Solas points out.

“And you are the one we must keep alive,” Superion concurs, even-toned. “Since we cannot agree on our own…”

You glance between all of them, trying to gauge if they actually mean what they’re saying. The last person who had ever asked your opinion about something was Diego, when he wanted to know if you thought the crack in the wall of his cell looked more like a bear or a dragon. They return your gaze steadily, including Lilith, although she’s obviously not happy about it.

And… you hate that you're about to agree with a fucking Templar, but… "You say charging ahead will be the fastest way?"

“Yes,” Lilith says confidently. “The Temple is just over the ridge. It’s a straight shot.” That sounds good to you. Knowing your luck, if you tried the mountain path, you would just fall off of it.

“Then I say we charge.” And, just to reinforce the fact that you’re still not cool with anything that’s happening right now, you scornfully add, “I won’t survive long enough for your trial. Whatever happens, happens now.”

Mother Superion nods. “Let’s go then.”

“On your head be the consequences, Suzanne,” Duretti mutters as you stalk past. Superion ignores him.

Your party progresses toward the ruins at a steady pace. You encounter more demons and another Rift. This time, you need no instruction on what to do. As soon as an opening presents itself, you stretch your hand toward it. This time, it doesn’t close immediately, but you feel something give way inside of it, causing all the demons to slow and still as though stunned. They don’t disappear however, and after a few moments they regain mobility and carry on as before. They attempt to rush you, clued in to your interference, and you ready your staff to start incinerating them.

You needn’t have bothered. Before a single demon can reach you, Beatrice is there, as fast and deadly as the lightning she summons. She’s like a storm, furious and inescapable. She destroys one shade and uses the momentum to propel her staff into another. You clutch your own dinky staff, wondering if you should help her, or if she even needs your help.

“Close the Rift, Ava!” She calls to you as she seamlessly blocks an attack. She throws her opponent back with a pulse of mana and carries on to the next. She’s unstoppable.

Doing what she says seems like the best use of your time, so you turn back to the Rift in question and go in for a second attempt. This time, when you feel it break, it breaks for good, closing with a crack. The tingling in your hand fades away faster than last time, and something in you feels stronger.

“Sealed, as before,” Solas comments, walking up to you. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.” He looks thoroughly unruffled, and on inspection, the rest of your companions also seem unharmed. “Were you hurt?”

“Huh? No.”

Solas looks at you with interest. He reaches out and touches your arm with careful fingers. Brow furrowing, you look down to see what he’s staring at. He’s touching a tear in your gambeson, a long slash crusted in dried blood. Your bare skin is exposed underneath. With a start, you remember that this was where the shade cut you back when you first picked up your staff after falling from the bridge. But looking at it now, your skin is unblemished. No sign of the wound exists apart from the blood on your sleeve. Shaken, you run your fingers along your face, trying to find where your forehead had split open on the rocks, but there’s nothing there.

“How interesting,” Solas says mysteriously. “Well, I’m glad you are unharmed. We should press onward.”

He turns away, but before you can ask after what he means, a new voice interrupts.

“Mother Superion, you managed to close the Rift. Well done!” Two new women are walking up to your group. One has dark skin decorated with scars, short, red-tinted hair, and muscles big enough to be seen even under her heavy armor. The other is a girl who looks to be your age, dressed in Chantry clothes with a head of dark, fluffy curls and a bow and quiver over one shoulder.

“Do not congratulate me, Dora,” Mother Superion says, indicating to you. “This is the prisoner’s doing.”

The prisoner has a name, ya know? You are tempted to say this, but Mary catches your eye and subtly shakes her head.

The buff woman regards you curiously. “Is it? I hope they’re right about you. We’ve lost a lot of people to get you here.”

“You’re not the only one hoping that.” Which is about as diplomatic as you can be. You’re getting really tired of this.

“The way to the Temple should be clear,” the curly-haired woman says, adjusting the strap of her quiver. “We can give you time, but you should hurry.”

“Right you are, Camila,” Superion agrees. “Let’s go. Dora, gather whoever remains and bring them here.”

“At once,” Dora confirms, already jogging away.

“Maker watch over you,” Camila says, smiling softly as she follows Dora.

You wonder what this Temple of Sacred Ashes looked like before the Conclave. You imagine some impressive, immaculate building dusted in snow, gleaming in the sunlight. Whatever it once was, it is a ruin now. A blasted heath littered with burning corpses. Pristine stonework lays shattered, staircases have been destroyed, and statues have crumbled to dust. In the center of it all sits a massive Rift, seemingly the base of the Breach itself.

“This is your chance to end this,” Superion says to you. “Are you ready?”

You stare at the Rift, following it all the way to the Breach itself, so far up in the sky as to be partially obscured by the clouds. It rumbles with thunder as whole boulders float in a slow orbit around it. No, you’re not fucking ready. Obviously.

“I’ll try,” you demure. “But I don’t know how to even get up to that thing, let alone close it.”

“No,” Solas denies, shaking his head. “This Rift was the first, and it is the key.”

“We have to try. The Maker is with us, He will see us through,” Beatrice says. She’s so steadfast. She has real faith, not in you, but in the rightness of this cause. Somehow, that’s enough. Even her bringing up the Maker doesn’t deter you. Her faith isn’t in you, but that’s okay. You’ll do what it takes to prove her right.

You pick your way through the debris, looking for the quickest path down. As you jog across ruined walkways, something weird happens (and given how your day has been, that’s really saying something).

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.” An unfamiliar voice, smooth and cold, echoes through the air of the Temple.

“What are we hearing?” Superion asks, her eyes darting around for signs of hidden enemies.

“Presumably the person who created the Breach,” Solas responds.

Strange spikes of glowing red stone dot the path you tread, and when you come upon one, you see Mary visibly recoil. “Shit. Suzanne, this is red lyrium.” Red lyrium? Up until now, you had assumed that green was the only color lyrium could come in.

“I see it, Mary,” Superion confirms grimly.

“What the fuck is it doing here?” Mary growls, staring at the crimson mass and gripping her crossbow even tighter than before.

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupting it,” Solas suggests calmly, though his shoulders are tense.

“Whatever it is, it’s evil,” Mary spits, stepping away. “No one touch it, you hear?” She ushers you all past it without further delay.

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone help me!”

Mother Superion gasps audibly. “That was Divine Justinia’s voice!” She speeds up impressively for a woman who uses a cane (even a sword-cane), and you struggle to keep up on your baby halla legs.

Eventually, you all make it to the base of the Temple, dropping down into the center of the heath where the large Rift sits. The Mark ignites at the proximity, but the pain is more bearable now, somehow, maybe because you closed the previous Rifts.

Divine Justinia’s plea rings out again as you stare at the floating crystal mass, and a distressingly familiar voice answers: your own.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

Sure enough, the others recognize it as you do. Superion stares at you in shock. “That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you, but…”

Anything else she means to say is cut off abruptly. The Rift pulses, expelling a wave of blinding light, and in its wake, something like a vision plays out before your eyes.

A woman in ornate religious dress hangs suspended in mid-air, arms forcibly outstretched. She stares in horror at a shadow, tall and willowy, with glowing orange eyes. Some of the dialogue you’ve already heard is repeated, and then you show up out of nowhere. Literally. You are laying in a heap on the ground, barely holding yourself up by the elbows, and your body is glowing a soft, yellow-y gold. You recognize it instantly as the color of your Friend, who always comes when you ask her to, and this apparently is no exception. In the vision, you repeat your question, and Divine Justinia calls to you. “Run while you can! Warn them!”

The shadowy figure tilts its head, regarding you with its burning stare. “How curious to find such a revenant here,” it says. “What Great Spirit loves you so, child, to bring you back from death?” Somehow, you can almost see the thing, whatever it is, smiling. “A pity. Kill her, now.” There’s another brilliant flash of light, and the vision abruptly ends.

You stare at the space where the shadowy figure was, until you are unceremoniously yanked around by the arm, Mother Superion’s fingers clamped hard on your bicep. “You were there,” she says accusingly. “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she truly…?” She sucks in a tremulous breath. “Was the vision true? What are we seeing?” She asks, more steadily.

“I don’t know!” You cry, pulling your arm out of her grip. She lets you go, which is good because you probably wouldn’t have succeeded otherwise. “I don’t remember!”

Solas steps in, looking at Superion. “It is echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.” He directs your attention to the Rift. “This Rift is not sealed, but it is closed. Albeit temporarily. I believe that with the Mark, we may open it, and then seal it properly and safely. However, doing so will attract attention from the other side.” Once he makes his point, his gaze shifts to you, and there’s a curiosity in it that you don’t like, that makes you nervous. It’s like he’s trying to figure something out about you.

Superion does not notice this. Her attention is on the gathered soldiers. “That means demons. Stand ready!”

It happens like this. Around you, everyone falls into formation. They spread out, surrounding the Rift on all sides. Soldiers ready their swords and axes, archers nock arrows, and everyone in your party gets ready to fight. Lilith, Camila, Dora, and Solas spread out, while Mary, Mother Superion, and Beatrice stay close to you. When everyone is in position, Mother Superion nods at you and draws her blade. You look at Mary, who gives you a cocksure smirk as she hoists her crossbow. Lastly, you look at Beatrice, and find her steady gaze watching you. She doesn’t smile, but her shoulders are straight and her bearing sure. “We’re with you”, she says, which fills you with more confidence than anything else so far.

