#Val is just stupid easy to draw okay

[drawnandredrawn]

Evening grip test with Valentino and a guest spot by the back of Vox's head

[ralfstrashcan]

So! I was rewatching the end of 2B for fic'ing reasons and can I just say from the bottom of my heart XD XD XD because there were two instances where they could have easily prevented that whole mess from happening (even defeated Valentine with zero difficulty) and it's just so.... plot convenient that it happened differently X'D

1) Clary figured out via confusing visions from the angel that Lake Lyn is the Mortal Mirror. She, Izzy, Jace and Alec are the only ones who know. Valentine still thinks the fake mirror that they were guarding at the Institute is the real deal and they are sure that Valentine will be staying in New York to try and steal the fake mirror again (not knowing it has already been destroyed by Clary).

And what do they do? They facetime the Inquisitor to tell her to put guards on Lake Lyn.

What. This makes no sense. First off, that they even call the Inquisitor to tell her this super secret knowledge. Sure, reporting back to your superior would be the expected thing to do if you suddenly come by vital information but please, when have they ever done that before? Right, never. Trying to sweep shit under the rug and hoping to figure it out on their own before one of the higher-ups realizes something is going on has been their MO from day one. Why do they choose this day to be good little Shadowhunters?

Second off, even if they were perfect law-abiding, hierarchy-respecting Shadowhunters, this makes no strategical sense as well.

a) Valentine believes the mirror is at the Institute. Suddenly putting guards on another random place is conspicious as hell. Why would they draw attention to Lake Lyn when Valentine has no reason at all to suspect that he's wrong about the fake mirror? Several people died to protect it, after all! And it's not like they can station enough Shadowhunters around the lake to effectively keep Valentine from it anyway, should he unexpectedly figure out that the lake is in fact the real mirror. Have you seen the lake? It's freakin huge. Did they intend to put one Shadowhunter along the shoreline every 5 meters or what? This is bullshit.

b) Keeping the knowledge of the real Mortal Mirror secret is vital because the life of literally every Downworlder depends on it. To keep something secret you should.. not tell people about it. Especially not people who will then tell other people in order to organize a guard (that will not achieve anything anyway). I mean, what if word gets around to Valentine? What if Valentine has a spy within the Clave?? It should be something to be considered since it's been *checks watch* oh, five minutes since they found out Valentine had a spy planted right under their noses for literally two weeks!! Who's been undermining their plans and happily murdering this whole time!! What!!

The point is, if they just hadn't called the Inquisitor Valentine would have never learned that Lake Lyn is the Mortal Mirror and things would have unfolded a lot differently. (Of course they also wouldn't have learned that Consul Malachi was a Circle Member but that's a problem for another day, I guess.)

2) The only one to blame for Valentine not dying a spectacularly lame death off-screen is actually Rufus. My favorite, my poor sweet drug-dealing, Magnus-defying summer child Rufus. Why couldn't you keep your stupid mouth shut? Things could have been so easy.

We're aware that the Warlocks put wards around NY to keep all Nephilim-blooded people inside, right? Valentine, after realizing Lake Lyn is the real mirror, kidnaps Rufus and demands he open a portal to Alicante. Rufus fails and this dialogue unfolds:

Rufus: Someone must have erected portal wards around the city. Even if I wanted to I couldn't bring them down.

Valentine: Fine. We'll fly to the nearest airport and hike across the mountains to Brocelind Forest.

Okay! Things were fine. It's not Rufus's fault for failing! The Circle would have either killed him or left him behind after this but Rufus wasn't gonna increase his chances of survival by playing messenger for further bad news:

Rufus: I've seen this type of ward before, but they're rare. They're wired to keep Nephilim blood from passing through. You're trapped.

Why did he say this!! There is no reason for him to help them by saying that!! They would have eventually figured out they were trapped but until then they would have wasted their time trying to get to an airport, make it through security with a big ass sword, steal a plane, idk! And Rufus doesn't even deliver this line with a spiteful air of 'haha, your evil plans are gonna fail.' He seems genuinely sorry that Valentine won't be leaving for his merry journey of genocide anytime soon. What!!

Imagine it though! Imagine Rufus would have shut up and Val would have made it to the city line with his entourage. Because we later learn that

Imagine it!! Valentine, Jonathan and his Circle Crew flying in their stolen plane over the city limits and just boom! they’re all gone!! Problem solved!!! So easy!!!

[ourladytamara]

Contraband (3.1k words)

Tamara  3/23/2021 - @_ourladytamara

cw’s: CNC, vomit, throatfucking, betrayal, systemic/state violence, demons, gross alien horsecock, guns (but no live rounds)

With trembling motions you shuffle to the front of your apartment and lean against the door, draped in the moonlight seeping in from the single, prison-like window behind you. You’d woken up mere minutes ago to the unmistakably stomach-churning clack of Demonic heels marching up your domicile block’s central stairway, and already the fear’s driven you to sweat. Blocks like these were explicitly human-only, servicing the slaves in the surrounding ammunition plants; Demonic hooves never graced the overcrowded slum without very compelling reasons.

Unfortunately for you, they clearly had one. Their steps were audibly burdened, heavier than the freakish things usually sounded as they marched over the shoddy linoleum flooring. A glance back at the clock read 2:30 AM – you had work in three and a half hours. Nausea struck like a knife. It cut deep and quick into your stomach as you pulled back from the doorway – just in time to jump against the body of your roommate, Ninety-Seven.

That wasn’t actually her name, of course, just like yours wasn’t actually Twenty-Two; it was easier to say than your full designations of 117-654-882-28-97 and 009-655-119-18-22, respectively. Unlike you, though, Ninety-Seven refused to tell you her actual, human name, adamant on her designation. She always weirded you out, obviously still doing so after waking up in the dead of night. Still, she told you she’d been here for years longer, and you chalked her high strangeness to the insurmountable trauma certainly weighing on her young mind.

“Why are you awake, Twenty-Two? It’s just some commotion, isn’t it?” she asked, only the slightest twinge of sleep in her words.

“Ninety, are you fuckin’ for real? Listen.” you hiss, gesturing for her to approach. For a moment she seems to hesitate, fixated on your hand. She shakes her head and comes closer, pressing her ear to the door as you’d been seconds earlier while you hold her shoulder. She cocks her eyes, turning to a scowl; you can hear the Demonic footsteps even standing, now.

“I… okay? What’s the problem?” she replies, almost… befuddled by something. You don’t understand.

“Do you not hear the literal Demons goose-stepping up our stairwell? Why the fuck would they be coming in here so -”

Before you can even finish speaking the alarms begin to blare. You’d lived here a year without even hearing them, and the instant they begin your mind starts to panic. It’s nothing like a human warning signal – it’s essentially a mechanical caterwaul, like the dying yell of someone caught in a machine and ground into paste. Every second it throbs against your skull.

“- early.”

Ninety-Seven looks up at you and widens her eyes, as if elated. The noise blocks your ability to yell at her, every word from your lips now totally drowned beneath the din. You gesticulate, pleading physically where your verbal ones had fallen short.

Without another word she opens her mouth and speaks in tune to the Demonic voice now echoing off every surface.

“BADH AN MARAB QA-ALADAV. YA DAEKAVA MA KADAR FA MAKH.

You cover your ears in pain and lean back against the wall, totally overwhelmed by the panic, noise, and exhaustion. Without thinking you dart away from the door, rushing to the pile of loose blankets and pillows allotted as “furniture” by your Demonic overlords. Ninety-Seven cocks her head and tracks you as you move, still repeating the announcement by heart as it begins to loop in English.

“A CONTRABAND SEARCH IS UNDERWAY.” it, and by extension Ninety-Seven, booms. “COOPERATION WITH ONSITE JUDGES WILL BE REWARDED.”

For a minute longer the Hellish alarm wails before its steel throat closes up – only to reveal just how loud the Demonic footfalls outside have truly grown. Each sounds only a single room away.

You shoot a look at Ninety-Seven, a mix of anger and ringing pain.

“You’ve been through this before?” you ask, darting from the pile of pillows you’d buried your head in for safety towards the girl.

“Of course – they used to be a lot more regular.” she replies, rubbing her legs together. “It was a lot more exciting back then, I think.”

Now beside her, you grab her by the shoulder as to speak more quietly. Knocking – on the door beside yours! It snaps you out of the conversation and draws your eyes inextricably to your own apartment’s flimsy defenses. Ninety-Seven stood between it and you, now glaring at you.

“Twenty-Two, I feel like you’re being overly hesitant.”

“ADDAKH!” comes the scream of a Demon in the hallway. “MAR VAL YGDASH.”

Seconds later, a kick, a thud – screaming and heavy footfalls. A gunshot – the screams grow louder, turning to a howl that chills you to the bone.

“O-Overly hesitant? Hello?” you nearly scream-whisper, attention divided. Something wasn’t adding up. “I’m being overly hesitant because,” you lean in, “there are fucking armed Demons outside our door? N-Ninety, are you fully awake?”

“I’m much more than fully awake, Twenty-Two – I just think this level of recalcitrance towards our Owners is undue.”

Every hair on your neck stood on end. Few things bothered you worse than hearing another human say that word, call them that name – and now it was coming from the only one you thought you’d be able to trust in the nightmare you now knew as life. Nausea reared its ugly head through the swamp of anxiety now living inside you. Next door, the Judges finished their grim duty; their hooves clacked along the red linoleum in the hallway once again.

“W-We have to… o-oh, my God, we have to do SOMETHING, I -” you mumble. This really sets her off.

“No. I’ve heard enough – you’re just like the other ones, aren’t you?” she mutters in reply, pulling away from you and shaking her head. “Just like the ones on level 29, right?”

You blink. You… you knew a couple on level 29. They were odd, definitely unlike you – clearly victims of Hell’s penchant for population shuffling, from Iran or something, you were never sure – but one of the only other friendly faces in the basalt-and-tallow sarcophagus you were forced to call home. During your fifteen minutes of allowed recreation you’d visited them a few days ago.

Something sinks like a rock in your stomach.

“N-Ninety-sev-”

“Is religious literature permitted material, Twenty-Two? Is it?”she barks, far louder than you would’ve dreamed of being knowing who was standing just outside your thin walls. This draws the attention of the Judges, clearly; the footsteps quiet as they whisper among themselves for some time.

They’d shown you their copy of the Quran, hastily handwritten into a falling-apart notepad – their one belonging save what Hell gave them.

A knock on your door. You can’t move, you can’t think – tears well up in your eyes.

“ADDA-” begins the Demon, but her shout is interrupted as Ninety-Seven opens the door.

“Oh, good! You came quickly – I’m glad the report made it in time.”

In your door stood a hulking Demon. She was clad entirely in some kind of black metal and blacker robes, flesh almost entirely concealed. A dim red glow emanated from the lenses of her metallic facemask; you could see muscles rippling beneath the thinner parts of her robe, flexing with each subtle motion.

“Huh?” she replies, regarding the girl for a moment like one would regard a particularly-stupid dog.

A gauntlet-clad hand shoves her out of the way, long finger on the trigger of her shotgun and totally ignoring the girl as she began to undress. You panic, yelping in fear and leaping away from the Demon as she steps closer. An instant later, a gunshot rings out – are you dead? Is it over?

No, that would be far too easy, sadly, and you buckle over in pain as the rock salt pellets slam into your back. It digs into your flesh and forces you to the floor like a hogtied animal. Fuck, you thought the salt shotgun thing was a myth. In a few seconds the pain of impact begins to subside and the burning begins. Every inch of your back is on fire; you grit your teeth and crawl into a fetal position, desperate to undo your jumpsuit yet horrifyingly aware of what undressing in a room filling with Demons would entail.

“Ooooohhhhh, that was you?” replied a third, smaller being, speaking Demonic as she entered behind a second. Your state-mandated grasp on the tongue was definitely weak, but you could still listen in. “My Cliquemate in block administration told me about some overly-enthused human babbling about contraband in-between mouthfuls of cock.”

“Found it.” said the second Demon, her voice a booming, cavernous depth. They laughed together before a hand from the first, their leader, silenced all of them.

“Stop talking to the fucking animals and search – save your breath for the next hundred and ten levels.”

You lived on the fifth.

A steel-clad fist to your stomach knocks the wind out of you and intensifies every ache and burn inside your overwhelmed body. The leading Demon looms high above you, a red-glinted flashlight shining from her shoulder through your tiny shared bedroom, toilet, and closet. Jumpsuits, ration tins, tissues, lubricant – but no contraband. Other than those sun-bleached and coffee-stained pages 24 floors above you, you hadn’t seen an unapproved object in what felt like years.

