#drops this and scuttles back into the abyss

[lieutenantabrudas]

Words: 5,242 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Anita Goyle, Sparatus (Mass Effect), Original Turian Character(s) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Politics, Alien Cultural Differences, Technology, Accents Summary: Anita Goyle is having a bad day. It's only been a year since Shanxi, humanity is still trying to get a foot in the door, and now the entire plan for getting an embassy's been thrown off by a chance rescheduling. On an impulse, she takes a break to sit in the park across the way and clear her head, but even there, she can't be alone. The turian she shares a bench with seems nice enough, but the longer they talk, the worse the day seems to be...

i’ll update my multi-chapters when i’m good and ready okay

this is @thetrashbagswasteland‘s fault, we were watching dr who and rose and nine had an exchange that desperately needed to be on the Shit Sparky Says list. no it’s not the one in the title just trust me

[smittenroses]

//scuttles in here like a creature from hell

Hewwo, I would like a DBD fix. May I request The Oni, Ghostface, Trickster, Pyramid Head and maybe Wesker reacting to their SO admitting they feel safer with the person actively hunting them down in trials while they sleep over other survivors because at least they know what the killer will do owo? -Sincerely le creature from hell

(I am in tears writing this help ALSO FEEL FREE TO IGNORE IF REQUEST ATENT OPEN IT SAID OPEN. UT NOT 100% SURE OLAY BYE)

Ask box | Carrd | Ko-fi | Patreon | Archive of Our Own

Fandom — Dead by Daylight Pairing — Danny Johnson/reader Summery — Danny is bored, and you just happen to be there to provide him some unique entertainment Content Warnings — none Word Count — 647

Danny never expected to find himself sitting by a burning barrel in the Entity’s domain. He had long since forgone the comfort of the artificial warmth knowing that like all sensations in the realms, it was simply one that the Entity gave so that the survivors had some sort of hope in the trials. It survived on hope and endurance, it survived on making the survivors feel as if they have some sort of chance to escape and be free from the endless torture that they were shoved in.

Danny, on the other hand, was brought here to try and make that hope last a bit longer with every game they played. It seemed like heaven to have an endless hunting ground that he could toy and play with, different survivors having their own tricks that they could use; it got boring after a while, though. As survivors learned each other’s tricks and began to almost blur into one being, Danny found himself bothering his fellow killers more than the survivors when they strayed too far from the campfire.

And now, because the others had begun to get annoyingly boring, he bothered you.

“So, how long are you going to stare at the fire, little mouse?” You jumped as Danny finally made a noise, your head snapping to be eye to eye with the mask he wore; he never took it off for anyone, ever, so all you could see were the abysses for eyes that stared back, a thin shroud of cloth that he could see out of but you couldn’t see in. Flashing the knife in his hand before putting it away, he balanced on his toes as he crouched beside you, grinning underneath the mask. All your friends were dead; they had been easy to get rid of early in the match when two of them hadn’t seen him in the grass and the entity had swallowed them up quickly, but, instead of you shaking in fear or even crying knowing that he probably wouldn’t give you the hatch, you instead sighed.

Sighed, right in front of him, right to his face as if he wasn’t the person that dictated if you got to live or die right now. He blinked once, twice, before your head rested against his shoulder.

This wasn’t the usual.

You were meant to be screaming, to be running…

And were you leaning your body more against him?

The bigger part of his brain told him to shift away and let you fall to the floor for your foolishness in leaning on a killer, but a smaller part of him, the one that giggled with glee at the fact that this was a deviation from the normal, made him sit on the ground. Crossing his legs as he stared down at you, his hand, covered in blood, wiped against his cloak before awkwardly patting your back.

Danny wasn’t good at this. Were you even sad? He couldn’t tell by looking at your face since you were so eerily calm — you had to be sad, yeah?

“You’re comfortable.”

With a yawn, the gears in his head clicked into place; you were tired. The Entity had to have been wanting to play another cruel game with the survivors; no one ever felt weary or needed to sleep much in the realms, but, he couldn’t admit that the pressure on his shoulder was oddly comforting.

“Let me… let me sleep here for a bit.”

Danny didn’t even get the chance to say anything, you just dropped right out on his shoulder, the killer catching your body before you could fall backwards onto the hard dirt. Staring into the fire, Danny removed his mask, placing it over your face.

Until you woke up he would stay like this. At least until he knew why you chose to do this with him than another survivor.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Each and Every Time

Saw this post and got inspired to write a very angsty fic. Thank you for the idea @ayselluna!

No. Not again. Not again!

Your fingertips miss his by a hair’s breadth and his ruby red eyes widen as gravity pulls at his body, dragging him into the abyss that waits for him.

“Astarion!” You scream. You’re tired, so tired of screaming his name like this, so tired of watching him fall over and over again, so tired…of watching him die for the thousandth time.

His gaze meets yours, lips forming a soundless word as blood drenches his front, streams of crimson trickling from the corners of his mouth. You can see the fear in his eyes, the panic, but you can’t form the words he needs to hear. You don’t know how to comfort him, reassure him that everything will be alright when you can’t even tell yourself that. All you can think about is when you lost count of how many times you’ve watched him die.

You can’t remember when.

Tears begin to blur your vision as you collapse to your knees, wondering how many more times you must see this sight. You howl, you curse, screaming to the gods above with all that your shattered heart can muster, and then the world warps into a familiar myriad of colours, dropping you off right back where you started.