You turn to the Rift and extend your hand. Things play out as they have before, with the energy of The Rift battling against the energy from the Mark, and everything seems to be going fine… up until a burst of Fade energy ejects from the mass, and a scaly, horn-covered demon the size of a house materializes out of thin air.

“This is such bullshit!” You lament, dropping your hand to face the beast.

“Now!” Superion shouts. “Kill the demon!”

The battle begins in earnest then. The enormous monster meets resistance from all angles. Arrows and bolts fly, pinging against its tough hide. You join your magic with Beatrice and Solas, pelting the thing with a full elemental onslaught, and foot soldiers ring its feet, diving in and out while trying to slash at its ankles. The demon is undeterred, cloaking itself in lightning and swiping at the nearest soldiers it can reach, sending them scattering. All the energy you’re throwing at it seems barely to bother it.

“We must strip its defenses!” Mother Superion calls. “Wear it down!”

“Ava, use the Rift!” Solas shouts at you. “The demon draws on its power!”

“Go, we’ll cover you,” Beatrice says, sharing a nod with Mary. In unison, they concentrate their fire on the beast, actually managing to get its attention, and they draw it slowly but surely away from you. Once again you are struck by the beauty of her movements, the devastating grace with which she commands magic. If any of you manage to survive this, you wonder if she’ll teach you some tricks.

For now, you focus on the Rift, reconnecting the energy streams. It’s draining work. You can feel the Mark drawing on your strength to fuel itself, and you start to worry it’ll come up short. But you push through, and as before, the Rift bursts open, stunning the demon and bringing it to its knees, allowing the soldiers to charge it like a swarm of rats. Lilith is right underneath it, driving her sword into its face. Dora takes point on its other side, slashing vigorously into its back. Camila and the other archers continue to rain arrows from above until it starts to resemble a pin cushion or a reverse Iron Maiden (you’ve actually seen one of those before).

You leave them to it, taking the time to catch your breath. Beatrice and Solas watch you concernedly, but you wave them away.

“I’m good,” you say, hoping you sound sure and that they don’t see your body shake.

Just like before, the demon recovers itself eventually, sending a shockwave of electricity that repels its attackers backwards. Lilith and Dora roll neatly with the impact, but the other warriors are not nearly so lucky. Most of them lay unconscious or dead around the beast, who now turns its evil, black eyes on you.

It charges. No amount of counter-fire can deter it this time. You are too slow, moving on jelly legs that don’t want to cooperate even to save your life.

It brings one massive claw down to cut you into pieces. Somewhere to your right, someone shouts “No!”, and then…

There’s no blood, or pain. There’s no impact. The demon didn’t hit you. Or rather, it definitely did, you realize, but somehow… didn’t. One moment, black talons were about to turn you to ribbons, and the next they missed, swerving wildly into empty air.

“Um, what?” You say dumbly. The demon seems just as surprised, but is quick to give it another try. It attempts to backhand you, and once again, its fist passes through you like you aren’t even there. This time you notice the problem it’s having. The moment it was due to make contact with you, your body changed, becoming like water or air, letting the claw pass through it seamlessly.

“Ah, I suspected as much,” Solas says mysteriously, sounding way too calm for the situation at hand.

The demon snarls, swiping furiously at you, and each time fails to connect as your body shifts in and out of solidity. It’s nothing to do with you. You instinctively tense to avoid each attack, but something else is making this happen to you.

While you stand there getting swiped at like an idiot, everyone else is taking advantage of the demon’s distraction. You hear the rattle of chains and look up to see them launch heavy grappling hooks into the demon’s back, leashing its limbs and dragging it away from you.

“Ava, attack the Rift!” Mary commands, already laying down fire to push it back further. You do as you’re told, feeling the Mark pull more and more of your energy away to break the Rift apart. But it does break, giving your allies more precious seconds to wail on the beast unimpeded. You, meanwhile, nearly fall over, only to be caught by Beatrice.

“Easy,” she murmurs to you, carefully setting you back on your feet. She steadies you with a hand on your arm, keeping the other on her staff, always ready. “You’re almost there. Can you feel the Rift weakening?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak while your lungs struggle for air.

“Once more should do it,” she says, always with more confidence than you feel. “Can you do that?”

“Y-yeah,” you pant. “I… I think so.” You hope so.

Your arm shakes with exhaustion as you raise it again, but Beatrice stands firm behind you, free hand gripping your shoulder. The beams connect a third time, all while the demon begins to pull free of its chains. You try to ignore it, to focus entirely on the Rift. You have the growing sense that it is collapsing under your power, under the Mark’s power. It bursts open again, and you can tell even before Solas confirms it that this time is the clincher. You push through, even as Beatrice has to drop her staff to hold you upright. You keep going, trusting her strength, and will the Rift to close.

There is a concussive propulsion of mana, and another large burst of green light, but the Rift disappears. The energy of the Breach recedes into the sky, out of sight.

That about does it for you. You fully collapse against Beatrice, who carefully lowers you to the ground. “Ava!” Several voices cry out, but you can’t tell whose is whose. You try to keep your eyes open, gazing up at the wound in the sky, but you finally lose the battle, passing out.

#warrior nun #dragon age #dragon age au #my writing #da: inquisition #ava silva #sister beatrice #wow this is long #but i'm happy with it #things may not continue in strict chronological order from here #i mean i guess they already weren't #if you thought you hated sister francis before hoo boy #and ava is already a simp for beatrice #love at first fight #i don't know what mary's crossbow should be named #bianca doesn't feel right but i don't have another name right now #solas is already getting clued in to what's going on with ava because he knows about spirits and shit #everyone else will have to figure it out on their own #stay tuned

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servin-up-surveys · 6 months ago

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survey #223

Are any of your friendships on a fine line? Nope! Very grateful for that.

If I search your room, will I find birth control? No. My pills are in the kitchen with my other meds.

Have you ever witnessed a birth? Only cats personally, other animals through videos that would circulate. I NEVER want to see a human birth, I don't even like seeing animals do it.

Are you often the last one to understand a joke? Yes, honestly. I wouldn't say always, but it definitely happens.

Have you ever slept in a tent, indoors or out? Yes to both. Never beyond my own yard though, haha. As kids, Dad would sometimes do it with us kids.

Are you mad right now? No.

Have you ever been on a farm? I have, briefly. We were picking up my sister from her friend's house, and she lived on a farm.

What are you listening to? I'm watching an episode of John Wolfe's Still Wakes the Deep LP.

Would you rather date someone five years older or five years younger than you? Older.

If you had to live off one type of fruit, which would you pick? Probably apples. I prefer strawberries and kiwi, but I more consistently enjoy apples.

How often do you drink Monster? I hate Monster. To be fair though, I'm not much better health-wise than Monster enjoyers, because after all, I fucking love Mountain Dew. So unhealthy it's not produced in I think the UK.

Are you short? I'm average height for a North American woman my age.

Can you ever get enough of mac ‘n’ cheese? I'm certain I could.

Are you allergic to nuts or dairy products? No.

Do you have trust issues? Yes, but they're not as bad as they were in the past. I also know that I tend to be maybe overly trusting towards women that appear motherly and very empathetic.

Do you think age matters in relationships? If a minor is involved, it absofuckinglutely does. Relationships with considerably large age gaps aren't for me personally, but adults can do what adults want in their own consenting relationships.

Has anyone ever called the cops on you? No.

Is the last person of the opposite sex you texted single? My dad is remarried.

Could you go a week without brushing your teeth? ... This is fucking humiliating, but I've done this. Executive dysfunction and debilitating depression. I paid for this though, I've had intense teeth work after this neglect, and it taught me good. I'm still not where I should be in caring for myself, but by god have I made progress.

Are you usually awake at midnight? Not usually, no.

Have you ever been peer pressured to smoke pot? No. I've never really been peer pressured, but even then, I've always been very good at sticking to my guns with this kinda stuff.

Do you ever actually drink milk alone? Yes, I love milk.

If you don’t have one already, would you consider getting an iPhone? No; I prefer Androids between the two.

What year were you born in? 1996.

Do you get jealous easily? Nah. I'm more prone to envy.

Have you ever done anything illegal? I've always been a person downloading shit illegally.

Do you use Twitter? No.

Who was the last person you hugged? My mom.

Do you listen to All Time Low? No.

Do you get leg cramps often? I've had a tendency lately of waking up and getting leg cramps? Especially if I stretch my leg even a smidge. It's not fun.

Have you ever met a celebrity? No.

Who was your first kiss? Jason, my first "real" boyfriend when I was 16.

What is your favourite food? I could say chocolate lmao, but that certainly doesn't count as like, real "food." My favorite *real* food is cheeseburgers, then I also like boneless hot wings and pizza and other unhealthy shit I shouldn't touch lol.

Do you use Skype? No.

Does it bother you when people have a collar turned up? The fuck should I care what people wear and how they wear it

As a kid did you like Barney, Baby Bop, or DJ more? Barney. I don't know what the other two are.

Have you been to the Bzoink Forums yet? I never had an account there, but I understand it shut down.

