#with it and is being so v unkind to herself and is going through it by putting this on other ppl and picking fights so the anger can go

[milflewis]

sometimes i look at my sister and i see all the worst parts of me and it’s not terrible bc i don’t want that for her. which i don’t. but it’s terrible bc she’s doing it wrong

[the-kcm-muggleborn]

LOVE Evelyn oh my gosh! I’m curious, but what would some of her quotes be for stuff in game? Like winning a duel, losing a duel, low HP, stuff like that?

Awe! I'm glad you like her! I hope I did everything you imagined, dear Anon. I prepared around 1K words, quotes my Evelynn would say, could say, and maybe will say in the future;] Thank you for your warm support

Warnings?: Swears^v^

Evelynn Blair

is (going to get her own fanfiction soon) a charismatic, proud, and ambitious woman. She's a person of many conflicts because she feels confident as long as everything goes well. When she's starting to feel threatened by rumours and unkind comments from her peers she's starting to get anxious, she hides what makes her different but keeps that (now) fake confidence with a head held high.

She came to Hogwarts to focus on her studies as her mother requested. Never expected to gain lifelong friends.

She knows she's skilled enough to throw around snarky, even sometimes flirty comments, to her opponents. She can get a little mean when lost in competing.

“That was easy enough.”

“Protego. Stupify. That's all? Shame…”

“That's all you got? I'm starting to get a bit bored over here…”

“Kid I ain't got all day. Might you finally bless us with a move?”

“Well that was unsatisfyingly uneventful. Lucan, have you got any more?”

“Shame, seeing such a pretty face on the ground.”

But when she unexpectedly gets knocked on her arse that one time, she's pretty stunned, unsure what to say:

“Beginners Luck. I can go again if you ain't too yellow…”

“Seems there is some skill under that lush face. I’m impressed. Would you like to go again?”

“Well It’s been a while. I’ll take a rematch.”

“Whatever, I was taking it easy on you. Interested in a rematch perhaps?”

“I must say, that was well played. I'd like a rematch. Didn’t think I was going to back down did you…”

If she's not going to be able to win by skill, she'll win by charm. When her pride gets stained, there is no way she is going to give up. That being said, Evelynn is not a sore looser. She is mean sometimes, rude even, but when she notices a worthy adversary, she can tone down her venom.

She's not easily tamed so to speak. She can take care of herself and likes to refuse offered help. She doesn't back down from a fight. (Sounds familiar?) But In her case it's more of a hand to face argument. A.ka.a muggle physical argument. When someone mistreated her real badly. Evelynn knew that her almost aggressive behaviour was more acceptable in a magical world where women were allowed to dress in trousers than back home where her foul tongue would exclude her from many lady-like activities.

“Fuck! I said I'm fine! Just give me a moment!”

“Yeah… I'm out of robes. My last one caught on fire. But I've taken my lessons! No more fighting Inferi in flammable clothing.”

“I am not bleeding, it's just a scar already taken care of!”

“Well she deserved what she got that rumour spilling bitch.”

“You should see the other guy.”

“I made another girl look great with a purple colour under her eye.”

“I am literally fine. I’ve been through worse.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Why do you care?”

“Why would I do that?”

Very common for our goal-oriented Slytherin.

Evelynn was exploring so many things while attending Hogwarts. She explored many caves, mines, hidden rooms, lakes and rivers. It extorted few interesting words.

“At this point. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

"I take it back... I was not expecting that."

“Are you through? Looking at grass?”

“Yes I did find another chest. No, I am not sharing.”

“However bad it might sound… we’re about to get wet.”

“Just when I thought I've seen it all…”

“Spiders! My favourite! Can we keep one as a pet? I have a roommate I’d like to surprise… Preferably at night.”

“I must say I spent so much time in these caves they start to look a lot like the Slytherin common room. Cold like it too.”

Evelynn is quite intelligent. She might be spontaneous and quick to think but she’s not reckless. She learned from her mistakes and is able to sense a bad situation coming from a mile.

“Wait… Something is off. Let’s leave it at that and return tomorrow.”

“I have a bad feeling. If I turn to be right you’ll not hear the end of it.”

“I’m anxious, yes, but for a very good reason. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“I don't like this place. Let’s return by daylight.”

“No, we cannot run head first. I appreciate the self-sacrificing tendencies but this is not the place nor the time.”

“If you want to get yourself killed because you didn't listen to me, can you do it another time? I didn't plan on seeing a dead body today.”

“I. Am. Not. Scared. I am simply being cautious. You should try it sometimes.”

Evelynn loves sitting by the window in the Slytherin common room. She isn't sure if it is because it’s so quiet there or because she met Ominis in that specific spot. She loves the way of water and started sitting there regularly.

“I love this spot. You know I once saw a mermaid?”

“Hm? Oh yes I was listening. Let me just… finish this page… or… book…”

“No, I haven't been sitting here the entire night. I’ve been sitting here the entire day.”

“No idea what you mean. It’s so nice and cold here. Why would I rather sit by the fireplace?”

Speaking of, Evelynn loves the cold. She loves spending her time in cold places like windows, floor, the Undercroft and of course, outside places where snow has fallen. She loved colder drinks and often forgets her scarf from her dorm.

“Why is it so hot in here? You’d think winter would bring some sort of normal temperatures around the castle.”

“Ugh I miss the snow. It was so nice…”

“I wish it would rain. Gets so nice and cosy then.”

“Ah. Fresh air. I love the winter. Wish I could spend more time in Scotland.”

“Do you think the kitchens could prepare me plain ice if I ask nicely? Or do I have to cast Glacis on a cup and wait?”

“If you wanted to court me, you should have gotten me ice cream.”

“Yes I am cold blooded. Secretly a vampire too but don't tell no one.”

“Give me your hands. Ahhh… You're so cold.”

I hope my creativity gave out everything you hoped for Anon^^. Yes requests, questions and anything else remain open. Don't be shy I don't bite, (I swallow whole like a snake) :DD. Also special side thanks to @slytherin-obsessed for bit of a help with this cool assignment.:)

Happy Reading and till next time.

[straydogkins]

General shufflemancy for Akito (Seras 🪽)

General disclaimer: I hope these make sense to you, but you always know yourself best what is and isn't true to you and your canon. As per usual we rolled three times and asked for a general reading of your timeline.

The Shufflemancy says...

Te・ki・na Music by Yoshiko Tsushima | Lyrics

This song is about making music, it starts with the singer wanting to make music that will make them popular (ie 'Sha la la... the usual music // Please, pay attention to me quickly!') however the singer realises that they don't need to make music that will please everyone and to make what they want (ie 'So I have to become more honest // I don't have to worry about trends anymore // I sing about the feelings that overwhelm me').

It also talks about preforming alone in your room and having an 'angel and demon' that tell the singer to stop what they're doing but the singer pursues and make their own music.

In the end its unclear to me if the singer has found the music that's theirs but they continue to push on in hopes of finding it.

My analysis: On a literal level it could easily indicate that you wanted to make music, struggling to create something that was 'you' and not something others want to hear.

On a metaphorical level it could mean that you felt like you had to fit in, and as a result maybe didn't know who you were so you went to find that out through exploration.

●○●○●○●○

Five letters by Poppin' Party | Lyrics

This song is about someone who lacks confidence, they feel that they don't have a place to belong and can be taken advantage of because of their kind nature (ie 'Where is it, that place where you long to go? // What is it, that thing that you long for? // You don't know, and surely that's because // You're too kind, almost to a fault').

The song however is from the prespective of their friends (implied that there's multiple through the quoted parts) who help the person struggling by writing a song together and getting them away from those that have hurt them by being genuine friends to them (ie 'These cords of kindness binding you... they're now undone!')

The person struggling then realises that they can be more than how others have used them and see that their real friends will always be with them in the song that they wrote (ie 'And now, farewell to the me who couldn't face herself! // All our spirits, joined together as one // Saying the things that we couldn't before // That letter you gave to me // It will always stay in my pocket')

My analysis: It could easily link to VBS or which ever group you were in and how through making music you began to feel more confident in you and how you can be 'unkind' to look after yourself.

●○●○●○●○

UNBALANCED LOVE by Printemps | Lyrics

As a disclaimer before we start this, we had Issues trying to get this song. Firstly, we shuffled and received Underwater Prom Queens from the Omori OST which idk why it is still in our music files. Then we rolled YOOOOOOOO!!! by Serifu ft V Flower but sadly that song has no English translation and the only words I recognize are 'panda', 'ninja' and 'hello'. While I can't analyze either of these you're welcome to try.

As for this song, it's not a happy song. It's about someone who has a crush on their friend, and their friend is either oblivious and being 'kind' which in turns leads the singer to feel like they're being played. Or else the object of their affection knows that they have a crush on them and are being 'kind' just to torture them.

●○●○●○●○

My overall analysis:

You wanted to be a musician or something that requires creative individuality, and because of your 'kindness' was unable to find a niche. It's also implied that others would toy with your feelings and because of this you felt like shit.

However, it seems like you found genuine friends who helped you achieve your dream and gave you the confidence to be 'unkind' (which to me just means being firm and setting boundaries).

[komodoghost002]

THIS

okay i have a whole rant thats probably about to be here so everyone pardon me--

Mostly about Uzi-- The amount of hate she gets in the fandom is fucking insane. Like seriously.

Shes a very well developed character, insanely well developed in fact. She grew from someone who had no idea how to trust into someone who trusted N enough to sacrifice herself for him. She learned to trust V who was nothing but unkind(from what we know) to her for a while.

And despite this being incredible for someone whoes been through what Uzi has been through- (Her mom dying at a young age, her father neglecting the hell out of her, being bullied to hell and back, and of course everything we witnessed during canon), people call her a "pick me" which.

I'm sorry, did we watch the same series? Uzi, the same girl who started everything to try and avenge her dead mom, realized she was attacking the wrong people, and proceeded to side with the PEOPLE WHO KILLED HER MOM to try and figure everything out??

Uzi is the literal definition of "oh shes a badass, she dont need no man" and i dont understand how some people cant honor that

Of course, I love biscutbites and i love N and Uzi as a duo(keep in mind that they were written to cover eachothers flaws), but seeing Uzi as a pick me or as just a girl for N is insane(as a silly side note, we all know shes bi, she could get whoever she damn pleased /silly)

AND continuing on, she got beaten so fucking far down by the world around her with literally everything going on, but at the end of the day she decided to pick up what she had and make a stand to start fighting

and along the way she just so happened to end up with N

i dont know why people cant see the complexity of her character and how her(and N) are so much outside of eachother

tbh when i first watched the series Uzi was(and still is) my second favorite to Doll, and i headcanoned her as aroace for a little while until episode 6 dropped(i got here about a month after episode 5)

rant over but like

i need this fandom to please see more outside of just "oh Uzis dating N and she trusts him thats her whole development" cuz theres so much MORE

People will claim they want deep characters, and then never put in any actual effort to understand those characters.

[tfotababe]

Synopsis: Jude Duarte thinks she is poisoned. She feels sick? It must be the poison. She eats more? It must be because the poison made her weak. She missed her period? Yeah, must have been the poison. Was she poisoned? You guessed it! No! Word count: 1, 517

Jude, after being costumed into a silk maroon robe, promptly excused Tatterfell. Indisposition almost instantly returned to her system after she left the water. Too many had seen her weakness and she wished for no more to see her in such a state.

She not so elegantly plopped onto the bed. The soft mattress and the cotton sheets quickly soothing her to sleep. "My beloved wife, must you really lay like that?" But, weak are the cushions against the voice of her inamorato. "Cardan..." Jude pushes herself up onto her elbows. Seeing her betrothed, she immediately feels heat crawl into her cheeks. How late he noticed my abandon of the revel. The red went back to wherever it had come. "The night is young. I doubt you had concluded that bacchanal celebration. I am fine, you should get back to the revel and perform your duties as the host." Her appearance she could keep inoffensive, her tone, however, did not have the same guise. "Have you become a terrible liar or have I become so great at discerning your lies to your truths?" Cardan laughs, striding nimbly over to his better half. Jude frowns, "Think what you will." "With pleasure, my lovely Mrs." Cardan greets Jude with a peck to her lips with which she answered with an unkind moue. "Where did you learn that term?" Jude asks as her husband tries to kiss away the crease of her brows. "I heard Vivi call Heather Mrs. Duarte, I figured it is what a married pair calls each other. You, are my Mrs. Greenbriar -- that is if you'd allow it." Jude rolls her eyes in an attempt to stop a grin. Cardan had sat down on the side of the bed, putting his hands beside her hips trapping her between them. "Go back, I truly am fine. You should enjoy the leisure." Now, Jude had faced Cardan. Planting a few pecks on his lips and cheek. "Answer me first. Do you accept my calling you Mrs. Greenbriar? My Mrs. Greenbriar?" He asks, keeping up the feverish gaze he had fixated on Jude. "We had been married beyond a decade. You had always had the right to call me your Mrs." She mentions in a matter-of-factly way. "I speak not of my right but of whether you find being Mrs. Greenbriar agreeable or not." He clears, letting the feverish gaze become more fierce. Jude is felt her qualms leaving her. "Yes. I find it agreeable." She leans over but pauses and cuts the contact. "Go back now. Our subjects are waiting." "Lies. You want me to stay." He says almost comically deadpan, smirk spreading over his lips. Silence. " Mrs. Greenbriar, Fine? Enjoy the leisure? You say that to me when, while trying to stand you had fallen back? Should I really enjoy ease and relief when my dearest, most cloying poison sat on the throne, eyes closed, face growing paler?" After a few moments of looking in each other eyes, he finally decides to hold his wife in tight hug. Rolling the two of them over so they lay on their sides. Jude could smell him. Packed soil and a lingering scent of wine. She found it most comforting. "I assure you, oh, esteemed High Queen of Elfhame. I left our dear subjects after announcing they could enjoy the 'debauch' by themselves as I would be heading to my wifey." He utters in her hair. Letting himself get a whiff of the lavender fragrance mixing with an earthy scent and another he couldn't quite place. "Wifey? Did you also hear that from Vivi and Heather?" Jude looks up to meet his eyes. "Indirectly, yes." "Indirectly?" "Through a mortal film." "Really..." Slowly their conversation becomes more and more hush until only Cardan was wakeful. After participating in all the frolicking, he presumes he smells corrupt. However, he wishes not to wake his wife. Looking at her, he realizes her calm might be his most unpleasant venom. It could drive him mad, how still very pernicious she looks even in her slumber. Admiration filled his head, spilling from his thoughts and eyes, rocking him to sleep. ~~~~~ Nausea.

Pushing the weight away from her body, she bolted to the lavatory. "Jude…" Her husband called to her, voice muffled. She tried to reply but it only made the her body convulse in a more violent manner. "Jude…" Cardan's voice got closer, added concern evident. He rubbed her back in comforting circles, pulling her hair back the way he saw in the film Vivi had shown him. "I'll be calling physician. This is not the first time and I worry that you have caught a mortal disease." Jude wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Standing up and heading to the tub of water that is always prepared for the use of the King and Queen. "No." She declared, looking back at her spouse when she felt as fit to be seen as she can be after hurling bile into the toilet, certainty evident in her voice. "Jude." Cardan's voice came out forceful. "You are strong, to that I could personally attest to. However, I long to have my Queen for as long as I live. If you won't take care of her, let me." "Cardan. I'm fine." She wears the scowl she knows he turns hesitant toward. Opposed to the effect she wanted though, he only got more provoked. "Stop. Lying." He steps closer toward her, grabbing her arms. "If you are not comfortable with a different fae, I will call Liliver. If you don't wish for her, I will call on Taryn, Vivi or a mortal doctor if you want. I will call for help whether you want it or not." To that Jude didn't reply to. She knew it would be futile anyway and vomiting when she hadn't had anything for the past ten hours, had exhausted her. "Fine." She admits defeat That's too easy. Cardan thought. "However." There it is. He straightens himself. "However?" "I need to talk to Fand. If I don't get her report, I won't be seeing anybody." The Queen sets her conditions, The King obeys. ~~~~~ "My Queen." The knight greets the woman she serves. "Tell me. What of the girl? The cup? Did you find anything suspicious?" The Queen asks, making sure to be cautious with her words. She would rather deal with the King bringing in people to bustle about her than have him disturbing the peace of the palace for a sudden interrogation. She glances beside her, to the King; a silent warning to not mention anything of poison. "Ah.. The girl is fine. The cup had not been tampered with either." She hesitates before speaking. The King's eyes narrow with suspicion. Still, he asks none of his questions. Whatever it is, he trusts his Queen. "Very well. Go back to what you had been doing." The Queen tells her personal knight. Fand bows and leaves the room. Jude had many queries. Before she could process all of them though, the King had already made a fuss about getting a physician, writing letters to the Queen's sister and shouting orders to bring more cushions and blankets. ~~~~~

A physician, Vivi, Heather, Oak, Taryn, Taryn's daughter, Amelia, and the King are surrounding the Queen. Really, it was quite a sight. A comical one. "Auntie Jude… Are you alright?" Amelia asked Jude who was currently laying down on the bed, blankets and cushions around her body. She was fine until they decided wrapping her in a blanket and laying her down was a good idea. It was far too hot but since she could lie, why tell the truth? "Yes, I feel alright Lia. If there's anything wrong, the doctor would tell me about it." Jude smiled at Amelia. Even she herself didn't know she could give such a smile. How she was able to give something she didn't have, she didn't know. "It's just morning sickness." The physician finally said. "Morning sickness? Is it an Ailment that develops in the morning?" Vivi's mouth gaped open, Heather squealed, Oak looked up from the device he had in his hands, and Taryn held her youngest sister's hand, muttering congratulations repeatedly. Amelia copied her mother. Jude and Cardan? Well, they didn't understand what all of that meant. The physician understood the regard with which the King and Queen gave him and explained that the Queen is likely with child.