Your feet carry you west of the crashed nautiloid ship, the route long memorised and you swallow the lump in your throat when a familiar figure comes into view. He stands with his back to you, the sun shining on silvery-white curls and speaks the words.

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.”

Grief wells up, your chest tightening as you force your arms to remain where they are. This Astarion doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know of who he will become, doesn’t know anything of your relationship.

“Are you…alright?” Shadowheart asks. “You’re tearing up.”

Tearing up? You reach up, touching your face only for your fingers to come away wet.

You’re actually crying.

Astarion’s face contorts into one of confusion, his lips parting to say something but you brush him off with a shake of your head, quickly wiping the tears away.

“Where is it?” You ask, gaze trained on the bush where you know the boar is hiding. Your mind is elsewhere, running through various ways to protect the vampire you know you will fall in love with all over again as he gestures towards the bush. The boar runs out moments later, followed by the flash of an all too familiar dagger but you’re too deep in thought to notice, until his voice whispers into your ears.

“I saw you scuttling about on the ship. You’re in league with them, aren’t you? Those tentacled —”

The tadpole in your brain resonates with his, snapping you out of your thoughts and you wonder if he caught a glimpse of any of his previous selves. How would he react if you told him everything? If you told him he was destined to fall in love with you over and over again? If you told him of the many ways you’d seen life leave his eyes?

Still, you run through the motions of convincing him to join your party, shoving away all memories of the times you had tried to leave him to fend for himself and trying not to break down in front of him again when he fakely smiles at you, does his little dramatic bow and asks you to lead the way.

Like he always did in the beginning.

You go through it all again, both the journey and the relationship. You keep to yourself the knowledge that Astarion is Cazador’s vampire spawn, the knowledge of the ritual, the knowledge of his scars for you know he is unprepared to face Cazador as he is right now — fearful and afraid. It hurts to see him go through it all again, to see him at his lowest. Each and every time he meets you in the forest under the moonlight, sensually whispering the same words into your ear, you bite your tongue to stop yourself from spilling it all and let him believe the lie he tells himself.

Your heart breaks each time you hear him fight his nightmares, knowing your relationship is nowhere close enough for you to enter his tent without being attacked, forcing you to sit outside his tent and listen to his cries all while desperately wanting to comfort him.

He’s so near yet so far.

The mornings after you check up on him, only to be brushed off as he stalks into the forest, hiding the tear streaks on his face. You know the exact nightmare he dreamt of, it’s always the same one at this juncture of the journey, but you dare not tell him that. Your nightmares always change, but it’s always one of Astarion’s deaths and you wake up in cold sweat each time, praying he didn’t hear his name fall from your lips. He has never asked you about it, so you assume he didn’t hear.

You give him his favourite weapons each and every time, pretending never to know that they are the weapons he’s most comfortable using, feigning surprise to blend in with the rest of the party when he starts dishing out damage with ease. You slip spools of thread into his tent when he’s not looking, secretly fuelling the hobby he’s never told anyone about.

Finally, your ragtag group makes it to Moonrise Towers. You know this marks the start of a deeper relationship with Astarion, once you’ve encountered the drow named Araj. You keep your words to yourself when Ketheric shows his immortality, the lies required for free rein of Moonrise Towers slipping from your lips like honey. You can feel your heartbeat quicken as your party draws nearer and nearer to Araj, a mixture of anxiety and excitement stirring within you. You know it’s after this that Astarion lets you in, you’ve gone through this countless times and yet your feelings about this moment never change.

You resist the urge to throttle Araj when you meet her for the first time in this journey, knowing you have to let Astarion do the talking before you step in to back him up. The scene unfolds like always and you say the words that leave Astarion bewildered yet happy, with a warmth blooming within his chest.

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

You mean it, you always do. You see the corners of his lips curve into a small smile when he realises the meaning of your words and feel tears prick your eyes. Would this be the last time you needed to witness this? Would this journey end the same way the previous ones did?

When the rest make camp, you step out for a bit to clear your head first. You know what is to come, you know how much this moment means to Astarion.

You know how much this moment affects you.

You’re afraid. You always are at this moment. Once more you will have to open your heart to him, let him in with the lingering knowledge he may die in front of your eyes again, love him despite the pain that may follow suit, and still your feet bring you to his tent, pulled in the direction by your heart. No matter how painful it may be, your heart will always yearn for him, so you will continue to keep your secret, hide your hurt deep within, all for his sake.

Despite everything, Astarion will always fall for you, and you him. You cannot lie to him, cannot pretend like you don’t care about him, that you don’t love him so deeply it hurts, instead you stifle your sobs as you close the gap, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, an action you’ve done so many times before.

This time. This time you will save him.

Everything passes by in a blur after that. He starts to call you by more familiar pet names, starts to be intimate with you in more ways than nightly activities and you grin and bear it all. You ignore the shaking in your hands whenever he leans in to kiss you, focusing on the fact that he is alive right here and now. If he has noticed any of this, he says nothing and you’re grateful for that. You’re not sure how to explain why you’re constantly on the verge of tears when he says a particular line or does a particular action.

Your party defeats the Netherbrain once more, a battle you’ve long tired of and this time you choose to settle down with Astarion in a small quaint village on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, hoping to avoid potential threats. You invite the others to celebrate a year of this new life, this new future. Is this the end of your suffering?