It didn’t stop them, though. By now Ninety-Seven was already completely nude, a visible line of slick running down her thighs as the two Demons behind the leader began rubbing her with their metallic hands. They prodded at her nipples, slid down her thighs and abdomen toned with years of hard labor; you felt yourself rising to vomit before the leading Judge struck you down again.

“Luckily,” she hissed with a click of her flashlight, “you got stuffed up in here with a delightful little housepet who kept you nice and clean, animal. You ought to thank it for that when we’re through with you.”

“N-Ninety-Seven, what the FUCK?!” you scream, ignoring her words against your own judgment. She doesn’t reply, now taking the third Demon’s fingers into her mouth as she kneels before them on the floor. The Judge grips your jaw in her fingers and pulls your gaze back towards her glowing eyes.

“Clearly she didn’t keep your mind as clean as your living space. What a shame – usually putting you two in a cell kills off resistant personality traits faster than this.”

She brushes a gauntlet against what you now realize is her cock, bulging up against the black fabric of her robe. “Look at this. If it weren’t for your little helper you might’ve been to rebellious to get to taste it. That’d be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

You crawl away in terror, but every tug of your jumpsuit makes the pain in your shoulders and back all the worse. By the time you manage to get an inch away, she grips you by the legs and pulls you back across the linoleum, leaving you between her powerful hooves. From here you can practically feel the heat coming off of her; it radiates like a pot of boiling water even through her armor and padding, most powerfully coming from her crotch.

All this time living in Hell and you’d – rather luckily – had until this point to really look at a Demon up close, let alone prepare yourself for what you inevitably knew came next. Obviously you would’ve preferred to keep it that way; the horror stories you’d listened to for the past years did little to compare to the reality of one standing right above you.

The Judge grips her Hellish leather belt and unhooks it from her waist, dropping the black robe – which you now see is a two-piece loincloth and hood -  around her waist to the ground, landing around your neck like a scarf. Her cock pops out unrestricted with a heavy flop. It’s easily the length of your forearm and definitely thicker, with a dripping, flared head. The entire thing reeks of blood, salt, and some savory alien stench your nostrils struggles to even make sense of. Thick strands of gooey pre drip from her slit, one of them snapping off and landing on your forehead.

“I suppose you’ll need a reward for good behavior, won’t you?” she coos, slinging the shotgun over her shoulder and taking her length in hand. “It’s not often we find an entire domicile level without a single piece of contraband!”

“N-”

She squats onto your face before you can muster a syllable. Her weight is crushing almost immediately, forcing the wind from your lungs as she leans her ass back onto you. The heat is overwhelming; buried between her cheeks you have little option but to struggle with every muscle for breath, her taut asshole pressing into your face closer with every motion. You press your entire face into it without so much as noticing, and before you realize what’s happening, you’re halfway eating her out in confusion.

You can make out a pleased chuckle from above you. The Judge’s ass begins moving rhythmically, her hips grinding into your nose. Flailing, you desperately grab at her cheeks for even the slightest leverage – but you find none, your actions coming off as little more than playful pinching; the Judge pops her hips back triumphantly before rising from your face.

“Ugh. I fuckin’ hate it when they’re too enthusiastic – not like those dipshits.”

Your vision is spinning. In a stupor you manage to slink an eye back far enough to see Ninety-Seven on her knees. With both hands she’s enthusiastically stroking the second, largest Demon off between her tits, the third balls-deep down her throat and forcing her neck to distend in a way you were pretty sure human necks weren’t meant to. Her eyes are wide-open, a deeper satisfaction in them than you’d ever seen on the girl.

By the time you return your gaze upwards the Judge is stroking her cock mere inches from your face. The tip dominates your vision, like the barrel of a loaded gun; you tremble beneath it and mutter to yourself.

“Empress, no wonder you two were so compliant. Whores – like usual.” she hisses, briefly touching the head to your cheek. A thick strand of nigh-opaque pre stretched between your face and her tip as she pulled it away. “You’re far warmer than they usually are, though, pig – keep that up, the fear makes you tighter.”

She grabs your head and spreads your lips. A scream is stifled in your throat as her enormous prick is forced down your gullet, stretching your mouth wide open. In processing, so many years ago, they outfitted you with an adjustable ring-gag to test your gag reflex – that was nothing compared to the sheer girth being forced into you now. It splits you open, fucking your mouth like a pussy; by the time she starts to pull out again you can feel the pulsating heat from her grapefruit-sized balls against your cheeks.

Your stomach growls at the intrusion. Even if you wanted to vomit, there wasn’t much place for it to even go; teary-eyed, mouth filling with water, your gag reflex continues to alert your body to the obvious intrusion even as you lay helpless to it. The Judge grips your head in both hands and adjusts her squat before thrusting forward again. She’s using you like a hole, fucking your tear-and-spit-soaked face like one of their relief stations. Just as you feel you’ve had enough, she forces herself deeper and deeper still. You can practically feel it in your stomach, now, your guts being rearranged from the opposite side. Leathery ball-skin brushes against your chin, slick with sweat and liquids you couldn’t even begin to know the origin of.

A trembling hand once again attempts to brush against her ass in defiance. It’s hard to even get a grip on her, now, hips thrusting forward with reckless abandon as she abuses your mouth. Every thought in your head is systematically fucked out of you; your head drops limp in the Judge’s hands, now relying solely on her to keep you upright. Another glimpse at Ninety-Seven; she’s covered in cum from head to toe, what seemed like gallons of it slowly seeping from her mouth and nostrils as she lay on the floor. The two other Demons stand above her, holding their cocks as they bask in the afterglow.

“Hnnf, fuck, s-stay loose like that for – there we go.”

You’re conscious for just long enough to feel the first jet of cum impact the back of your throat – and feel your vision swim as you run out of air. Everything fades to black. Anxiety, strain, and exhaustion had finally done you in – maybe this was the afterlife, after the Grim Reaper juked you out with the salt shotgun earlier?

You were never that lucky, of course. Points of light trickled into your vision like snowflakes. Your floor, your walls, your grim little existence – it was all still here and you were still on the ground. The Demons are dressed and armed, again; they slink out of the room, chatting quietly, as they return to the stairwell, refusing a further word.

Cum seeps from your mouth and nose. It feels like your entire head is full of the stuff; you learn your stomach is just as packed, brushing a hand against your now-distended and semen-filled abdomen. The motion forces some of it up; you roll to your side and heave, vomiting at long last only to bring up more cum and very little else. It soaks into your jumpsuit and sticks to the skin beneath like glue, your entire upper chest and shoulders coated in it. From the amount on your face, the Judge must’ve cum all over you. You wipe it away from your eyes and onto the legs of your jumpsuit.

Ninety-Seven lays in a heap in front of the wide-open door. She, too, is absolutely plastered in the stuff; it clings to her hair, chest, tits, and face, among others where she’d clearly intentionally smeared it. Her body rises slowly with every tired breath, a deep satisfaction on her cumstained lips. You couldn’t have been out for more than a minute or two, but in that time the snitch had clearly tuckered herself out.

Every bone in your body aches. It goes far deeper, into your very soul itself, a frigid burning that seems to annihilate everything it touches. You’d made it so long, dealt with so much, cried and screamed and panicked so often – all to avoid the fate your one remaining friend gleefully brought upon you. It’s more than violation, more than betrayal; you feel like a match snuffed out in a glass of water, just like Ninety-Seven. Hell had broken you, after it had spent so long trying and failing. A glance at the clock: three AM.

You have work in three hours. You drop your head against the cum-soaked floor and cry.

[flashfuture]

Franklin had the mother box help him get him when he landed in the DC universe; quite a deadly shock to everyone when he boom-tube (which are LOUD god damn) straight into their living room. If he did loose a motherbox, he try everything to get her back since he HATES to think about if someone tried to dissect her to see how she can do the things she can do, no matter how many times he says she’s alive and not just a machine. Would he worry about that from his own family? Maybe, at first but if Franklin says she’s alive then they will trust she is alive. Maybe he helps them take leaps of faith once and awhile without all the factors, just going with their hearts. Just a boy and his motherbox hopping galaxies.

Kyle just listening and teaching that it’s okay to experience the world differently and in his own way, because it is valid to like life for the sake of the innate beauty of life, sometimes things are deep by not being deep at all, paradoxical nature of life is to be loved as much as the things we can understand!

Also imagine a montage of Franklin trying to bring that rose bush back to life and it just takes so many attempts, and just dropping dramatically on the floor screaming how “RAYNER YOU MADE IT LOOK EASY!” Though later on, Franklin is able to be construct level mechas like his mentor later in life and make while planets come back to life or the opposite

Val as a little shit little sibling is the only canon, I can ever accept? How could she be anything else? She would demand to know about the galaxies Hes visited HERE and THERE. While of course the family wants to see the art pieces which leads to a very passive aggressive home gallery show. But he has the most unscientific explanations, he much more of a tourist and...hero? Helping people out and being rewarded in being shown the sites or fed.

Oof; Franklin at the source wall in the dc universe, his personal goal is to find the end of his universe too someday just to say he saw it. Something grimly beautiful of the source wall he wants to draw again and show Kyle at the end of the universe. ALSO VAL THINKS HES MAKING A JAB AT HER ABOUT BEING A MATHMATICAL EQUATION TO THE SECRET OF LIFE BUT LITTLE DOES SHE KNOW HES BEING UTTERLY SERIOUS!

At this point Franklin has a book filled with drawings of this stupid Rose bush

And yes Kyle absolutely taught Franklin the Life Equation or showed him how to access it. But like Franklin isn’t allowed to share it mostly cause it would probably kill his family to possess the knowledge. It almost knocked out a Guardian of the Universe.

Franklin explaining the multiverse from how he’s seen it and them trying to write down his dramatic ass poetic prose.

And Peter doesn’t buy it cause he’s seen more of the Multiverse than anyone really should and you know he’s pretty sure it’s a giant spider web.

Upon further reflection Franklin realizes if he connects the universes as he’s seen them it makes spider web patterns and he’s not sure how to deal with the fact that Spider-Man is apparently interlinked with the fabric of reality.

In any case Franklin is just happy his parents aren’t writing his art as a waste of time.

And we’ve been sleeping on Alicia anon. She would be so fucking hyped to have another artist in the family.

She could teach Franklin how to sculpt the things he’s seen all across the universe.

[hazbincalifornia]

I wrote down a potential writing as ‘Angel finds out that Stella has a crush on Charlie’ but the idea that Angel finds out Stella has a crush on Charlie and Alastor is just... interesting. Angel’s probably ooc but I’ve never written him before so I’m just kinda feeling him out.

Stella’s 17 here, so she’s been visiting the Hotel regularly for a couple years. I’m using that as an excuse for Angel having developed a bit I guess.

Wordcount: 1675

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism

“Stella, would you mind putting up some fliers around Imp City? I know some sinners do work there.”

“Sure!” Stella replied, and Charlie pulled her into a hug.

“Oh, thank you!” 

“No- problem!” Stella’s face darkened slightly as she felt Charlie’s breasts squishing against her own before wrapping her arms around the demoness. 

When Charlie pulled back, she brushed the little black feathers out of Stella’s eyes. “I really appreciate you keeping an open mind. I know the Hellborn aren’t exactly the most fond of the Hotel since...” She clicked her tongue. “Well, since we don’t know if it’ll work for us even when we manage to figure out how to rehabilitate sinners.”

“Hell’s my home too, I wouldn’t mind there being a few less jackasses around.” Stella smiled, and Charlie ruffled her hair.

“That’s the spirit!” She smiled back before turning around. “Oh geez, it’s getting late... I’ll get you those posters by tomorrow!”

Stella waggled her fingers in a goodbye wave as Charlie jogged out of the lobby at the same moment Alastor entered it from the kitchen.

“Ah, there you are!” Alastor nodded to her. “Are we still on for that dinner date tonight?”

“Uh-huh.” Stella nodded, tail absently curling in and out in the air as she rolled up and down on her heels. “I’ll be down at 7.”

“No curfew as usual?”

She shrugged. “Eh, my dad trusts I won’t get myself killed.”

“We’ll see about that, the spice in this one is killer!” He winked, twirling his microphone stand in his fingers before smacking the end down on the floor and fading back into the shadows.

“Why he didn’t just spit that out into the radio Charlie keeps on the desk, I’ll never know,” came a comment from behind her.