Jude looked at her husband. Cardan looked at his wife. Everything around them stopped. the way it would in films.

If it was possible for happiness to overfill a creature, that was how Cardan felt. He had always envied people who had children, wondered how it would be to take care of a child of his own. Fantasize about how him and Jude together would look like. And now, now he would see the mini them. He could take care of his own child. He was going to be a father.

Tears welled up in Jude's eyes. It was happy tears, she was sure. Afterall, every so often, when her day was rather somber, she wonders if she was barren. She had always envied Taryn for having Amelia. But now, now she was going to have her Amelia. She had a life inside her. She was going to be a mother.

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[animeomegas]

Hm... headcanon...

Spoilers for Mystic Messenger (I don't really remember much but don't take risks if you don't wanna get spoiled) and this might disturb some.

How about we talk about V a little. Since I have a thing for angst, I kinda believe that V got pregnant from Rika and gave birth to a unhealthy pup after Rika passed away (and pup followed alpha shortly cuz of it's health) .Depression , unhealthy eating habits, mourning and stress could be reasons for it. That's why V is so overwhelmingly protective of his alpha before and after the labour and that could cause him to neglect his pup(s) unintentionally since his brain might let him think that his pup from Rika died because of missing alpha and if he keeps his alpha away from danger his pup(s) is going to be alright.

(Hmm, I can’t remember a route where Rika dies in canon, but let’s say she dies for real in the beginning of the game, rather than faking her death and creating Mint Eye.)

This gets a little dark fyi

So, Rika sadly kills herself, leaving her pregnant mate, V, behind.

V is obviously distraught. He completely shuts down and doesn’t let anyone help him, isolating himself as much as possible the second the funeral is over.

V doesn’t eat, he doesn’t bathe, he doesn’t talk to anyone, he just sleeps as much as he can until his head is pounding from oversleeping.

And all the stress and lack of looking after himself just piles up and up until he goes into an early labour.

His pup only lives for two minutes.

And V has lost everything.

He thinks it’s his fault. He didn’t look after his mate well enough, and so they died, and then his pup died because his mate wasn’t with him. Everything would have been fine if he had just done what a mate is supposed to do and look after his partner.

The only thing that keeps him alive is his belief that he deserves to suffer for what he did. (Of course, it wasn’t his fault, but V refuses to believe that whenever anyone says that to him.)

A few years pass, and the other member of the RFA decide to hire someone new to liven up the group and help kick everything into gear and start preserving Rika’s legacy.

And V doesn’t expect to like love this new party co-ordinator as much as he does. They squirm their way past all his defences and settle themselves quite comfortably in his heart.

This new alpha teaches him how to love again. How to love someone else of course, but also how to love himself.

But V never tells them about the pup he lost, and the RFA are far too respectful to bring it up. So, his alpha doesn’t know.

And V gets pregnant again, and he’s terrified, but he’s also determined that this time will be different.

He watches his alpha like a hawk, following them everywhere and always offering them someone to talk to if they need it. He counts the time between his pup’s movements religiously to make sure that they’re okay. He won’t go anywhere dangerous or eat anything he’s not supposed to.

It borderlines on neurotic.

V’s alpha is obviously concerned about his behaviour and brings it up in a conversation with Yoosung. And Yoosung says, “Well, you know, after what happened, it makes sense.”

And V’s alpha is like… What happened???

And Yoosung apologises and swiftly nopes out of that conversation as fast as he can. Because he thought they knew?! But obviously not, how awkward.

V’s alpha confronts V, asking him what Yoosung was talking about, that evening when they are both relaxing together by the fireplace.

…

V tenses immediately at your question. He couldn’t tell you. It was bad enough that you knew about his failure to keep Rika alive, but he couldn’t let you know how much of a useless omega he was. You would leave him if you knew, and then he would have to repeat the worst period of his life all over again.

“I’m not sure what he was talking about. You know Yoosung, he gets worked up over the smallest things sometimes.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Don’t lie to me, Jihyun.”

Their voice, while not unkind, sent unpleasant shivers down his spine.

“No, really, there isn’t anything for you to-“

“Stop it,” you order softly. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s one thing, but I hope you respect me enough not to lie to me about something so obviously important.”

V can feel his heart rate picking up. He’s ruining it again. He can’t go through with it again, he wouldn’t survive. He needs to make sure they don’t leave him. He can’t-

“Jihyun?” you call but he can’t respond. “Jihyun, it’s okay, whatever it is, we’ll sort it out, don’t panic.”

“I killed my first pup,” Jihyun sobs suddenly, desperately wishing he could throw himself into your arms for some comfort, but being too scared to endure the rejection he’d surely face. So, instead, he wraps his arms around himself as he cries.

His cries are heartbreaking, and he starts to choke on whines as they bubble up too. V can’t decide if he’s about to be sick, or if he’s just choking.

But a pair of arms wrap themselves around him, and his mind clears somewhat. He knows that you are probably just going to reject him later, but V can’t help but lean into the comfort.

“Calm down, Jihyun, tell me what’s going on, baby,” you soothe him, brushing his hair back from his face. “What do you mean?”

“I killed them,” V states again, trying to will his alpha into understanding how evil and pathetic he is, so that they’ll just leave and get it over with.

“How?”

“They were sick because I couldn’t save Rika!” V sobs. “It’s all my fault!”

His alpha simply picks him up and settles him into his arms with a mumbled ‘I thought it’d be something like that’, that V doesn’t understand. But they’re not rejecting him, maybe they’ll stay and keep the pup safe. But he needs to make sure.

“Don’t leave, please, I’ll do anything! Please…”

“Shh,” you whisper to him. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

[linkspooky]

What do you think about Kaneki x Eto?

It’s my favorite Tokyo Ghoul ship? If you want to know my opinion of it, I did write a whole fanfiction on the ship. However, I can also explain my reasons for liking the ship with some character analysis. Basically, Kaneki and Eto are the same person. Kaneki loving Eto is him learning to reconcile the ugliest parts of himself. Falling in love with someone who’s just basically you in the mirror is a good way to learn some self esteem. Kaneki and Eto are the same because they’ve felt ostractized and unloved their entire lives due to having selfish and manipulative mothers, and uncaring or entirely absent fathers. 

Their response to their total sense of isolation and status as outsiders is to write a story. They both have a narrative coping mechanism of the world, that’s why of all the characters they are the most highly associated with reading and books. It’s just they assign themselves different roles in the narrative. Kaneki is the protagonist of the tragedy, and Eto is the author of the tragedy. It doesn’t change the fact they see the whole world as one big tragedy. More under the cut. 

1. The Protagonist of the Tragedy

Kaneki’s coping mechanism has always been to imagine himself as the long suffering protagonist of the tragedy. His statement is twofold. “I’m not a protagonist or anything” and then “However if you were to write a story with me in the lead role it would certainly be a tragedy.” 

This is paradoxical thinking. What Kaneki is saying essentially is that he is not a protagonist, but he is. The difference between a protagonist of say, a heroic epic, and the protagonist of a tragedy is that a tragic protagonist is ultimately helpless before their flaws. 

Kaneki has always been outside of things. He is someone extremely isolated and lonely. He has difficulty connecting even to his lifelong best friend. Hide describes him as thus, he’s always pretending around other people and hiding his true self. Kaneki has this genuine fear of being well... genuine. He avoids emotional intimacy at any cost even though it’s the thing he craves the most. 

Which is why it’s easier for him to cope with things through a fictitious lens. He wants to be important to people, but he doesn’t really know how to be loved, so he always, always, always, chooses fighting for their sake instead. He plays pretend hero, pretend vigilante, and even pretend king depending on the circumstances. He is always, playing roles for the sake of others instead of trying to be his own self. He pretends to be a protagonist. 

However, because of his abuse from his mother Kaneki is also unnaturally fixated on being a good person. He can’t bear to think he’s unkind, or cruel, or even violent like his mother was to him. He has such a strong, nauseous reaction to violence, he can’t even accept it within himself even when circumstances have dirven him to become violent. 

So, rather than the protagonist he also wants to keep playing the victim. The victim is helpless. The victim is sympathetic. The victim isn’t to blame for their actions. Kaneki is afraid of being in control of his own actions, because he finds it hard to face himself and his own flaws and bear that responsibility. Kaneki’s coping mechanism is to feign helpelessness. To never truly make decisions because therefore he’s not responsible when he makes the wrong one. 

It’s not just Kaneki who is coping poorly however. Whether or not he intends to his actions will always affect the people around him. Kaneki isn’t a protagonist, he’s merely pretending to be one. The problem with pretending to be a protagonist is that as a result you assign other people as supporting characters in your story, and forget that they have feelings outside of what you perceive their feelings to be. 

This is specificallly what Touka calls out in 120. She doesn’t want to be the heroine of his tragedy. She didn’t ask for him to protect her. Kaneki does all of these things without thinking or consulting her about her feelings at all and just assumes he knows best. Pretending you’re the protagonist gives you a self-centered view of the world. Kaneki can’t be with Touka at this point, because he can’t accept Touka’s feelings for him. 

The most poweful sign of Eto and Kaneki’s connection ever is the fact that Eto has Kaneki completely read like an open book, without even really meeting him in person. It’s because they are in essence the same person. She understands Kaneki’s total sense of isolation because she’s lived it as well for her entire life. 

Kaneki feels unloved and disconnected from others, and everything he does ultimately is in response to the lack of love he was shown as a child. That’s why Takatsuki’s lines, your parents failed in raising you. Echo so strongly for both of them. 

Now kiss you two. 

2. The Author of the Tragedy

If Kaneki is someone who will feign helplessness, and avoid being in control of his own life then Eto is the opposite. Eto will pretend to be in control of everything because helplessness is what she fears the most. Eto was born outside of any framework or sense of stability for the world she can’t handle any of it. She longs to knock all of the structures down because they will always reject her and never include her, in the same way that Kaneki longs to be accepted by others.

Eto reacts to the whole world like a book too, but she sees herself as the author in control of things. She’s the one writing the scenario. She chooses to bloody her own hands bcause it makes her feel in control of the violence that’s been inflicted upon her, her entire life. The things that Kaneki avoids because he’s afraid of being seen as a monster, Eto embraces willfully and becomes the monster. Eto, just like Kaneki sees everyone else as a fictional character. Whereas, Kaneki assigns them the role of support to his story, Eto sees herself as the author pitting all of the fictional characters against each other. 

Kaneki lets himself be manipulated and Eto manipulates. Eto never sees herself as backed into a corner, or desperate. Everything is a planned move on her part. Everything is an intentional sacrifice. If she’s captured, it’s because she willfully walked into their plan and let herself be captured. She’s here because she wants to be. She pretends at all time that everyone is doing what she wants them to.

Even when captured and imprisoned in the cochlea, Eto intentionally walked in as a part of her big plan. The thing about Eto’s plans, and plans, and plans is that she’s bad at admitting when she’s losing or things are out of her control. Aogiri could never win an all out war against the CCG. Which is why Eto was too quick to burn Aogiri in a deliberate sacrifice to try to weaken the CCG as a part of her plan, rather than try to take her hands off and try a different approach. 

The same way that Kaneki never wants to take control of his own life, Eto never wants to let go of her sense of control. Which is why she’ll pretend to be control even when she isn’t. Eto is just good enough at reading and manipulating people that she can delude herself into thinking that the situation is always in the palm of her hand when it’s not. Which is why things that are genuinely out of her control and impossible to predict have a tendency to explode in her face. 

Even when Eto loses, she always sees it as a controlled lost. She wanted Kaneki to defeat her on the Tsukiyama Tower and devour her Kagune. She gave him that victory. She is still in control. She is always the author writing down the tragedy.

The key difference between both of them is that Eto externalizes, and Kaneki internalizes. Eto is trying to fix the world to make up for the inadequacy she sees inside of herself. Kaneki is trying to fix something in himself so people will find him lovable. 

We see in Takatsuki’s flashback chapter that Eto’s resentment of Kuzen and his cowardice, has just as much to do with her desire to destroy V and as her wish for a better world. Kaneki and Eto’s trauma informs their actions just as much as their genuine desire to improve the world. They are wholly created by the traumatic circumstances that have affected them and been poorly coping all of their lives. 

The best example to show them poorly coping with trauma is to show how they lash out. Kaneki and Eto are both children raised without any love, and they’ve come to two different conclusions. Kaneki sees himself as unlovable. That nobody is capable of loving him so he sees all relationships as a transaction and services rendered. Eto is the opposite, rather than an internal quality she focuses on an external one. She believes actual love doesn’t exist. That all love is selfish, just like her parents’ love for her ultimately was.

It’s shockingly different the way Eto and Kuzen tell the stories of her birth. Kuzen focuses on the love story aspect, as if Eto was genuinely the product of a love that bridged the gap between two different worlds. Eto believes that her mother was only using Kuzen and sleeping with him to get information, and that she was just an unplanned pregnancy. Eto is incapable of understanding her mother’s love for both her, and her father and chooses to believe no love exists at all. Kaneki on the other hand is incapable of understanding his mother’s contradictory love for him, and chooses to believe himself unlovable.

The person I loved so greatly beat me. I loved my mother, didn’t I? 

Kaneki and Eto are hurt not because they don’t love their mothers, but they do. Their mothers are extremely important to both of them. Yet, neither mother seems to love them back. Ukina chose Kuzen over protecting her child. Kaneki’s mother chose her sister, and everyone else in the neighborhood to take care of while neglecting and outright beating her child when he asked for basic care. Eto does everything she does in Ukina’s memory to complete her mission, and Kaneki does everything to try to be the good boy his mother wanted him to be for a good portion of his life but neither of them feel loved by that mother figure. Kaneki and Eto were failed on the most basic level by the parents who were meant to be responsible for them and loved them and as a result they are continually coping with that lack of love. 

The difference in their coping can be seen how they both treat Kanae. Kanae has an incredible amount in common for both of them. She lives seeking love, she has been orphaned and unloved and treated like an outsider in the Tsukiyama household her entire life even though they were supposed to take care of her as her direct family. She always had a close relationship with her mother before she died. She lives by pretending to be something she’s not in order to look stronger.

Eto’s response is to insist that Kanae’s love is selfish. That she’s an ugly, monster for trying to force her feelings upon Tsukiyama. Eto goes out of her way to try to prove that love is a lie. 

However, Kaneki much more passively also resents the hell out of Kanae. Kaneki’s wish to be loved is the same as Kanae. Kaneki will even become violent for the sake of that wish. 

However, this is his response to Kanae at her lowest point. 

Kaneki’s choice to internalize all of his trauma inside of himself is one that also results in destruction. Remember that this is after Tsukiyama begged Kaneki for mercy on Kanae. 

Kaneki’s habits of pretending to be helpless to avoid conflict, lead him into as much conflict as Eto gets into. The coping mechanism is different. The end result is the same. As Haise he spent the entire arc putting off conflict, but he ends up fighting Tsukiyama anyway, ends up brutalizing Kanae in the worst way possible, and even ignores Yoshimura’s wish to save Eto. 

They cope very differently. Kaneki is always trying to change himself to suit the needs of other people. Eto is always trying to change other people to suit her own needs. However, the end result is the same. Kaneki’s seems more selfless. He’s letting himself suffer rather than make others suffer. He’s trying to hold it all in, rather than Eto who pushes all of it out. But, both are unhealthy. Eto wants to destroy the world, Kaneki wants to destroy himself. 

The result is still destruction regardless. Which is why the way Kaneki and Eto both treat Kanae is so important, they’ve both projected themselves onto Kanae, and want to destroy her because of it. They’re coping mechanisms which are meant to preserve them are instead self destructive. Which means ultimately they’re both terribly unhealthy people. The question of which one is good or bad doesn’t really have anything to do with it. 

Kaneki and Eto’s relationship is so interesting because they’ve both been pushed to the point, where they’ve stopped hoping for things, and just want to destroy everything. It’s just what they choose to destroy is different, Kaneki wants to self destruct, and Eto wants to take the whole world down with her. That’s why I think they should work together to smash everything into tiny little pieces, and maybe kiss a little bit. There’s just something to be said about a relationship that’s built around learning to love the unhealthiest parts of yourself. 