Have you ever pet a monkey? No.

Have you ever ridden a camel? No.

Do you like cupcakes? I do. I never knew I couldn't like cupcakes until my sister's husband made them for the kids, his are inedible to me.

Orange or lemon flavoring? Lemon.

Have you ever been to a Disney theme park? Disney World in Orlando.

Do you watch or listen to the news? No, shit's depressing.

What world issues concern you the most? A fucking lot, I don't even want to think of this right now.

Do you think that a woman can be an effective president? What a dumb fucking question.

Do you feel differently about love and sex now than you did at 17? OH YES

Would you ever join the military? Why or why not? lmfao hell no. Even if I was mentally well enough to join, I would never be fodder for the rich man's wars. They can solve their own goddamn problems without bringing violence into it. Maybe one day people in power will act like goddamn adults.

Do you or anyone you know play the violin? Not that I know of.

What is one of your favorite breakup songs? Maybe "If You Can't Hang" by Sleeping With Sirens, idk.

Are you someone who gets easily agitated by hearing someone chewing? Only if it's extremely obnoxious. Otherwise I don't tend to notice.

What's your favorite kind of oatmeal/porridge? Cinnamon apple. And it HAS to be cooked with milk, water is awful.

Have you ever ate a whole pizza in one sitting? No, at least, not a normal pizza. Maybe one of those smaller personal-sized pizzas you can get at the store.

What's something that always makes you cringe? Musicals. I wish I didn't have a cringe reaction to anything, cringe culture is so dumb.

What's something that always makes you emotional? Actually good dads. I didn't exactly get a great one.

What's your favorite pasta? Just normal spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs.

What's a social media site you have no interest in? Twitter.

Are you afraid of the dark? No.

Do you watch American Horror Story? No, I haven't for many years. I did enjoy the first season, though. Season two didn't do it for me (but I didn't finish it) and then I just didn't watch it after that.

Does your hometown have any urban legends/scary stories? My hometown is probably way too small for that.

What’s the scariest nightmare you remember having? I have some sort of condition where I have nightmares/terrors chronically so I could list plenty, but I don't want to. I just had one a few days ago that left me bawling to my mom.

Are you medicated? I've been bouncing between psych meds since fucking middle school.

Does your family/friends have a nickname for you? I mean, "Britt," but that's my nickname from everyone. My mom always gave her kids sweets nicknames though, and mine was "Twinkie." She still uses it occasionally lol.

Who’s some of your favorite YouTubers? I don't really watch Mark anymore, but Markiplier is still my favorite of all-time, I was fucking obsessed and he's still one of my biggest inspirations as a person. I love and respect him immensely. Some that are more relevant to me today include (in no real order) Game Grumps, Snake Discovery, John Wolfe, jacksepticeye, tarantula kat, NKFherping, Gab Smolders, others.

Do you have any phobias? Pregnancy, parasites (especially internal), vomit, general social phobia, whale sharks, slugs, heights (conditional), and I'm certain there's more I'm forgetting in the moment.

Are there any scented candles in the room you’re in? No.

Pancakes or French toast? Hmmm... I love both. I certainly eat more pancakes, though. I guess it depends on what I'm feeling at the time and how well they're prepared.

Did you have anything for breakfast today? Uh... what did I eat? Cereal, I think?

Are there any apps you’re addicted to? Not addicted, no. I have apps I like, but certainly no addictions to them. I know what addictions feel like, I'd know.

Did you have a favorite stuffed animal as a child? Yes, a moose I got from a Cabela's store in Ohio that I named Brownie. I still have him and as I redecorate my room, I think I'm gonna sit him on my bedside table since it's kinda bare right now.

Do you still collect stuffed animals? Not so much anymore, but I CERTAINLY did growing up.

How do you feel about Spongebob? I love Spongebob, it has no reason to be as funny as it is for all ages imo lol. I don't seek out watching it, but it's on sometimes when Mom and I watch my sister's kids, and I enjoy it just fine. I watched it regularly growing up.

Do you have any nervous habits? Most prominently, I wring and knead my hands together. I avoid eye contact. I stutter. I sometimes even cry just because I'm uncomfortable. After getting gauges in my ears, me tampering with these became as common as messing with my hands.

Do you shape/fill in your eyebrows? No.

What’s your favorite comfort food to eat? Comfort food, ice cream. But my true comfort edible... thing is a drink, Mountain Dew Voltage.

What’s the last movie you watched in theaters? I literally have not been to the theater since I tried watching The Black Phone. I WANT to, badly, I was desperate to see the Barbie movie but didn't get to, and now I really wanna see Inside Out 2. We're just extremely in the hole money-wise right now, going to the theater isn't on our table right now.

Do you/did you ever have a Neopets account? Yes, I fucking loved Neopets growing up. I still love the art style and even tried making an account this past year, the naming system just annoyed me too much lmao, I gave up. I don't like adding numbers n shit to character names, it's just a pet peeve.

When’s the last time you were camping? I've never actually been camping.

Have you ever had eggs cooked over a campfire? No.

If you do drink, what’s your favorite alcoholic beverage? Sangrias. I only really like fruity stuff.

Are there any songs you’ve been listening to repetitively lately? I haven't been doing this too much lately, but the two I've been doing this most with lately is "Zwitter" and the full band version of "Los," both by Rammstein.

Do you have social anxiety? Severely. Severely. It's a lot more prominent offline than online, though. It is still very present online too though, especially when I'm dealing with unfamiliar people.

Have you ever had fried pickles? I have, but I don't think I've had good ones. To my memory, I wasn't impressed, and I know these are typically super adored.

Where’s your favorite place to go out to eat? Meh, depends on my mood. Most often I simply want McDonald's (I feel like I'm the only adult alive that genuinely enjoys McD's lmao), other times Bojangle's, but my favorite fast food place is actually Sonic, I'm just less often in the mood for it.

Cereal, granola, or oatmeal? I like all of these, but I definitely eat cereal the most.

#survey #surveys

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everyr0sehas1tsth0rns · 1 year ago

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Fuck it, TMA characters as choir kids!

Jon

Baritone (not a true bass, but who is in high school?)

Really pedantic about vowels and diction

Constantly correcting everyone else’s pronunciation

Will infodump about the history of Western vocal music at the slightest provocation

Latin opinion: very positive! Probably actually takes Latin, thinks it’s a beautiful language

Martin

Tenor, but neither hyperactive nor generally insufferable. This makes him a rarity

Has an entire tea set in his locker for vocal health reasons

Will give you a honey stick if you ask nicely

Writes his own music, but has never shown anyone any of it and probably never will

Latin opinion: neutral. He doesn’t hate it

Tim

Baritone, but comfortable in his higher register (occasional tenor)

Theater kid

Plays guitar

Latin opinion: negative. He prefers pop/musical theater.

Sasha

Soprano (a mezzo, usually) (idk, I don’t remember what original!Sasha sounded like)

Actually understands music theory (Jon appreciates this)

Also a band kid (plays the clarinet)

Latin opinion: positive. It’s not that hard, and she can appreciate the style.

Melanie

Alto (idk I feel like I’ve forgotten everyone’s voices)

Probably peer-pressured into joining

Gay theater kid

Can’t read music all that well, but she’s learning

Likes music production

Latin opinion: negative. She doesn’t see the point

Georgie

Soprano

Peer pressured Melanie into joining

Knows Melanie through her band

Budding arranger

Latin opinion: somewhat negative. It’s really hard to memorize…

Basira

Alto (but mezzo in SMA)

Not particularly serious about choir (has other things going on in her life, unlike some people…)

Plays a sport (probably hockey, hockey is brutal)

Latin opinion: neutral. She is a rare person who could take it or leave it

Daisy

Soprano

On the same sports team as Basira

Uses choir as a way to de-stress outside the pressure of school and sports

Surprisingly good voice

Misses a lot of rehearsals for games, etc.

Latin opinion: positive. It’s pretty hard, but she likes the music itself.

Gertrude

The director

Never seen outside of rehearsals

One of those teachers who never talks about their personal life

Has lots of rumors going around about her; some joking, some not so joking

Like Latin, you either love her or hate her

#tma #high school au #crack #sort of #choir kid #misc. tma characters #I’m realizing I don’t remember what anyone’s voices sound like…#speaking voice can be different than singing voice though so whatever #latin

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

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*CHICAGO*

i write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. (plus my bday is today!!!!!!! 🎂)

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it!

——

The public didn’t know that some of the pictures that are posted of Harry that are tagged and credited to the on tour photographers were actually taken by his wife.

For example, after Chicago, the picture of Harry in the tub - completely bare and worn down from his show, you actually think the photographer took that?

No, that was snapped with YN’s iPhone, like some of the other pictures he’s posted.

Just like the one where he’s asleep on the hotel bed in a robe in Paris with all of his stuff splayed around him - allegedly taken by helene. ***

But no, it had been his wife, they had just taken a shower together and she had stayed in for a bit longer to shave her legs - when she had come out and seen him passed out.

She had to tug a bit at the robe so he wasn’t exposed and make it x-rated, then she pulled out her phone and snapped the picture - sending it to Jeff with a teasing caption.

yn: It’s exhausting being a popstar

And just like that, it appears on his Instagram for fans to go crazy over.