And then he gets staked right through the heart.

You don’t even have the energy to scream anymore. You can vaguely hear the others chasing after the vampire hunters, shouts and screams mingling in the air but all you do is crumple to the floor, mind numb. Crimson spreads everywhere, imprints on your shirt where his bloody hand grasps at you as he coughs up blood. The damned stake is still sticking out of his body, his trembling hand reaching up to wipe away the tears that fall silently, smearing more blood on your face in the process.

“It’s…alright…my love…I…thank…you...” He smiles softly and his hand falls to the stained floor, cold and motionless.

“How many more?” You whisper to no one. “How many more times?”

You can’t even bring yourself to cradle his body, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve done that already. You rise to your feet, wanting nothing more than for this to end and your broken heart keens, desperate for this loop to be over. The world bursts into a myriad of colours and you choke your tears back down.

You will always love him. No matter the cost. And that fact tears you apart.

[owlespresso]

If you’re still accepting prompts, may I humbly submit : “You don’t have to leave, you know” with Yuri!

“You can stay, you know,” Yuri murmurs. You look over at him. Dawn’s first light nudges through the curtains, paints the room eggshell blue, touches the strands of his hair with pearlescent light. You feel newly hatched. Clumsy, clueless little heartbeat beating wings against your ribcage. The blanket is pooled at his waist. He’s all pale and lean, comfy as a cat under the spot of sun.

You’re in the middle of shoving your trousers back on when he beseeches you. Caught red-handed. His cheek is smooshed against the downy pillow, eyelids low and voice soft with slip. But he’s still smiling. A drowsy kind of smile. He’s like an old painting, pale brushstrokes capturing the foggy, ethereal feel of the hour. The last stars twinkle in the milky periwinkle skies. 

You drop your pants for the second time, and march back to the bed like the lucky fool you are, thunking dead onto your side of the mattress.

“I know I can stay. It’s my bedroom. In my house.”

“Yet you’re always so eager to scuttle away the moment I take my eyes off you,” Yuri replies, just as easily. He reaches over, idly runs slender hands up and down your arm. That tender touch ventures to your back, bleeding the tension out of you. “I think I spend more time in here than you do.”

“I’m not running away,” you mumble, cross at his teasing. You settle onto your side. The haze of sleep still clings to his expression, glassy eyes blinking slow as he takes you in.

“Mhm,” he sounds horribly unconvinced. “Sorry. I’m not sure what else to call it when you wait until you think I’m asleep to sneak out of bed.”

“I just thought—” you splutter, suddenly mortified. How many times has he pretended to be asleep? How many times has he witnessed you stumble around the room like a newborn foal, plucking your clothes off the floor and off the bedpost and off the chair by the window? “I just though you might want some space.” You shove your face into the sheets. Your hand rests palm flat on the space between you.

“Mmh. Did I say or do anything to give you that impression?” he asks, suddenly thoughtful.

“No. I just—I mean, you see me almost every day. It’s probably good to give you a break, y’know? So you don’t get sick of me,” you say, as wryly as you possibly can. Better a half-truth than outright admitting your own insecurities, admitting just how much stock you put into his opinion of you.

“I’ve spent the past two years following you around like a lost mutt. Do you really think I would do that for someone I could ever possibly get sick of?” he looks at you incredulously. “Saint Seiros, you’re dense.” He sounds utterly bemused, but his hand settles atop of yours to pin it to the mattress. He interlaces your fingers. You smother your face into the sheets.

“Well, sorry! It’s not like I can read your mind!” you grumble, increasingly mumbled.

“Then c’mere and read my lips,” Yuri yoinks you from your hiding spot with a hand between your shoulder blades. He nudges you onto your back with devastating ease, smooth as silk in the way he slots a thigh between your legs. “I’m obsessed with you. Have been ever since you fell face-first into the Abyss.”

You grimace at the reminder of the incident. The loose, rotting floorboards of a particularly disused shed gave way. You would have wound up a splatter on the floor of the Abyss’s arena had Balthus not been there to catch you. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Yuri presses his lips to your chin, and then to your cheeks, retaining your attention with practiced finesse. Not that he ever has to try very hard. “And listen really close, because I’m not good at saying this kind of thing.”

“I need you. I want you. I don’t know what I would do if you ever left me,” Yuri smoothes himself atop of your prone form, palms sliding up your forearms to pin both hands to the sheets. “Do you understand?” he murmurs against your jaw, placing kisses there too. Lips warm and smooth.

You manage a scandalized squawk, heat flooding your cheeks. That seems to mollify him.

[super-ion]

God Fall

It was half past eleven when the god died.

I was just starting to make my way back to the office when reality was rent open at the seams and it heaved itself into existence. The whole great mass of it seemed to hang suspended in mid-air over the park for a few heartbeats before it came crashing thunderously to the earth, sending great waves through the lake.

I had never seen god before, living or otherwise. It… well, it defied compression. The light of it was blinding at first, giving way to fading luminosity that revealed something that was somehow metallic and crystalline and organic all at once. It was all impossible fractal geometries and indescribable colors that strained my limited human perception.

But even the inconceivable shape of it began to fade into something more Euclidean as I watched it in fascinated horror. It was perhaps as big as a train car, splayed out like something from the abyssal deep that washed up on the shore after a storm. Great smoking holes seemed to have been torn from its flesh and it stank of something like rotting flowers and burning metal as ichor leaked onto the surface of the lake, giving an opalescent sheen to the surface of the water.