[hexhealed]

          ˗ ˏ ˋ ( kristine froseth, twenty-one, cis woman, she / her ) — is that ANDROMEDA BLACK just saw in the courtyard? i hear they’re a SLYTHERIN, returning for their SIXTH school year, but something more juicy is them being ENTERPRISING & THOUGHTFUL as well as DETACHED & CONFLICTED. if you want some more details on them, i guess i could tell you that they’re PUREBLOOD, and from the rumors i heard, they’re currently allying with THE NEUTRALS. personally, i think they remind of: solemn family portraits lining a darkened hall, puppet pulling at her strings, archaic tomes precariously stacked, aristocratic nose to the grindstone, the sweet sting of venom, honey, & healing. but that might be just me. — ( kit, she / they, 23 ) ˎˊ ˗  

TW — unhealthy family dynamics, emotional abuse / neglect, v. vague allusions to mental health issues. 

basics ,

full name.  andromeda cygnella black. known as.  andromeda, andie. age / date of birth.  twenty-one / april 2nd, 1960. year.  sixth year. blood status.  pureblood. house.  slytherin. alliance.  neutral. gender / pronouns.  cis woman, she / her. orientation.  bisexual, biromantic, grey-ace. extracurriculars.  chaser for the slytherin quidditch team; member of the herbology, potions, slug, and occamy dueling clubs; hospital wing volunteer. additional stats.  click here.

early life , 

andromeda is born a mere few months after bellatrix, and is instantly her mother’s darling. for a long time, she doesn’t question — doesn’t even truly comprehend — the way her mother favors her, desperate as she is for her parents’ approval. they are exacting, demanding, withholding; they praise one daughter or another, it seems, only to shame the other two in their failures. 

andie takes what she can get, where she can get it, for as long as she can, letting her parents pit her against her sisters in a constant battle for attention, affection, and approval. but it’s a battle she starts to lose, middle child that she is. despite all andromeda’s efforts, it seems being perfect comes as naturally as breathing to little narcissa, and druella redirects her favoritism towards her youngest daughter. and while bella is at a disadvantage, she makes up for it in sheer willpower; she turns herself into their father’s perfect slytherin heir, what andie was supposed to be. ( note, of course, that this is how andie experiences this; the truth is that each sister was of course neglected and traumatized in their own way ! )

for most of her early childhood, andie doesn’t really question the world she lives in; doesn’t think too hard about the wealth, the blood purity, the high society circles in which her family moves. it is as natural as the air around her. yet she manages nonetheless to ruffle feathers, draw suspicion. at age six she questions innocently why uncle marius has been cursed from the family tree; the answer horrifies her, though she tries to hide it, saying nothing and staying up late at night wondering if her parents would ever disown her for something like that. 

( ..... will probably add some more once i’ve sorted some more black sisters plots ? )

she really enjoys quidditch and plays whenever she can find an opponent ( bella doesn’t care for the sport, and lets her know as much. ) it’s not a ladylike pursuit, her mother reminds her, but at least her father approves. at first, it’s only the children of her parents’ friends, all pureblood, all high-society, but as one by one they start going off to hogwarts, andie needs to find herself new friends. this is how she takes her first steps out of her ignorance, more interested in finding playmates than purebloods; but the common little muggleborn derisions that are the black family bread and butter do not do well among her new friends, and she starts realizing for the first time the unkindness of her family’s beliefs.

this is where the split starts, between andie and andromeda black, because whatever she is, she must be hidden; she leaves the façade of andromeda standing as she carefully slips out from behind it, and no one is much the wiser. 

hogwarts ,

to finally go to hogwarts is a relief for andie. it offers an escape out of the stifling environment and the constant disapproval of her parents; at the same time, though, it gives her every opportunity to impress them. and she still wants to, especially following in bella’s footsteps; she’s always admired her older sister, always wanted to be just as clever, just as talented, just as capable. it’s this burning desire to be valued that has the sorting hat deciding, after just a few moments, to place her in slytherin.

and so without realizing she slips back, subsumed once more into pureblood ideology, so much stronger when impressed by her peers; it’s much easier to dismiss her parents as outdated, and keep her mouth shut, than it is to disagree with the cool upper years, especially when they are conspicuously nice to her.

as time passes, though, she slowly becomes something else other than bella’s little sister, expanding her horizons at last somewhat. she excels academically, as is expected of her — cygnus and druella would not suffer their children to enter school unprepared — and joins the potions and herbology clubs, spending less and less time in the slytherin common room. hoping to play quidditch, she tries out her first year but fails; in her second year, she secures a spot as a chaser.

her year three electives become something of a bone of contention over the preceding summer; alongside arithmancy, andie signs up for muggle studies. her family disapproves. she has to assure them it’s a purely academic pursuit, that she’s only curious but never sympathetic — and she doubts whether they’re convinced. 

she’s still trying to be and seem apolitical, trying to toe the line, but with each passing year she finds it less and less sustainable. once, she might have been ignorant, simply might not have known better; now, she knows better, and she’s just a coward. at this point she can see straight through her family’s pureblood supremacy. but then, as much as it turns her stomach, they are her family. she loves them. and more than that, she fears them.

so to assuage her guilt andie simply overworks herself. ( can’t feel guilty if you’re too tired ! ) between club meetings, quidditch practices, and homework, she’s overworked as it is, but when her potions professor approaches and suggests, given her skill, she may be helpful to madam pomfrey in the hospital wing, she cannot refuse. it’s simple work, preparing ingredients, cleaning, changing sheets, but she finds it oddly rewarding. 

in her o.w.l. consultations, andromeda decides to pursue healing; she’s fascinated by magical medicine, and fantasizes about doing research and experimental magic, about pushing boundaries. but her parents would be happier if she simply said she wanted to be a st. mungo’s healer, so that’s what she says. the christmas holidays in her fifth year are the first holidays she chooses to stay at hogwarts; she tells her parents she simply must, that between her clubs, quidditch, and o.w.l.s she’s much too busy for a holiday. truth is, she simply dreads spending two weeks alone with her family.

she excels at her o.w.l.s, but it doesn’t leave her feeling proud, just relieved that she won’t have to face her parents empty-handed. the idea of spending all summer back in her family home is torturous, but thankfully she doesn’t have to; her parents pull some strings, talk to some old family friends and secure her an internship at st. mungo’s over the summer. she expresses her gratitude politely to them, and her relief to her friends in cautious letters, and stays in a room in the city for nearly the whole summer. 

personality , hcs , etc. ,

got the nickname andie at hogwarts; her family has always called her by her full name. her parents seemed unreasonably upset with her about it — something about throwing away family tradition, not honoring their wishes for her, and other nonsense.

loves to throw herself into her responsibilities, hobbies, and interests as a way of avoiding inner turmoil; has a strong problem-solving impulse that gets way worse whenever she has bigger, unsolvable problems.

speaking of, she loves herbology, catch her in the greenhouses most days of the week. she loves the smell, the warmth, the dirt beneath her nails, the way the rest of the school grounds outside feel so distant behind the glass. the greenhouses are her church and sanctuary.

monstrously overworked and definitely verging on a burnout; between school, quidditch, career thoughts, the impending war, volunteer work, and sorting through some deep-seated personal issues.

might be the nicest black sister, but that’s not really a high bar to clear. though she carries a lot of guilt and tries to resolve that by doing good work, keeping her head down and not being explicitly hateful, she’s not exactly kind. she’s a bit of a know-it-all and loves to argue with people, can be really condescending, lashes out when she’s feeling insecure, and can hold a grudge like nobody’s business.

very much enjoys muggle music, after it was shared with her by friends. she named her owl ziggy after ziggy stardust, knowing full well that her parents wouldn’t have the faintest clue what it meant. 

plots , 

just wanted to say first of all that i love plotting, hc’ing, brainstorming, etc. so please hit me up ! if nothing here works i’m super happy to think of something else. also, every single one of these is open to all genders unless specified ! i also especially love plotting based on other connections ( i.e. muse a and muse b are friends, muse b and muse c are exes, therefore muse a and muse c do not get along, or smth ) idk i just have a lot of ideas !

friends.   this could go a lot of ways ! very importantly, andie doesn’t pick her friends for their politics; they could be death eaters, order members, or neutral. more important is their ability to put up with andie’s nonsense. that being said alliances would definitely play a part in how they interact, etc. ofc.

unofficial engagement.  a betrothal is a bit archaic, andie’s made clear in so many words. her parents and this muse’s parents, rather than putting their foot down and making demands, are quite cunning in their attempt to play matchmaker. they invite each other and their family to dinners, ask after them in every letter, and never pass up an opportunity to throw the pair of them together. would definitely be a pureblood, ‘respectable’ and probably but not necessarily a slytherin ! how the two of them feel about it is also very open-ended — enemies, slow-burn, fake dating, friendship, i’m happy with anything !

exes.  give me a bunch of these ! there’s so many options for this. their first little ‘relationship’ that maybe lasted only a few months, going on their first lil hogmeade dates together ? first loves making plans to visit each other over summers ? some hookup that one of them thought was much more serious than the other ? something a lil star-crossed & pushed apart by families ? an ex andie unceremoniously dumped last year to focus on her studies ? exes who are good friends, exes who hate each other, exes who are so embarrassed to have dated each other they pretend nothing ever happened, just. any of them. pls.

crushes / flirtationships.  all the crushes ! an youthful crush that she swears she’s gotten over but she still gets flustered whenever they talk to her; someone who’s interested in her, but whom she has less than zero interest in ( or, alternatively, is pretending to have no interest in ); mutual crushes but they’re both convinced the other person hates them or is out of their league; mutual crushes but they’re also constantly bickering and everyone thinks they’ve already been married forty years; bad crushes that she feels bad about for whatever reason ( they are death eaters, or seeing someone else, or a rival in some way, idk ), etc. etc.

childhood friends.  lots of options here too; high society pureblood kids her parents approved of, but also any halfbloods in and around london who are into quidditch, and would play with andie ?

study buddy.  andie’s a big nerd. give her some friends to study with ? someone who won’t give her a weird look when she threatens to hex chatty first years in the library. they can ask each other questions and help with charms practice and share their hopes, dreams, and aspirations ! definitely made a pact last year to get x amount of o.w.l.s. should be in sixth year, but doesn’t necessarily need to be an overachieving nerd like andie.

potions partner.  fairly self-explanatory; they’re adjacent to a study buddy but work together pretty much exclusively in potions class. this would ideally be one of two types: either they’re also very, very good at potions and they’ve partnered together to make sure they both get top marks each class, or alternatively, this is someone who struggles with potions and who was partnered with andie, either against her will ( thanks slughorn ) or out of the ( unlikely ) kindness of her heart, and she helps them get up to speed.

academic rival.  the opposite of a study buddy. study enemy ? should also be a sixth year so that they share classes with andromeda. they’re both overachieving students and will stare daggers at each other in class whenever the other person raises their hand. andie feels very threatened and definitely lets her insecurity get the best of her in this dynamic.

quidditch rival.  is there anything better than a sports rivalry ? no ! this could be anywhere from a friendly bantering rivalry to a full on, hate-your-guts, will hex you on the pitch if i can rivalry ? could be simply because of their teams, because they have issues off the field, or because they accidentally ran head-on into each other in their first match and now can’t let it go ? just think this could be fun !

frienemies.  okay, hear me out. gimme a buddy for andie where their entire friendship essentially revolves around gently verbally abusing each other — or at least, that’s andie’s side because she’s a great big bully ! but if they’re ever in trouble or getting shit from anyone she will drop anything and go fight. someone she probably really adores but will only begrudgingly admit to. mostly she calls ‘em names.

petty enemies.  so, i know it’s stupid to hold onto old grudges when there’s a literal war on the horizon, but andie ? andie does not. she’s really pettier than that. would love for this to be someone who she just really butted heads with in her earlier hogwarts years and they’ve both just never gotten over it. they’re very petty and don’t even really remember why they don’t like each other but are they gonna get over it now ? heck no.

true enemies.  not petty, not somewhat friendly, not a rivalry but a true and burning hatred. just. give it to meeeeeee. this could be a muse with strong political opinions who really hates where andie stands & isn’t afraid to say so, but could also just be more personal; maybe andie did something ? i’m very okay with her being the bad guy here too.

confidant.  andie has a lot going on that she doesn’t/can’t really talk to other people about; maybe this muse is just a very good listener, or maybe they have their own deep dark secrets ? either way, they can tell each other things very few others are privy to.

patients.  might be a bit of a stretch of the definition since right now andie’s not a medical professional any more than a candy striper might be, but has your muse been injured at any point in the past year/year and a half or so ? it’s possible that you might be entitled to some compensation for them having to put up with andie being annoying as hell during their hospital wing stay.

[minaa-munch]

Ashes and Dust (Part 1)

"Why do you say that? You live in Konohagakure no Sato so you're one of us."

Little did she know, Kushina had fallen in love with who she considered the greatest ninja this decrepit little village would ever produce. 

And that would be the first step in her descent to madness. 

----

"Summimasen, Sumure san, I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long." He said upon reaching the older man, his head bowed a fraction. Yamanaka Sumure didn't reply at first, cold blue hues fixed upon the boy as if in deliberation.

"Did you find her?"

"Hai. She's recovering in the hospital wing right now."

Cue a grunt that Minato had come to identify as approval. Long, spidery digits came to grasp his clothed arm and he felt the familiar, impatient tug. Feet moved in automation as he had long learned to simply not bother. The Yamanaka wasn't terribly unkind - rather, Minato liked to think that the man had a hard time communicating. In fact, the only person he had ever seen him talk softly to was Ryusui Sobo.

That had been so long ago. Heaving the tiniest of sighs, the blond stared at his dirty shoes as they crunched against the autumn waste. Silver moonlight flickered in patches over the track that led to the Yamanaka compound, overshadowed by the thicket of trees that crept over the Nara woodlands. Such were the ties that bound the Yamanaka with the Nara and the Akimichi clans - the legendary trio that had remained faithful long since before they had joined Konoha. 

Ryusui Sobo had told him all the stories. Minato had been her favorite (and only) student, after all. In fact, she was the reason he was here. She had left him a few things in her will and now he was finally old enough to collect. The clan head had been after his hide since the last two months, and had just about threatened to burn his seeming-inheritance if he didn’t show up today. 

But then Kushina had gotten herself kidnapped and the village had declared a level 3 emergency. All active shinobi ranked Chunin and above were to track her down and eliminate any assailants found.

Minato being Minato, had been the only one to notice the trail she had left - and naturally, Minato being Minato, had been too concerned with getting her back safely to properly ‘deal’ with her captors. The three Kumo shinobi had disappeared as soon as he had unbound her.

Not that their little disappearing act helped. Konoha and Kumo would go to war and they only had themselves to blame. 

“We’re here.”

But at least she’s safe - a small voice, very much like his own was enough to coax a smile from his monotonous features. Blue hues flickered upwards to the hauntingly familiar floral patterned shoji door that belonged to his deceased grandmother’s quarters. Minato had been given the option of claiming her space as his own when she had died, but he had politely declined. 

He happened to like his little apartment near the trade district, thank you very much. It gave him plenty of excuses to frequent Jiraiya sensei’s house and he was more than content with the barrage of cold cereal and sweet dumplings that would usually greet his arrival. 

The Jonin gave him a semblance of family that only his grandmother had managed to provide when he was younger. Bending down on one knee, the Namikaze removed his dirty shinobi sandals, mindful of keeping them in the floral-patterned rack she had put there just for him. A hand on his shoulder cautioned him not to linger and Minato rose, fingers easily sliding the door open. 

It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t alone, and that Sumure was standing too close for comfort - another to realize that he couldn’t move. The hand on his shoulder tightened for a brief moment before it fell away, and blue hues found themselves locked on the intruder’s emotionless brown ones. 

 “- so you're one of us."

The last thing he remembered was gloved digits weaving hand signs for a jutsu he did not recognize, before a palm was slapped tightly over the top half of his face. He couldn’t see anything, but that was hardly the troublesome part. Tendrils of icy chakra crawled over his skin, leaving burning imprints in its wake. It burrowed through his forcefully open eyes, flooding his being with a painful numbness that he couldn’t help but succumb to.

“- one of us.”

Namikaze Minato knew no more. 

----

“Sensei, please” The man begged, hands splayed in front of him, “He’s a clan-less, airhead of a boy” a Jonin as reputable as Jiraiya was not prone to such helplessness, and it made him feel a certain degree of powerlessness that he hadn’t felt in a...very long time, “Anyone. Anyone else and I wouldn’t be fighting with you on this.”

That boy was a prodigy. He was the child of destiny. Minato-- 

“Enough.” the Sandaime sounded tired, if not entirely exhausted. Dark hues surveyed the village before him, the glass of his window doing little to reflect the sheltered expression he wore, “I think you should get ready for your mission.”

“Sensei!”

“Not now, Jiraiya. We have bigger things afoot.” His tone was more stern this time, as he turned to face the floundering mammoth of a man that was his student - one that had been reduced to a spluttering, yet surprisingly resolute wreck. The sight was enough to make the sensei in him soften - if only a tad. Sarutobi stepped towards him, one hand resting softly on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“I promise to keep an eye out for him” He began, his tone taking an instructive hue, “But we have a war to worry about and you need to focus. We can discuss this case after you return from Amegakure.”

“...”

“Go. Orochimaru and Tsunade are waiting for you.”

----

Pale digits mindlessly traced the Konoha symbol on her hita-ite as a medic filled out a form on her clipboard. She had been filling out said form since the last twenty minutes and Kushina was quickly getting bored. Sure, she had almost been kidnapped - sure, the chakra draining binds had left her feeling pretty weak (or she would have kicked their butts ‘ttebane!), and she had almost passed out by the time Minato had gotten her to the hospital.

But as always, she healed pretty damn fast. The demon in her would never let any real harm come to his beloved host. 

Or so he liked to claim when he wasn’t hurling insults at her. Regardless, her as-per-the-usual speedy recovery was probably an alien concept to the older woman as she peered at Kushina, her eyes narrowed and pen hovering annoyingly over the page.