Or what about the snapshot of his tank that had his famous slogan embroidered into the side of the white fabric. ***

His wedding band reflecting in the flash of the light, a subtle glance at his rippled muscle below the attire as they work on his hair.

“Mm, I’m gonna save this for a lonely night,” YN jokes as she tucks her phone away.

Harry’s hand comes to cup her jaw, looking down at her where she’s sat on the floor, “Y’so fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?”

YN’s eyelids flutter a bit as she glances away from his intense gazes - he still gives her butterflies.

“Don’t get shy on me, baby. Can I not tell m’wife how gorgeous she is?” He asks, bring her hand up to kiss the back of it, “Look s’good with tha’ ring on.”

And the one that made fans go crazy.

On a warm evening, in a hotel room between venues in Italy, where they had been lounging around all day.

YN in just a thin gauzy dress that accentuated the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra and Harry just in the trousers he’d worn to get them coffee earlier that morning.

“You just took a picture of me! It’s my turn,” YN giggles, getting on her knees on the old squeaky couch and snatching the camera off of him.

“I took a picture because y’tits look nice in tha’ dress. I can see y’nipples and it’s turnin’ me on,” Harry defends, holding up his book as she snaps it.

“H, c’mon,” She pouts but squeaks when Harry tugs her into him, dropping the book and the camera as he adjusts her on his lap.

“Gonna let me take a picture of y’all nice and fucked out, darling?” He rasps, ignoring her pout and hiking her dress up her hips.

And it’s happened throughout the years, so many pictures that were littered over the internet where just uncredited snapshots from YN.

Just like the one from 2013, they were on tour, and Harry was supposed to be recording for the next album after soundcheck and before the concert. ***

Instead, after soundcheck, Harry and YN had snuck off to a little meadow and lake to have a swim. He had shimmied down to his briefs and waded in.

YN stood back, snapping a picture of him and his friend as the complained about how freezing cold it was.

“Baby, c’mon. Come get in!” Harry had shouted back to his girlfriend on the dry land, “I need some warmth, s’freezing!”

YN grimaces, just in Harry’s shirt and a pair of yoga shorts, dipping her toe in and shaking her head - “I’ll enjoy from here!”

“Please, bug,” He pouts, motioning for her to come in.

She does after a moment, squealing at the temperature before quickly finding her way into Harry’s arms.

“Only have fun on tour when y’with me,” He had murmured into her ear before he dunked her underwater and they play fought until their stomachs hurt from laughing.

And then came the notorious picture that had gotten a million likes in thirteen minutes, oh, the chicago ice bath.

Harry had been achey since tour had begun, constantly complaining about his back and ankles from the shows.

“Baby, just rub m’back a lil’ longer please?” He had whimpered the night before, the tour bus bed did not help him much at all.

When his trainer had recommended an ice bath immediately after the show - YN had made sure to arrange it despite his protests.

After exiting the stage in his black and lilac outfit, he’d been lured into the bathroom with a promise of sex but instead was a steel tub filled with ice water.

Jeff, Lambert, Tommy - everyone was watching on in amusement as he adamantly tried to deny that it would help and the peer pressure wasn’t make him anymore convinced.

“Alright, everyone out,” YN had finally tittered, shooing out the circus before closing the door for privacy.

She helps strip her husband out of his close as he looks at her reproachfully, “You promised me sex.”

“After,” YN assures him, kissing his puffy lips and asking softly, “Just try it, if it doesn’t work - you don’t have to do it again.”

He grumbles a bit, muttering, “Don’t look at m’bits, they’re gonna shrivel up.”

YN giggles, “As if I haven’t seen your bits in every shape and form.”

As he slips in, YN has to snap a picture of his eyes wide and lips pursed at the shock of the freezing water cooling down his hot, sticky skin.

“Holy fucking shit,” Harry hisses, lowering self until he’s sat - his nipples instantly hardening and he’s breathing roughly out of his nose.

“Five minutes, I’ll set the timer,” YN says, setting it on her phone before sitting down next to the tub as he tries to relax.

“Baby, fuck. Reminds me of that really cold lake in Boston, ‘member?” He squeezes his eyes shut and reaches until YN intertwines their hands.

“Yeah, that wasn’t as cold as that one time you convince me to skinny dip with you on the coast of france.”

“Oh yeah, that one was really fucking cold too,” Harry murmurs, keeping his eyes closed and steadying his breathing.

(During WWA tour - ***)

“Harry, are you insane? Anyone could see us? Paul could walk out or the boys. I’m not-“

She’s cut off when Harry shucks off his swimsuit bottoms, his skin’s glowing in the moonlight and the light waves lapping at the shore are soothing.

YN swallows harshly, tries not to stare at how handsome and overwhelming beautiful he is as he turns to step towards the water.

She looks over her shoulder nervously before stepping out of her one-piece, he waits for her at the shoreline.

“Y’so so stunnin’,” Harry tells her, thumbing at the soft curve of her breast and leaning in for a soft kiss when he feed her shake.

“You could have anyone,” YN whispers against his lips, “Every girl on this earth wants you like this. I’m just some girl from before all this,” she motions to the extravagant bungalow they’re staying at.

“I don’t know why y’think tha’s bad. I want t’experience all this with you, m’first love and m’only love. I’m going to marry y’soon, you know tha’?” He replies, lips tracing the curve of her neck.

“You better,” She giggles, hands going to his shoulder as he sucks a mark into the thin skin.

He pulls back with a frown, “M’not jokin’, I don’t care that we’re young - M’gonna do it.”

“I can’t wait,” YN kisses his jutted out lip, squealing when he tugs her into the water and the chilled waves crash against her hips, “H, it’s so cold.”

“M’gonna keep y’warm, hush up,” He titters, pulling her into his chest until her breasts are smushed against his strong pecs and his arms are around her shoulder, “Love experiencing this w’you, everythin’ w’you.”

YN is brought back from her daydream by her husband wiping his finger under her eyelid, “Darling, wha’ is it?”

She hadn’t realized she had teared up thinking of the fond memory, “I want to go back to that bungalow. We had such a good time. I…I just love you.”

His wife chuckles like she’s pathetic for crying about it but he leans out of the tub, cupping her jaw and pulling her in for a hard kiss.

“Don’t be embarrassed, flower,” There was no teasing in his voice, it was sincere, “If anyone should be embarrassed - I’m the one who travels around the world t’sing love songs ‘bout you.”

Their lips join again, his tongue finding its way into her mouth when Jeff, Lambert, and Tommy barge through the door.

“Jesus Christ, only you could be trying to get some while sat in an ice bath,” Jeff scoffs with a smile but instantly knows they’ve fucked up.

“Get out, the fuck?” Harry sits up, “Don’t interrupt me and m’wife. Get out!”

They stumble out and just then the alarm goes off.

YN helps him out, tucking him into a towel and helping him dry off - his head tucked into her neck and hand on her belly - massaging.

“Do you feel any better?” She hums while getting some stray droplets on the nape of his neck as he nuzzles into her warm skin.

“Mm,” He agrees drowsily, hand slipping under her shirt for more heat and she jumps at his icey touch, “Want t’sleep.”

And when they get to the hotel, YN logs onto his Instagram and uploads the ice bath pictures with nobody knowing the story behind it.

Hope you enjoyed!

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sapphos-catpanions · 2 years ago

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“No, it’s not about young gays and lesbians – at least not in the way you think.

“When I first entered the gender debate about ten years ago, the entire concept of childhood transition was barely on the radar. It wasn’t until a few years later – especially with the debut of TLC’s I Am Jazz in 2015 – that you started to see the focus of the debate shift from adults to children. But when TERFs did notice that referrals to gender clinics were slowly starting to rise, most of them immediately interpreted it as a form of modern-day conversion therapy. Homophobic parents, so the story goes, where turning their gay sons into straight daughters and lesbian daughters into straight sons.

“At the time, that was probably an accurate assessment. When the first wave of detransitioners emerged in the middle of the 2010’s, it was made up almost entirely of young gays and lesbians. I don’t consider myself part of that wave – although I spent my high school years identifying as various flavors of transgender too, I was lucky enough to grow up in a region where access to any real medical intervention was pretty much impossible – but I would still say my own attraction to gender theory was also intimately wrapped up with my own sexuality and the pressures I felt from the conservative community I found myself in. Back then, there just wasn’t much of a reason for straight kids to find transition appealing, whereas there was a certain type of LGB kid for whom it made sense in a twisted way.

“But things have changed a lot in the years since gender theory began exploding into popular culture, and the narratives that previously made sense are rapidly becoming irrelevant. In my two and half years teaching in this district, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gay or lesbian student transition to better “fit in” with heterosexuality. Nowadays, gay and lesbian teenagers mainly live their lives as, well, gay and lesbian teenagers – it’s the socially awkward heterosexuals who flock around them, desperate for a “marginalized identity” of their own, that you need to be worrying about.

“In other words: It used to be that childhood transition was a way for gay kids to make themselves straight, but now it’s primarily a way for straight kids to make themselves gay. And why wouldn’t they? In these internet-poisoned youth subcultures, being a boring straight kid (especially a boring straight girl!) puts you at the absolute bottom of the hierarchy, a totally acceptable target for barely-concealed contempt and passive bullying. I had a group of queer students who ate lunch by my desk every day, and every other joke they made was about the one “token heterosexual” who liked to hang out with them. Of course, she was non-binary too by the end of the year – you can only take peers “punching up” at you for so long before you’d want to join them on their level.