Stella whirled around. “Angel!”

He snickered from his spot in the shadows, resting on one of the crates Charlie had never put away. “I can be quiet once in’a while, you know. Used to do stakeouts and shit.  I just came down for some of that good fat-free ice cream Vags got and didn’t want to interrupt.”

“That’s a new one.” She raised an eyebrow. He normally wasn’t exactly subtle.

He stretched all four arms, back cracking before hopping off the crate. “I’m a complicated guy. Walk with me.”

Stella’s tail swished as she followed him down the hall to the elevator. Angel had a half-smirk, the kind of look that she usually felt on her own face when someone revealed a deep, dark secret on accident.

She didn’t think she’d revealed anything, at least not recently enough that he’d have a grin like that now. It tickled unease in her throat as the elevator dinged.

The music was soft as always, and Angel examined his nails through his gloves for some reason as Stella watched his face in the mirror. His mouth twitched slightly and he glanced over at her.

“You’re being obvious, Red.”

“Am not.”

“Standard rates apply if you wanna touch the tits.”

“Bitch.” She shoved at his side and he snickered, pushing her head with one of his lower arms.

“Joking, joking, friends get limited access for free.” The door dinged open, and he headed down the hall to his room. She’d long since gotten used to how quickly he walked with his stupid-long legs, and when she closed the door behind them, he plopped down on the bed, patting the space next to him as Fat Nuggets jumped up on his lap.

“So, you clearly want to talk about something private that you didn’t just say whatever it was in the lobby.” Stella probed. In response, Angel nodded at the small radio on his vanity and then at his closet.

She popped the closet open, setting the radio inside and then dropping a few of the thicker-looking clothes on top of it for good measure before closing the door again. “Okay, so you don’t want Al hearing whatever it is?”

“Uh-huh. He’s as big of a snoop as you are, especially when it comes to himself.”

“Comes to himself.” She folded her arms and then plopped down on the bed, bouncing Angel up slightly. What a stick. 

“So, I noticed how you act around Charlie.”

Stella kept her expression neutral. “She’s nice.”

“You like her.”

“Sure I do. Like I said, she’s nice.”

“And taken.” Angel was the one probing this time. “She’s cute, don’t you think?”

“You’re gay,” Stella said flatly. “How would you know?”

“I’ve also been around a lotta people, I can guess shit by now. ‘Sides, just because I don’t play that team doesn’t mean I’m blind.” He waved his hand. “I know how infatuation works. Sometimes Val likes it when a specific person really, really likes one’a us. They’ll pay more.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“I’m just trying to let you down easy, that’s all.” He shrugged. “I like you. Don’t want you getting hurt, and Charlie seems pretty happy with Vags.”

Stella sighed, rubbing her arm. She was moving on, so... it couldn’t really hurt her if he knew since he’d already figured it anyway, right? “Okay, fine. I’ve liked her since I was a kid. She’s just as nice in reality as she seemed to be, but I always worried everybody in Hell was gonna wring her dry by the time I got my chance to shoot my shot if I ever did anyway, ya know?”

Angel patted her shoulder. “Yeah, love’s a fucky thing sometimes, but at least you know it. That’s good, that makes this easier. You tell your pops?”

“Nah, if it’s not going anywhere there’s no need, right?”

“Fair enough. He chill with you- oh, right, you said you had two dads, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well. Answers that.” Angel’s fingers tightened around her shoulder. “Now, the other thing. Charlie, I think she’d just be flattered if you ever said anything, but Al...”

Stella sputtered. “Al? I don’t like him!”

“Really? Because your tail was damn near making a heart when he called dinner a date.”

Stella smacked Angel’s shoulder. “I think I’d know if I liked him!” 

“I just call it like I see it!” Angel held his hands up. “Alright, lemme just try something.” He leaned over on the bed, and Fat Nuggets jumped over to Stella’s lap, kneading down on her leggings before settling down. She started to pet him as Angel scribbled something down on a sheet of notebook paper, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he did.

After a few minutes, he ripped it out of the notebook, and Stella snorted a laugh. It was an incredibly crude drawing of Alastor. “Yeah, there’s a reason you’re sucking dick and not painting for the royalty, isn’t there?”

“We all have our talents.” He flicked at the edge of the paper. “So, you know how you feel around Charlie, right?”

“Yeah, still got some light butterflies but I’ve mostly gotten over them.” Stella narrowed her eyes. “That’s how I know you’re talking out your ass, Dust. I already know what infatuation feels like.”

“Nah, it means you’ve mostly gotten over her. Any’a the rest is just residual gayness from being around a pretty girl. Trust me, I had plenty experience of that when I was your age, just with dipshit dudes.”  He held the paper Alastor face up in front of his own. “So, pretend I’m Smiles. Think about the last coupla times you saw him. How were you feeling?”

“Last couple times...” Stella bounced her knee in thought just to entertain him, and Nuggets, disgruntled, jumped off her and went back to Angel.

What were the last few times they’d interacted? Well, this morning, when he asked her to come back for dinner with the human meat she’d brought in from an IMP job where they were supposed to dispose of the body completely. He’d been delighted to get a whole corpse, and a shaved one too since it had been a woman in her mid-thirties who apparently cared about that sort of thing.

Before that... he’d showed her around the Cannibal Colony. The ladies there waved at him, and she’d felt a spike of something that she’d passed off as fear before. That was ridiculous, though. She was all muscle and sinew, and could defend herself perfectly well. Besides, she was at Alastor’s side, and if they tried anything, he’d have her back. Probably.

Last week... he’d done a broadcast about a brawl happening right outside of the Hotel. He thought it was hilarious they were trying to end each other’s afterlife right outside of the Happy Hotel, and she’d kept up running commentary with him about who was winning. He’d mentioned it was nice to have someone who appreciated showmanship, and she’d grinned back at him.

Silk caressed her face, and she snapped back to reality to see Angel had dropped the ‘mask’ and one hand was cupping her cheek. 

“You’re flushing.”

“Am not!” She smacked his hand away, and he sighed, crumpling the ball up and tossing it over into the trash can.

“Al doesn’t seem the relationship type. I’ve propositioned him a coupla times, both outta habit and ‘cause he is good-looking. He always just shoots me down cold, and I’ve never heard him mention a missus or a mister or anything- even in the past, even when he was alive. I know he’s pretty tight-lipped about himself, but I feel like we’d know about something by now. Just temper your expectations. Some people are just like that.”

“Temper your expectations. Fancy vocabulary there.”

“Yeah, well, you hang around Al long enough, his fancy-pants wordage rubs off.” Angel straightened Stella’s bandanna. “Whatever weird hormonal teenage deal you’ve got with him, just keep it on the down-low to be safe, got it?”

“There’s no deal,” Stella’s face wrinkled as she narrowed her eyes, but Angel’s raised eyebrow said that he didn’t believe her.

The acid bubbling in her stomach and her thudding heart said that she wasn’t sure that she believed her anymore either.

[scribbles97]

Left Behind - Chapter 5

Some more world building in this chapter and a bit more background as to how different IR is here.

@gumnut-logic thank you for putting up with my wobbles and constant pleas for help <3 

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Read On Ao3

It was late by the time she had calmed herself enough to go and find the boys. Alan was already tucked up in bed, Gordon sat in his younger brother’s room reading some science book by the lamp light. 

Virgil was in the den, sat at his keyboard playing a tune she didn’t recognise. 

Going to stand behind him she touched his shoulder, watching as his fingers flowed over the keys. 

“Have you spoken to Scott?” He murmured, not looking up from the keys.

“Not yet,” She sighed, “He and John were my next stop.”

Virgil nodded, his hands slowing and coming to a stop on the keys. They rested still for a moment before he drew them back into his lap. 

“We’re all scared,” He admitted softly, not turning to look at her, “Please don’t be too mad at him?”

He had always been the one most sensitive to fights and arguments, attempting to diffuse them before they started even when he had been so much younger. She knew that Jeff being gone wouldn’t be easy on any of them, especially with how it had happened. Each of them grieved in their own ways though and she knew how Scott especially could get.

“Scott has a reckless streak, we all know it. And I can’t let anything happen to you boys, especially not now.”

Virgil nodded, his hand reaching up to squeeze hers on his shoulder, “We don’t want anything to happen to you either, Mom.”

Her heart clenched, knowing that the fear had to work both ways. Leaning down she kissed the top of his hair, her hand squeezing his shoulder.

“We’ll figure something out, kiddo.” She murmured, combing her fingers through the long ends of his hair, “You need a trim.”

He reached back to ruffle the ends, shrugging as he did, “I was thinking about going short with it anyway. I’m not letting it get as long as Gordon’s.”

Lucy couldn’t help a chuckle, “You leave your brothers fashion choices alone… or should I remind you of what you did at sixteen?”

He tensed and shuddered with a shake of his head, “I’d rather you didn’t. But come on, everyone knows that you can’t make a manbun work unless you grow a beard, and that scruff on the kids face hardly counts as bum fluff.”

A light tap on his shoulder was meant to be scolding, but she really didn’t have the heart. It would have to remain a secret that she agreed with the opinion. It was Gordon’s choice and who was she to argue with it?

“Can you manage another week away from college?” She asked as he turned to straddle the stool so he was facing her. 

“Sure, Alice is sending me extra notes and I can finish my papers from here using the TI program, if you’ll give me access?”

She hummed, it would be hypocritical to give him full access after the lashing she had given Scott earlier. 

“Why, anyway?” He frowned, no doubt knowing the answer wasn’t so straight forward. 

She swallowed and took a breath, “I was thinking of going to the farm for a bit, just the six of us for some proper family time.”

It was a relief that he smiled and nodded, even if the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“That sounds good, I’d like that Mom.”

He glanced past her, nodding to the balcony of the den, “Scott and John were down by the pool last I knew.”

Rolling her eyes she smiled, “Yeah alright I get the hint.”

He chuckled as she stepped back, “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, Kiddo.”

***

The moment Scott saw her, she saw him tense. His face fell into a glare and his back straightened. From the opposite lounger, John twisted to see what had caused such a reaction. It was hard not to smile at the blanket he was wrapped up in, constellations and their names etched on the fleece.

“Is this section restricted, or can anyone join the party?” She asked, hovering between the two loungers they were sat on. 

Neither answered, both avoiding looking at her. She had known it wouldn’t be straight forward, there would have to be some bridge building before things would truly be right again. But for both to simply ignore her, stung more than she had expected. 

“I’m sorry I made assumptions earlier,” She murmured, folding her arms, “Scott that wasn’t fair of me.”

The eldest huffed as he leant back on his arms to look up to her. Even in the low light she could still see the hurt in his eyes as he watched her for a moment before he spoke, 

“We just want to try and find Dad.”

“And you think I don’t?” She bit back. Catching herself, she closed her eyes and took a breath. 

“Look,” She started again, “I want to keep looking, but your father wouldn’t want the resources diverted away from other people in need.”

Scott looked down as his face contorted, probably trying to hide his emotion from her but failing terribly. John hunched forward, nodding in silent agreement. 

“The programme wouldn’t take up much of Thunderbird Five’s resources,” John murmured, looking up to her with pursed lips, “The processing power it would use would hardly be significant.”

She nodded, her decision having been made before she had come to speak to them, “I trust your capability, John. Otherwise I would be sending the program to Hiram before I let you plug it in to Thunderbird Five.”

The sudden spark of hope in both of their eyes was obvious as they looked up to her. Both sat straighter now, eager. 

“I can’t let you up to Thunderbird Five without clearance and having an actual space license,” She pointed out quickly, not wanting them to get too excited, “But your Uncle Lee and I will go up tomorrow, I’d suggest making sure you were up early enough to supervise from the office.”

A glance back to Scott before standing quickly with a nod, “Yes Ma’am.”

Rolling her eyes at him she glared gently, “Don’t call me that,” Catching his shoulder she shook her head, “I’m your mother first, nothing is going to change that.”

She nodded him away, back towards the warm lights of the house and out of the cool night air. There were still words to be had with the eldest, things that weren’t to be heard by younger siblings. 

Once John was out of range, she took the blanket that had been wrapped around him and sat down next to Scott, draping the material across both of their shoulders as she nudged him slightly. The sideways glance of blue eyes was uncertain, but he shuffled closer regardless, sighing as he leant into the warmth of the fleece. 

“At your age, your Dad would have done exactly the same thing,” She started, looking across to him, thinking just how like his father he looked. The reminder tugged at her chest.