“And you’re sure you don’t feel any pain wh--”

“Iie ‘ttebanne!” she hopped off the bed, violet hues narrowed in a glower only she could muster after such an ordeal, “I’m fine! Its what I’ve been trying to tell you since I got here” 

Honestly, she should have forced Minato to treat her to ramen instead. What a flake. Kushina felt a dopey grin stretch on her face at the momentary thought, along with the slightest bit of color. 

“Kushina san, I still think--” Cue a low growl that shut her up, as the Uzumaki crossed her arms in front of her chest. They stayed like for an entire minute before she rolled her eyes and stomped towards the door. 

“Kushina san--”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back if my nose itches” Was the flat reply before Kushina disappeared out the door, leaving her poor medic to wonder whether she would get reprimanded by her superiors for something that wasn’t even her fault.  

Kami, what a waste of time though! the red-head huffed, half-expecting the Namikaze to be waiting in the hospital lobby, and slightly disappointed that he wasn’t there. 

He must have been tired, she reasoned with the morose little twinge in her heart. No biggie, she would bother him tomorrow - maybe even let him accompany her to Ichiraku’s for lunch? She would pay, of course - but just this once! She wasn’t made of money ‘ttebanne. 

But for all her planning, she couldn’t find him in the morning, either. Seemingly, he had been sent to a mission in Kirigakure. 

No problem. He would probably be back in a week, right? 

Kushina wouldn’t know, for you see, after four days of her almost getting kidnapped, the Sandaime’s personal guard had showed up at the care center she shared with other orphans, a platoon of ANBU in tow. The entourage was a bit overkill, but seeing as how she had bitten one of them last time, and pushed another into a puddle of baby vomit...

Ahem. 

Regardless. It was wartime. They would have to keep her in custody, safe from any possibilities of getting kidnapped and losing the bijū as a result. Kushina remembered feeling feeling puzzled at the idea, but seeing as how she had almost been kidnapped a few days ago, she supposed it wasn’t too unreasonable. 

Had she known that the stupid village had in store for her, she would have probably sealed her entourage in a diaper bag and given the Hokage a black eye to go with his ugly goatee. 

“Unreplicable.”

“So we stick to what Yuu said?”

“Yes”

“Ugh. Fine. Summon him and Daike. 

“Iie. Can’t. Don’t have clearance from the council yet.”

“This is war. We have all the clearance we need.”

Violet hues snapped open as she sank to the floor, her knees unable to support her weight. The only thing stopping her from tumbling to the floor were her trembling arms - a rare sight considering the fact that this was Uzumaki Kushina they were talking about. 

“I can’t” she whispered, her voice faint behind her infamous curtain of red locks. Pale digits slowly curled into a fist, “He’s still too hostile.”

Damn fox.

The man wearing the bear mask simply lowered his outstretched palm in response. He was sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by wooden totems and had his face been revealed the Uzumaki would probably see a plethora of scars decorating a dark, emotionless visage. 

If he felt frustrated by the lack of her progress, he didn’t say anything. He was a patient man, in any case. “Why don’t you try again after a short break?” he monotoned, letting the wooden totems sink into the ground, though not bothering to get up in the least. 

Why don’t you try choking on some v-- “I don’t see why this is so important ‘ttebanne.” She ground through clenched teeth before shooting the man a glower that would intimidate any Inuzuka, “I have him restrained and he’s not going to go on a rampage anytime soon.” 

Bemused, the man simply cocked his head, seemingly unaffected by her glare. She was as tough as nails, really. Any normal gaki would have been terrified of her current predicament but here she was, probably imagining his head on fire or something. 

He clearly had no clue how creative - or resilient the young Uzumaki could be. With a small huff, she pushed herself to her feet, almost tripping in the process. Her hands were balled into fists by her sides and at the moment she looked more feral than a cornered animal. 

“You don’t get to question orders” He replied, wooden totems beginning to peak from the ground once more, “Again.”

Welcome to the ANBU, gaki.

[coruscantexpat]

Bonds Unbroken - Chapter 19: Reunion

Meetra felt the sunlight first.

It spilled over her, warm and bright behind her closed eyelids. After the sterility of Peragus and Citadel Station, the warmth was overpowering, so much so it took several seconds for the pain to register. Meetra’s jaw clenched, breath hissing through her teeth. Everything hurt, a dull soreness that spread downward from her shoulders, concentrated in her arms and hips and one oddly specific spot near her hairline. Even her most intense training sessions at the academy had been kinder.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, compartmentalizing the aches and pains away, and pushed herself upright, lifting a hand to shade her eyes before she opened them. For a moment, there was nothing but brightness, Telos’ sun blotting out the planet with its brilliance. Then Meetra’s vision adjusted, and her breath hitched in her throat. Short scrub grass stretched out in front of her, racing away to the craggy hills in the distance. Small crooked trees broke through here and there, limbs outstretched at impossible angles. A sliver of ocean hovered at their edge to her left, too far away for her to smell the salt. It caught the sunlight, jewel-like, and reflected it among dancing waves. Above, white clouds scudded lazily through a pale blue sky. It was simple, primitive — the earliest step in the Ithorians’ restoration — but it was beautiful compared to the chrome and ceramic of the station or the thick drifts of Belsavis.

“Quite the view, isn’t it, General?”

Meetra started, hand flicking toward her waist before she caught herself. She’d been so captivated she hadn’t heard his approach. The speaker held up his hands, a self-conscious grin pulling at his lips. This was, without a doubt, Bao-Dur. The standard horns of the Zabrak were prominent with him, forming a circlet around his head. A complex web of facial tattoos lined his gray skin, framing golden eyes, and when he smiled, she saw sharp canines. His right arm drew her attention from his face. Cybernetic, a long ribbon of energy connecting the “hand” to the rest of his arm - something about it unnerved her and made her sad all at the same time.

Bao-Dur followed her gaze to his hand. He let his normal arm fall and spread the mechanical fingers in an exaggerated wave. “Gets everyone the first time. You get used to it.” His voice was soft and measured, and Meetra got the sense that it was his natural tenor rather than any effort on his part. As he spoke, a small spherical remote droid zipped up behind him, hovering at shoulder level. Without addressing it, Bao-Dur resumed his approach and held out a hand to help her to her feet. “Welcome to Telos, General — one of the habitable bits, anyway.” The golden eyes softened, the sun lending them a warm glow. “It’s good to see you again.” Meetra stared at him, unsure how to continue. He scanned her face, saw the confusion, and a flash of disappointment flickered in his eyes. “You don’t remember me.”

“I… I’m sorry, no.” Guilt came with the admission. “We’ve met before?”

He smiled, a touch of sadness in the lines around his eyes. “In another life. It’ll come back to you. Why don’t you tell me your story first?”

“The Ithorians — I mean, their leader, Chodo Habat sent us to — “ Everything came back in a rush. Reuniting wordlessly with Kreia at the shuttle dock as they boarded. Entering the Telosian atmosphere, dipping beneath the shield of the Restoration Zone to sweep through the clouds. Heavy, shuddering impacts along the shuttle’s keel and the sharp tang of burning circuitry. Shouting for her companions, only Atton’s voice answering. A bone-shattering impact and then… nothing. Meetra’s chest tightened, panic clawing its way up her throat. “Our shuttle — There were two others with me — What happened to — “

“Slow down, General.” Bao-Dur squeezed her shoulder. The gesture felt surprisingly familiar and Meetra didn’t shy away from it. “Take a breath.” He smirked. “And maybe a look around.”

She stared at him for a moment, then turned from the vista to the land behind her. The shuttle was a few yards away, a long divot in the earth leading from the crash site to where it lay with its nose buried in the dirt. Parts of the fuselage near the cargo doors and the cockpit were stained dark with soot, but Meetra didn’t smell anything burning. She spotted Atton and Kreia next, near where she’d woken, the former’s jacket draped over his chest. Both were unconscious and Kreia’s robes were perhaps a shade darker in places, but they appeared otherwise unharmed. A small collection of their belongings, including Chodo’s canvas bag and hers and Kreia’s weapons, had been gathered in a pile nearby.

Meetra crossed the space quickly, Bao-Dur trailing in her wake, and knelt in between Atton and Kreia, inspecting first one and then the other. “They’re alright; probably took a harder hit than you did. I was a few klicks out when I saw your shuttle come in. Thought it was some of Chodo’s herd, so I got here as quickly as I could - imagine my surprise.” He chuckled, the warm sound soothing some of her fears. “Got the fire down pretty easily, but most of the systems are fried. Between that and the structural damage…” He trailed off with a shrug. “Hope you didn’t plan on getting out the way you came in. Do you remember what happened?”

She shook her head. “Something hit the shuttle. Must have bounced us around pretty good.” More than that, if the dull ache running the length of her body was anything to go by. Meetra carefully lifted Atton’s jacket and tested the straps on his sling. He moaned softly as her inspection jarred his arm, but didn’t wake. “I remember the fire, some shouting, but after that…”

“Could have been a lot worse. You’ve got a hell of a pilot.” Meetra smiled and pulled Atton’s jacket back over him. Bao-Dur was right. By all accounts, they should be dead from the crash, but Atton had come through. She doubted it was the last time she would be thankful she’d released him on Peragus. Unbidden, Bao-Dur’s remote let out a sharp trill. “Fine, fine. I’m Bao-Dur, by the way. My friend thinks it’s a bit rude I didn’t introduce myself under the circumstances.”

“I know.” She saw the flash of hope in his eyes and felt guilty for quashing it with her next words. “Chodo said he worked with you, that you built the shields for the Restoration Zones. Our ship was stolen from Citadel Station and brought here; he said you could help us find it.”

“What kind of ship?”

Freighter, Dynamic-class. Goes by Ebon Hawk.”

He frowned, brow creased in thought. “I can’t say I’ve seen any freighters come through recently. Granted, I haven’t really been in a position to track new arrivals for a while.” He gave a sheepish smile in the face of her confusion. “Better to wait for your friends to wake up — that way I only have to explain once. But don’t worry, General; if your ship’s here, I’ll help you find her.”

“You keep calling me that.” Meetra stood, eyes narrowed and arms folded over her chest. “No one’s called me that since…”

“The wars, yeah.”

“You served?”

“Not with the Republic.” Bao-Dur chuckled and rubbed one of his horns with a thumb. “I was actually part of your regiment. Joined a few years before the end as technician, then an engineer. Thought I would have made more of an impression, honestly, being the only Zabrak.”

She stared at him, rigid posture loosening. “I… I’m so sorry. Everything from then is… hazy.” Except in her nightmares, when it seemed determined to return in horrific and warped detail.

Bao-Dur’s gaze fell and he sighed, the fingers of his prosthetic clenching into a fist. “Don’t push yourself. I’ve tried to put it out of my mind, too... as much as I can, anyway.”

“Why?”

He risked a glance at her face, saw the genuine confusion there. “Because I…” His jaw clenched, the lines of his skin and tattoos tightening around his eyes. “General, I built the Mass Shadow Generator. Designed it to Revan’s exact specifications and fired it on your order.” His voice rose in volume and pitch, the soft warmth replaced with anger and desperation. “I stood on the bridge with you — you looked right at me, the longest you’d ever looked at me, and you nodded. Just once — a single nod… How can you not remember this?!”

Meetra didn’t answer. She stared at Bao-Dur - no, not at him, but through him. For a moment, she was back on the bridge, staring out at the massive battle sprawled above Malachor V’s atmosphere. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, under the weight of the memories. There had been someone with her, but she’d barely taken notice - by the end of the wars, it was easier not to care, to see those under her command as tools rather than people. The figure was fuzzy in her memories, but she remembered nodding — only once, as Bao-Dur said — and outside the ship, the world imploded. Everything after was chaos, a cacophony of sounds and images that was incomprehensible when it was fresh, much less a decade later.

The anguish drained from Bao-Dur as he watched the muted horror play across her face. He sighed and reached out to take her hand in his flesh-and-blood one. “I’m sorry, General; that was unkind of me. Neither of us knew what would happen. Revan kept everyone in the dark.”

“She never told me who built it.” Meetra’s voice was small and soft, the words thick, like she was forcing them out from deep in her chest. Her hand stayed loose in his, but she didn’t pull away. “I — I never asked. I always assumed she… I thought she told me everything, and if she didn’t, it wasn’t important.” She blinked, pulling herself out of the dark memory, and looked back at Bao-Dur. Although her eyes were dry, they burned with regret, a spark of anger at the very center. “There’s nothing I can say to change that. Even apologizing feels pathetic. I should never have let her put you in that position — I should never have put you in that position.”

“I made the choice to join — and I don’t regret that choice” His voice was warm again, but there was a firm edge to it now. “Whatever came after, I try to hold on to that. You should, too, General.” He squeezed her hand and smiled when her fingers curled around his. Meetra’s gaze fell and he followed it back to his cybernetic arm. “Souvenir, of sorts. It happened after the shockwave hit the ship. I remember seeing you fall, following you down, but after that… When I woke up, it was gone. The Republic doctor who did the surgery said it was crushed, probably under something that came loose in the blast. Thankfully, I was unconscious for most of it.”

Meetra slipped her hand free of his and brushed the prosthesis with her fingertips. “You built it yourself.”

“I have high standards.” The spherical droid at his shoulder made an indignant whistle. “And I guess I had a little help.” She laughed and Bao-Dur smiled, the lines around his eyes and mouth crinkling. “You know, I always wondered what that sounded like. Not a lot of fun to be had after I joined.”

“Watching a planet glassed firsthand kind of killed the ‘fun.’” A darkness flickered across her face, just as quickly banished. “How did you end up on Telos and fall in with the Ithorians?”

Bao-Dur was silent for a moment, eyes unfocused as he lost himself in his own memories. “When I woke up, you were gone, too. You and Revan and — ” His voice caught on the third name, much like her thoughts did every time they turned to her former friend — “Malak. The wars were over, and I was alone. Without a purpose. We’d won, but the costs…” He trailed off, and the haunted look in his eyes sent a chill down Meetra’s spine. She was fairly certain she wore the same expression when she thought about the Mandalorian Wars. Bao-Dur swallowed, finding his voice again. “I wanted… needed to do something, to make up for my mistakes. I started drifting, helping out where I could before moving on to the next city, the next planet… and then Revan and Malak returned.”

“And started the Civil War.”

Bao-Dur nodded. “You heard about that.”

“Not at first.” She didn’t like thinking about the years after her exile. Truthfully, she still wasn’t sure how she’d survived the first few — she hadn’t exactly made an effort to stay alive. By the time she’d returned to something resembling her pre-exile self, Revan had made her second return and saved the Republic from Malak’s Sith army. “I only found out recently. Did you… What was she like?”

“No idea.” Bao-Dur shrugged. “I stayed as far out of their path as I could. Didn’t want to be recognized; although, if your reaction is anything to go by, I probably shouldn’t have bothered.” He smiled to show he was teasing her. “By the time everything was done, a lot of refugees didn’t have a home to go back to. Malak had a habit of bombing entire planets. He was very sporting, that way. I caught wind that the Republic had authorized a restoration effort, and Telos was going to be the flagship project. As soon as I heard, I knew this was what I’d been waiting for, so I made my way to Citadel Station and joined up with Chodo and his herd. I had a talent for shield tech and he had a dream.” His smile turned sad. “Almost worked out.”

“‘Almost?’” Meetra waved a hand, indicating the land around them with the expansive gesture. “Looks to me like the idea was a success.”

His expression darkened. “We should have had half the planet covered by now.”

She raised an eyebrow at the anger in his words. “What’s stop— ” A soft groan cut her off, and she and Bao-Dur looked over to see Atton stirring, the whites of his eyes just visible beneath fluttering lids. A sudden panic seized Meetra, her chest tightening. She turned back to Bao-Dur, struggling to keep her alarm in check. “They — ” She paused and glanced back at Kreia. The idea that she had any secrets from the old woman was laughable. “He doesn’t know…”

Bao-Dur glanced from her to Atton and back again. “And you don’t want him to.”

Meetra shook her head. “Most of my friends are dead or missing. I’d prefer not to lose any more, so just ‘Meetra’ from now on, alright?”

He raised a brow, but nodded. “As you wish. Forgive me for saying so, Gen— Meetra, but is he really a friend if you don’t trust him with who you are?”

“Who I was.” She stressed the last word, the syllable slipping through her teeth like a curse. “And I do trust him. He’s fought with me, saved my life more than once… I don’t want him to leave because of what I’ve done.”

Bao-Dur inclined his head. “I’m sorry; that was more than a little hypocritical of me. It’s not as if Chodo knows what part I played in the Mandalorian Wars.”

“It’s alright,” Meetra relented, kneeling down again. “The question isn’t entirely unwarranted.” She pulled Atton’s jacket off of him again and put it to the side before touching his good shoulder. He came awake instantly, gaze finding hers, and for a moment, a flicker of fear and something darker passed behind his eyes. She leaned away, startled, but the shadow was gone before she could seek it out again. Atton blinked at her, as if unsure she were an illusion, then grinned. She returned the smile and held out a hand. “Welcome back.”

“And I was having such a pleasant dream, too.” Atton took her hand and let her pull him to a sitting position, grimacing only a little when the motion tugged his injured arm. He leaned around her to look out at the Telosian surface and his sour look intensified. “You sure we’re awake? This isn’t some shared nightmare?”

Meetra laughed despite herself. “It’s not that bad.”

Atton raised an incredulous eyebrow. “This makes Nar Shaddaa look civilized. At least you can buy drinks.”

“And thanks to your fool’s incompetence, we are stranded here.” Meetra started and turned to find Kreia already on her feet, dusting Telosian soil from the hem of her robes. The old woman’s ability to move without notice was unnerving.