A flash of light at my feet caught my eye, a tiny spark of light. I bent down to gently pick up the tiny fragment of divinity and held it between my fingers as I examined it. It was small, barely bigger than the head of a pin, but it shone with celestial light that had yet to fade. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing I had ever beheld.

A rustle of motion to my left broke me out of my reverie. An old man, stooped with age trundled past me, but… but his feet didn't quite touch the ground, only his cane thumped into the earth as he made his way forward. He had too many fingers and he eyed the god-corpse hungrily.

Another shape scuttled into view, a sort of crab shaped thing with thorny armor. Then there was a flash of dusky feathers as a winged female figure swooped down to settle onto the rotting flesh. I turned, surveying the park around me. A few humans, in varying states of shock stood among the scattered trees, but all around us, demons were gathering for the feast.

In any city, demons are inevitable, I've seen my fair share. Most are relatively benign, but it is usually best practice to avoid them. I had never seen so many gathered in one place.

A shrill scream punctuated the air as the harpy woman fought off one of the crab things. Shouts and screams arose as the demons began to fight over the choicest bits of god-flesh.

I turned around, ready to flee, only to meet the gaze of a diminutive figure in my path. The imp was small, the size of a toddler, with a bulbous head, a too large mouth and bat-like ears that stuck out sideways. It stared, not at me, but at my clenched first, where light from the tiny bead of god-stuff shone through.

It only made sense that this diminutive creature would seek out an easy target than risk its safety in the roiling mass of its bretheren.

The wisest course of action would have been to drop the fragment, let the imp distract itself while I made myself scarce.

But the bead had found its way to me and I found myself very disinclined to part with it. Impulse seized me, and before I even understood what I was doing, I had the fragment in my mouth. It reluctantly slid down my throat, sticking uncomfortably as it went.

My mind finally caught up and I coughed and sputtered, my body vainly trying to dislodge it.

But it was too late.

The imp grinned wolfishly and cackled with wicked glee as it scampered around me to join the feeding frenzy at the corpse.

What had I done?

My stomach roiled and I coughed once more, looking around. The demons were coming fewer now. Most of the humans had left by now, though a few remained. A woman clutching a violin case to her chest. A man wearing a grocer's apron. A young couple, their hands clasped with white knuckles.

The woman with the violin met my gaze. A jolt ran through me. She had seen me swallow the god-stuff. It felt like she could look through to the very core of me, as if every wretched secret I kept locked away from the world was on display for her.

It was that feeling that finally terrified me into motion, that vague exposed feeling, somehow frightening me more than the horde of demons.

[rhythm-of-space]

Beach Baby

You and Josh take a little time away.

notes - hi! this is just a lil mundane thought i had inspired by the cover photo & beach baby by bon iver. thank you @sunfl0wer-power and @pr41sethemoon for putting up with my indecisiveness <3

warnings - not much. some nakey josh, alcohol/marijuana use.

"Joshua, shhh. jesus." You grin as you dig in your tote for the keys to your airbnb.

Josh had just tripped up the shallow steps, dropping two arms worth of things in the process. He just giggles at his clumsiness, and follows you closely behind with a joint hanging from his mouth and sand between his toes.

-

Slightly tipsy, he insisted you two walk down to the water from your bungalow you were renting over the weekend. Despite it being far too late into the evening and your disapproving 'no's', he still meandered over to the door to put on his tevas - a little graceless as he used one hand to velcro the straps and the other to down the remaining sips of his modelo.

He grabbed his notebook, lighter and six pack of beer and made his way out the door, knowing you'd find your way behind him.

You found yourself sat on the cool sand with your legs stretched out in front of you. You prop yourself up with one of your hands buried in the grain while the other one ran through Josh's curls that peaked out the sides of his bandana. He was laying on the blanket you grabbed off the armchair with his head sat on your legs, looking up into the dark abyss of the night sky.

He was so... calm. His mind often wandered but you could tell from how he fixated on the world of stars and planets that were usually shielded by the light pollution of the city that his thoughts settled.

The sounds of the tide breaking were rhythmic and serene. Each wave that crashed kept you present in the moment you were in. You had the entire beach to yourselves - the only things keeping you company were the crabs scuttling along, the sea foam settling on the shore and each other's comfort.

Eventually, Josh moved to his feet and his hands reached for yours, pulling you up from where you were sat. With one last hit from his joint he set off towards the waves. When he made it to the sea line he shedded his white crew neck and swim trunks, leaving his bandana on, and with a wink he ran into the water before you could scold.

He was hip deep in the ocean when he yelled for you to follow. It was the complete joy on his face that had your feet moving towards the tide. Sometimes it was hard to allow yourself to let go. To be free and utterly yourself. Yet, seeing Josh express every bit of himself and embrace the beauty of life, you gave yourself permission. He was radiance. Spontaneity. Love. And you wanted to feel all of it.

After taking off everything but your undergarments, you stepped in and felt a chill run through you. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you submerged your entire body and head under the darkness before springing back up. The bite was bitter and you tasted the sea on your lips, and when the water washed away you noticed Josh beaming at you where he was treading a few feet away.

As you swam to Josh you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. He reached out for you and wrapped your legs around his waist, holding you close with his arms holding you by your hips. 