“I’m not saying what you did was okay, and I’m not some Air Force commander that’s going to brush you off because you’re just a junior air man.” Reaching across she squeezed his knee, “I’m your mom. If you can’t come to me with these ridiculous, half thought through plans, who can you go to with them?’

The lights from the villa were reflecting in his eyes more than they had been earlier, and she could see the ripple of the tears as he sniffed and shook his head. 

“Dad always said how much you grounded him,” Scott whispered, his hand reaching out to take hers on his knee, “That if it weren’t for you, there’d be five people running International Rescue, him, you, Grandma, Uncle Lee, and Aunt Val.”

Lucy smiled. She remembered the day Jeff had come to her with his grand plan to help save those that needed the help nobody else could offer. The help that they had once themselves needed. It had been an argument that he had been crazy and five people couldn’t possibly save the entire world. 

“I mean in a good way,” Scott added softly, “Could you imagine five of us running this whole thing?”

“It would be hard going,” She agreed, “Probably dangerous even.”

Scott nodded and then sighed, “Dad always encouraged the stupid ideas. Made them more crazy.”

Didn’t Lucy know it. She couldn’t count how many times she’d caught the boys doing something ridiculous and decided it was simply best to leave them to their own devices. Any unfortunate outcome she had decided would be dealt with by the so-called responsible adult partaking in the activity. 

“I get you’re scared of what might happen to us out there Mom,” Scott continued, “I was scared that you’d ground us because of that. That if I came to you with the idea you’d be too scared to let us at least try.”

He paused with a heavy sniff as he shook his head, “I should have known better than that. Dad taught me that much.”

All of the boys had always found it calming when she played with their hair, she hoped that Scott still did as she reached up to run her fingers through the finer hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How do you mean, son?”

Blue eyes shining he smiled softly at her, “He told me never to tell you, but I guess now he--” His voice caught before he could finish, clearly catching him off guard as he bent double with a sob.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lucy cooed, dropping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing hard, “Scotty, it’s alright.”

Coughing to clear his throat, Scott took a deep breath. He didn’t sit straight but stayed hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees as he gazed up towards the house. Lucy kept her hand lightly on his back, rubbing gentle circles as she waited for him to speak again. 

“He always said, that without you he wouldn’t have done any of it. That he would have instead been this mess of a man, with blood on his hands, and no knowledge of how to love himself let alone anyone else.” 

Lucy had always assumed as much about Jeff. They had had conversations about it late at night, normally after nightmares had woken him. Over time though that kind of conversation had gotten less as sleep had become more valued and she had never seen a need to validate her assumptions.

Scott sniffed again, drawing her out of her thoughts as he sighed and shook his head, “And that you took everything he gave you and made it something more, something that he saw as perfect and wonderful. Not because you were his wife, he always made that very clear, but just because of who you are Mom.”

He twisted to look back at her, tears evident on his cheeks as his lip wobbled, “And I forgot that. He’s been gone eleven days and I forgot Mom.”

She pulled him in, wrapping him tight in her arms as she kissed the top of his head, “You’re grieving Scott. Emotions get all mixed up and your brain throws things off. You haven’t forgotten anything, you’re just prioritising different.”

“‘M sorry.” He whispered, sighing against her shoulder, “I’m really sorry, Mom.”

Rocking gently she kissed the top of his hair again, “It’s okay Scotty, we’re gonna get through this. I swear it. All of us, together.”

She just hoped it didn’t pull her apart trying to do so. 

[marvilus-magpie]

Interview with an OC

Charlotte Elizabeth “Charlie” McKay

Tagged by @scarecrow-forest, @andremarshallwhite, @metalforhands, @radioactiveblight, @robobrainmurdermysterytheatre, and @scorpio-skies. Thank you guys so much! <3 Sorry it’s taken me so long!!

Tagging: ^^^ I’d like to start by tagging back everyone who tagged me. I know you all probably have other OCs you could do this for! Also @purple-martin111, @mars-colony, @wastelandwandererstuff, @slothssassin, @maxrev, @sharonaw, @ronqueesha, @val-rampage, @alexaberkeley, @fanthings, @tarberrymentats, @thewookieruns, @beckiboos and anyone else who either hasn’t done this yet or wants to do another OC.

1. What is your name?

Charlotte McKay, but everyone just calls me Charlie. Only my mother and Danse call me Charlotte.

2. Do you know why are you named that?

No idea. Charlotte was probably something my mother thought sounded high society. She hated when people called me Charlie. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I prefer it. *laughs*

3. Are you single or taken?

*Looks down at her hands, twists the ring there and smiles* Taken. Very taken.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

Hmm...does being better than MacCready at every single video game count? *you hear shouting from somewhere off in the distance, “BULLSHI..er CRAP! THAT’S A LIE AND YOU KNOW IT CHARLIE!”*

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

*raises one eyebrow* Appearances can be deceiving.

6. What’s your eye color?

Grey. Dull and boring.

7. How about your hair color?

Umm...brown. *gives you a look like “duh”*

8. Have any family members?

Yeah, I have an amazing man and a brilliant little boy. I also have a lot of people that aren’t officially family, but they might as well be. 

9. Oh? How about pets?

Well, there’s Dogmeat, though I don’t know that he’s a pet. He doesn’t really belong to me, he just chooses to hang out with us sometimes. We also have a cat named Tiger and Shaun is trying to convince me that he needs to adopt a molerat. That’s NOT happening though.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

Assholes. Look, I don’t care who or WHAT you are, just don’t be a dick and we’ll get along fine.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

Beating MacCready at video games. *laughs and pauses to see if anyone interjects. Shakes her head.* I don’t really have that much free time, but I love reading when I get a chance, singing I guess and...stargazing. There used to be so much light pollution before the war, now when it’s clear you can so many more stars than before. It’s best done with company. *she winks*

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

Yeah. I have. A lot of people probably. Let’s move on.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

You’re joking, right? Killing is, unfortunately, part of surviving out here.

14. What kind of animal are you?

*she just looks at you and blinks a couple of times* Really?

15. Name your worst habits?

Ummm, yeah. That would be acting before thinking. Also, speaking before thinking. Just not really thinking.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

A lot of people. Probably Danse most of all. I know he’s had some messed up ideas in the past, but he’s learning, he can admit that he doesn’t know everything. I’ve just never met anyone that selfless before, ya know?. I admire the hell out of him for it, but it also scares me. He needs to take better care of himself.

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

*raises her eyebrows* That’s a bit personal don’t you think? My current partner is a man, draw whatever conclusions you want.

18. Do you go to school?

I did. For a long, loooong time.

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I had a kid. And a Husband. *pauses* I HAVE a kid and as for marriage, I mean I...we haven’t...I’d like t..., look I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m with someone that I’m damned sure I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

What? No. *the yelling returns, “Hel...heck yeah she does!”* Shut up Mac!

21. What are you most afraid of?

*she looks noticeably uncomfortable and wraps her arms around herself* I can’t lose...I need to keep my family safe.

22. What do you usually wear?

Something comfortable, practical. I love these, “she gestures to the jumper she’s wearing* One piece, easy to put on, comfortable, can strap armor over the top. It even has a little Minuteman logo. See?

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. I’ve been weak for them my whole life. They aren’t the same as they were before, but whatever chemicals they used to preserve them do their job because that taste is still irresistible. They’re even better when shared. *smiles*

24. Am I annoying to you?

We’re good! As long as you don’t ask me what kind of animal I am again. *rolls eyes*

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Okaaay.

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

Before the bombs? Probably upper middle class? My husband’s family was rich, like stupid rich. We did okay though, probably better than most. 

Now though? Who really cares? Regardless of what certain residents in Diamond City might have you think, the class system is gone and good riddance. Of course, there are always going to be people or groups who think they’re better than others. Let them have their delusions. It doesn’t bother me until they start trying to lord it over others. *shrugs* 

27. How many friends do you have?

*smiles* I’m so lucky. I have a lot of friends. A lot of really great friends.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

Pie is great! Dierdre over at the Slog makes an absolutely to die for Tarberry pie. It’s tart, with just the right amount of sweet. Mmmmm, so good!

29. Favorite drink?

Whiskey, neat. Nuka Cola if I need a pick me up. I like a good stout too.

30. What’s your favorite place?

Anywhere Danse is. *smiles and blushes just a bit* That’s it.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

Uh, I thought we’d established that. Yes. Interested. Very interested.

32. That was a stupid question…

Kind of. 

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

What? Now?! Neither unless I want radiation poisoning or to be eaten by mirelurks or whatever other irradiated monstrosities might be lurking.

34. What’s your type?

Oh, ya know. Dark hair and dreamy brown eyes, hardheaded, loyal to a fault, stupidly selfless, has a mild addiction to power armor.

35. Any fetishes?

Okay. Remember when you asked me if you were annoying me? I’m thinking about revising my answer.

36. Camping or outdoors?

Wait. Isn’t camping outdoors? I’m confused. To be honest half the time I’m off on a mission, I’m camping or as Danse calls it, bivouacking. He’s such a dork. Damn, I love him.

So are we done now? Hello?

[lassieposting]

9 for Skulduggery for the headcanon ask :)

9. Describe their happiest birthday.

this uh. kind of turned into half a headcanon post and half a minific, sorry. the way this is written is atrocious bc i ficced halfway through but im emotional about this scenario so w/e here it is and also i apologise for the complete lack of capital letters i am a cretin who lives on the internet

okay so. skuldug is old af so like. his birthday isn’t a big deal and hasn’t been for a few centuries. he lowkey celebrated it when he had a family, bc it would’ve been a pain in the ass to explain to a small child why we celebrate your birthday because you’re only five, but not mama’s or papa’s because they’ve been around since the asscrack of doom, so it was just. a thing. but when they died, he stopped completely, bc like. self-loathing and general depression, why would he want to celebrate his existence when he hates himself?

but the year he meets valkyrie, they’re driving around in the bentley at some point, and she realises she doesn’t know when his birthday is. and he’s already her best friend, and best friends should know this sort of thing about each other, so she asks him, and he tells her.

it’s december 31st. new year’s eve. three months ago.

and he’s only half-watching her because he’s driving and he’s watching the road because safety is paramount now that he’s got a fleshy little person in the car who could get like, squashed, but even without properly looking at her he can tell she’s sulking. he’s In Trouble. 

“what?”

he’s expecting something stupid. he’s definitely not expecting her to get upset because he didn’t tell her. i wanted to get you something, she snaps. but fine. whatever. it’s not important.

she folds her arms and turns up the radio a few bars, then turns away from him and looks out the window. he smiles on the inside, turns it back down again. feels her glare at him. and by the time they reach the sanctuary, valkyrie’s gotten over herself and he’s forgotten all about it.

it’s not until much later that year when his birthday rolls around again that he remembers this little argument. 

they’ve just finished a case. they’re in the car. scapegrace is in handcuffs, in the backseat, and in a very bad mood. and she asks him to pull over. you can see the fireworks from here, she tells him. he’s not that bothered, he’s seen fireworks more times than he cares to count, but she looks excited, so he pulls the bentley in to the verge, puts the hazard lights on, and they get out. val jumps up to sit on the hood of the car. he bites the tongue he doesn’t have and hopes she doesn’t scratch the paintwork. 

scapegrace shouts at them from inside the bentley. skulduggery isn’t sure if he wants them to get the arrest over with or if he wants to watch the fireworks too. he doesn’t particularly care, either.

for a while they stay there, watching the fireworks. she’s leaning into his side a little. sleepy, probably. it’s too easy for him to forget that she should, at some point, sleep. and then she draws her hand out of her pocket and holds it out for him to take. small and untidily wrapped. she’s probably used as much sellotape as wrapping paper, if not more. 

“happy birthday,” she says, and yawns, muffling it with her other hand. 

something in his stomach twists. or would, if he had a stomach. or innards to twist. he takes it from her, and she shoves her hands back in her pockets and watches him unwrap it. or try to. there’s a lot of sellotape. it’s a challenge.

inside the tape prison is a set of cuff-links, in a little box from a jeweller’s he doesn’t recognise, marked dublin. he knows valkyrie gets five euros a week as pocket money from her parents. he doesn’t even want to think about how long she must’ve been saving up for these. the innards he doesn’t have twist a little harder. 

“thank you,” he says, hoping she doesn’t notice the choke in his voice because he certainly does, and puts his arm around her shoulders and gives her a quick hug. “you remembered?”