Atton scowled up at her. “My ‘incompetence’ is why you’re still alive and not a pile of ash mixed with ship slag.”

Bao-Dur chuckled, breaking the silence that accompanied Kreia’s withering glare. “Interesting company you keep, Meetra.”

“It would be boring otherwise.” She stood, pulling Atton to his feet as well, and helped him slip his jacket on. “Bao-Dur, Atton Rand and Kreia”

He nodded to first one, then the other. “A pleasure.”

“Yeah, sure.” Atton eyed the Zabrak warily, ignoring Meetra’s frown. “Know anything about that AD tower that took us out? That was a pirate set-up; I thought the Ithorians were running a research project here.”

Bao-Dur’s remote jerked toward his shoulder and whistled, zipping back out of reach when he swiped half-heartedly at it. “Yes, yes, you were right.” He turned back to Meetra and thumbed one of his horns again. “It’s like I said earlier — I haven’t been able to keep track of anything coming to Telos because of Czerka. Chodo probably told you about the obstacles he’s been facing with them.”

“He actually asked us to help him find evidence of it,” Meetra said. “The Ithorians should have enough to bury Czerka now.”

Bao-Dur raised an eyebrow. “Well… that’s good to hear, but the news hasn’t made it down here. To answer your question about the tower: Czerka sent a ‘research’ team to the surface a few weeks ago.” His lips curved in a humorless smile. “Why the company needs so many mercenaries for research, I don’t know. They set up shop in one of the Ithorians’ abandoned compounds, cut off any outside communication, and sent a pursuit team after me when I started nosing around. Luckily, I know the terrain better than a bunch of Nar Shaddaa cast-offs.”

“Yeah, well, even a half-deaf and blind bantha will have heard that.” Atton jerked a thumb at the wrecked shuttle. “The longer we hang around here playing catch up, the sooner Czerka finds us.”

“As much as it pains me, my opinion aligns with the fool’s.” Atton rolled his eyes at Meetra, but otherwise ignored Kreia’s jab. “We are no closer to finding the Ebon Hawk, and we will be less so if we are taken captive.”

“Not necessarily. We can help you find your ship.” Bao-Dur waved a hand to indicate both himself and the remote. “I doubt the mercenaries thought to reset the shield network passcodes, so it’s likely I still have access. If we can get into the compound, I can locate records for any ship passing through the network. That’s the easy part, though.”

Meetra tilted her head. “And the hard part?”

“Besides getting past Czerka’s guards? It’s a bit of a trek from here.” He turned and pointed toward the shimmering water in the distance. “We’ll have to take the long way to avoid any patrols or the pursuit team. Not to mention the wildlife.”

“What ‘wildlife?’” Atton shook his head. “Unless Telos had some bomb-resistant blarrg I’m not aware of, the fauna’s as dead as the rest of this planet.”

“Chodo thought it best to introduce a few herbivore species to keep the new growth in check,” Bao-Dur explained, either ignoring or failing to notice the sarcasm in Atton’s voice. Judging from the smuggler’s sour look, Meetra suspected it was the former. “When their numbers started to get out of hand, the Ithorians’ decided to bring in a predator — cannoks.” Meetra kept her face carefully blank, but couldn’t suppress the shudder that rolled down her spine. An image of the squat little monsters flashed before her — rough, craggy gray skin, thick eyestalks moving independently of each other, and a mouth full of needles. A native of Dxun, they had been the cause of more than a few injuries throughout her regiment. The cannoks’ small size meant they weren’t life-threatening to humanoid species, but those impossibly sharp teeth combined with their tendency to attack anything that moved had made them a formidable nuisance. “Unfortunately, after Czerka forced Chodo and his herd off Telos, they made no attempt to maintain the ecosystem the Ithorians’ put in place. The result: no herbivores, and a large number of very hungry cannoks who will try to catch and eat anything — including us.”

“Great. I’m so thrilled we passed up drinks on Nar Shaddaa for mercs and flesh-eating mon— ” Atton cut off, posture stiffening as his gaze locked on a point behind Meetra. Before she could ask what was wrong, he drew a blaster with his good arm and fired past her in one fluid motion. Meetra flinched away and lifted a hand, the gesture unconscious, the Force surging into a concentrated point, but Bao-Dur caught her arm and gently forced it down.

“Nice shot,” he commended Atton, fingers pressing lightly into Meetra’s arm. “A scout drone — looks like Czerka’s goons are getting smarter. I doubt it was able to transmit much, but you’re right — we should get moving.” He squeezed Meetra’s arm once and released her. Atton holstered his blaster, face carefully neutral, but his eyes held hers, a flicker of uncertainty in their depths. Meetra broke the gaze first, hot shame crawling up the back of her neck. Losing control was embarrassing, especially with her weakened connection to the Force, and the idea of hurting Atton turned her stomach. Avoiding his eyes, she stepped past him and collected their belongings, tossing Kreia her vibrosword before slinging the canvas bag over her shoulders.

“Let’s go.”

Full chapter available on AO3 and FFN.

[livesbeneath]

the end of all things.

pairing: noah x female mc (harley blanco)

summary: it’s three am, and her laugh is in his head. it almost makes him want to live.

word count: 2.8k.

author’s note: i decided to try and revert back to my old epic poem-esque style for this work, and i have to say, i am extremely excited about how it turned out!  this piece has been a labor of love for me, and i really hope you all enjoy a brief journey across canon with a little added perspective from noah and mc.  i wrote this fic mainly while listening to  the end of all things  by panic! at the disco, hence the name. i highly recommend giving the song a listen since it’s gorgeous - and really helps set the mood. i apologize for any grammar / sentence structure issues, as i tried to proofread the best i could, and thank anyone who takes the time to read!  feedback in any form is deeply appreciated!  (and a big thanks to @gayvathewitch for being my first set of eyes <3)

disclaimer: i do not own these characters / some of the dialogue present. creative liberty has been taken to make this story unique, and i do not intend to use it for profit in any way.

whether near or far, i am always yours. any change in  time, we are young again. so lay us down. we’re in love.

i. bravery

She asserted herself as the bravest in the group at age seven. She picked up worms after rainstorms, rode her bike without a helmet, and tried a new vegetable every month. She jumped into the public pool without holding her nose and didn’t wear swim goggles.

Despite being a pup, Harley led the pack. She was destined to grow into her claws.

ii. cowardice

He always looked slightly anxious. He was cautious, moody, protective. He often hid under his covers at night when he heard the wind blow through his window. It was broken, and refused to close all the way.

Noah wasn’t a wolfish young boy. He was more the shadow that hung behind the sun.

iii. third

He decides eight o’clock in the morning is too early to be awake. Noah suppresses a yawn, eyelids drooping. His mom says that he’ll be able to walk to school after he turns twelve. Until then, he’s stuck on the bus.

“Where’s Jane?” Harley asks quizzically, her Monsters Inc. lunchbox sat on her lap. The two girls always sat together. Noah usually took the seat across the aisle from them - but today it had been claimed by Grant Warner, and he was a fifth grader.

“She has a fever.” He frowns as he stares at the empty space beside her. “Can I sit?”

“I don’t know-” she grins, pulling on one of her own pigtails. “Can you? Do you know how to sit, Noah?”

“Shut up.” he grumbles as he plops down. She knows he doesn’t mean it, and that only makes her giggle harder. The sound makes him want to shove her lunch onto the floor. That is, until he hears his mother’s voice in the back of his head.

You know, boys only pick on girls if they like them, Noah.

Frowning to himself, he sinks lower into the seat, not bothering to shrug his backpack off his shoulders. Her voice was too loud for such an early morning.

“Are you nervous?” she answers before he can even take a breath. “I’m not nervous. I can’t wait to tell Jane all about it!”

“Third grade is gonna be just like second grade, y’know.”

Her spirit is seemingly indomitable, as she simply cheers in response. Her second grade year was a blast - and his was filled with butterflies. Annoying butterflies.

Butterflies he’d like to squish.

iv. sleepover

Mrs. Marshall had packed her children a travel-sized bag of cheesyfish, their own separate flavored toothpastes, and mismatched pairs of socks. She didn’t stop at the front door of Harley’s house to see her children off. Her migraines were getting worse - and a quiet night free of her kids was just what the doctor ordered.

Noah was shocked when Harley’s father answered the door. He didn’t see her parents much. In fact, he was pretty sure they were supposed to be in Boston on business in a week.

Immediately, the twins were whisked to the backyard where the rest of their friends were waiting. Andy was ripping clumps of grass out of the ground and throwing them at Lucas, which was highly amusing to the other children.

“Harley!” Jane says from beside him, a sly smile on her face. “Tell Noah to stop being such a big baby about Mr. Red.”

Harley’s mouth forms an o-shape, her eyebrows raising. “You don’t want to go play with Mr. Red tonight?”

“I’m not a baby! I just think - what if your parents see we aren’t here?”

“That’s why we have a tent, silly! And blankets and pillows to make props! We know Mr. Red can’t really play with us in the light.”

He bites his lip. “It’s gonna be really dark.”

“We can bring flashlights!” Harley smiles. “Or, we can stay here. I want to go to help protect everyone, but you remember the playtime rule, don’t you?”

A few feet away, Jane breaks a twig in half with a clean snap!

“Everyone plays together!”

v. whispers

Her first mistake was not making it to the gym early. If she had, maybe she could have snagged a seat at the top of the bleachers, somewhere high up, a corner against the wall where no one would bother her.

She’s all too aware of his lazy eyes. Tired as they may be, they burn into her back as she stands there like an idiot, contemplating a daring escape out the closest exit.

“Hey, Harley! Sit your stupid ass down unless you wanna watch from the garbage can!”

To her chagrin, Noah makes no move to assist her as she stands there. She doesn’t expect him to, but it would have been the most efficient way to make Cody shut his mouth.

“Hello? You’re blocking our view, and there’s a spot right there!” Jocelyn blurts, waving a hand towards the only seat left open in the whole place.

She exhales before turning at a snail’s pace to meet Noah’s eyes. He sits there expectantly, and Harley assumes that he already knows his answer to her question before she’s even asked it. Swallowing her pride, she offers him a reluctant smile. “Hey, Noah. Do you mind if I…?”

Can you? Do you know how to sit, Harley?

“Knock yourself out.”

He takes his time scooting to the side. Harley shoots Cody and Jocelyn one last glare before stepping up and squeezing beside Noah, crossing her arms across her chest as she plants her feet firmly on the platform below. Any attempts at small talk will be futile, and yet-

“So… what’s been up with you? We haven’t really talked since…”

His voice is a flatline. He shifts uncomfortably in his spot. “Yeah, I know.”

Harley shakes her head slightly as she glances around, her eyes not exactly focusing in on anything, not even Lucas as he approaches center floor to begin the assembly. The gymnasium rumbles around them as the students welcome their class president. Both stay still, letting the vibrations from over a hundred feet stomping madly drown out the rumbles of awkwardness situated in their stomachs.

They fall into a steeled, not-quite conversation. Occasional jabs at Lucas’ discovery of hair gel and Stacy’s cheermates inch them closer and closer to dismissal. After the bell, they’ll hopefully never have to do this again.

“Why do people like her so much?” Harley huffs offhandedly, eyeing Britney in the sea of pom poms before them. “They’ve got to know how horrible she is.”

“And?” Noah begins. “She’s hot and she can do flips. We can’t compete with that.”

She turns to look at him, a curious half-smile on her face as he shrugs. It’s somewhat comforting to know that they remain similar despite the ten years of radio silence between them.

It isn’t the same with everyone else, though. Some of them are still stuck in the gutter of the social pyramid, some of them seemingly free from it, parading around the gym like they own it.

“Huh. Andy actually made the team this year.”

Harley can’t help but grin at that. “Good for him! I can’t wait to see him play.”

Noah yawns as the basketball team captain takes the podium, his speech a carbon copy of every other student-written rallying cry, right down to the obnoxious Westchester Wolves howl.

However, one element manages to catch them both off guard: the flickering of the gymnasium lights.

Then, a plea from Lucas to stay seated. A microphone full of feedback. A broken stereo system.

With a loud BANG!, the doors of the gym fly open, and the lights flicker back on.

She feels a hand clamp around her arm. A shiver up her spine.

“God! What are you-”

He speaks with a frightening concern. “Shut up! Do you hear that!?”

“Hear what?”

“Ssssshhhh!”

The music sputters and dies as the lights shut off completely. A voice, completely alien and horribly familiar.

A whisper.

“Everyone… plays… together.”

vi. resurgence

They all started spending time together, but only out of obligation. It wasn’t as if cops could just arrest Redfield.

She understands Noah’s anger, but it doesn’t make the sight of his face twisted in rage any easier to see. It’s a constant reminder that maybe they could have spared themselves years of loneliness if one of them had been tough enough to speak up.

Harley wasn’t going to stand back anymore. Not after the assembly. Not after finding Dan. Not after what he had told her in the hardware store.

“Mom blames me, y’know. For Jane… and for dad leaving right after.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is. She’s said it to my face. Regularly, actually.”

It’s moments like that, like him looking so paralyzed when a monster charges at him, which spark up remembrance in her. They not only make her realize how much she’s missed him, but how much she’s always wanted to be there for him. To protect him. Something about him ignites the hero in her.

She finds where he sits at lunch and plops down.

He wonders why she didn’t ask before doing so.

vii. effortless

The cobblestone around Britney’s pool proved to be terribly unkind to any kind of shoe that required balance to walk in. Decked out in gold and heels, an ensemble that was a giant leap from her normal bomber jacket, it almost made Harley wish that she hadn’t agreed to take a walk with him.

Almost.

Jocelyn’s laugh and the rest of the party fades out behind them as they reach the edge of the backyard, the gentle lapping of the pool water calming Harley’s nerves.

She feels the urge to reach down her throat and rip her heart from her chest in an attempt to silence it. From the moment she had seen him in his natural habitat, gracelessly tossing potato chips into the pool, her heartbeat had been on the fritz.

Nevertheless, she appears just as collected as ever, even as the two of them share a grin. She takes note of how much lighter he looks when he does so.

“So I gotta ask-” she begins. “Why’d you decide to come tonight.”

He looks her over subtly. His hands begin to sweat. “It’s dumb.”

“I bet it’s not! What if I tell you something dumb?”

“Depends on what you got.”

She runs through multiple replies in her mind. There’s “I think you look nice with your hair long”, along with “I felt my stomach lurch when you laughed earlier”. There’s also-

“I got points off my language arts homework because I misspelled orange.”

His lips turn upward, and he doesn’t work to suppress a chuckle. “You mean the most phonetically sound word in the English language?”

“See? Now that was dumb.” she watches him shake his head, taking a breath.

“I came because…”

Because you would be here. Because she made things a bit easier to bear. “Well, being with your friends in a place you hate is still better than being alone, right?”

He drifts from her in that moment, the grill a few feet away giving him something more stable to think about. She approaches - relentless as always - a smile on her face. He wishes he could be so easygoing.

She speaks so easily, and he doesn’t think she realizes the impact of the stuff she says. Noah doesn’t know what it is about her that makes her so much easier to talk to. So easy to snap at, and then confide in seconds later. He knows she deserves better than his polar opposites. She would have a much better time playing spin the bottle with Stacy’s brother.

And yet, she doesn’t go. Not when he digs up skeletons from his past, not when he mentions his wishes for the future. He barely realizes he’s talking about Baby Jane’s, something that he’s never mentioned away from pen and paper, until the words leave his mouth. Until she happily asks “Will you let me be a waitress at Baby Jane’s someday?”

Something about it is so effortless. Something about them is so…

“Now, what do you say we go back to the party? See if Britney has any hot dogs?”

He shakes his head as music begins to blare from the house. “You go ahead. I like how quiet it is over here.”

Harley’s face practically glows as she recognizes the song playing, and she turns back to him, enthusiastically sticking her arm out. “Are you sure? Come on, come dance with me!”

“Hey, I bet Andy would dance with you.” he can’t help but smile, pointedly trying to ignore the adorable way she bobs along to the bass.

Instead of replying, Harley decides to kick off her heels, one of them landing in the pool as she goes. She shakes out her hair, brunette tresses falling over her shoulders and down her back, moving from side to side as she begins to groove along with the sound.

Laughing, she extends both her arms, making grabby hands at him and calling out. “But it’s fun! And it’s Franz Ferdinand! You know Take Me Out, right?”

He doesn’t bother to recall if he knows the song or not, and smiles as he playfully waves her away, standing only to go and fish her shoe out of the water.

Sticking out her tongue, hips swaying, she turns and dances off to where Andy is sitting.

He watches her go, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he marvels at just how plucky she is.

Some things never change.

viii. reverse

He made a bold move of his own a few days later, bell ringing overhead as he showed up unannounced, joining her for all things coffee and Redfield related. She had initially been alone, probably for a reason, as it jostled him to see her so worked up.

After a particularly tense session of rehashing the past, the sound of her pencil furiously scribbling away in her notebook dedicated to Mr. Red is the only thing between them. He shuffles his feet as he sees her violently wipe tears of frustration from her eyes. A sickness pools into his chest as he realizes how much of this she’s taking on by herself  -  and in that, he sees his own reflection.

“I don’t know what to do.” she huffs, dropping her pencil to tug on her hair.

Unwilling to hash out the future in its entirety, his hand grazes hers before pulling away. Instead of something to hold, he gives her a small smile.