“This, more than anywhere else, is where common TERF arguments break down. It’s not that modern gender theory isn’t homophobic. It is, undoubtedly. But it’s homophobic less in the sense that it represses homosexuality and more that it elevates it to a sort of in-demand cultural signifier, wildly disconnected from any actual same-sex desire. Ironically, the TERF impulse to immediately center gay and lesbian youth in these talking points is part of the problem – most of these children are transitioning precisely because they want to roleplay as an oppressed minority, and the assumption that every social ill must always have a unique impact on LGB people in particular just feeds that obsession. If you really want to stop children from transitioning, you better start saying it’s for boring straight kids, not gay ones!

“As I wrap up, let me just say: I don’t want anyone who reads this piece to think TERFs are only “half right,” just because I’m pointing out some places where their analysis goes wrong. On everything that actually matters, they’re the only ones out there today consistently capturing the reality I see on the ground. It’s just that they noticed what was going on before anyone else did, back when all this nonsense was strictly the domain of a few fanatics and its primary victims were gay and lesbian kids; it’s no surprise that some of their talking points are in need of an update in 2022, now that gender theory is a full-blown social phenomenon. But their fundamental analysis still captures something essential that snappier criticisms from conservatives and centrists often miss.

“You can’t understand gender theory today unless you understand teenage girls today – and like it or not, you can’t understand teenage girls today if you’re tuning out the feminists who have been ringing alarm bells for decades now. So go find some TERFs and really listen to what they have to say, as long as you remember that the situation is changing rapidly and not everything that was right on the money years ago is perfectly accurate now. As for me, I’ve got about fifteen more sensitivity trainings to wrap up.”

https://wesleyyang.substack.com/p/gender-theory-in-schools-two-things?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email

#gender dysphoria #trans #nonbinary

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the-crimson · 1 year ago

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I agree that the furniture jailing was mostly a joke - and it was entertaining as hell XD - but just because something is a joke to one person doesn’t mean it’s a joke to the other. Bbh took that seriously for his characters lore and it damaged his relationship with literally everyone present. And saying Forever isn’t at fault because others were pushing for it is a cop out because he’s the president, he’s in a position of authority. Him caving to peer pressure instead of handling the situation with responsibility is not the win you think it is XD

From Forever’s pov it was just a haha joke but from Bad’s pov it showed almost everyone betraying him and he treated it as such. That’s how rp happens. Something intended as a joke can become serious if one of the players chooses for it to be and saying “it’s just a joke bro” doesn’t change that. Because it wasn’t a joke to bad, the victim of the situation.

And don’t get me wrong I love what did happen it was amazing lol I’m not trying to criticize q!forever at all because flawed characters make excellent stories and I wouldn’t want him to change how he plays his character at all.

And yea no, Forever isn’t the only one who lost access to Bad’s base XD literally everyone except the French lost access after the furniture incident lol idk what people are talking about in that regard XD

And by “treating him as guilty” idk if it comes across from Forever’s pov but from Bad’s Forever continues to be passive aggressive about the furniture incident and it looks like he hasn’t let it go. It could be a language barrier thing, it could be an unintentional tone thing, but it definitely comes across that Forever hasn’t let it go.

And yeah forever putting music sources in Bad’s base is hilarious as hell and a top tear prank (it just so happens to cause massive sensory overload for me and makes the stream unwatchable but that’s neither here nor there XD) what I took issue with is how forever immediately assumed Bad meta gamed to get the password and stole his gun when that doesn’t line up with Bad’s character at all XD I’m perfectly fine with forever annoying the hell out of bad until he tells forever who has the gun (plus Baghera is also being selfish by not confessing and letting forever continue tormenting bad XD but I wouldn’t want her to change either lol) but the initial reaction - and how Forever comes across on Bad’s pov - is what I was reacting to :D

(also side note, aypierre stole the waystones to turn suspicion away from bbh for the furniture. He’s been against the presidency since it was announced. And bbh didn’t put the snowman, an admin did XD)

Bad is equally flawed. As is everyone else on the island. When Bad was gonna form a revolution against Forever, it wasn’t a personal attack against forever. It was inevitable. Forever had chosen to keep in place a voting system that was easily corruptible and inaccurate. To bbh, who would have revolted against anyone who won, that is what allowed him to separate forever as his friend and forever as the president and allowed him to actually start seriously considering a revolt. Should his anger have been pointed at the puppet in charge? No, it shouldn’t have been. He should have focused on the federation instead of the presidency but he’s also a flawed person and chose the wrong target. Attacking the president would do nothing other than causing infighting amongst the islanders and keep the feds control strong, because that’s what they want. I’ve called bad out for that too, but I also wouldn’t want him to change his actions because it drives conflict and is entertaining.

At the end of the day, I don’t want any of these character to change or become more palatable. I just like observing their flaws because they are all such flawed and complicated people. I appreciate u taking the time to have a discussion with me even if we won’t see eye to eye on some things :D

Love when Forever accuses BBH of petty crimes that he's usually involved people go HOW DARE HE

But every week BBH is accusing and suspecting Forever of being a traitor, a puppet for the Federation, and an evil tyrant but everyone is like "Oh that's just how BBH is, he's paranoid!"

Yes, it's completely valid to accuse Forever and his family of working for the enemy even though they're the one that suffered the most at the hands of said enemy but GOD FORBIDS they accuse BBH of stealing furniture :D

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mara-xx217 · 2 years ago

Text

You Got Exactly What You Were Looking For- The Clown x You (Dead by Daylight Commission)

The first of two wonderful commissions for @barcodeboyz

You really were just curious to see if you could drink the shit the Clown threw at survivors. Guess you bit off more than you could chew… You were still proved right, though.

Warnings: Dubious Consent, Drug/Alcohol Use, Drunk Sex, Anal, Slight Humiliation

Work Text:

A joke. Not a bet, but a joke.

“Who here thinks the Clown can’t even get it up anymore?”

The majority said “No way in hell!” but you? You said “Yeah… I think that he can! And I bet he’s got the biggest dick out of anyone here!” The others laughed and cringed as you wiggled your eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. Yeah, it was a joke and a shitty one at that. It made everyone laugh and then it was forgotten within minutes.

“Hey, do you think that shit the Clown throws is actually alcohol? Or is it just some bullshit the Entity has cooked up?”

“Hell if I know. Why are you asking me? Wanna get shit-faced for something?”

“HA! I wish… Maybe the Entity will gift someone some booze at some point.”

“Why don’t you ask the Clown?” Someone ribbed you. You curl your lip in disgust.

“Uh, fuck no. I’m good thanks.” They giggled at your expressed disgust.

“Hey! Next time we’re at that Asylum, let's raid his caravan and see if there’s anything to drink!” That is a horrible idea.

“Yeah, sure! I’m in!”

You’re a fucking idiot…

Against you’re better judgement, you didn’t wait for the subsequent trial to take place. You were curious and couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of getting totally plastered at camp with the other survivors.

What are the odds you’re caught? Dude probably spends all his time getting wasted and sleeping. Or jerking off. Or all the above in varying orders. You giggle to yourself. “Biggest dick…” Yeah right!

You became uneasy as you approached the Clown’s caravan. Maurice is still gone… No surprise there. You swallowed your fear and continued your approach. It’s fine. He’s…probably drunk! Yeah! A-And asleep! Your shoulders relaxed slightly, but your heart continued to hammer in your chest. If he’s there, I can just leave… say he chased me off… No one would think otherwise.

CREAK CREAK CREAK

You cringe at every step you take up the caravan steps. The entire thing shifted subtly under your weight. Yeah, okay… this is the worst fucking idea you’ve ever had in your entire life. Second thoughts crept down your spine. You peered through the murky window of the door.

Empty? It was hard to tell. Your hand was on the knob but you hesitated. Something made the decision for you.

The door creaked open with the slightest pressure applied to it. Your heart nearly dropped out of your ass, but you quickly regained your composure as you saw no one was waiting for you on the other side.

Ha… of course. It’s… fine! Probably…

You take a step inside.

Dark, cramp, and smells terrible. It was a little different from what you were used to, but you simply shrugged it off. You were more focused on the task at hand.

“Hmmm… where- Ah ha!” You triumphantly hold up your prize: a bottle of (assumed) unlabeled and unknown alcohol! Without waiting you pop the cork off (what liquor uses corks anymore??) and down several mouthfuls-

Before you choke and realize you made a terrible mistake.

“UGH- what the fuu- uuhh…?” You blinked. Oh.

Oh shit-

It totally blindsided you. You felt warm from the tips of your toes all the way to the top of your head. Not just warm, but dizzy too. The bottle slips from your fingers and cracks on the floor, covering your shoes in liquid.

“Whoopsie… hehehe…” You felt the caravan shift underfoot, making you lose your balance and sending you careening in an unspecified direction. Your heels caught on the edge of a bed and you fell backward onto a plain mattress.