“of course.” 

impressive. “but you never even remember what day of the week it is.”

she shrugs. “you’re important to me.”

another yawn, and she pulls away from his side and goes to get back in the car. he follows her, and as she clicks her seatbelt into place, the dashboard clock catches his eye. twenty-five minutes past midnight, january 1st. “you do realise, though, that technically my birthday was yesterday.”

she hits him, and he laughs.

(after this she spends his birthday with him every year, even on the rare occasion when they’re not working, but this is his favourite. the first time in a very long time someone thought he was worth celebrating)

[aimeraiwrites]

like lock and key: skyclad, the whys and wherefores

there was a big disconnect between phil and jér about skyclad and what it means, which links back to provincial magic 

(jér please acknowledge that your husband is an  i d i o t  when it comes to the differences in provincial magic bc phil is SO stupid when it comes to québec. to be fair, when you’ve been avoiding magic in the way that phil does for as long as he has, you do end up pig-ignorant)

officially, skyclad is just nudity for rituals. but because magic in this ‘verse works at least somewhat through connections to the land, things get weird. 

val d’or: val d’or is part of québec, all traditional, and so the connection there is ready and easy to reach. you don’t generally need to do magic skyclad. if you’re doing magic skyclad, it’s something pretty powerful, so it’s likely for the city? skyclad is used for an extra kick, a way to say “hey i’m serious about this” and to negotiate with the province and that’s how jér interprets it, usually

new brunswick: new brunswick magic is difficult at best, so they need all the help they can get. skyclad is a much bigger thing there, as is doing magic at times when it comes easier or just using more people than other places would. side effect: nb manages to draw a lot of exceptionally gifted users, if they ever leave the damn province. it’s like resistance training. phil is used to things being difficult and therefore doing magic skyclad when doing anything difficult, or anything that requires reasoning with the province.

rouyn-noranda: you’d expect rouyn to be easier, because it’s in québec. unfortunately, no. rouyn is an associate member of the francophone association of municipalities of ontario. this...counts against it a little bit. maybe more than a little bit. it’s still québec, of course, but the connection is weaker, something which jér notices immediately. it doesn’t make a difference to phil, because the connection is still stronger than most parts of new brunswick.

so, fun fact about getting married in québec: you have to publish banns and there’s a lot of rules and regulations. the spite marriage is totally used to circumvent this, but it’s an exchange, so québec is the deciding authority. you ASK québec for a bond, and if you’re judged worthy, it’ll give it to you. sometimes you’ll get it, but not in the way you expect. 

that’s what happened with phil and jér although usually it’s the opposite problem--you go to get a spite marriage but your bond isn’t strong enough. the two of them are exceptional. the point is, you need a lot of connection for magic like that anyway, because you’re dealing with the province and not general magic. 

is provincial magic sentient enough to be considered gods of sorts...? let’s not talk about that. 

rouyn’s connection wasn’t strong enough, so phil was like “well obviously we strip” and jér was like “okay but that means we’re going to get taken super seriously” (he didn’t suspect that a marriage was in the cards but he definitely had a fantasy about it and then got Very Embarrassed help him he’s just in love)

in conclusion: doing things skyclad in québec doesn’t really...happen like it does for nb. phil didn’t know this and jér went along with it, and now they’re married (but like...neither of them is complaining. they’re very grateful, really.)

[dreamin-of-somewhere-else]

To Become A Hunter

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sister!reader, John Winchester, Sam Winchester [mentioned]

Words: 3900+ (I’m really sorry about that, but there was no good place to split it)

Warnings: Can’t think of anything specific, really, maybe just that there’s going to be a verbal fight, I dunno. Maybe a bit of swearing, not too much.

A/N: This is the fic I was talking about! It’s a pre-series sister AU, that takes place in between around 2003. Dean is 24, Sam is 20 and at Stanford and you are 17 years old. It’ll also be a mini-series, so there’s more parts to come. It might be a bit all over the place, but I was trying to create a certain feeling. (I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I hope you like it!)

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Hunting is hard, and that’s no surprise, really. It’s physically challenging, you have to be smart, have technique, and it’s just hard emotionally as well. And, not only is it hard, but you hate it as well.

Okay, hate is a strong word, but things about it, you really do hate. You hate the way you have to sacrifice what feels like everything for it. You hate the way you feel like you miss out on life. You hate the pain and the constant fear. You hate the way it forces you to see the world more black and white instead of with all the shades of grey. You hate the way you get shut down every time you question this. You hate the way your dad responds with ’because you have to’ when you ask ’why?’.

John Winchester used to be in the military and it shows, you could testify to that. All your life he has been hard on you and your brothers. But, despite this, you are not afraid to stand up to him, question him, call him out. Although it often comes with consequences.

”Why didn’t you listen to my orders?” John roar, dark brown eyes furiously staring at you, and it almost makes you squirm. Only, you don’t show it.

”Because your orders were stupid! It would have never worked!” You retort, standing as tall as you can, staring back.

Dean’s keeping in the background, absentmindedly clutching his upper arm, as his gaze anxiously and a little annoyedly shift between you and John. It’s like with Sam and Dad all over again.

”Don’t you dare speak to me like that little girl.” Your father threaten you through gritted teeth.

He’s angry. Real angry. Despite the tone and expression, you can tell by the vein popping out on the side of his forehead.

”You are a piss poor excuse of a hunter! Pathetic, really. So don’t you come here and tell me what’s good and not. If you just had done what I told you, Dean wouldn’t have gotten hurt!” John gestures towards Dean as he plays that card.

And it has affect on you as your heart clutches in remorse. Meanwhile, Dean’s eyes widen as John uses him to guilt his little sister. He even tries to chime in.

”Wait, Dad—”

But he’s immediately cut off by John. ”Quiet, Dean. This is between your sister and I.”

You roll your eyes at the irony. It’s not about Dean, but still, your dad is of course allowed to use him to make a point.

You shouldn’t have done that, because John grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you closer, gaze nailing you and boring into your soul.

”You don’t get to use that attitude. You’re a worthless hunter. You can’t track down a monster on your own. You can’t shoot. You definitely proved that today. You ignore my orders like a little brat. Hell, you never freaking listen!” John hisses and you feel a shiver going down your spine as you try not to wince.

You want to talk back, but you struggle with coming up with words, any words at all. So, you open your mouth only to close it again. And now, honestly, you are scared. Scared because you know your dad. And that would make anyone feel nervous right now.

The tension is broken by hands wrapping around John’s shoulders. It’s Dean, you never saw him walking over, since he was hidden behind the towering statue of John, but now he’s here and pulling John away.

”Go easy on her, Dad, she’s doing the best she can.” Your big brother tries, but John shuts him down, forcedly shrugging off his grip.

”Back off, Dean.” He spits and you shiver.

Although Dean would deny it, you and Sam always had been sure that he was the oldest Winchester’s favorite. And for John to go off on him like that, he had to be mad.

”You’re part of the problem too,” Your dad continues, turned towards Dean now. ”You continue to baby her. You know very well that when you were her age, you could hit a target with your eyes closed. You were miles ahead. So, you need to stop going soft on her. She needs to learn in order to become a hunter.”

You feel Dad’s every word, like a blow. ’She needs to learn.’ That doesn’t sound good to you, and internal warning bells go off, and you start feeling anxious with your heartbeat picking up even more. You try your best to push it all away, the feelings and thoughts, and focus. Stay calm, (Y/N).

Before you can think, you open your mouth, because suddenly there’s something — a thought — that wants out, that wants to be said and heard.

”But I never wanted to become a hunter.” You don’t even realize that it’s your voice at first. Immediately, when you do, you realize it was a mistake.

Because your dad starts stalking closer like a panther sneaking up on its prey. Soon he’s only inches away from you. Dean nervously shifts, watching.

”Too bad that’s not your choice to make. You’re my daughter and I call the shots around here.”

His tone is cold. The whole of him is worse than ever. Because, this might be one of his scariest moments, except for that one time he hit Sam, bad.  

That night changed the way you saw your dad, forever. It might seem like an exaggeration, but it was definitely on the list of horrible things you’ve seen and would never forget. A list that’s already too long for your age. When said night occurred, you were only 13. Sam was 16 and Dean 20. Sam and your dad got into a heated argument, one of the worst of its kind, and John ended up connecting a fist to his youngest son’s cheek.

That moment flashes before your eyes right now. This feels all too much like that time. The situation over all is quite alike that one, now that you think of it.

It’s been quiet for a moment now. John — furious with a heaving chest and clenched fists — looks from you to Dean. You, his kids, are both clenching your jaws, your eyes cautiously yet intently glaring at your dad, never once breaking the glance. You’re positioned on opposite sides of John, and you’re keeping quiet, although both of your heads are buzzing with noisy, angry thoughts directed to the man who was supposed to raise you, protect you and make sure you get through life well, safe and sound.  

”Okay, this is how it’s going to be.” The older man breaks the silence. ”Tomorrow, Dean, you’re going to leave. Early in the morning. I’ll find you a hunt, and you’re going to take the Impala, and sort it out. And then you’re not going to come back for a month, and by that I mean a complete month, not a day before. That is orders. Do you hear me?”

Your eyes widen, it feels like the air has been knocked out of you, merely by the message. You almost can’t breath again, you unknowingly hold your breath. Your heart pounds in your chest. You had never, up until now, realized how intimidating the thought of being completely alone with the man who was your biological father but hardly a father figure. Without your brothers there to help you. Without their protection and support.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice speaks. ’Suck it up (Y/N). You can’t need their protection. You don’t get to rely on them all the damn time.’ You can’t tell whose voice it is, if it’s dark or light, if it’s feminine or masculine. If you could though, you weren’t too sure it would be yours, but instead, your dad’s.

Despite the thoughts clouding your senses, you still manage to meet Dean’s eyes. You briefly wondered if you had absentmindedly searched for his gaze, because of the connection you have, or if you simply happened to stare at him. Or maybe he was the one

searching for your eyes.

Dean looks sad. Apologetic. Worried.

An unwanted thought enters your mind. Maybe he doesn’t think you can handle yourself. Maybe he knows that you’re going to be lost without him?

John puts an end to your thinking. ”Do you understand me, son?”

Dean continues to look at you, until he finally draws his eyes away, to glance at John. Maybe he can’t take looking at you. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

”Yes, sir.”

The words are definite. Absolute. And now it’s real, Dean is leaving tomorrow, for sure.

”You, (Y/N).” He spits, whipping around to you, and you almost stagger back, by his sheer movement. ”You’re going to stay here with me. I’m going to train you. Turn you into a real hunter.”

You don’t dare asking what that means. But you probably deserved it. Not that you had done something wrong, you still think defying Dad’s orders tonight was the right call, and has been all the other times. But, you also know that he has been very hard on your brothers, in a way that he actually haven’t been on you. Training-wise. Otherwise, he might have been even harder, but that’s a story for another time.

”Now, do you understand?” Dad presses.

”Yes sir.” You say, quietly. Now, for the first time, you don’t look at him. You don’t want to give him the pleasure.

”One more time, louder. And look at me.”

You clench your jaw even harder, dreading it. But although you’re pissed, you do as he says.

”Yes sir.” You repeat yourself, eyes laid on his larger form.

He smiles ever so slightly, content. And you hate that. Absolutely despise it.

Turning around, you leave the joint kitchen and living room of the cabin you, Dad and Dean are renting, and walk off into the small, bare room you’re currently inhabiting as if it was your own. You close the door behind you — although you don’t slam it because that would only make your dad even angrier and who knows what would happen then. You lean against it, taking a deep breath as you stare up at the wooden ceiling, taking in the detailing in every piece of plank.

You stand there for a moment, feeling tired, defeated and empty. Soon enough you leave the door and air cooled off the area your body heat had warmed up, and you lie down on the bed. You don’t bother changing clothes, you’ve already taken off your jacket and shoes, and other than that, you didn’t get too dirty during this hunt. Besides, you just lied down on top of the covers and not under them. You don’t bother getting ready anymore than that either. You just want to fall asleep, escape from your thoughts. It doesn’t happen though, as you remain awake, looking out the window — situated on the wall opposite to the door as well as to the bed’s right — at the sun setting behind the trees. You succeed to keep your head fairly empty, keeping the difficult, dark thoughts away from your mind.

You lie there for a while, you would guess around an hour, but you can’t know for sure — until a knock tears through the thick silence. You hadn’t expected it, but it don’t startle you, and you don’t move one bit. Instead you continue lying on your side — arm tucked under the pillow and your head, knees slightly bent and drawn closer to your chest — inattentively staring out at the evening sky.