“If all else fails, you can always wait tables. Baby Jane’s is gonna need staff members.”

It’s a nice thought.

ix. sidestep

The night was young as the teens celebrated their victory. After spending what seemed like years fearing every shadow that fell beside them, the strobe lights at homecoming seemed almost too good to be true.

Noah drifts off to the side as a slow song begins, feeling his stomach begin to churn as the clock keeps ticking. No matter how he tries, he can’t will the hands to move any faster.

Harley also feels sick, but mainly because she’s just polished off her fourth cup of punch in fifteen minutes. That, and the fact that they’re the only two who haven’t found someone to dance with.

Neither of them work up the courage to make a move.

Maybe he could have if he didn’t know what was coming.

x. betrayal

What was coming could only be better than what had gone.

He tells himself this as he watches her, dress ruined, drenched in Cora Pritchard’s blood and riddled with tears, leave the dogs to deal with the horde closing in on the ruins. This is what they - what he - had to do.

This only makes him sicker as he leads her inside. No amount of hope will ever dull the knife in his pocket. The way he feels about her only makes it sharper, only makes it more painful as she grapples with it against her throat. He thinks it remarkable how valiantly she fights. She thinks it horrific how this is when he finally decides to grow some balls.

Her survival instincts briefly overtake her heart. “Noah, you traitor! Let go of me! If Redfield has hurt any of our friends, I swear-”

The venom in her voice shatters him inside, but he keeps his focus on his sister, on how sweet it will be to finally free her.

He thinks of how when he dies, he won’t ever feel the pain of hurting those he loves again.

xi. together

But as always, she has a plan of her own.

When there is no one left but the two of them, both staring confoundedly at the puff of smoke that was once Redfield, her mind begins to race.

Harley watches his feet drag across the floor as he approaches her, his appearance that of a boy dissolved by his own actions. Noah wants nothing more than to dissipate. He wants nothing more than to make things right. To be brave for once.

Unfortunately, bravery is all she has left.

xi. bravery

So, she sacrifices herself.

xii. cowardice

And as for him?

He runs.

in these coming years, many things will change. but the way  i feel will remain the same. so lay us down. we’re in love.

[lvllabiies]

⁠— CASTLETOWN:TASK002 ; CHANGES / PERSON V. PLACE

⁠— PERSON . Zelda doesn’t remain entirely similar due to the memories of her past life being wiped away from her , but there are certainly strong inklings. For one , she still retains her scholarly intelligence as well as a pressure to succeed , but the circumstances behind both of these traits are entirely different. Zelda is motivated to research & gain knowledge through an act of rebellion & wanting to prove herself rather than trying to aid the prevention of a calamity. This pressure is more so brought on by herself than others , but this may not be as different from her past life during the era of the Wild at all , considering it’s Zelda that beats herself up the most about unlocking her divine abilities. This mirrors how she’s currently trying to gain as much knowledge on the government as possible to gain answers , yet she’s horrified that all of her work is going to be for nothing - like previously. But she although she’s noted to be very independent in Ocarina of Time & Breath of the Wild , this manifests into more of a rebellious streak in her post-takeover life ; now , she’s more inclined to fight the system because her new life’s past is one where she felt the need to live up to stuffy expectations and lock herself away to please others. Now , she feels the need to fight back - it mirrors her personality as a pirate in the era of Wind , but it’s a different take on the princess taking matters into her own hands like she’s done in multiple adventures. If anything , Castle Town amplifies and twists her traits , but does not entirely change them.

⁠— PERSON . Dimitri changes without his memories in the fact that he cannot remember the multiple traumas & disasters he has faced , therefore not having the weight of survivor’s guilty pulling him down and influencing his way of thinking. He does not remember the events that altered who he was in the past - Duscur & the reveal of the Flame Emperor especially , but he does also not remember the war itself. This means that while Dimitri doesn’t remember the incidents that emotionally broke him , he cannot remember the values that he learned on the road to recovery. So , this sort of brings Dimitri back to who he was before the events of the game - a kind , polite , and naive young man who wants to believe in the good of people rather than hold onto cynicism. Though , it is to say that he is slowly uncovering his memories through nightmares that are leaving more of an impact on him as they grow longer , and he is left scared and confused in the morning as he processes these events. He will slowly begin to uncover each stage of his life in the Azure Moon route , and the events will stick like they did before - only now , he’ll be able to recognize he’s seeing them all over again , and he’ll slowly have to put the pieces of this complicated puzzle to remember as both the horrors and graces of his pre-takeover life return to him. It’s almost as if his life in Castle Town takes him back to the beginning before he relives a journey he’s long forgotten.

— PLACE . Ferdinand survived the takeover in the fact he’d technically already been killed when the time it rolled around , and yes , it’s still taking some getting used to in the idea that he’s no longer in Fodlan and yes , there’s no war - but it’s still not home. There’s a double-edged sword to being in Castle Town as opposed to the land where he hails from - yes , Castle Town is happier and it’s not torn by the misgivings & tragedies of battle. Nobody is separated due to their stance or affiliation - and Ferdinand’s actually grateful that there’s a place where everyone is safe and happy. But then , there’s not many that truly remember who they are in Castle Town , which makes Ferdinand’s heart sink - though again , why would they want to ?? War is cruel and unkind and brutal - why would anyone want to remember that ?? It upsets Ferdinand that he’s essentially lost all of the important bonds he made back home - and while Castle Town reminds him of the happier days he had at the monastery , it doesn’t do him well to think if it’s better they all came here , or worse. But he often internally calls himself selfish for even thinking the latter - since yes , he misses everyone else , but he’s not worth reminding everyone of the horrors they faced back home. He just wants someone to remember him , but he knows maybe that they don’t is for the better. He’s conflicted.

— PLACE . Cereza is honestly , of all of the characters listed on this post , the one who really could care the least about the circumstances in Castle Town. She remembers who she is , and honestly the most of her concerns is trying to find a way to get comfortable in the life she has here. She likes the idea of not having to be harassed by angels every hour , and she has a decent life here opposed to the one she used to have - although , she should’ve known in any life , she lives glamorously. What perhaps troubles her the most , perhaps , is that the fact that apparently her life here had connections and a history prior to her waking up in Castle Town. It’s going to be difficult to get used to all of those connections and essentially learning how to live as someone who is still her , but isn’t. She isn’t actually upset about anything , though - again , Cereza couldn’t care less. She’ll flow with it. 

— PERSON . So Ada doesn’t have all of the events of the RE series in her memory , so her identity as a spy is taken away from her - but similar in the case of Zelda , that cunning & cool side of her has manifested in a different way in Castle Town. Given , of course , that essentially Ada’s lying about her identity to inherit a fortune that isn’t even hers , as well as doing deals with the mafia in order to preserve a legacy she isn’t supposed to have her hands on. Of course , as she would in her past life , Ada’s motives for doing these are entirely for her own benefit , and she is slowly beginning to harbor an attachment to the people in Castle Town and the Delmare - whereas in her past life , she’d have to put aside such for a mission unless she could get away with letting them in ( ex. not allowing Leon to die in RE4 while still getting in good favor with the company she’s working for. ) So , one could say Castle Town has given Ada a little more wiggle room to recognize her own feelings and attachments outside of work , but maybe this is due to the fact that inklings of her feelings from her past life still seep through , and she’s able to pursue them now where it was a bit more difficult to do so pre-takeover.

— PERSON . Lucina’s memories of the war & losing her parents to Risen has definitely erased the tragedy she’s experienced in Castle Town , definitely making her less battle smart & jaded - at first glance. Instead , she’s now exchanged battle smarts for street smarts & her grimness has returned more so in the loss of her CT father. As well , one can as well see that the absence of the other children in Awakening has also turned Lucina way more independent ( which is say much , considering Lucina already was widely self-reliant in Awakening given that it’s not mandatory to recruit the other children ) , and she can’t remember the idea of bonds giving her strength like she used to pre-takeover. Since , of course , that’s literally a quote of hers. Lucina , or Lucy , is convinced that she will only be able to rely on herself and only herself in Castle Town , which in turn has made her more closed off and aloof than she was in Ylisse. She still is caring , gentle , and well-meaning , but she’s less likely to seek out bonding with others and forming connections since she’s so focused on taking care of herself and surviving and achieving her own goals. She doesn’t realize that doing so could help her , and she doesn’t pay it much mind. She’s definitely more of a lone wolf since waking up in Castle Town.

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke: Lovers In A Dangerous Time

FENRIS THE INQUISITOR OFFICIALLY BEGINS. For @dadrunkwriting​ Friday!

Tiny little bit of smut here. 

Read on AO3 instead (~4900 words). 

*********************

Fenris padded silently through the woods. The air was fresh and cool with rain, and it was something of a relief; it had been an unusually dry spring on the island of Alamar, and the dampness of the leaves and grass beneath his bare feet was something of a relief.

He slowed as he approached a dilapidated cabin tucked into a small clearing. He removed his gloves, then pressed one lyrium-lined palm to the door.

He waited until he heard the soft snick of the magical lock, then pushed open the door and stepped inside. His gaze darted around the small cabin until he found her seated on the threadbare carpet in front of the fire, with her mabari sleeping at her side.

His shoulders loosened slightly, and he pushed back his hood. “There was no more of that sweetened bread you like,” he said. “But I fetched the post.”

Hawke looked up from the scarlet kerchief and needle in her hands. “Damn,” she said. “Well, that’s all right. I can go next week.”

Fenris shook his head as he hung his damp cloak by the fireplace. “No need. I will go.”

Hawke raised one eyebrow at him as she continued her embroidery. “You know I’m perfectly capable of going to town to run errands, right?”

“I did not say you weren’t.” Fenris placed the letters on the small table, then settled himself beside her on the carpet.

She smiled at him, then shifted close and kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s go together, then,” she murmured. “I want some of Gregor’s orange ice cream.”

Fenris pursed his lips. “It’s too cold for ice cream.”

Hawke laughed and bumped him with her shoulder. “What kind of fool are you? It’s never too cold for ice cream.” She finished another delicate stitch on the kerchief.

Fenris nibbled the inside of his cheek. He had a suspicion about the owner of the confectionery in Amaranthine, but he knew Hawke wasn’t going to like it.

Finally he sighed. “Hawke… I’m fairly certain Gregor knows who you are.”

She frowned. “How could he? I’m fairly sure the last time I used magic was when I enchanted the front door.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But… I believe he knows. He made a remark that concerns me.” Gregor had been as friendly as usual when Fenris has passed by the confectionery this afternoon, but he’d made a comment about “you and the missus come ‘ere from Kirkwall” when Fenris knew for a fact that they hadn’t told anyone they’d lived in Kirkwall three years ago.

Hawke’s frown deepened further. Then she shrugged dismissively. “Well, if he does, he doesn’t seem to care. He hasn’t called any Templars in the seven months we’ve been living here.”

“He doesn’t know where we live,” Fenris reasoned. “And we go into town so irregularly, he wouldn’t know when -”

“Fenris.” She reached up and stroked his chin with her thumb. “Everyone isn’t a threat. They can’t be, or else we’d both be dead.” She dropped her hand and her gaze back to the kerchief in her lap. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry so much.”

He gazed at her with an uncomfortable mix of irritation and affection. She made it sound so easy, as though he could just shut off the constant low-level anxiety that hounded his heels as surely as the Chantry was still hounding hers. Besides, he knew Hawke wasn’t as calm as she always pretended to be. He wasn’t the only one who was always just a little bit… worried.

It would be unkind to say so, however, and Fenris was loathe to pick a fight over something so seemingly innocuous as a maker of ice cream. He would just have to be extra cautious around Gregor, that was all. And he certainly wouldn’t be allowing Hawke to go to Amaranthine by herself next week.

He watched for a while as she continued her careful stitching. “Would you like me to read the post to you?” he asked.

Her frown instantly cleared, and she grinned at him. “Ooh, yes. You know I could listen to that voice of yours all day.”

He smirked at her lascivious tone, then rose to his feet and fetched the letters, all of which were simply addressed to ‘Leto’. He ripped open the first one as he sat beside her on the carpet. “All right. This first one is from Isabela.”

Hawke perked up. “That saucy bitch. Let’s hear it. I hope she’s been doing exciting things without us.”

Fenris hummed an acknowledgement, then read the letter to her. It seemed that Isabela had contracted a particularly interesting disease during her raids on the Rialto Bay, and that she would have liked their ‘most purr-fect friend’s particular healing skills’.

Hawke cackled at this. “Nasty tart,” she said fondly. “I bet she spread that disease to her crew as well. I’m glad I never got anything from her.”

“As am I,” Fenris drawled as he opened the second letter. His eyebrows rose as he took in the signature. “This one is from Stroud.”

“Oh. Shit,” Hawke said, her manner instantly shifting from sunny to serious. “When did we last hear from him? Ten months ago? Eleven?”

“Over a year now,” Fenris said.

Hawke raised her eyebrows, then ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair. “Damn. All right. Um… all right, let’s hear it.”

She was right to be concerned; the contents of the letter were ominous. When they’d last seen Stroud, he’d agreed to help Hawke and Varric learn more about red lyrium and its insidious properties, but the letter mentioned nothing of that. Instead, Stroud had written that he had to go to Weisshaupt immediately to speak with his commander, a mage named Clarel. The terse letter ended with a promise to contact Hawke again when he had further news to share.

By the time Fenris had finished reading the letter, Hawke’s forehead was creased with worry. “Fuck. That does not sound good,” she muttered. She silently worked a few more stitches into her kerchief before lifting her gaze to Fenris’s face. “He didn't mention red lyrium at all. What are Warden friends for if they can’t look into your business for you while you lounge in a cabin in the woods?”

Fenris gently squeezed her arm, but he wasn’t sure how to comfort her. The oddly brusque letter from Stroud followed an increasingly ominous trickle of news that was making its way to Fenris’s ears during their infrequent trips to Amaranthine: news about the civil war in Orlais, including an entire alienage being massacred in Halamshiral, as well as the ongoing strife between mages and Templars and some very disturbing rumours about the Templars splitting off from the Chantry altogether. At least things in Kirkwall had been relatively stable when they’d last heard from Aveline a few weeks ago.

To that end, the final letter was one that would hopefully cheer Hawke up. Fenris began to tear it open. “This one is from Varric,” he told her. “Shall I…?”

Hawke nodded. “Yes please. But first, I’m finally finished with this thing…” She trailed off as she snipped a loose thread from her embroidery, then rolled the kerchief into a narrow band and held out her hand expectantly.

Fenris smiled and extended his right arm. With a few deft movements, Hawke tied the kerchief around his wrist.

He rotated the kerchief and read the message she’d embroidered: Rynne Hawke was here.

Fenris huffed in amusement. “That’s very romantic, Hawke. You have my thanks.”

She snickered, then rolled back the edge of the scarf. “This part is for your eyes only.”

He peered at the message she’d sewn into the underside of the scarf, which lay flush against his wrist.

I am yours, forever and a day. - RH xoxo

He looked up and met her warm amber eyes. “You stole the words from my mouth,” he murmured.

She grinned slowly at him and slid closer until she was sitting in his lap. “Well, you stole my heart with your bloody warrior’s hands,” she retorted. “Fair’s fair.”

He grinned back at her and stroked her cheek. “I suppose you are correct,” he whispered, and he kissed her raspberry-red lips.

She slid her arms around his neck as they kissed, and Fenris relaxed into the fleeting sweetness of the moment. The crackling of the fire and Toby’s snuffling snores were familiar and soothing sounds, and with his eyes blissfully closed, he could almost imagine that they were back in Hawke’s mansion in Kirkwall.

She gently broke their kiss and nuzzled his cheek. “You’re a funny one,” she whispered.

“How so?” he asked.

She stroked the kerchief on his wrist. “This whole scarf thing,” she said. “Always wanting a new one when the old one gets frayed.”

He huffed softly. “You have your ring, I have my scarves.” He rubbed the ruby-and-onyx ring that adorned her left hand.

“That’s true,” she breathed. Then she kissed him again.

A few minutes later, she breathed a happy little sigh against his cheek. “Are you ready to read me that letter from my favourite dwarf?”

He nodded, and Hawke shifted in his lap so he could tear the letter open and read it out loud.

His stomach instantly dropped at Varric’s first line.

Leto,

Bad news. That Seeker woman, Cassandra Pentaghast, came back to Kirkwall. She’s asking questions again; maybe she just likes hearing my charming voice. Also said something about the Templars leaving the Chantry and ‘peace talks’ between the mages and the Templars. She wants me to talk to Divine Justinia, if you can believe it. So it looks like I’m going on a little cross-country trip to the Frostback Mountains, and you know how much I love trips to the mountains.

Shit is getting weird. Stay where you are and keep your heads down. I’ll be fine. I’ve talked myself out of worse scrapes than this.

 - V. T.

P.S. You think the Divine is a fan? Maybe a signed copy of ‘Swords and Shields’ will butter her up.

Hawke’s fingers were biting into Fenris’s arm by the time he finished reading the letter. “Maker’s fucking balls,” she said. Her eyes were huge when they found his face. “He’s being taken to talk to the Divine? What does that mean? Is he under arrest? Is it because of the whole Chantry-blowing-up thing? But they can’t arrest him, the only stupid things he ever did were because I made him do them!” She pushed herself to her feet and began pacing around the cabin.