You nearly passed out on the spot. You couldn’t quite keep your eyes open, but couldn’t quite fall asleep either. You didn’t notice the caravan shift with approaching footsteps, nor the chuckle that broke the near-perfect silence.

You, however, did notice your entire body being shifted until your head was just barely hanging off the edge of the bed.

“What? You break into my caravan and take a nap in my fucking bed? The hell’s wrong with you?” You slur a response. Even you don’t know what you were trying to say. All you know is that you’re warm and your pants have become uncomfortably tight.

No, you couldn’t focus on anything for long. Even when clothing was shifted and something warm and wet was prodded against your lips, all you could do was grumble and turn your head to the side.

Not that it did you any good. Your hair was roughly gripped and your head was straightened. Something slipped past your parted lips.

You cringed at the taste, but couldn’t muster the strength to pull away. The shallow movements suddenly became deeper, faster, rougher. Some of the haze that blanketed your mind cleared for a fraction of a second. You became hyper-aware of your current predicament.

The Clown was face-fucking you.

Your throat spasmed in an involuntary cough as your gag reflex was triggered. You grip onto his thighs as you screwed your eyes shut as he ranted about “-something, something, alcohol spilled, something, something punishment-”

Oh fuck- fuck, fuck FUCK YOU CAN’T BREATHE-!!!

He gripped your throat and pinned you down, preventing you from wiggling away. Not that you had the mind to do so. As gross as it was… it did turn you on…

You can’t remember the last time something like this happened to you. Getting drunk, face-fucked… maybe something more? You buck your hips into the air in a pathetic attempt to gain some friction from your jeans. You were already absentmindedly sucking him off. Wiggling your tongue, bobbing your head, and minding your teeth-

Saliva floods your sinuses as you gag again. Tears blind you as you become desperate for air. You jump and choke on a moan as your own hard-on is palmed roughly. You can’t. No, seriously, you can’t fucking deal with this anymore…! Something needs to happen or- or you’ll fucking explode…!

Mercifully he pulls his cock from your throat, allowing you to take a much need breath of air. Before you recovered fully, you were yanked forward further, until your shoulders hit the floor with a surprised squeak on your behalf.

Heat pooled in your gut as your jeans- underwear and all- were yanked off and cast aside. It was as panic-inducing as it was fucking hot. You jumped as room temperature liquid was messily poured between your legs, streaming down your back and torso and down the back of your head and all over your face. It’s the same shit you drank-? OH FUCK!

Thick fingers prod against your ass. There was little warming up before three fingers forced their way inside of you. UGH-?! Why is it so fucking warm?! You were so loose he could easily plunge from his knuckles to the tips of his fingers then back to his knuckles with little resistance. It didn’t feel right. You cringed and gritted your teeth as you felt your cock throb with need. Seemingly satisfied, the Clown pulls his fingers away all at once, leaving you feeling empty and your muscles clenching on nothing.

A part of you didn’t expect it to just… happen. Like, there should have been more of a performance or something. And there would have been… if it hadn’t been so long since the Clown had gotten any action. Instead of making this a long, drawn-out show, he cut straight to the punchline and plunged his dick into your ass without warning.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the bizarre position you were pretzeled into. Maybe it was because you’ve been wanting a good fuck- you don’t know okay?! It hurt like hell and you couldn’t stop yourself from screaming so loud that your voice cracked.

You couldn’t even struggle if you wanted to! The Clown had you nearly folded in half as he held you from underneath the knees- Oh shit this is sO FUCKED UP- SHIT!

The human body can only bend and twist so much before shit starts to get weird. You shouldn’t be okay- no, you aren’t okay damn it! Y-You’re getting fucked and stretched in ways that shouldn’t be possible! It burns like hell and you have no choice but to coincide that you’ve needed a fuck like this for so, so soso sooo long…

The Clown called you a whore- or maybe a slut?- for “squealing like a pig in heat” as he shifted his grip from your knees to your thighs. You could only pathetically babble in agreement as you squeezed his cock every time he thrusts into you.

Oh, shit- Shit shit shit shIT SHIT SHIT-!!

Too deep and too fast- FUCK! It hurts but you feel like you’re- like you’re about to-

Heat crept down your spine as you felt the Clown throb inside of you. Oh god, is he-? YES HE IS OH SHIT-!!!

You cried out as you felt warmth flood inside of you. The Clown grunted as you clamped down on his cock. A-Almost… just a little more- You were so close to cumming. You just needed a little more friction and-

You were dropped flat on your back. His cock slid out of you with a barely audible pop! If you were sober, you might have cried from mortification. Slimy, wet- Did you ever have something so big before? But you weren’t sober, so you instead grabbed your own cock and tried to finally reach your own peak of pleasure.

A calloused hand snatched your wrist just as you began to tug.

“What? Not enough? D’ya need more?”

It was more a threat than an offer, but you couldn’t deny how your cock twitched for more…

Maybe you nodded… Maybe you returned to camp with a bottle of the Clown’s “get shit-faced off the fumes alone” happy juice. Maybe you returned with a sore ass. No one would be the wiser, and the “don’t ask don’t tell” policy most survivors abide by certainly worked in your favour…

Guess you’ll have to pay him another visit sometime soon…

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd the clown #dbd the clown x reader #tw dubcon #tw drunk #paid commission

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chaos-thirium · 2 years ago

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104, Sixty

Here you go, anon. I'm guessing you're dealing with the summer heat too, since you asked for this one! This ended up more playfully suggestive than smutty, but I hope you like it!

104 “I forgot my towel”

Being peer-pressured into going skinny dipping was such a cliché. You couldn’t believe you were dealing with it, particularly as a grown adult. Luckily, it was dark, so you were able to scuttle into the lake without anyone really seeing you. By the time the moon peeped back out from behind its covering cloud, only your shoulders and head showed above the water. Your friends laughed, but left you alone. You were engaging in the group activity like everyone else, so there was no need to give you any more shit.

You knew skinny dipping was a camping tradition, but you still felt it was a weird thing to do with a bunch of friends, even ones you knew well. Although, since all of them were paired off with each other, it made a little more sense. Well, all of them except you and one other.

The fact that you were even on this trip was a miracle. It almost hadn’t happened, all because of the android known as Sixty. When you’d first met him, you’d thought he’d be like Connor. Connor who was sassy yet sweet, loyal and funny, serious when he needed to be. Connor who was swimming not too far away with a girl that you had only recently stopped being a little bit jealous of.

Despite looking identical and sharing some of the same memories, Sixty had gone a different way since deviating. He was snarky and overly confident, arrogant, a player who left a string of broken hearts in his wake. Yet, he kept proving that he could be a decent person, despite all of that. It was infuriating, because it meant you couldn’t just hate him in peace. Part of you liked him, and you resented that.

You almost hadn’t come on the trip because he fucking knew you liked him, and he wouldn’t let it go. Well, unless you slept with him, probably. Then he’d likely drop you like a live grenade.

Your friends seemed to be on a mission to push the two of you together, which, considering Sixty’s track record, felt a little cruel. Didn’t they realise that you’d just be the latest notch on his metaphorical bedpost? Or were they sharing a mutual delusion that you’d miraculously be the one he was going to change for?

You shoved the thoughts out of your head, swimming a little further out. The lake was clear and cold, refreshing after a long day of hiking and exploration. You loved swimming. That was the main reason why you’d agreed to the skinny dipping.

“Fuck, it’s freezing!”

You rolled your eyes at Gavin’s exclamation. The only reason he was here was because he was dating a mutual friend of yours and Connor’s. All he’d done so far was complain about things and make bad jokes, and you weren’t sure which was more annoying.

“It’s not that bad,” Connor said tentatively.

“You’re made of plastic, what would you care?”

“Actually…” Connor began, before swiftly giving up.

Sixty, however, had no such problem. “We still feel temperatures, meat sack. We’re just not whiny little bitches like you.”

“Fuck you!” Gavin shot back. He turned to his partner. “I’m getting out. I think my dick has retreated inside my body.”

A pause followed his words, and everyone looked to Sixty, even you. The lack of a joke at Gavin’s expense surprised you.

“What?” Sixty said, glancing at everyone. “I’m not saying anything. That’s way too easy, it wouldn’t even be fun.”

You snorted quietly. Gavin waded out, and you glanced away until he’d retrieved his towel.

“You all think it’s fucking freezing,” he declared, “you’re just too stubborn to admit it!” He glanced back towards the campfire. “There’s one brownie left. Last person out of the lake wins it.”

“How’s that fair?” Sixty argued. “Some of us don’t eat!”

“Fine. If an android wins, you get…I dunno…one favour from the person in second place. But you’re not allowed to mess around with your sensors or whatever.”

“I don’t know,” Connor said, treading water effortlessly. “That seems unsafe. If people are as stubborn as you say, they could risk hypothermia just to win.”

Gavin rolled his eyes so hard, you saw it even in the dim moonlight. “Risking hypothermia to win is against the rules. You feel weird, you get out. Simple as.”

You started swimming again, gentle breaststroke back and forth. It reserved your energy and kept your muscles warm. You were winning that brownie.

Seventeen minutes later, the only people still in the competition were you and Sixty. Everyone else had gone back to the fire. You weren’t really surprised. You were both incredibly obstinate, especially when pitted against each other. You weren’t really a competitive person, except for where Sixty was concerned. Part of you suspected you needed to feel in control, so that you could continue pretending you weren’t attracted to him. If he beat you at something, you felt off-kilter, vulnerable.