His features were so dark and shadowed in the moonlight. You settled your arms around his shoulders and found his lips, sharing the sea salt that still hung on yours. He deepened it as he softly parted your lips with his tongue. The hint of earth and salt washed away as the taste of him and the alcohol he drank took their place. Despite his lack of clothing and you close to it, the space you shared stayed mostly innocent. 

He parted from you but his face stayed so close you could feel his breath hit your cheeks. He rubbed the tip of his nose with yours and smiled as your eyes met his deep brown ones. His cheeks were flushed, from the alcohol or your kiss you weren't sure, but he looked so gentle, so delicate. Soft. 

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered. A sentiment he wanted to keep close, despite being the only two on the beach. 

You returned it with another peck and sank into the kiss for a moment longer. You felt enveloped by him. His energy, presence and warmth felt almost too big for this world. Yet, he managed to ball it all up and direct it towards his love for you. 

The calm of the hour started to fade as the moon crested above you. The waves felt stronger and Josh's hold unconsciously became tighter around your waist. 

“We're going to get swept away by the tide if we don't hurry.” You joked.

“I could stay here forever..” he trails off. “...It's peaceful. Quiet in my brain.”

“I wouldn't mind that. I like seeing you like this, at ease. But, Jake would miss you too much,” You arch your brow at him.

He laughs, “Well we can't have that can we.” And lets your legs gently back into the sand.

Nothing but the brightness of the night sky led you back to where you started - an abandoned throw blanket and some half-empty cans of modelo. Truth be told, you didn't prefer Modelo but when he looked at you with all of his brightness, you swear you could taste a hint of sweetness on your tongue.

"Let's get going before we get arrested," you joked, shaking out the blanket.

He grabbed all he could carry in his arms and slipped the rest of his joint between his lips, "but it'd be so romantic."

-

Which brought you here, back on the front steps of the picturesque beach bungalow fit for two. 

“We've gotta be out of here early in the morning, I think we should get ready for bed hun.” You call as you set the keys in the bowl provided on the entryway shelf. 

You feel Josh's arms wrap around your waist from behind and place sweet yet pointed kisses right below your ear. You know what he's playing at.

He says, “Mmm, whatever you say, Love.” against your skin and his hands start moving south.

You work your way out of his grasp, “Not tonight,” he pouts his lips, always one for theatrics.

“You're crossfaded and you need someone to make sure you don't get up to anymore trouble,” you say as you use your finger to push at his chest, “Shower. Now.”

“Sir, yes Sir,” he gives you a look laced with attitude and starts toward the bathroom.

“And roll your eyes at me one more time and see what happens,” you slap his butt before he can get too far and are met with a yelp from your drama queen. 

Instead of taking a left into the bathroom he continues on into the master bedroom and plops down onto the unmade bed. He crosses his arms behind his head and lets out a hum of satisfaction. 

You look at him from the end of the bed, unimpressed, knowing it's going to be an ordeal to get him up. 

Crawling up to his laid out body, you move to untie his swim shorts to help him out of them. 

“If you wanted me naked you could have just asked,” he quips, proud of himself. 

You simply shake your head as you pull them down off of his body then move up to straddle his hips to work his shirt off of him. 

Once you tug it off with zero help from Josh you start to move off of him but he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you down into his space. 

His body heat radiates from his chest to your cheek and you think if you let yourself, you'd drift off right there like you have many times before. 

He fills the silence, “You want to know what I think?”

“Hm?” You start to draw lines on his skin

“I think we should get a house.” He mirrors your actions, rubbing circles on your back.

“We have a house.” 

“But a bigger one. One with grand windows, maybe in the country-side. With a yard for our kids to play in.”

“Oh, now we have kids?” You ask playfully, encouraging his little vision.

“Yes, two girls and one boy. They have your nose and my eyes.” He states matter-a-factly, as if he thinks about this often. That thought alone brings a smile onto your face.

You gaze up in interest, “What else?” 

“A space to explore and host and relax after a long day... Oh, and a treehouse for the littles.” 

“Are you going to build the treehouse?”

He ponders for a moment and shakes his head, “We’ll have someone else build the treehouse.” Probably for the best.

“And we should come back here every year. Make it a tradition for our little family. They need to know what it's like to swim under the starlight.” 

It is a sweet thought. Sometime in the future you hope, but he knows not to push. “You're a sappy drunk, you know that?” Josh breathes out a chuckle, “What do you say we table this sentiment of Joshua Jr and his treehouse for when you're sober?”

“I'd like that,” he yawns, tiredness glazing over his eyes. You two stay there for a moment longer imagining the same picture he painted.

You tap at his shoulder, “Alright sweet boy, up we get,” and start to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Not yet.” Squeezing around you tighter.

“Let's do it now and get it over with. I promise you'll feel better in the morning if you do.” You manage to breathe out despite his tight hold on you. 

“Baby.” You wait a beat.

“Sweetheart.” More silence.

“Joshua Michael.” He really wasn't listening. 

You tilt your chin up to see him staring down at you with a slight playful expression on his stupid, cute face, “Why are you being so difficult?”

You can feel his giggle vibrate in his chest, “because I love seeing your eyebrows furrow together like that, ‘s cute.”

“You're so annoying.” 

With pseudo-shock on his face he gasps, “You're so mean! Your words are like a dagger,” he moves his one arm and puts his hand over chest, “right through my heart.”