Toby sat up, awakened and alarmed by her sudden movement, and Fenris rose to his feet as Hawke continued to pace. “What do Seekers even do, anyway?” she demanded. “They’re worse than the Templars, right? They come around when the Templars haven’t been strict enough. That’s why they went to talk to Varric the first time. So that’s… that’s bad, right? That can only mean something bad.”

Fenris took Hawke’s hands and pulled her to a stop. “Hawke -”

“We have to go help him,” she interrupted. “He - Varric’s only - he was a bystander,” she said. “All of you were just bystanders. You didn’t do anything. It was all me. Anders wouldn’t have - I should have known he would blow up the Chantry, I could have stopped him. And Varric -”

“Hawke, stop,” Fenris said sharply. “We have been over this countless times. Anders’s stupidity was not your fault.”

“But Varric being there was my fault,” she insisted. “He only ever got into trouble because of me.” She pulled one hand from his grip and scratched absently at her left-side ribs. “They can’t arrest him. I won’t let them.”

Fenris gently pulled her hand away from her side. Now was probably not the time to remind her how many times their erstwhile band of misfits - including Fenris himself - had dragged her into trouble. “Varric said to stay hidden,” he said. “He has always wanted you to stay hidden and safe.”

“Oh, fuck that,” she exclaimed. “Varric has spent years lying for me. I’m not going to let him get thrown into Chantry jail as well.” She pulled her hand away from him walked over to the bed. “What is Chantry jail even like? I bet they force you to pray all the time. Maybe they make you lick the feet of all the Andraste statues.” She crouched beside the bed and reached under it.

Fenris fell to his knees and grabbed her wrist before she could lift the loose floorboard and pull out her staff. “Don’t,” he said sharply. “We can’t just go chasing after him. It’s not safe.”

“Fenris, nowhere is safe,” Hawke said. “We’ve been hiding like rats for years. We might as well go and save Varric for all the good this hiding has been worth.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You just told me five minutes ago to stop worrying because everything is fine. Is that not what you said?”

She wrested her wrist from his grip. “That was before I knew Varric needed help!” she yelled.

Fenris sat back on his heels and silently eyed her angry face. After a few tense heartbeats, her expression softened, and she shuffled closer to him and squeezed his thigh. “Fenris, please. We have to go find Varric. What if something happens to him while we just sit here on our asses twiddling our thumbs? We can’t wait for news. I can’t.”

She was scratching again at her left-side ribs. Fenris pried her fingers away from her side once more. “Hawke,” he said quietly, “Varric and I spoke about this. He knew this might happen. He doesn’t want you getting involved -”

“You spoke about this?” she said sharply. “What do you mean?”

Fenris sighed. She wasn’t going to like this. “The first time that Seeker went to talk to him, Varric thought it was odd when she left him in Kirkwall with no repercussions. He suspected she might come back someday. We agreed that it would be best if-”

“You agreed?” Hawke said. She leaned away from him and folded her arms. “Since when do you decide what’s best for me? Who am I, my mother sitting in the mansion while I run around doing all her bloody-”

“No,” Fenris interrupted. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” His temper was starting to rise along with her voice, and he had to fight to keep his tone calm as he spoke. “You have a difficult time sitting out. And… you are impulsive. You act without thinking. But the risks in this case are too great.”

“This isn’t me wanting to do some clever prank involving cats and pants, Fenris,” she snapped. She pushed herself to her feet and glared down at him. “This could be Varric’s life on the line!”

“You don’t know that,” Fenris retorted as he rose to his feet.

“Neither do you!” she yelled. “What if those Seekers torture him for information or something? You don’t know what they’re capable of! This Cassandra Pentaghast person sounds like a real piece of work from what Varric’s letters said. I think the risks to him are greater than the risks to us.”

“And how would you know?” Fenris demanded.

Hawke slumped in exasperation. “What are you talking about?”

Fenris folded his arms. “How would you know what the risks are? You have been pulling the wool over your own eyes for years. You act as though every person we dare to talk to isn’t a possible bounty hunter for the Chantry. That every night we spend in the same place doesn’t pose a risk of discovery. It is a farce, Hawke,” he shouted. “You cannot fathom the number of times I have guided us away from prying eyes that would sell you out for the pleasure of seeing the mage-loving Champion of Kirkwall burned!”

The tiny cabin was ringing with the echoes of his voice. He breathed hard through his nose as he took in her expression.

Her face was pale, and her eyes were huge and hurt. “You’re just being paranoid,” she said quietly.

She sounded uncertain. Fenris’s frustration was instantly softened by a wash of guilt. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Hawke…”

She shook her head and backed away from him, then walked over to the fireplace and lifted his cloak from its hook.

He frowned as donned the cloak. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” she said. “For a walk in the woods. I can do that much on my own, can’t I?” Without waiting for a response, she pulled up the hood, then walked out and slammed the door behind her.

Fenris glared at the door, then sat on the carpet in front of the fire. “She’d better be back in five minutes,” he said threateningly to Toby. If she wasn’t, he would go out after her.

Toby leaned against his side and whined softly, and Fenris scowled at the big mabari. “You know I am right,” he said haughtily. “She is incautious and rash. But this is a delicate situation. We cannot go plowing in like a bronto in a pottery shop.”

Toby whimpered once more and licked his hand. Fenris twisted his lips in annoyance, then sighed. He understood Hawke’s concerns; he could see the danger Varric was in just as much as she could, and he was not immune to the fear for their friend’s wellbeing. But Varric’s letter was proof that Hawke was still being hunted, perhaps just as fiercely as when Anders had first demolished the Kirkwall Chantry.

He ran his fingers through his hair. He had good reasons for wanting to keep Hawke out of danger, the most selfish of them being that he couldn’t bear the thought of living without her if the worst should come to pass. But the sight of her scratching her left side, the side where her tattoo twined and twisted from her ribs up to her shoulder blade and back, a constant reminder of every person she blamed herself for losing or unwittingly driving away…  

He sighed once more, then wrinkled his nose at Toby. “There is no need to look so smug,” he informed the hound.

Toby wagged his tail and gave a tiny woof.

Fenris frowned for a moment longer, then pushed himself to his feet. But before he could reach for the door, the magical lock clicked.

Hawke pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her rain-dampened shoulders were hunched, and she looked very contrite. “Fenris, I’m sor-”

“We will go to help Varric,” Fenris said.

She stopped mid-speech and gaped at him. Then Fenris stumbled back as she flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She buried her face in his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whimpered. “Thank you, thank you, Fenris, thank you-”

He shook his head, even as he hugged her in return. “We must be careful,” he told her fiercely. “We can’t just run off right this instant. We must at least try to have a plan.”

“Of course we will! Plans are my specialty,” she quipped.

He pulled away from her and cupped her face in his hands. “I am serious, Hawke. I can’t bear the thought of you being captured. I need you to promise me you’ll follow my lead.”

Her smile faded slightly as she gazed back at him. “You’re… you’re serious about this. Am I really that bad?”

He stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Please, Rynne. Just promise me.”

She frowned, but finally she nodded her head. “All right, fine. Whatever you say.” Then her signature cheeky smirk lifted the corner of her lips. “If you’re being the boss, does that mean you’ll use your bossy voice with me? You know how much I love -”

“Shut up, Hawke,” he drawled.

She laughed brightly, then hopped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. Moments later, they were on the bed, and Hawke was simultaneously fighting to remove her cloak while fumbling at the laces of Fenris’s trousers.

He broke away from her ravenous kiss. “We need to plan this out,” he said severely. “It would be best if we avoid Amaranthine on our way to the Frostback Mountains. And we absolutely cannot pass through Lothering, you’ll be recognized -”

She slid her hand beneath his shirt and lightly stroked his nipple. “Whatever you want,” she breathed. “We can do whatever you want starting tomorrow. But for now, just give me this.”

Fenris bit his lip as her hand slid down his abdomen. He understood her motives all too well: she never needed an excuse for sex, especially not in the wake of an argument. But this was also her preferred method of wiping away her worries about what was to come, even if it was just a temporary reprieve.

But he shouldn’t indulge this right now, not if she wanted to get moving on short notice. They needed to plan their route, and they would need to pack for a long and difficult journey, and they would need to purge this place of any signs of their presence when they left -

Hawke slipped her fingers into his trousers and stroked his cock, and Fenris fell back onto the mattress. “Fine,” he groaned. “I’ll do as you like. For now.”

She grinned at his forbidding tone, then hauled his trousers down and took his cock into her mouth, and Fenris lifted his hips with a gasp of pleasure. If Hawke wanted to forget their troubles for a short but blissful hour, he supposed he could allow it.

Perhaps this would allow him to forget their troubles as well.

**************************

One month later…

“No.”

“Hawke-”

“Fenris, no. I’m not staying here while you go off without me, it’ll take hours for you to scope out this stupid Conclave thing and come back!”

“You cannot come,” Fenris declared. “They are searching for you. You cannot risk getting any closer to this lion’s den.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, and Fenris grabbed her arms. “You promised me, Hawke,” he hissed. “You said you would do as I asked. This is what I am asking of you: stay here, and stay hidden. I will return in two hours.”

“And what if you don’t?” she hissed in return. “What am I supposed to do then?”

“Run,” Fenris said simply.

She stared at him for a second, then shoved him lightly in the chest. “You’re fucking joking. You must be. You think I would run away and leave you? I swear, Fenris, if something happens to you -”

He tilted her chin up and kissed her hard, cutting off her foolish words, then pressed his forehead to hers. “Please,” he begged. “Stay here. Fasta vass, Hawke, if they caught you, I… They will drown in the rivers of blood I would spill to free you from their clutches. Do not make me do that.”

He could feel her clenching her jaw beneath his palms. Finally she blew out a small breath. “Fine,” she whispered. “Fine, I’ll stay here. But if you aren’t back in two hours, I am coming after you.” She pulled away and glared at him. “I refuse to live without you, either.”

He shook his head and stroked her stubborn jawline. “You are an idiot, Hawke.”

She continued to glare at him, her fists twisted tight in his collar. “Only for you, Fenris,” she said seriously. “Only for you.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, then kissed her once more and turned away.

He hurried along the ridge of the snow-covered slope while donning his gloves and pulling up his hood. He tugged his scarf up to cover the scars on his chin, then slid silently down the tree-riddled slope toward the Temple of Sacred Ashes, thankful that Hawke’s magic would hide his tracks.

In his left hand he held one of Hawke’s old staves. He had been posing as a mage since they’d left Alamar, as Hawke was not known to associate with a male elven mage. Thus disguised, he was able to hide amongst the masses of real mages who were congregating in the Temple where this supposed Conclave was taking place.

It appeared that most people were gathering in a large main room that resembled the Kirkwall Chantry’s main floor. But from the whispers Fenris could hear, they seemed agitated.

“... don’t know what is taking so long. The Divine was supposed to appear twenty minutes ago.”

“Perhaps it’s some kind of show. They think we’ll reconcile with the bloody Templars if we remain in the same place for long enough, but good luck with that…”

Fenris idly listened to the gossip as he looked around the room for Varric or for a woman bearing Seeker Pentaghast’s description. It was hard to tell, as people were coming and going and milling around restlessly in this grand room, but Fenris was fairly sure he didn’t see either of them here.

As surreptitiously as he could, he snuck out of the main area and toward a secluded set of stairs. He followed the stairs down, but as he began to make his way to the lower floor, he began to feel… something.

Apprehension darted through his chest. The feeling was a familiar one: a very faint but uncomfortable buzz beneath his skin.

Red lyrium, he thought. It had always been faintly annoying, but Fenris seemed to feel it more strongly since the fight with Knight-Commander Meredith three years ago.

But what in the Void was red lyrium doing at the Conclave?

Maybe it was a possible clue as to Varric’s whereabouts. Varric had always wanted to know more about red lyrium, and Hawke as well on Varric’s behalf, so perhaps he’d been tasked with helping the Chantry to learn more about it.

Fenris clung to this hopeful (albeit unlikely) idea as he continued to the base of the stairs, where he was met by double doors, and by the sound of pained cries emanating from behind them.

He frowned and tiptoed over to the closed doors; the wails of pain were in an elderly woman’s voice, but it was the second voice in the room that sent a spike of disbelief through Fenris’s chest.

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Venhedis,” Fenris breathed. It couldn’t be. But that evil, sonorous voice was unmistakable.

Corypheus. But how was he alive? Hawke and the rest of them had killed the misbegotten magister almost three years ago. Hawke had been forced to use blood magic to do it. How the fuck was Corypheus alive?

Stroud had mentioned something about some darkspawn being able to regenerate, but Fenris had never really believed it; it was hard to come back from having your body cleaved into five separate pieces.

He wouldn’t believe it, not unless he saw it for certain. He pushed the door open a crack, and his eyes widened with growing confusion.

Grey Wardens? Their armour was unmistakable, identical to Stroud’s everyday wear.

Fenris glanced quickly around the room, and his lip curled in instinctive anger. Here in the basement of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, bold and brazen as you please, the Grey Wardens were leading a blood magic ritual involving the Divine Justinia and a strange green orb, and led by Corypheus himself.

“Who goes there?” Corypheus demanded.

A Grey Warden hauled the door open, and Fenris sank into a defensive crouch as he focused on the misshapen magister.

His eyes widened in shock. This was the source of the red lyrium vibrations: they were emanating from Corypheus himself. His body was studded with spikes of the evil red crystal, not unlike the way Meredith had looked right before the end, but somehow Corypheus was very much alive and well.

Fenris curled his lip in disgust. “You vile abomination,” he spat.

Corypheus’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “You,” he said slowly. “I have seen you before. How-”

Divine Justinia suddenly lashed out with her arm and struck the glowing green orb.

It spun through the air straight towards Fenris’s face. He ducked and instinctively lifted his hand to protect himself -

Pain. Pain like he hadn’t felt in over a decade was burning through his left hand. His head was ringing with screams - his own or the others’ in the room, he couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter because all he could feel was agony…  

And then the room itself turned inside out.

Fenris was falling, tumbling through a nightmarish landscape of floating boulders and ominous hazy mist, and the ground was rushing toward him more swiftly than should have been possible. His head was ringing, fuzzy and disoriented, and he couldn't tell which way was up or down -

He slammed into the ground with such force that he lost his breath. His head was pounding so sharply that he could feel his pulse behind his eyes. Just before he lost consciousness, he had one last fleeting thought: at least he’d gotten Hawke to promise him that she would stay out of the Temple.

He could only pray that she had actually listened to his wishes.

[olympivnshq]

congratulations izabella !  deliberating on EURYDICE was really intense for us because we got two applications that were equally beautiful. what stood out for us was how much of an individual you made this character in a way that made us believe she is the tragic protagonist of her own story. your passionate advocation for that came through in every section in your application, and while it was a tough decision, we know we ultimately made the right one. we’re happy to welcome you with your first faceclaim choice: BENSU SORAL.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  OOC INFO.

Hi there! I’m Izabella, I’m 22 years old and I currently live in CST. I’m super excited to apply, especially since I’m such a fan of greek mythology. I’m also a gif maker in my free time for the rpc!

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  DEITY  —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

Eurydice, Female, (23-27)

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

Adara Phillips, Cabaret Dancer & Waitress, Greenpoint

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ AESTHETICS.

i. The pale orange sky of a 5am morning ii. Flowers growing back as thorns iii. Ripped fishnets paired with boots iv.The lonely howl of wind through an empty apartment v. A single spark of hope vi. Smudged eyeliner vii. Standing in a crowd of strangers viii. Cracks on the ceiling ix. An old leather jacket, well worn x. The smell of hot coffee xi. Cherry lips, a smart mouth xii. A canary in a golden cage xiii. Guarded walls xiv. Winter snowfall on the city xv. The hazy lights of a club

☆ﾟ*・ PLAYLIST.

E U R Y D I C E; A playlist (listen here)

ft. H.E.R, Frank Ocean, Billie Eilish, & more

i.  Sweet, sweet fate I had about all that can take You’re my living in the breath that I make Is it yours? I wonder

ii.  Shower your affection, let it rain on me Don’t leave me on this white cliff Let it slide down to the, slide down to the sea

iii. Oh, Father tell me, do we get what we deserve? Whoa, we get what we deserve Way down we go

iv.  It’s seeming more and more Like all we ever do is see how far it bends Before it breaks in half and then We bend it back again

v.  I’d be the dreadful need in the devotee That made him turn around And I’d be the immediate forgiveness In Eurydice Imagine being loved by me!

vi.  But nothing is better sometimes Once we’ve both said our goodbyes Let’s just let it go

vii. And we were grown on the same round little blue dot Although the answers will take their time and the spinning won’t stop So could it be that the nightmare is upon us And heavy hearts can’t decide when they’ve had enough

viii. Two drifters off to see the world There’s such a crazy world to see We’re all chasin’ after all the same Chasing after our rainbow’s end

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

( y o u t h )

Disillusionment. Adara is no stranger to the darkness the world has to offer, too many times has it plagued her path. Born into a poor family, each breathe was a struggle. There was never enough food on the table, never time for love to blossom when her parents were forced to work graveyard shifts. In a house that threatened to fall apart, Adara began to understand just who she could rely on: herself. Still, little inklings of childhood dreams would float into her mind. Was there a life out there waiting for her, warmth and yearning pushing her to try and find it. So she did- at the naive age of eighteen, she packed a bag of her belongings and disappeared into the world. The greyhound bus took her from her empty South Carolina town into the heart of New York City. For the first time in forever, she could taste a possibility on her tongue: the kind of future where she didn’t have to live day by day.