The door opens with a creak.

”Hi.” Dean’s voice reaches your ear.

You slightly lift up your head — that feels heavy — and look over your shoulder at him. As you do, the corners of Dean’s lips slightly curl upwards, but his eyes are round and sad. He almost looks like a puppy, or a young boy, and your stomach twists. He looks lost, tired, with messy hair, no leather jacket but only a black t-shirt on his upper body and a clean bandage wrapped around his upper arm, covering his wound.

Dean closes the door behind him. You lay down your head on your pillow again, but your sensitive ears hear Dean slither closer until the bed shifts as it dips down behind your back, the feathers squealing quietly.

You don’t even have to make room for him to lie down, because you’re already placed on the far edge closest to the window. He places his head on the other pillow — the bed has two, you found a spare one in the small closet of the cabin — and gives out a light groan, probably because of his arm and sore muscles. And then it’s quiet and still again.

He lies there, next to you, for a while. Without saying anything, just being there. For both your sakes, maybe even more for his than your own. But you can’t lie, it feels nice, comforting, reassuring. And soon enough, you roll over to your back, mimicking Dean’s position, staring up at the ceiling again.

Soon enough, you speak, words soft.

”I’ve screwed up.” It’s no whine, cry, or nervous claim. It’s only a statement, and you put no particular emotion behind your words.

It’s almost like it wasn’t you that had screwed up, but someone else. As if your worries only exist in someone else’s life. But that isn’t the truth is it?

Dean turns his face towards you, you can see it in the corner of your left eye. He inspects your face with his green eyes for a moment, until he ultimately turns his face towards the ceiling again and answers.

”Maybe. Judging by our life, our family situation. Our dad.” He pauses. ”But that’s only because it’s like this. If our lives were normal, apple-pie ones, you definitely would’ve done the right thing, standing up for yourself like you did.”

”He’s probably right, you know.” You state.

”What?

”That I need to become a real hunter. That I’m weak.” You explain further.

”Oh, come on, don’t say that.” Dean objects, but with less disagreement and emotion in his voice than you would’ve think. Maybe it’s because he’s subconsciously matching up his tone to fit better with your calm, quieter words.

”But it’s true.”

Although a few hours ago, you had been sure you were right, now you let your dad’s words get to you. You started believing them. Sure, sometimes you thought about yourself as weak and not a good hunter, but never as completely useless like you started to now.

”No, it’s not.” Dean retorts.

”It is.”

Dean’s following silence speaks for itself, but it gives off several possible messages. Maybe he’s just quiet because he knows he can’t win the argument. Maybe he knows it’s true and agrees with Dad.

You shake the last option off, although you know that you brought it up in the first place. It’s your fault.

”Sorry about your shoulder.” You switch topic, and this time you turn your head to look at Dean.

Dean dips his own head down and your eyes meet, though his face is partially hidden behind some of the pillows’ fluffiness. Dean looks up again.

”’Not your fault.”

You nod a little. Not that you agree, it is, but you know he will continue to think it wasn’t whatever you say, so you let it go.

It’s quiet for a while. The room progressively gets darker as the sun disappears completely from the sky, and it goes deep blue. You listen to Dean’s breathing as his chest heaves up and down, and you even close your eyes for a while. By now, the thoughts are almost completely gone and it feels great.

You could’ve fallen asleep right there and then; warm, on a fairly comfortable bed, beside one of the two people just love most in this world, but you don’t. Instead, you open your mouth one more time.

”I don’t want you to leave.” You whisper, because it feel so strange now to break the silence that’s been resting over the two of you for long now.

”I don’t want to leave,” comes the answer. You can’t see more of Dean than his silhouette in this lightening, but you can definitely feel his presence just as much as before.

It’s a sad excuse of a comfort, but it still feels a little bit better knowing that he feels the same way. And, somewhen after that, you do actually drift off to slumber, against all odds, tiredness from the hunt and fight enveloping you like a soft blanket.

You blink and instantly squint your newly awoken eyes against the white, bright light streaming in from the window — that does not have any blinds. Although, it has curtains, you just never pulled them close. You groggily take in the room, remembering that this is where you lived for now. A specific thought enter your mind and you immediately look over to your left, but the bed is empty. The only sign that someone ever lied there, is the slight crinkling of the white covers.

Piercing pain shoots through your body, starting from your heart as fear takes over. You almost cringe, turning into yourself. But then your trained ears catch something outside your closed bedroom door.

”No.” His voice is muffled, but there, and you feel yourself relax ever so slightly.

”You don’t want to?” It was Dad.

”No.”

”You have to, Dean.”

”Why?”

You rise your eyebrows. It’s unusual for your older brother to question John’s orders this much, that’s your job. He usually just accepted them and strode right into action. He must be really passionate about this, staying here. You feel a pull on your heartstrings as you exhaled softly. You may not have a lot in this life, but you have Dean. And that is more than enough.

”It’s orders, son.”

When Dean’s answer doesn’t come, you fly off your bed, heart in your throat. You run to the door, open it, and come to a stop in the doorway. There’s Dean, duffle bag in his hand, standing by the front door across the room from you. And there’s Dad, looking content up until he sees you.

”Go back to your room, (Y/N).”

You completely ignore him. Instead, you walk closer to Dean and Dad, almost reaching Dad who stands in the middle of the room.

”Your room, (Y/N).” He growls threateningly.

”Dean!” You call, trying to get him to look at you, but he just stares at the floor, clutching the handles of the bag harder.

You get sinking feeling in your stomach.

”Dean, please don’t go! Don’t leave me!” You try again, and you can’t seem to keep your voice stable, instead you sound desperate — which, well, you are.

You don’t actually know what Dad ’making you into a hunter’ meant, so you really don’t have a reason to be so scared. But, somehow, your instincts told you differently.

”Stay back!” Dad demands, as he puts out an arm and pushes you back, so hard that you stumble a few steps. ”Dead, you know what you have to do. It’s orders.”

”Dean!” You try calling again, feeling your eyes sting.

You watch how Dean looks at his shoes, nodding slowly as he clenches his jaw. Then, he turns around and grabs the door knob.

You instantly spin around, facing away from Dean and John, staring through the open door into your room. You can’t watch him leave, you can’t do it. Instead, you stare into nothing until you forcedly shut your eyes, mostly in reflex, as you hear the soft sound of the front door closing slowly.

You know Dean trusts Dad. He trusts him in a way you never can, and never have. So, you could only hope that’s the reason he now left you alone, and not the fact that he too thinks you’re weak and wants you to become a real hunter.

You hear shuffling behind you, and you know John turns to look at you.

”It’s just me and you now, princess.”

You hate that word. Princess. It’s deprecate, it’s like just because you’re a girl, you expect to be treated with kid gloves, like some royalty. Like you can’t handle it.

Although maybe you can’t.

”Let’s start right now, shall we?” You can hear your father’s smirk.

You take a deep breath, in and out. And, then you slowly turn around to face him. Because, you know he’s going to make you otherwise, and you’d rather do it with dignity.

So there you stand, tall and chin raised high, looking at him coldly. Tears have pricked in the corners of your eyes, but you ignore them, shoving your feelings around.

”Come here.” He instructs.

At first you don’t move, but when you see his expression, you cautiously make your way over. Your dad places his hand on your shoulder as you reach him, but you angrily shake it off.

Both of you walk outside, to the porch. There, John points at the opening of the forest.

”See that road?”

You ignore the urge to scoff. The gravel by the opening is hardly a road, more like a path. But, you nod anyway.

”I want you to run that track. 15 miles, maybe a bit more.”

You gulp.

You’ve always categorized yourself as more of the brain than the muscle. Sure, you constantly put your body under physical pressure, but, you and your family really didn’t have the best food habits. Burgers and canned food aren’t exactly healthy. What you did for a living compensated for this, since a hunt was surely a workout, but you could be in better shape. So, you are in pretty good shape, yes, but you’re no exceptional superhero who could just run 15 miles in the speed John wanted you to.

”Can I have breakfast?” You quietly ask. Surely you could, but you decide to not anger your dad by taking things for granted.

”No.”

Your eyes widen — I’m going to faint — but you give a single nod. Then, you turn around to walk inside, to your room, again.

John stops you by putting out an arm, blocking the entrance inside.

”Where do you think you’re going?” You look up at him, and see that his eyebrows are high on his forehead, questioning you.

”To switch clothes…” You innocently explain, before looking down at your t-shirt and jeans.

”I don’t think so.” John obeys, and you’re not even surprised. Of course you can’t.

What surprises you slightly is him forcedly grabbing your shoulders, turning your around, and giving you a hard shove across the porch, so that you almost trip and fall down the couple of stairs down to ground level. You stumble down them though, breath stuck in your throat, heart pounding.

While you regain your footing and then balance, John yells after you.

”Now, show me you’re not completely worthless, stupid girl!”

His words hurt, but once again you repress your feelings. Determination settles in on you, and you make a promise to yourself. I’m going to show him.

And then your start running.

A/N (again): And, as I said, there will be more parts to this! I haven’t written them yet but I know what I want to happen, so, yeah. There’s gonna be a bit more action in later parts to make up for this lol. This is kind of a teaser (hysterically long)/an opening for what’s to come.

Tags: @daughters-and-winsisters @evyiione @samanddeanshotsis @darkestgrungeuniverse @fabulouslycassie @delessapeace-blog @mariairwin666 @1amluke @saveprettydays @cookee50 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @infamati–et–obliterati  @stillcooli0 @sammysbeanie @jamric @deepbreathssammy @extreme-supernatural-lover 

Because you showed interest (thanks for that! <3): @winchesters-favorite-girl, @straightasdeanwinchester, @soullessbabee, @derbypasta8811: I tried tagging you but it didn’t work :(

[saintjojis]

The Draw

ANONYMOUS ASKED:

Hi! Can I ask for a BTS fic with JungKook when he joins a dance academy and the reader is already one of their top dancers and he starts to fall for her? They end up being asked to do a partner dance for a competition and before they perform it on stage JungKook confesses? Thank you so much! I LOVE your blog❤️💕🌸

Genre: Dance Prodigy!Jungkook, Fluffy Angst

Word Count: 1,662

 Jungkook was hailed as a prodigy his entire life. He had a good voice, he was a good dancer, charismatic and charming. He could be the perfect star. So, it came as no surprise that he’d want to pursue the arts. He had no problem getting accepted into a prestigious dance academy, and just like that he was closer to achieving his dreams.

On the first day there, the newcomers had to show what they were made of. He didn’t fail to impress all but one. He was good for a new comer, but the mysterious girl didn’t seem impressed. Her expression impossible to read, nevertheless, she shot Jungkook a smile. Soon after, formal introductions were made. From the beginners to the intermediates, to the top dancers; here he found out her name and who she was.

“(Y/n), leader of the advanced dancers. Welcome to Joffrey Academy of Dance”

After introductions and a quick rundown  of the curriculum, everyone was sent to their respective teachers and groups. It came as a pleasant surprise for Jungkook to see (y/n) in his group, she would be assisting his teacher certain days and he wasn’t complaining. She always kept a stern look on her face, professional, calm and collected. When she danced her mien changed, she conveyed the mood of the dance through her varying expressions. She made everything look effortless and perfect. She oozed confidence, and Jungkook couldn’t get her off his mind. Just everything about her screamed flawless.

He tried his best, he gave his all, but she never seemed fazed or impressed which only frustrated him more and more. Everyone could see how good he was, why couldn’t she even give him another smile? Had she done it to be polite? Why was he stressing about her anyway? There were plenty of other girls that’d bend to his will, he didn’t need (y/n). So, why was she on his mind? Jungkook was determined to get her attention, at least once. He started practicing any chance he got. Soon whenever he was needed he could be found in whatever practice room was free.

Be it fate or be it some divine sign, one day while looking for a place to practice he found her in one of the rooms. He stood in the doorway hidden from view, and just watched her. The finesse in everything she did made her look like an angel, so effortless that she made it look like magic. She was almost too good to be real. He tried to take a closer look, only to stumble into the room. She looked at him, but said nothing. Jungkook’s cheeks flushed red as he looked at her. He got up as quickly as possible.

“Sorry, I was looking for somewhere to practice.” He hoped she wouldn’t notice that he’d been watching her.

“You can practice here, I was about to leave anyway.”  Her voice was a sweet melody to Jungkook. He felt both relief and embarrassment, he didn’t mean to just kick her out in middle of her practice.