You take the opportunity to slide out of his grasp, finally able to breathe regularly again. From your stance you look down at all his glory. He really is beautiful.

He reaches up and does grabby hands towards you and it takes everything in you not to cuddle back into his soft form. 

But always the responsible one, you say, “I'm running the water, I expect you up when I get back.” Josh gives you two thumbs up in acknowledgment. But as you walk to the bathroom, in the corner of your eye you swear you see him close his eyes and sink deeper into the pillows. 

You linger in the bathroom as the steam fills the room and smile at yourself in the mirror. At the memory of the night and your time in the little bungalow by the beach. The impromptu short visit that you both needed to get some reprieve. It didn't matter where you went, you realize, a little vacation rental or big house amongst the trees, with him it felt like home. 

You meander your way back into the master and feel the slight coastal breeze filtering in through the cracked window. Painted under a bronze hue from the lamp, Josh was fast asleep and curled around a pillow. His body in a fetal position, he was so petite and tender; gentle and soothed. 

Content. 

In his state, you leave him be. Tomorrow, your swift life can start again. But now, for the last couple hours in your little oasis, time can move a little slowly.

tag list - @sunfl0wer-power @pr41sethemoon @fan-girl-97 @wideminded-dreamer

[ravynfeather-art]

Guardian-Child

(Destiny OC insert; takes place during Season of Plunder)

(Warning(s): kidnapping, brief threats of torture, implied character death if you squint)

Even Eramiskel would have shrieked in outrage if she had seen the small thing that my crew dropped at my feet, and she was far more patient than I have and ever will be. But I forced myself to hold my tongue and instead watch the creature before me struggle to get up with both pairs of its wrists bound together. It was an older hatchling: small and gowned in leather, armor and blue cloth. Its flesh and shell were of dark shades that I have never seen on an Eliksni—I could see its near-black carapace and almost-gray skin peek out from under its hood as it wriggled itself up into a sitting position. It adjusted, casually crossing its legs and placing its bound hands in its lap before it lifted its head and locked four dark blue eyes onto me. It gazed at me and I glared straight back. Straight into those undisturbed abysses that somehow seemed to stare directly into my soul. It felt like the Darkness itself was looking directly at me.

   It was unnerving.

   One of my Drekhs crawled forward, watching the hatchling carefully from the corner of their eyes as they muttered to me, “It wears a weapon like Eramiskel…!”

   “He wears a weapon like Eramiskel,” the child corrected in a tone that did not portray his situation of being bound in chains and imprisoned on an enemy Ketch with Eliksni that would gladly kill him. The Drekh flinched at his words and quickly scuttled away like the coward they were while I continued to glare him down, drawing my knife from its sheathe and toying with the blade in my lower claws as I slowly stepped closer and closer to him, and in response, he stretched out his arms with a quiet groan. I saw it. My crew couldn’t see it, but I could and I knew that he was purposely brandishing that gauntlet strapped to his left upper arm to me. Silently telling me that he wielded the same power as my Kell. Silently telling me that I was weaker than him.

   Foolish hatchling. Two can play at this game. I will not be outplayed, and certainly not by a child. You show off your strength, I will show off mine. I stood before the child for a moment, completely eclipsing him in my shadow and making him have to crane his neck up to look at my face. When his eyes met mine, I struck fast, snatched the chain linked around his upper wrists, yanked him to his feet and pulled his face to mine, hissing, “Who are you?” 

   The hatchling didn’t flinch despite the fact that the tips of his toes were barely touching the floor and his upper arms were forced over his head. He simply stared up at me, expression unchanging and unmoved, and responded with long, almost breathless pauses between each word and even longer pauses between each sentence. “I am Nekeks. Nekeks of The Last City. Nekeks of House Light. Nekeks, son of Scribe Eido. Grandson of Misraakskel.” He leaned forward. He was so close that I could taste the Ether coming from his rebreather—it was different from my own. Sweeter. Purer. I ignored my craving for the untainted Ether as he told me, “I am Nekeks, the Guardian-Child.”

   Something exploded on the lower decks of my Ketch just as he said that. I did my best to ignore it. “You won’t escape. You will be pinned down, docked, and then killed—if you are lucky. You will die on my Ketch with no one coming for you.” I tried to make a point by pressing my blade to the almost-gray flesh of his neck. But he didn’t react to the danger and only replied with a slow and unbothered, “Wrong. The Guardians will come for me. I will not die. I will be free again.” He sounded so sure.

   “Why side with the Machine-spawn?” I couldn’t catch the question from escaping my mouth.

   He spoke in that strange way again, with short sentences and long pauses in-between. I figured it was simply how he was. Some of my Drekhs that had come from damaged eggs spoke like that. “Because my Mama is Machine-spawn. My Mama is brave. My Mama cares for House Light. My Mama cares for Eliksni. My Mama cares for innocents.” Then his demeanor changed to something much darker and his eyes crinkled in a sinister smile. “My Mama hates you. You took me—her kin. Her hatchling. So now… my Mama will destroy your Ketch. My Mama will defeat your crew. My Mama will kill you.” Another explosion, much closer this time. They have moved up to our level. I made the mistake of letting my fear slip into my expression, and it made the hatchling chuckle dangerously. “You are scared. Good. Because Mama is coming. Coming for you.” 