You were still swimming, but you were tired now, getting colder every time you needed to take a rest break. You really should get out of the water, or you’d be breaking the ‘don’t get hypothermia’ rule. You wondered if Sixty was risking any of his biocomponents by staying in the lake or if he was tougher than that. You suspected he was. He and Connor were the only androids in your group, and Connor had got out when his girlfriend had rather than when he needed to. You weren’t going to win this. You needed to give it up before your teeth started chattering.

“Fuck,” you muttered, switching direction and heading for the shore. “Fuck.”

Your eyes narrowed as you realised the beach was empty. Your friends had all disappeared from the fireside, presumably back to their tents. You’d been so busy focusing on your swimming, you hadn’t noticed them leave! At least that meant that…

You’d just started wading when the dilemma struck you. If you got out now, Sixty would see you. The moon was bright, and your towel was far enough away that he’d get an eyeful before you covered yourself.

Sighing, you turned to him. He was lounging in the shallows, his hands folded behind his head, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world. His eyes were fixed on you, trademark smirk in place.

“Close your eyes,” you ordered him.

He quirked an eyebrow, but did as you requested.

You kept your gaze on him as you waded out, but he didn’t move. You hurried to your towel and wrapped it around you, sitting by the fire. The warmth kissed your skin, and you let out a blissful sigh. At least you were the last human standing. You could brag about that.

You heard the slosh of waves as Sixty made his way out, but you didn’t look up until he approached the fire. Your eyes widened as you realised he was still naked, and your shocked gaze took in everything before you reacted enough to turn away.

“What the fuck, Sixty?” you burst out, staring adamantly at the fire.

Holy shit, he was gorgeous. And apparently didn’t have the same reaction to the cold that humans did, judging by what you’d caught a glimpse of between his legs. Your cheeks burned, even without the fire’s warmth.

You saw him shrug in your peripheral vision. “I forgot my towel,” he said casually.

“Bullshit,” you scoffed. “Androids don’t forget things.”

“Deviants do,” he retorted, for which you had no answer. He might be right, you didn’t know.

He sat beside you, and you jerked away as if stung.

“Put your fucking clothes on!” you squeaked.

“They’ll get wet,” he said.

“You should have thought of that before you forgot your towel,” you snapped.

He laughed softly. “What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

“You can’t even look at me.”

Just to prove him wrong, you turned your head, keeping your gaze firmly on his shoulders or above. That traitorous part of you wanted to roam further down, take in the magnificence of his perfect, sculpted form. He wore an amused expression, as if he knew, dark eyes lit golden by the fire.

“You owe me a favour,” he said.

You frowned. “What?”

“The rules of the game,” he explained. “I can’t eat the brownie, so I get a favour from you instead.”

Right, Gavin’s rules. You remembered now. Wariness began to creep over you. Sixty was a little shit, and the possibilities of how he could use this to his advantage were endless.

“What do you want?” you asked cautiously.

He hesitated, presumably for dramatic effect, since you were sure he already knew what he was going to say.

“I need a towel,” he said eventually. “So you either give me yours or let me share it.”

You blanched, your heart tripping in alarm. “And if I refuse?”

Sixty shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. I don’t have a problem with my nudity.”

You frowned, backed into a corner. Judging by the smirk on his face, he expected you to refuse, allowing him to sit there and torment you. That just made you want to do the opposite, but what then? He would get a free show, and you’d have to look him in the eye knowing he’d seen you naked.

There were worse fates. And truthfully, you were getting tired of the back and forth between you. Part of you just wanted to jump him, have one amazing night before he inevitably dropped you. It would be better to do that sooner rather than later, before your heart got involved. You wanted him too, so at least you’d get to have that for yourself before he moved on to the next conquest.

You stood, and Sixty lifted a hand towards you.

“Come on, it’s just a game…” he started to say.

His words trailed off as you unwrapped your towel and dumped it in his lap. His widened eyes stared at you, trailing a slow sweep of your still-damp skin.

“Fuck,” he said hoarsely.

You felt emboldened under his gaze, and with your new determination running through you. There was a sense of peaceful confidence in making a decision, even if the thought of going through with it made you breathless with anticipation.

“We’re going to share that towel,” you said.

“Oh?” Sixty queried.

You nodded. “We’re going to lie on it while we fuck.”

You had the satisfaction of seeing the stunned look on his face as he took in your words. You never spoke like this, but you were starting to think you should do it more often. His reaction was priceless.

You glanced at him with raised brows. “That’s what you want, right?”

He pulled himself together enough to stand too, staring you down. “What do you want?” he threw back at you.

“I want you to follow me back to my tent,” you said simply before walking away.

You smiled at the sound of him hastily kicking sand over the dying fire, and glanced back over your shoulder.

“And bring that brownie.”

You were going to need to keep your stamina up, after all.

It surprised you when you woke and he was still there, arm around your waist, limbs tangled with yours. It surprised you the day after, too, and the day after that.

After six months or so, it stopped surprising you.

#my fics #sixty x reader #asks

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antimony-medusa · 3 years ago

Text

I am seeing several takes that if Tubbo and Technoblade team up to get Michael back it will almost certainly be bad lore and should be ignored, because Tubbo and Techno start riffing on each other and joking, and their characters absolutely would not do that, so it would be bad writing. While that is valid, I don’t think that’s the only way to read the character’s relationships in canon?

On the subject of working together at all, I know in the fandom we talk a lot about Tubbo’s execution trauma, but in actual canon Tubbo has said very little about it to anyone. That’s why it was such a big deal when he mentioned it to Ranboo. His emotional and traumatic state about the festival is fairly open for interpretation.

On the negative side, we know he thinks Quackity didn’t stop it, and that he “sees explosions in his dreams” (which could also be about any time L’Manberg was destroyed, not the festival). On the positive side, during the cookie outpost streams he talked about interacting with Techno and said “oh that was a lot time ago, I guess I forgive him, maybe I should talk to him about me killing him”.) His exact word on Techno to Ranboo was “Technoblade blew me up”/”He was peer-pressured into it by Schlatt and Big Q.”/“I’m fine, a little bit burnt from fireworks explosions but it’s fine.” Obviously this had an impact, but nothing in it screams that he would refuse to work with this person for the sake of saving his son.

I see people saying that Tubbo’s distrust of Quackity in the cookie outpost arc is proof that he holds a grudge for the execution and would not work with Techno. That ignores both that Tubbo had extra reason to distrust Quackity (him building a city next door) and that he ended up working with Quackity anyways with Tubburger. Again— to save his son, I don’t see that he would refuse to work with Techno.

And on the subjects of jokes— Tubbo and Techno BOTH have a history of making deadpan jokes with people they don’t trust, without making their behaviour while joking non-canon. Tubbo in the cabinet, Techno in prison, they will refuse to take things seriously (out loud) while fighting for their lives (in their actions). Joking is a way to control the tension (say, that you have a horrible history with each other), and Tubbo and Techno both are both allergic to tension they aren’t controlling. I point you towards the yelp review discussion during the butcher’s army.

All of this to say that IF Tubbo and Techno team up to save michael and IF they joke around with each other, I don’t think we necessarily need to throw out the entire arc as non-canon or terrible writing.

Maybe they are just emotionally repressed violent men who use jokes to cope and will make alliances with people they don’t trust at all for the sake of someone they care about (Ranboo).

#oh boy this got long #I should be asleep #dsmp spoilers #technoblade #tubbo #dsmp analysis #also if you hate it I want to stress that that's totally valid #I just don't think it's textural illiteracy if you do not hate it #and all of this is assuming a lot about future streams but I wanted to get my ideas tyeped #before new canon comes and we move on to other discourse #omg so much exciting amounts of canon

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glassartpeasants · 3 years ago

Note

If you don't make a happy ending for couldn't care less you better keep bob with you at all times

HOW DARE YOU THREATEN BOB YOU KNOW WHAT-

Couldn’t Care Less .2

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, abuse, gore

~~~

“i hope that blue haired fuck got what he wanted. I hope that handyman freak dies alone.” You say to yourself as you walk down the alleys way of Musutafu. The smell of the dingey and moldy alleyways flood your nose as the laughter of happy couples ring in your ears.

How come they got they’re happily ever after but you didn’t? It wasn’t fair. You did everything you could to be there for him. Yet he still treats you like shit, all because you cared about him? And then he thinks your cheating all cause you ask a male friend for advice! What an insecure asshole.

A vibrating in your pocket brought you back to reality as you realize your phone was ringing. Letting out a sigh you answer,

“Hello?”

“Come pick up your shit.” Oh, you thought you blocked this fuck.

“Keep it asshole. I don’t want anything that smells like ‘lonely bastard who only gets action from his hand’ on my clothes. Burn it, decay it, I couldn’t give a shit less.”

“God you were always so dramatic. And there’s no reason to be a cunt.”

“And there was no reason for you to be an insecure dick. You either block my number or im calling the police and ratting on you.” A silence fell over the phone. Nothing was said until you finally spoke up.

“Jeez your pathetic. I’ll do it myself.” He was about to say something, insult your most likely before you hung up the phone and blocked him not seconds later.

“Now he’s outta my hair. I can finally feel some sort of calm.”