“You don’t have to leave, I can just find somewhere else to practice, I mean it’s not-“

“You need to practice more than I do. By the way you should go over the moves from Monday’s lesson, you’re still a little stiff.” She cut him off, but as soon as she finished talking she packed up her things and left. Leaving Jungkook alone.

“Still a little stiff,” He muttered “I’m not fucking stiff.”

He went over the moves anyway. Maybe (y/n) was a little right. Just a little. He went over the whole lesson plus everything he’d learned as many times as he could in that afternoon. He couldn’t get the image of her out of his head, her voice, just everything about her. Jungkook wondered how she could dance so rigorously without even breaking a sweat. On his way back to his dorm, he thought about how good his name would sound if she said it. He could guess it was such a sweet sound. Maybe if he ran into her more, she’d eventually say his name.

 The weeks went by, and Jungkook had yet to impress (y/n). He was still invisible to her. Until, dance season was nearing. Tensions were at an all time high, everyone was feeling the stress of the competition on landing good parts. It was no struggle for (y/n) to get something good, but he could tell she too was stressing out about everything. Nothing had been announced yet, but everyone knew it’d be a showcase of the new talents as well as a farewell to those who will be leaving. The weeks leading up to it were hectic, everyone rushed to practice rooms after lessons, which meant more awkward encounters with (y/n). She offered to help him with whatever he was struggling with, but Jungkook’s pride made him deny the help every time.

One Monday, four weeks before the showcase, Jungkook’s teacher began assigning dances to the class. Some were group dances, other solos. One was a couples dance. Jungkook desperately hoped he’d get either a solo or a group dance, he couldn’t do a couples dance. There was no way. But the universe is cold and unforgiving, and he wound up getting the couples dance; with none other than (y/n). How ironic. He pleaded with his teacher to make a change, he couldn’t do it, especially not with her. However, his teacher refused, “You can’t? If you can’t then you can finish this semester and not come back the next.  That’s up to you, though.” Basically, a friendly ‘no pressure’ which just had him fuming. From here until the showcase he’d be seeing (y/n) every day, for hours on end. He had to put whatever was happening inside his head aside and focus. This was be all end all of his place in the academy. The first day of their practice was ultimately the most awkward. His movements were still stiff and awkward, he was overthinking his movements; which only made things harder for himself. Soon, (y/n) noticed why he was dancing like his limbs were made of stone.

“You need to stop thinking about it so much, Jungkook. Just listen to the music and lose yourself in it. Your movements will flow better, just don’t think” Just don’t think, easier said than done. He tried, he really did, but he was still intimidated by her. She could feel him tense up whenever they touched, she stopped the music.

“What’s wrong with you today? You dance great every other day! Why are you so tense now? Have you never danced with a girl? You can’t keep dancing like this, it can end you.” She ask, half mad half disappointed.

“So what if I’ve never danced with a girl! It’s not like I’ll always dance with a partner!” If she wanted to make him mad, she was succeeding. He couldn’t believe that she’d even be mad, it wasn’t easy and she treated it like it was the simplest thing.

“You know, maybe we should call it off for today. I’ll make arrangements tomorrow to get you a dance that’s more up to your skill. I can tell this isn’t for you.”

‘This isn’t for you’? Really? Was she really doubting his skills? That was it, they were getting this dance done by the end of the day. She was gathering her things and getting ready to leave when Jungkook turned the music back on. This caught (y/n) by surprise, what was he playing at now. She looked at him, he stared back expectantly. She made his way over to him, and they began the routine again. This time, it went over perfect. By the end of it, (y/n) was impressed by the change of character.

“What changed, shy boy? If you can keep this up everyday, we’ll make a good impression on everyone. Maybe you’ll move to the next course sooner.” (Y/n)’s tone was different, she sounded pleased.

“Yeah, maybe.” Jungkook said, quietly.

 The weeks flew by in a daze. Practice with (y/n) had gotten progressively better after the first day. It wasn’t as weird as he’d been expecting. They grew close in the few weeks leading up to the showcase, and soon, it was already the night they’d been preparing for. (Y/n) didn’t seem stressed at all, Jungkook on the other hand was really feeling the pressure. Before he knew it they had to begin preparing for their performance. She noticed him standing there all tensed up, with a look on his face like he’d just seen a ghost.

“You okay there? We’ll do fine, yeah?” Her voice was warm and reassuring, but he couldn’t shake off the nervousness. An impulse of stupidity came over him, and his mouth moved faster than his mind.

“(Y/n), I really, really like you. I hadn’t told you because I was kind of intimidated, but I really do like you. I think you’re beautiful and fun and smart. I’ve thought so ever since I saw you and-“

In that moment, everything was too real for (y/n). This explained his shyness to touch her, the loving gazes he gave her when they danced. Every unscripted touch and look suddenly made sense. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

“I like you too, shy boy. But we’ve got something to do.”

Without any words, they made their way to the stage. It was the perfect stage, every move was hit perfectly, every look they gave each other only further solidified the mood they’d set. It was electric, and everyone felt it. By the end of it, they’d captivated the audience. They received a standing ovation from the crowd. As soon as they made it backstage, Jungkook pulled her into him by the waist and kissed her softly. (Y/n) put her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Maybe couple’s dances were Jungkook’s thing.

[laceyeb]

I Woke Up - Part 2

Part 1

“But that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jenna said at once after Sharna explained it all to her. “You can’t not talk to James.”

 “Apparently I don’t have much of a say in the matter,” Sharna said shortly. It had already been a few days since her last conversation with James and she still felt numb with disbelief. “Believe it or not,” she added, sarcasm seeping into her voice, “I was not consulted about this.”

 “So, you haven’t talked to him? At all? Since when?”

 “This was Tuesday. He texted me once. Last night.”

 “What did he say?!”

 “That he was sorry. That was it.”

 Sharna swore she could hear Jenna roll her eyes. “Well, that’s helpful. I just don’t get it. I know you two are close, but like… she’s always been perfectly pleasant to me and I’m close to him, too.”

 “But you’re not the - what did he say? - the ‘place holder.’”

 “He said that to you?!”

 “He didn’t, no. He said that’s what she said. Well, I guess technically he said that she said she was that to him. But either way…” She shook her head, confusing herself. “You’re not the one who’s trying to tempt him away from her, so I guess you’re safe.”

“Well, I still think it’s stupid. I mean, you’re in a relationship.”

 “I told him the same thing.”

 “And you’re not even interested in him like that.”

 Sharna sighed, but said nothing. The agony of her thoughts over the past few days weighing on her again at Jenna’s words. Am I? she had asked herself when she felt brave enough to let herself think about it. No. She knew that much. Or she thought she knew that much. Maybe she really was just in denial. Maybe she had been for the past ten months or so. But no. That was absurd. She hadn’t even entertained the idea of it because she knew it couldn’t have come to anything. He was taken and he was happy. And then she found someone, too. And she was happy, too. Everyone was happy. Or so she thought. And she was certainly entertaining the idea now. Did she really ever feel that way about him? Sure, she had the what ifs in her mind way back when. Back when they were still getting to know each other and she realized just how special he was and how they connected with each other and how they somehow seemed to complete each other in every way. When her thoughts started to drift in this direction, she shook her head sharply hoping this would help. Because no. It was crazy to think she would feel this type of attraction to him. Sure, he was attractive. But it was in an emotional way. His being and the way he lived life was attractive to her. And the way he smiled. And his eyes. No. She had actually knocked her head back against the wall as she sat in bed a couple nights ago as that particular idea came into her mind. And she told herself she was only thinking this way now because of him. Because he made this known to her. It was all his fault. But it wasn’t. Because what choice did he have, really? She did her best not to be angry with him, but it wasn’t easy.

 “Sharna?” Jenna said very slowly, drawing out her name when she still hadn’t said anything. “You’re not interested in him like that, right?”

 “Of course not,” Sharna replied, but she had paused for just too long.

 “Holy crap,” Jenna said under her breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 “Jenna, no,” she said now, more conviction in her voice. “I don’t. I’m not. I’ve just… I’m only thinking about this now because of what’s happened.”

 Jenna sighed. “Be honest with me,” she said very gently. “Are you sure?”

 Sharna closed her eyes and did as Jenna said. “No, I’m not sure.”

 “Okay,” she said slowly. “Okay. Well, I don’t know what to do with that.”

 “Neither do I. But I have to be sure. That’s what I’ve decided at least. I have to be sure that I don’t… feel that way. So… I don’t.”

 “I don’t think it’s really that easy,” Jenna said cautiously.

 “Look,” Sharna said to her. “Please don’t… don’t say anything about this to anyone, okay? Don’t tell Val. I don’t need him involved in this. Or anyone. It’s enough of a mess already.”

 “I won’t. But Sharna, what are you going to do now?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “You… you have to figure this out.”

 “Figure what out?” Sharna said slightly defensively.

 “You have to figure out how you feel.” Her tone was still gentle, but more determined. “If you -.”

 “I don’t.”

 “Okay, but if you do.” She paused. “And have you talked to -.”

 “No,” Sharna cut her off. “No. He doesn’t need to get mixed up in this, too. It has nothing to do with him. It would only hurt him to know that she sees this and is really that worried about something being there.”

 “Do you - don’t be mad, okay? - but do you think maybe he sees something, too?”

 “If he does, he hasn’t told me. I mean, they’re friends, him and James. Just like me and James.”

 “Sharna,” Jenna said slightly impatiently. “Even you aren’t going to convince yourself that those two friendships are the same.”

 She knew this, but it was the only thing she could say to keep herself sane at the moment. She felt as though she needed to talk to someone about all this. Someone else who could help her to understand her own self. But of course that person would have been James.

 “I miss him,” she whispered.

 “I know.”

 After a couple more minutes of unrelated conversation, trying to bring everything back to some sort of sense of reality, Sharna said goodbye to Jenna.

 And then Jenna called James.

[liaragaming]

Uncommon OC Questions

I finally finished this, and holy crap it’s 12 pages in my Word doc. This turned out to be a great character exercise to flesh out my characters Inan Lavellan, Abigail Hawke, and Liara Tabris. I even added a few questions that occurred to me while writing. I mostly did this for myself, but if you’re interested, you can find all questions under the cut. Original meme can be found here.

1. What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Inan – She can sit still forever. She finds it very peaceful, especially after she becomes Inquisitor. She just cherishes those rare moments where she can take a breather. Bet her she couldn't sit still for days, and she will take you up on the challenge.

Abigail – She's a mover. She likes to get up and go. The only time she really sits still is when reading a book or getting a drink or just laying in bed with Fenris.

Liara – She really likes the sound of being able to sit still and do nothing. But an idle elf was always sure to draw suspicion from the humans in Denerim, and she's never allowed herself to make that mistake. Even after becoming a Warden, it's hard for her to shake the habit.  

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Inan – Very easy. Humor is like a balm to her.

Abigail – there are days when laughter seems hard, but with her friends around it's very hard not to.

Liara – when she's comfortable and with the people she cares about, laughter comes very easily.

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Inan – just goes to bed, plops under those covers and that's the end of that.

Abigail – has trouble sleeping without someone with her (either Dog or Fenris).

Liara – she likes to stay up chatting with someone before she goes to sleep. If no one is available, she'll write in her diary. Both are ways for her to wind down.

4. How easy is it to earn their trust?

Inan – She's pretty willing to trust.

Abigail – She needs to get to know someone before she's able to fully trust them.

Liara – She's always hesitant around humans because of her negative experiences with them. But she finds as long as they don't prove to be an ass with their first impression, they're generally okay. Other than that trusting comes easily.

5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Inan – It's hard. She's generally pretty forgiving.

Abigail – One mistake and that's all it takes.

Liara – She understands the world is complicated and not everything's black and white. She can be understanding if not fully forgiving.

6. Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

Inan – flexible

Abigail – flexible

Liara – flexible

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Inan – The smell of lavender and finding halla really bring her back to her clan. For the most part, it's a comfort, but sometimes it's hard. She misses her family.

Abigail – Memories of Lothering are hard. They bring up everything that happened after, losing her father, her brother, and her mother. She doesn't like to think about it and prefers to keep herself focused on the present.

Liara – Talking with Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana reminds her of her friends and family back home. It's a good feeling, makes her feel like she keeps her family with her.

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Inan – She'd just wonder off sometimes because she felt like it. She likes being in the woods.

Abigail – She picked on Carver a lot when she was little. She liked reminding him she was oldest, especially as he liked to pretend he was.

Liara – She really liked to practice the knife skills her mother taught her and was told to stop many times.

9. Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

They all swear occasionally, Hawke perhaps a little more than the others. As for first words:

Inan - “Shit? Maybe?”

Abigail - “Fuck.” It wasn't it, but she's going to tell people it was.

Liara - “Does 'damn' count? Because it was most likely that.”

10. What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Inan – The first year she was transferred to Clan Lavellan, she told people stories about her parents. It bothers her that she can't remember if those stories were lies or not. Mostly, she doesn’t think about because she has other family, but when her birth parents are brought up, it does bother her a little.

Abigail – There was something she said to Carver after their father died. She was trying to step into her father's shoes, be the head of the family, and Carver was trying to do the same and they butted heads. She doesn't remember her exact wording, but it was something about him being too selfish to be man of the house. It wasn't true. She was just frustrated, and upset, and angry. But she thinks Carver took it to heart, and she never got to apologize for it.

Liara – Lied many, many times about practicing with her mother's knives. She doesn't regret those as it meant she got to continue practicing, but looking back there were some risks it was foolish of her to take and she could have gotten a lot of people in trouble.

11. How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Inan – she worries about keeping up appearances as the Inquisitor, so she will smile and nod and then later ask one of her companions, especially with instances where they're in Val Royuex and she doesn't understand what those people want.

Abigail – she will straight up tell people she doesn't understand or that they are not speaking clearly

Liara – she completely shuts down, especially around humans. She doesn't want to appear as the “dumb elf,” so she nods and then gets the heck out of there as quickly as possible. She doesn't even think to ask her friends for clarification, she just wants out of the situation.  

12. How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

Inan – She has to deal with it immediately in whatever way she can. If that means using her staff like a scratching post, she'll do it.  

Abigail – grits her teeth and ignores it

Liara – asks someone she's traveling with to scratch it

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color? (changed to) What colors do they like to dress in?

Inan – likes to dress in earth tones.

Abigail – likes red or bold colors.

Liara – likes blue or soft colors.

14. What animal do they fear most?

Inan – Fade spiders

Abigail – “Do undead count?”

Liara – Blighted animals. At least Darkspawn look like their own species. It’s easy to forget they were once people before. But blighted animals remind her they used to be something else. She doesn't like encountering them.

15. How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

Inan – Will definitely rehearse with Josephine if she's meeting someone important for the Inquisition.

Abigail – just says whatever comes to mind. Life's too damn short to do otherwise.

Liara – She'll often rehearse when she's nervous about an important meeting or discussing uncomfortable topics, but she gets so nervous she usually forgets what she rehearsed anyway.

16. What makes their stomach turn?

Inan – Being with her people again and encountering their stories and traditions. There is so much she's learned that the Dalish don't know, and she can't just come out and tell them about Mythal or The Dread Wolf or the vallaslin. She's certain they wouldn't believe her, that they'll think being with the humans has changed her against them, especially since she had her own vallaslin removed. She loves encountering her people, but if myths and traditions come up in regards to stuff she knows and can't say, she will legitimately get sick to her stomach and have to excuse herself.

Abigail – necromancy

Liara – Thinking about the alienage where she grew up. She will always feel like she abandoned her people, that she didn't do enough to help them. Knowing the purge happened because of her actions, that Tevinter came and took people away, that friends and family died from sickness… she will always feel that was her fault. It’s difficult for her to go back there, and she mostly avoids it.

17. Are they easily embarrassed?

Inan – no

Abigail – no

Liara – yes

18. What embarrasses them?

Abigail – hearing about stupid stuff she did while drunk.

Liara – anytime she thinks she may have made a mistake or done something wrong.

19. What is their favorite number?

pass

20. If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Inan – romantic love is when you want to give someone every piece of you and receive every piece of them, platonic love is when you trust someone to always be there for you and you for them, familial is when you care for and respect someone enough to associate them with familial roles.

Abigail – romantic love is when you care for someone so much you want to know how well your bodies fit together, platonic love is when you care for someone a lot but don't want to see them naked, and familial love is when you may not like the person but care for them anyway.

Liara – romantic love is when you want to spend everyday of the rest of your life with someone, platonic is when you want to spend a lot of your time with someone, familial is when you love the people you were born to.

21. Why do they get up in the morning? 

Inan – because someone's gotta save the damn world, and shit it's her.

Abigail – isn't sure some days and just rolls over and pulls the covers over her head.

Liara - Leliana

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? 

Abigail – seeing other women flirting with Fenris often has her either telling them off or stealing him away.

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? 

Inan – seeing happy couples or Dalish clans makes her wistful and sad.

Abigail – seeing older adults happy with their parents or siblings makes her a sad/angry ball of frustration and she has to leave the area.

Liara – She envies people with expensive things, can't stop admiring them, and then she feels guilty about wanting those things.

24. Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? 

Inan – she will freely discuss it with whomever if the topic comes up in conversation.

Abigail -  she'll talk about it with whoever, sometimes when no one asks.

Liara – she's comfortable talking about it with Leliana, but that's it.

25. What are their thoughts on marriage? 

Inan - “Would love to get married someday, but the man I love right now is trying to destroy the world, so...”

Abigail – “Would love to, but living on the run kinda puts a damper on things like that.”

Liara – “Would love to, but I don't know how many years I have, and with Leliana's role with the Chantry… I don't want to do anything that might reflect badly on her.”

26. What is their preferred mode of transportation? 

Inan - walking

Abigail – Anything but a boat. Maker, please.

Liara – whatever is going to carry her home fastest.

27. What causes them to feel dread? 

Inan – makes some internal joke about The Dread Wolf. Laughs to herself, then bursts into tears.

Abigail – undead, boats, and uncle Gamlen

Liara – darkspawn and demons

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth? 

Inan – “Always tell me the truth no matter how terrible. Always.”

Abigail – “I prefer the truth but sometimes… never tell me the odds. Just lie to me.”

Liara – “I'd rather my friends and family be honest.”

29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals? 

Inan – “I did let Celene die so I could Briala in charge. That was… well…”

Abigail – “You know… I think I did okay.”

Liara – “I did let Morrigan talk me into a ritual of questionable circumstances…”

30. Who do they most regret meeting? 

Inan – No one.

Abigail – “Well Bartrand and his expedition was a huge mistake. But where would I be if that hadn't happened? And Quentin – well, I had to find him to kill him, so… If I had never met Anders… I don't know… pick your poison, I guess.” 

Liara – “Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if Vaughan hadn't shown up at our wedding. But then I never would have met Leliana, and that was the best thing that ever happened to me, so...”

31. Who are they the most glad to have met? 

Inan - Solas

Abigail - Fenris

Liara - Leliana

32. Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke? 

Inan – Throws in a story about some Dalish tradition that still holds meaning for her or someplace she's traveled.

Abigail – She's listened to some of the stories Varric tells about her. She usually uses one of those if she needs an ice breaker.

Liara - “A human walks to a tavern, and there's an elf there. And she says, 'I don't…' Well, I don't know how the rest of it goes. Oghren was too drunk to tell me, but I keep hoping I'll tell it and someone will know the rest.”

33. Could they be considered lazy? 

Inan – *glares*

Abigail – “Say that a little closer so I can punch you in the face.”

Liara – “I killed the archdemon. What more do you want from me?”

34. How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt? 

Inan – she's usually able to shake it off, doesn't stop it from coming around again though.

Abigail – orders herself a dink or two, maybe three

Liara – usually needs Leliana to talk her out of it.

35. What do they feel guilty about and/or biggest regret? 

Inan – not being able to return to her clan as the person she once was.

Abigail – not being able to save her mother

Liara – not being able to do more for her alienage

36. How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive? 

They are all usually very supportive, but they all have that one friend...

Inan – She's apprehensive whenever Sera comes to her excited about something but is usually supportive.

Abigail – She will never trust anything Anders comes to her for ever again. She’s always uncertain whenever Isabela comes to her.

Liara – Ogrhen always concerns her, but she tries to support him.

37. Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap? 

Inan – Mix of both. She makes her feelings known upfront, then allows the other person time and space to respond.

Abigail – She is pretty obvious in her advances and is not afraid to make them multiple times.

Liara – Literally had to wait for Leliana to confess her feelings before she so much as hinted about hers because she didn't think finding romance for herself was possible.

38. Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)? 

Inan – puts it to a Dalish song

Abigail – she asks Fenris. He's better at that sort of stuff.

Liara – writes it down and tries not to lose the paper.

39. What memory do they revisit the most often? 

Inan – She likes to think of the early Inquisition pre dragon attack. Things were simpler back then.

Abigail – A lot of memories are painful for her. She doesn't like to dwell. If she does think of the past, she thinks of time spent with Fenris or Bethany since they're still alive.

Liara – She likes to pull out her memories of the alienage. Not that it was always a happy place, but it was good enough to her and there were people who she cared about. Thinking back on it makes her feel like she's honoring the memory of what it once was and the people who were lost.

40. How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

Inan – as easy as it is for her to forgive them.

Abigail – Depends on how much she likes the person.

Liara – usually makes a point specifically of ignoring other people's flaws.

41. How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Inan – sometimes when she's stressed, she gets snappy. She normally doesn't realize it until she offends someone, at which point she apologizes and goes find something to calm herself down.

Abigail – *flips two fingers*

Liara – Over sensitive. Second guesses herself a lot. Leliana has helped with that, though.

42. How do they feel about children? 

Inan – she loves children, and would love to have some someday or at least have some she's in charge of caring for.

Abigail – Part of her would love to have children. The other is terrified of having something else to lose.

Liara – Even if she could find a cure for the blight, she isn’t sure she wants them.

43. How badly do they want to reach their end goal? 

Inan – “Pretty damn fucking badly! What kind of question is that?!”

Abigail – “I'd just like to not have to deal with everyone's shit anymore and not have to worry about losing the people I care about. But how likely does that sound?” *Smiles through all of it*

Liara – “I want something I might not ever have, so I try not to think about it. Does that change how badly I want it?”

44. If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so? 

Inan - “I like men.”

Abigail - “Hmm. It would be easier if you suggest things, and then I'll tell you yes, no, or maybe.”

Liara - “I like women, and sometimes I like sex?” *shrugs*

45. What are their thoughts on religion? (I added this one) 

Inan – After Trespasser, she doesn't even know anymore. She's given up on the elven gods entirely and has replaced some of her oaths with Andraste-isms, such as “Maker!” instead of “Creators!” but she's not sure she believes in anything right now.

Abigail – She thinks she believes in the Maker or tries to. She doesn't believe in the Chantry's interpretation of the Maker. It's never sat right to her that the Chantry believed her sister had to be locked away. She will go to service sometimes though with Fenris if he asks.

Liara – she believes in Leliana and by extension supports her beliefs.

46. What are their thoughts on alcohol? What kind of drink do they like? Do they drink with friends or alone? What kind of drunk are they? (I added this one too)

Inan – Before the Inquisition, she only drank Dalish wines, which are floral based and consumed during celebrations. While with the Inquisition, she mostly drinks with her companions but would sometimes get a glass by herself just to relax. She still likes floral wines, but will try whatever Dorian recommends for her. She's developed a liking for a few signature Teventer wines.

Abigail – She goes lighter when she's out with friends as she's looking to have a good time and wants to remember it and not make a fool of herself. Alone though, she drinks whatever is strong enough to have an effect, usually because she's upset about something. She prefers hard liquors or ales.

She and Fenris will have casual drinks together, and sometimes they will get drunk with each other for the fun of it. They have discovered they cannot drink together when they are both upset. That ends very, very badly. So, they've made a pact not to do that. If one of them is drinking because they're upset, the other has to stay sober and make sure they don't do something stupid.

Liara – She sips whatever Leliana or another friend orders, then makes a note of the things she likes. Usually sweet things. She only drinks if she has someone to do with it. She doesn't really care for the effect, so she'll drink what she likes the taste of and stop when she starts feeling floaty.

47. Any scars or tattoos? (added)

Inan – Has a scar over her right eyebrow. It's not a very glorious tale. She was exploring the woods one day, tripped, and smacked her head on a rock hard enough to split the skin open.

Abigail – Has taken up getting tattoos for her family members. (I haven't decided what all of them are) She has something for her father, mother, Carver, and Bethany. She got something for Fenris too. She's debated about getting one for Gamlen but isn't sure what she'd choose for him or even if she wants to make that commitment. But she does throw the thought around.

Liara – Has various scars all over her hands and a few on her arms from dropping her knives repeatedly. Leliana likes to trace them with her fingertips.