   Something banged against the door and me and my crew jumped, eyes darting towards the noticeable dent in the thick metal. I didn’t even realize that I had let go of the hatchling’s chains and had allowed him to sink back into a sitting position on the floor. Nekeks slowly rocked himself back and forth and he grinned underneath his rebreather, singing, “She’s heeeeerreee~”

   The doors were flung from their tracks in an explosion of blue lightning that made the air sing with the fury of a thousand storms and a mother’s rage.

O Guardian-child of Tomes and Light, you have outdone me. Well played.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I hope you enjoyed reading! I don't normally write in first person when I do write, but I was inspired by official Destiny lore entries and wanted to try my hand at it and so this was born! You'll probably be seeing more content with Nekeks and/or his family, and I'll be posting another one-shot tomorrow that features Nekeks's twin sister, Silven, and how she deals with her own kidnapping by one of Eramis's crews :)

[rxttenfish]

hi !!! sending this on anon because i am rather nervous all things considered <:3 (i am lying to you, i have not considered 'all things'.) one monster prom fan to another (can we be compared using such broad terminology ? i feel as if i am domesticated compared to you... [compliment, or at the very least not inherently negative]) , i wanted to thank you SO SO SO VERY MUCH for giving miranda so much love and thought and mulling her over in your mind in such a ... refreshing way

i also really really really like miri , but i can only aspire to have your level of dedication . it feels almost like we are of totally different worlds... !!!!!

thank you for bringing in real world biology too :3 i absolutely adore your design for her so much (this is most likely not proper grammar, but it is very late and i am very cold and so i will hope with all my heart you will excuse this mistake. one of many, i should assume) - though !!!! i do have a question if that is alright ?????

i cant say that a marine macropredator of a significantly vibrant pink really strikes me as advantageous colouring - does the abyssal environment that you say the merfolk live in negate the need for camouflage and such ????? i apologise for sounding passive aggressive !!!! i am merely asking a question. cocking my head to the side if you will

additionally, i would like to ask something foolish. how do they acquire food? i dont want to say 'hunt', because that might seem insulting. historically were they built for stalking, or high speed chases, or...???? please, talk 'nerdy to me' as they say !!! <- in an entirely normal way befitting two strangers of course.

you know, i would have expected to hit the ask word limit by now. but it seems i have not. yippee !!!!

with my extra space, i shall add this: I ABSOLUTELY ADORE THE WAY YOIU WRITE MIRI . GOOD LOOOOOORD IT IS AMAZING HAVIJNG SOMEOENE WHO KNOWS WHAT THEYRE DOING IWIITH HER thank yoiu for making her at least moderately intelligent. i feel blessed <- is this all too harsh sounding???? im a little new to all this letter/ask-writing thing <:3

IN ANY CASE !!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK YOIU SO VERY MUCH. AGAIN. drops this and scuttles away

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/761693443676045363/1183251697129226270/ordered3.png

also i believe you can indeed tell, but i drew that in ms paint with my finger .. sorry that it looks like poop <:3

(moving the image out of the link just in case it breaks-)

AAAAAA THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! this looks so WONDERFUL i love the way that you've shaped her head and how you've captured how Chunky it is... i know its one of the things people have the hardest time drawing with her so its just all the more impressive how well youve managed to capture her!!!

i also love the little doodles eeeee..... please feel free to toss all ocs at miri, its enrichment for her <3 ironically gentle chewing/biting is a Play and Bonding thing for merfolk so she shall happily Bites Bites Bites back-

(also i LOVE her smile!!! you arent anthropomorphizing in the slightest for that - miri often does have very human expressions in a way that's odd for a merfolk, because she effectively got imprinted during her time spent inland... and its politically useful if you smile and match expressions with the people you're trying to work with anyways)

ill also go ahead and answer your questions because i can! very easily clarify on them!

the color: actually, being bright red and pink is actually very common for deep sea animals, due to the way light works at depth! its why i decided miranda was abyssal, because that felt like the most natural way to explain why she's pink, since it's such an uncommon color in nature.

basically, different colors of light have different lengths! red is the shortest wavelength of light, and blue is the longest. water might be clear, but there's a lot of water in the ocean, and the more water you add, the more it filters out light - which is why the bottom of a pool might be dark and shady, but if you hold a little of the water in your hands there's no shade. the ocean is a lot deeper than a pool, and so it gets darker as you go down, but because it's also clear, it doesn't filter out all that light at the same rate.

red, being the shortest wavelength of light, gets filtered out first, so red often gets quickly darker the deeper down you go, until it's completely black! camouflage is dependent on the environment, so their color and brightness has to match the background, but it also depends on the light that's hitting the animal. it's why fawns have dappled spots, or animals might have black stripes, so they can mimic the light of their environment. and when your environment has no red light, well... red's a pretty good color to be!

because of this, a lot of animals in the deep sea can't actually see red either, which is doubly the reason why you might want to be red! think of it like tigers, and how ungulates often can't see their orange, making them look just about the same color as the foliage around them when they're hunting! miranda might stick out on land, but that's just because we aren't seeing her in the environment she's made for, where she blends in with everything else around her as much as a pure black animal.

(it's also why her bioluminescence is blue - blue is the longest wavelength of light, and the one most animals can see at that depth. if she lights up, then she wants to be seen, and she can even alter her silhouette to appear larger or smaller or breaking it up into multiple shapes if she needs to. it's why her tapetum lucidum is blue when light's shone on it, because there is blue light to be seen at depth, it's just very dim!)