It wasn’t like that.

( n e w y o r k ‘ s l i g h t s)

She’d gone from place to place, landing in a rundown apartment that was far from being a home. The cracks on the ceilings mirrored that of the girl, each one growing more severe with every encounter. What money she had she hid under her mattress, the dollars beginning to dwindle under New York’s gaze. In an act of desperation, Adara found herself in an interview for a cabaret bar. The flier’s bold letters made a claim: be a star, shine like a dream. That was all she really wanted, a chance. So she took it head-on, promises coming back to tie a rope around her neck. Instead of a glimmering stage, she was tossed into the works as a waitress and dead beat dancer. The crowd was reminiscent of sharks in bloody waters- the disgusting comments made them high, all at the expense of Adara. And kindness? It was as prevalent as water in a drought.

Dreams withered away and the knife twisted in further.

( t h e h e a r t a c h e)

What little solace she had was in a neighbor. He’d introduced himself with a soft smile, eyes that shone like brilliant emeralds. It was hard not to lay all her hope into him, when every other hour spent was under the shadow of skyscrapers. Falling in love was something Adara had never done before, and it terrified her. We’ll run away from here, we’ll find something better. They were promises again, made under linen covers and the stars. Yet once she was ready to give herself away completely, heart in the palm of her hands, he left without a sound. No note, no word, nothing but the wind blowing through an empty apartment. It was a lesson learned- trust no one but yourself.

( t h e d e b t )

Money was what made the world around, and she never seemed to be able to get enough of it. Each dollar made was stuffed away, rent looming overhead, demanding to be paid. The first of the month would arrive with a fury, and Adara would struggle to make the payment. She’d fall short another hundred, and her debt would begin to rise. The threat of eviction notices began to pile up at her door, and she’d plead with the landlord to give her another chance… however the question remains, how many chances does she have left?

( e u r y d i c e & a d a r a )

What I wanted to do was have Adara’s life mirror that of Eurydice’s. I think that the original version is someone that was plagued in her own fate, a tragic hero that despite her hope, was taken apart by the world. She was known for being resilient and putting her faith in others, only to be betrayed. Such was the case when it came to Adara chasing her dreams and the man she was willing to fall in love with. I think a common thing between each character is their transition from innocent hopeful to a realist. Both approach life as a pragmatist, after understanding that in order to survive, they cannot hold onto things like hope… however being human, this is something that they desperately want in their life (despite not being willing to admit it). A sense of warmth, someone to hold. Adara, like Eurydice, carries the heavy burden of being alone and it’s an extremely tiring thing. They each trudge on because they have to, but if given a better option, both can be swayed into falling for a trap. For Eurydice, this is the encounter with Hades or even marrying Orpheus. For Adara, this was the lure of the big city and promise.

All of these factors determine how I would portray the character if given the chance, both Adara and her mythic counterpart: as someone whose weathered, someone who finds complications in giving away her heart too easy because of fear, someone who understands that the world can sometimes be a machine that takes people and spits them out… and someone who desperately wants this to not be true.

Personality traits

+ Resilient   +Independent  +Complex  +Fiery

+/- Cunning

-Desperate  -Unhappy  -Disenchanted   -Guarded

*please include both how’d you play their “mortal” version, as well as their original, unadulterated selves.

answer these questions: 1. are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it?  ( if you are choosing a god they may endeavor to dismantle it for whatever reason )

I think that Eurydice would potentially stand against the Pantheon, after all, she sees the gods and goddesses as beings who have everything. It’s their job to help take care of the mortals, but she herself has been left to the devices of the world. It gives her little to believe in, and if it’s beneficial to stand against the pantheon and serves her, then she would do it. 2. what is their stand on mortals?

Mortals are unkind. Mortals have been put through hell and back, Eurydice included. However if they can tap into their human nature, maybe just maybe, the world can begin to bloom again.

☆ﾟ*・ SAMPLE PARA (OPTIONAL)

A mosaic of pink and orange painted the sky, dawn falling on the city that never slept. For a moment, she could hold onto a sense of calm. No streetcar horns, no sound of the train rumbling past her apartment, no neighbors airing out their Saturday morning grievances. Peace. If only. It’d been another late-night shift at the bar, a job that left little to be desired considering the clientele. Come on sugar, how about you ditch the drinks? When she’d been younger, she always dreamed of becoming something great- one of those actors that shined under the spotlight. Maybe a dancer at the ballet. Unfortunately, life had cast aside dreams in favor of reality. There was no room for fantasies when she needed to survive. So, another grimy eight hour was another table set with dinner.

Cigarette extinguished into the ashtray, her eyes looked across the street at a familiar bedroom. The light was on, he was probably headed to work again. They’d met on the NQ train, each encounter furthering the blush that threatened to creep in her cheeks. But it was always the same. The minute life offered a warm bed and a hand to hold, a sense of doubt nudged her heart aside. There was no room for love, not for a woman who didn’t have the luxury of falling. Another person was a liability, and wouldn’t they only hurt her and disappoint her like the rest? Adara’s gaze lingered for a moment, the myriad of what-ifs swimming in her mind before she cast them aside. Life didn’t work that way. Life wasn’t kind.

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?

here is adara’s muse tag

[andtheserpentsays]

Where You Are - ChevLotte

Collection of sequenced drabbles, bridging the gap between S2 and S3 and exploring how their friendship developed.  I’ve written SO many of these, but they’re kind of different to what I’d do normally, so.. ?  Let me know if there’s any interest in the rest of them.  

Notes: There’s mentions of drinking whilst pregnant, because we’re talking about a time when champagne treated morning sickness...  Also, historical Liselotte was brutally unkind about Maintenon in her letters, so bear that in mind.

Where You Are

i.

‘You just need to get to know him.’

Phillipe had repeated the phrase to her endlessly, and previously Liselotte had wondered how on earth you were meant to get to know somebody who prickled up faster than a surprised hedgehog.  But it was clear that Phillipe loved this man a great deal, and she couldn’t think of a more glowing character reference than that.  So she resolved to try.

As they had watched Phillipe walk out of their lives, Liselotte felt his hand return her squeeze and she knew then that there was hope.  

ii.

The first week after Phillipe’s departure had perhaps been the hardest, and they had both struggled with his absence. The Chevalier hovered at the edge of her life, like he was helplessly drawn to the places that belonged to Phillipe even though he wasn’t in them.

Before the end of the second day Liselotte had already written him three letters. She found herself asking the Chevalier if he wanted to add anything to her latest, but he didn’t move from the sofa he’d been occupying for most of the afternoon. ‘I’ll write my own, thank you.’

‘Well, come on then.’ She swirled her signature before pulling out a fresh sheet of paper. She rose from her desk, waving him towards it as she blew on the damp ink of her letter. ‘They can go with the same rider.’

To her delight, he did as he was told. Liselotte watched him write from her bed, and couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say.

iii.

The truth was, they didn’t really have anybody else.  The two of them may as well have been alone at Versailles: so they continued to gravitate towards each other, either in Phillipe’s rooms or in her own.  

She had gone to Phillipe’s apartments one evening after dinner, on the hunt for a particular book.  Liselotte found the Chevalier flopped back on his bed staring at the canopy, and her eyes were drawn to the dark, smooth lines of a waistcoat she recognised as Phillipe’s.

He huffed out a laugh when she asked what he was doing.  ‘I found myself choosing what he should wear for dinner.  I think I am going mad.’  

His tone was flippant but it made Liselotte’s heart ache, and she wondered how many times he found himself here.  

‘Well if you feel your talents are wasted, there’s always my wardrobe. Lord knows I need the help.’

With that appeal to his vanity her toe was in the door, and she couldn’t help but feel pleased with herself when he’d agreed.  She soon found there was no true malice in his bluster and that he actually seemed to take great pride in making her look.. presentable.  A new lady made her way into her entourage, poached from somebody else no doubt, and she heard a glowing report on her talent for styling hair.

It became the first of many routines they would share: the Chevalier was there without fail, dressing her for the mornings, for the salon in the afternoon and the evening tables.  

iv.

As the infant grew, Liselotte had quite loudly refused to cave in to the popular fashion for disguising her changing shape.  She’d argued with her ladies, pointing out that people had been so interested in Phillipe performing that she wasn’t about to disguise the results of his efforts.  Montespan could keep her battantes, Liselotte had nothing to hide.

One afternoon she returned from the garden to find an unfamiliar girl in her rooms, hunched over one of her dresses in the light of the window.  Liselotte didn’t get a chance to question her, as the Chevalier spoke up from a sofa.

‘She’s adding panels, for the baby.  They can be taken out again afterwards if you want.’

‘You are.. a marvel.’

He chose her evening’s ensemble from one of her newly amended pieces, only today he didn’t leave once his decisions had been made. Instead the Chevalier lingered in her day room, and once dressed she found him there, nosing through various things on her table without an ounce of shame.   He gave her a brief once-over before tucking her hand into his arm.  

‘Come on then, or we shall be late.’

‘We? We’re going.. together?’

‘You can go on your own if you like.’  Her fingers were already slipping from the crook of his elbow, and Liselotte tugged him back to her which was apparently a satisfactory response.

If he noticed the raised eyebrows they met on their way he didn’t comment, and it was hard to tell what they were more surprised by: their pairing, or the perfect bump that was really very obvious.  For once Liselotte enjoyed her scandal, and let him seat her at a table before joining her.  He proved to be a magnificent accomplice when it came to fleecing their companions.  She showed him her aunt’s preferred method for cheating and he taught her a quinze drinking game of Phillipe’s invention.  

They awoke the next morning in Phillipe’s bed fully dressed, right down to their shoes and her hairpins.  Even in their stupor they’d gravitated towards him.  

Liselotte had needed his full assistance to heave herself out of the bed, and was unashamed as he helped unlace her bodice to give her pregnancy bump more room to breathe.  The expression on the faces of her ladies as the Chevalier returned her to her own rooms had almost been worth the headache.  

v.

Liselotte’s unborn infant was beginning to try and make his presence known, especially when she was either trying to sleep or make conversation. Or breathe, it seemed.  She tried not to consider that this could signal her impending confinement, and instead tried to guess whether she was being elbowed or kicked.

‘You must come and feel it.’  Maybe that was a headbutt?

‘Oh no, my dear.  I shall just believe you.’

‘No, come on.  Phillipe isn’t here, you’ll have to do this for him.’ She held her hand out and waited.  She didn’t say anything when he huffed a sigh but she knew that the tutting sound as he sat beside her was for dramatic effect.  Liselotte arranged his palm carefully, pressing it beneath her own as they waited.  The Chevalier’s patience was as short as she expected.

‘I can’t feel-’  He had barely begun to speak when her baby lurched, and a limb (definitely an elbow) made itself known.  Liselotte smiled and squeezed the hand under her own.  

‘See, he knows you.  Already can’t let down his Uncle Phillipe.’

The punch line of ‘like his father’ hung between them, but neither voiced it.  Phillipe had once felt like he was the literal stitching holding them both together, but Liselotte was not ashamed to admit that she had now claimed a piece of the Chevalier all to herself. And she was rather fond of it.

vi.

The sun had barely set on the first day of Liselotte’s confinement, and she was already convinced she was going to perish from the boredom of it all.  She had secretly hoped to have been allowed a modicum of freedom, especially considering her husband wasn’t here to boss her about.  Sadly Liselotte had forgotten quite how meddlesome her brother-in-law could be.

‘Sister, I insist.’  Louis had grasped her hands tightly, and deployed his most earnest of gazes.  ‘My brother would never forgive me, it is my duty to ensure you and your baby are safe.’

The Chevalier did not disguise his noise of disgust at the words.  He’d had his fill of the Bourbon brothers and their ‘duty’ lately, and it caused only the briefest of flickers in Louis’ expression.

‘I understand, truly.’ She gently, but firmly, extricated her hand from his grasp and patted his sleeve.  ‘But surely, there’d be no harm in pottering around the gardens once or twice?’

Judging by the look on his face (the king’s face, she reminded herself), there apparently was.

And so she had just passed a thrilling day of staring at her own feet over the bump of her nightgown, and half wondering if anybody would come and see her.  Liselotte was especially disappointed that the Chevalier hadn’t shown his face yet.  It would be frowned upon, after all, so an illegal visit should have been right up his street.

Her hopes were dashed when the door creaked open only to have Maintenon appear.  Liselotte wondered if going mad from loneliness might not be so bad, especially when she suspected she was probably snooping on her behaviour for the king.

‘He’s under the bed.’

‘I’m sure I don’t understand.’

‘The Chevalier, he’s under the bed.’  

Her eyebrows had promptly shot to the top of her rather smug forehead. Liselotte made a great point of saying nothing further for a long time, instead choosing a single grape with great care before changing the subject.  Watching Maintenon resist the urge to clamber to the floor and look under the bed, whilst maintaining polite conversation, was the most fun she’d had in a while.

vii. The next afternoon, after another morning of toe inspection and intense hair brushing, one of her ladies scurried in with a tiny, well-folded note.  She’d thrust it into Liselotte’s hand as if it was on fire, curtsied, and then escaped.

As she unfolded it Liselotte instantly recognised the Chevalier’s immaculate penmanship, and made a mental note to ask him what notes he’d made the poor girl carry before.

‘My dear, I’m so terribly bored.  Have you produced a son yet?  Nobody at the tables has the slightest idea how to cheat properly, I think I’m going to go mad.’

‘Oh, I’m fine, thank you for asking.’  

‘The uncle is a snooper.  I’m going to give the old drab another day before she gets bored, then I shall come liberate you.’

Liselotte crushed the letter in her hands and smiled.

viii.

The Chevalier was correct in his suspicions.  Madame de Maintenon endured only one further day of Liselotte’s teasing before she failed to reappear, and the Chevalier swept into her dim chamber in the hour before dinner.  At least she thought that’s what the hour was, it was getting difficult to tell.

‘Goodness, it’s like a crypt in here.’

‘I hadn’t noticed.’

He took a moment to toe off his shoes before coming to sit on the bed beside her.  ‘I brought you a gift.  Something you should most definitely not be reading, rather excitable.’  He tossed it into her waiting hands.  ‘Particularly after chapter five.’

There was also a deck of playing cards that he had smuggled.  One of his own marked decks she was certain, but Liselotte was not in a position to be choosy.  She couldn’t help but smile, turning her face to him like he’d hung the moon.

‘Thank you.’

[moonwarding]

You Who Suffer Because You Love

Y’llae contemplated leaving Northrend, but the frigid chill reminded her of home. Or what she would vaguely call home. She remained in Grizzly Hills for the evening, opting to rest in a tree she’d later make her way up; until then, she stargazed. Y'llae trekked away from the market, away from the feelings that weighed her down, and she looked to the moon. She would always have the moon. “That was unkind,” she huffed as she climbed the side of a grassy incline, “I realize that now... Ten minutes after doing it.” She moved from hiking to crawling like a beast on all fours up the steep hill. “Would it be... Weird to go back? To apologize?” Y’llae stared at her hands as they easily bent the grass beneath her palms. She felt the dirt grit against her skin as she shifted to pull herself up fully to roll onto her back and stare at the sky. Like she often does when alone, she prayed to Elune. “You have always taught me better than that, Mother. I know better than that- even still, I hesitate to apologize! This feeling bites at my insides and I don’t like it.” Y’llae starfished herself in the cool grass, what not beneath her tickling her bare skin. The cold wind howled the way it does between mountains and trees: lonesome-sounding, hollow. It reverberated through her chest. The druid turns her head to the lights still aglow from the market, a frown claiming her features as she sighed, eyes closing. “To have a family... To have friends, even! People who are constant, who will not go away... That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Elune. You have been there for me time again when I have no one else. I’m grateful for you! But I yearn for... Something tangible. Something here. Something that will hug me.” Her eyes stay shut, knowing tears soon follow the great heavy in her chest; the quiver in her bottom lip. “I have made myself into something I’m not sure I recognize for the sake of being wanted. I have made myself someone my mother would hate. I have made myself someone Zie would not be friends with. I am not honest, nor am I kind.” To combat the emotions washing over her, she rolled onto her face, her eyelids met with the gentle tickle of grass. It felt hard to be so glum face down in the dirt... Somehow. She was close to nature. Physically. No one could dispute that since she actually was. She continued mumbling her lamentations into the ground, “Maybe that’s my sign? To stop? To apologize? To move on? To grow up? Maybe this all is a test? And I’m failing, but... A test.” She goes to inhale, only to get a noseful of grass to coax a sneeze from her. And she does; it startles a squirrel in the neighboring tree where she mopes. She contemplates apologizing to it, too, to practice. Time passes slowly like this, the heat of Y’llae’s breath making it hard to breathe in such little space. It’s suffocating in a way that feels comforting. She’s certain that everyone has since left the market; perhaps that’s what gives her the courage to want to go back, knowing no one will be there to receive the apology. “I promised to be brave.” - After three trips back and forth from where she stargazed to the entrance of the market, she finally decided to brave the ramp up. Then the imposing opening that leads the walkways to the stalls, where the four of them were before she stormed off. She was met with emptiness. Half disappointed, half relieved, she sat where she did no less than an hour or so ago. She looked down at the pond, then around the stump where so many people bustled earlier in the evening. It was empty, and she was alone. “I came back, at least,” she said, pulling herself up to walk down to retrieve her two pet rocks.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRvW9dPHTUk // https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjy6au_whJg