~~~

3 weeks later

After a day of coming back to your musty apartment you decided it needed a little bit of cleaning, considering you haven’t been their in about 4 months. You paid up front all the time even when you weren’t living in it. Just in case ya know?

You swept up the floors, vacuumed the carpet AND shampooed it.Cleaned the tub, shower and sinks, cleaned out your empty refrigerator, washed all you sheets and what clothes you left there. It wasn’t much so you knew you had to get some more before anything else. That and groceries.

After all that was said and done, you sat down on the couch and just relaxed. Well you tired, that was before Shigaraki popped into your head again. It wasn’t a sort of loving way, it was a hatred sort of. The thought of his stupid face made you just want to punch a wall, pretending to be his face.

But you ignored it as you turned on the Tv, hoping that would get your mind off him. Nothing interesting except the news. Always talking about violence and war. Same old thing over and over. Blood, death, tragedy.

“This world is a cruel unjust place. The only way it seems to be recognized in this world is death or doing horrible things. Nothing good every comes to fruition.” You grumble before walking to your room and plopping down on the nice clean and still warm sheets. The nice smell of lavender slowly dragging you to sleep.

~~~

A loud bang hit your door which ripped you from your slumber. You were questioning on checking it out before you heard something that made your heart stop,

“If there’s anyone in the house kill them, we can’t have people knowing we ransacked this place.” You slowly get off your bed before moving slowly and quietly to your window. Your push your fingers on the glass and you gently push it up. Grabbing at the sides of the window you pull yourself out of it, not before hearing a gunshot and a burning pain inside your calf.

“Fuck! They’re getting away!” You could hear them from inside the house.

“Did they see you?!” You fell from your window onto the ground. Thankfully your apartment was on the first floor so it wasn’t a high drop.

“Not that i know of! I did shot them in the leg so they shouldn’t have gotten far!” You try your hardest as you run towards the main street. Cutting through alleyways, going as fast as you can as you hear they’re footsteps behind you. Looking up closely you see a hero, knowing he was your only chance you scream for help.

“Help me please!” The hero’s head turned towards you and ran towards you. You guess the robbers heard your cry for help because they’re footsteps seemed to be heading back your probably trashed apartment.

“Oh my! What happened?!” The sound of the hero’s concerned voice calmed you down a bit.

“Some people tried to rob my place and i tried to get out of there silently but they must have came into my room and saw me leaving and shot me in the calf!” You wince as putting pressure on the wound burned hotter than hell.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you to the hospital in no time!” You felt relieved before hearing a crunching sound, you looked to your left and see a familiar patch of blue hair in your peripheral vision. You ignored him before getting picked up by the hero and was carried to the hospital. The blood loss from your calf slowly dragged you into unconsciousness.

~~~

After waking up you notice the white room you were in. It was pristine to the touch and smelled of lemon cleaning products. The bright lights hallways peered inside your room from the crack of your door.

Looking around the small feeling of pain crept back into your leg except not as painful anymore. Pulling back the covers you notice bandages and a small bit of blood that stained through the bandages around your wound.

“Ah fuck that’s gonna scar. It’s gonna be a pain to heal too.” You say to yourself as you pull back the blankets and wrap yourself up in them.

Right as you were falling back asleep the ringing of your cellphone brought you out. Grumbling in annoyance you grab it and look at the caller id. It was a number you didn’t recognize so you just let it ring thinking it’ll be the end of it. That was until it started ringing again. You sighed in frustration and picked up the phone, not wanting it to ring longer since it was in the dead of night at the hospital and you wanted people to be able to sleep.

“What the hell do you want? It’s the middle of the night.” You annoyed voice rang into the other side of the phone.

“Why tf were you talking to a hero? Did you fucking break your end of the bargain?” You were confused at first. You definitely knew the voice behind the phone. Then you remembered earlier that day when you saw him in the shadows.

“I was literally shot. You think im not gonna ask someone for help?” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t believe you. You always were a two faced bitch.”

“Oh jesus fuck, thanks for the insult. Glad to know what you always thought about me.”

“I’m going to kill you you backstabbing bitch.”

“Love ya too. goodnight and goodbye Shigaraki.” You hung up and blocked said number. You weren’t going to lie, hearing him spill such an insult and threat hurt you and made you very weary and afraid if he would actually go through with it or if he was just saying that to scare you.

You knew what those hands could do and you knew how painful that death would have been. You were hurt more than you liked to admit, at the beginning of your relationship he wasn’t aggressive or mean at all towards you. He’d try to get you flowers or your favorite type of drink. He called you pet names that would make your heart flutter and beat, you don’t know what you did wrong for him to change so suddenly. It was like on day he flipped a switch, and you never knew why.

You tried recalling the day where it started and remembered that everyone was annoyed or being rude to Dabi, you didn’t know why and when you asked Spinner or anyone else they just said it was national, be a bitch to Dabi day. You laughed and shrugged it off ignoring it before walking up to your boyfriend giving him a kiss on the lips, only to be pushed into the wall and ignored. You just looked at him in shocked and it had only spiraled down from there to where you are now.

Something had to be wrong. You knew it, Dabi had to have something to do with Shigaraki’s switch in behavior. You looked around the room for any camera and when you noticed that there were none, you called up the burnt male himself. He surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)? I haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks. Or was it four? Doesn’t matter, where have you been?”

“Dabi, i need you to be honest with me, did you say something to Shigaraki?”

“Huh?”

“Dabi, five months ago Shigaraki flipped a switch and went from a caring boyfriend to an actually nightmare. I need to know if you or anyone else said something to him.” Dabi was quiet on the other line before sighing,

“About that time range i made a joke about sleeping with you, everyone knew it was a joke but apparently Shigaraki didn’t. I didn’t think he’d treat you like he did. Im sorry.” You fell silent. All this shit treatment because Shigaraki couldn’t a joke. Sure it pissed you off that Dabi made such a stupid joke but you were more mad at Shigaraki that he just treated you like shit instead of asking you and confronting you about it.

“Thank you for telling me. Do you know where Shigaraki is now?”

“He left about an hour ago, why?” Shit. You knew this was the only hospital close to your place and Shigaraki knew that too. You got up from your bed and locked the door before going back into your bed, watching the crack under your door incase the light was blocked.

“Dabi, I just want you to know that i forgive you.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about-” Your phone went silent as the battery died.

‘Shit shit shit shit!’ you thought to yourself as you beg for the phone to turn back on. But you fell silent as the light from the outside of your room was blocked.

“(Y/N), I know you're in there, open the fucking door before i decay it down.” You said nothing in fear. You were glued to your bed as you faced the door.

But that fear was nothing compared to seeing him actually decay the door.

“You stupid snitch. i should make your death as painful as possible.” he said as soon as he stepped inside your hospital room.

“Shigaraki, I didn’t snitch I promise. Why don’t you believe me!” You say as you get off your bed and try to get as far away from him as possible. The pain of the bullet would making you wince.

“Why would I believe a cheating bitch like you?” Before you could speak a four fingered grip wrapped itself around your throat. Shigaraki was always fast, you should have known that you were gonna die even if you tried your hardest.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You try to pry yourself from shigaraki’s grip.

“Dabi says otherwise.”

“Are you really going to believe him?! You didn’t even talk to me or ask me about it! Just went straight to believing him!” The grip on your neck got tighter.

“then why was they’re a hickey on your collarbone?!”

“You gave it to me! It was fading out!”

“That doesn’t change the fact you snitched!” His pinkie was grazing closer to your skin.

“I never snitched, I was robbed and then they shot me. If you went to my apartment you would see i was right.” He said nothing just staring at you with cold dead eyes.

“Look! I have bandages wrapped around my calf!” Shigaraki looked down before saying something back.

“It was something the hero’s did so they could protect you in this shit hospital.” I was at that moment you knew, nothing you said would change his mind. You shed not a tear while looking him in the eyes

“I wish I never met you. Fuck you Tomura Shigaraki, I hope you die alone and I’ll see you in hell.” You move your head so his last and final finger touched your skin.

The pain of your skin decaying and falling off was much more painful than you thought it would be. You can remember screaming in pain but, it felt more of a emotional scream rather than one of physical pain. but it seems you weren’t the only one screaming.

The sounds of Shigaraki wailing and screaming your name reached your ears before all you heard was silence and saw nothing.

Shigaraki scrambled to try and grab you and even put you together, but your bloody ashes stuck to his hand. Remains of your existence covered his clothes as he screamed in pain.

“No no no no! Wait please! I didn’t mean it!” He cried as his tears fell onto your ashes, the tears collecting the ashes and forming a grey tear drop. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he’s sorry! He didn’t want to kill you!

Bile rose from his throat as he puked all over the ground, inches away from your ashes. He grabbed your ashes trying to pick them up to hold what was left of you. But all he got was the remains of your smeared all over his hoodie. He shook violently as memories of you guys replayed in his mind, your happy face and the way you use to love him and care for him.

But now, you were nothing more than ashes on his sleeve, reminding him that he was now truly alone.

#tomura shigaraki #mha #bnha #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #mha tomura #Shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #never threaten bob again anon :)

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