(this is also why giant squid are bright red, and why the stoplight loosejaw fish is so special! the latter actually produces its own red light, and can see red light, which means that it has a secret light that won't reveal where it is but will reveal to it where its prey is!)

food: this is something that depends a lot, because there are actually multiple different species of merfolk, which is mostly my fault because i don't always feel like i communicate this the best. they're all slightly different in how they evolved to capture prey, with abyssals in particular being fuckoff huge ambush predators that attack from below, and others being shallower-water hunters or more adapted for smaller, faster prey - but they all evolved from an ancestor with a fairly consistent prey-capture method.

in short, all merfolk are ancestrally evolved to hunt whales and other large prey items, with all the extant species still holding at least a degree of this. primarily, they were ambush predators who were good at getting in close to their prey before a sudden burst of speed. they would work together in close-knit groups (one of the big pressures for their increasing socialization and larger brains, to coordinate such groups) to all mob a single prey item at once, hitting with force to cause sudden trauma, and then using their claws, double-thumbs, back feet, and mouths to hold onto their prey and refuse to be dislodged. they'd repeatedly claw and use their strong bites and massive heads to rip deeply into their prey, causing further massive trauma and shock, and if that failed, bleeding their prey to death.

think of it like the raptor prey restraint model, just further taking advantage of the fact that they were underwater, where no one else has hands that could potentially rip them off. being smaller and somewhat less-optimized for marine life compared to things like sharks and whales and large fish worked for them, because they had a novel adaptation that allowed them to take advantage of things no one else could, and the numbers to make up for it. this is, likewise, why they never lost their hands and fully developed flippers, instead making their limbs as flipper-like as possible to make up for it.

then as time went on and certain populations became separated from each other, they adapted for slightly different niches, but all remain fairly closely related to each other as a genus.

in the modern day, most merfolk don't really "hunt" for all of their meals, at least not in the same way that we might think. don't get me wrong, they still absolutely hunt and it's a larger part of their lives than it is for most humans, but they have options.

mostly, the merfolk theory for their relationship with nature is to invite it in. this is not to say they aren't controlling and pruning it, but they do live underwater, and it's far harder to keep animals out than it is on land, so merfolk accepted it and worked with it. they'll work to promote growth around their buildings and where they live, fostering the growth of sea grass and algae and coral and other sessile animals, encouraging them to set down and grow in these areas, and they'll then let more wild animals move in, further encouraged by these natural sources of food and shelter, on top of merfolk working even further to encourage them in. they serve as a functional cleanup crew for the merfolk in these settlements, being allowed to eat anything that merfolk might drop or go to waste, and even moreso might be purposefully fed at times, or have specific homes for them built. merfolk will keep encouraging them and taking care of them until they become a biorich hotspot, creating unique oasises for wildlife to live alongside merfolk.

however, this isn't just a free-for-all, persay. merfolk will also purposefully prune these populations and control how they form, often removing "problem" animals and encouraging certain behaviors which makes it easier for these populations to live alongside merfolk, not viewing them as a threat, but also not viewing them as an opportunity either. they will directly shape how these areas grow and cultivate them on a physical level, often using them as an easy shortcut to literally grow their settlements and buildings. but they will also harvest from these populations and selectively breed them, until their cities and towns act as massive public gardens full of food to be caught, picked, and eaten at any time

as there are also a lot of (very politically powerful) nomadic groups, they also do this, albeit not always so directly. they'll have specific shoals or "runs" of fish that they will follow behind and take care of, managing as they move through the ocean in accordance with the seasons. this is where the whales still factor in, because the nomadic groups will also take care of the whales, purposefully keeping an eye on their pods and taking care of them and, when the time comes, being choosy and particular in which whale they select at any given time to be hunted, harvested, and eaten.

(there's also the way in which food is distributed and managed throughout the merkingdom, since some food is indeed shipped and moved throughout the different areas, but that's a different story for another time and i've talked enough)

BUT!!!! thank you so much and thank you for enjoying all of this that ive been making with miri, and thank you for giving me an excuse to talk more about her <3

[sleeplessspell]

The Art of the Gift

The guards call me “The Ghost.”

The street kids call me “King Penny.”

The nobles? They call me “an urban menace,” though one did accuse me of being a rogue socialist with a flair for drama. I liked that one.

Most folks know me simply as the generous thief.

It’s funny. I spent most of my life stealing to survive—picking pockets, unlocking safes, creeping past sleeping guards. For years, I was a whisper behind every vanished heirloom and misplaced gem. And now? Now I’m the one giving things away.

How things change.

It started the day I robbed the Vault of Lynthar. You’ve probably heard of it: built by dwarves a century ago, seven subterranean levels, three rotating floor traps, and one blind, sword-wielding, enchanted golem named G’erthud. I still have a scar from where he nearly made me a head shorter. But when I cracked the final door and stared into the golden abyss, I realized something terrifying.

I had no idea what to do next.

That pile of gold wasn’t just wealth—it was freedom. Freedom to buy castles, build kingdoms, retire on a beach with someone pretty and a wine glass in hand. And I felt… nothing.

So, I left. I took a sack of coins and disappeared. Left the rest behind for the vultures to fight over.

And then years later, after the scandal had died down, somewhere between boredom and a particularly forgettable bathhouse, I had an idea.

If I couldn’t steal anymore, maybe I could still sneak. Old habits die hard, after all. So I slipped a silver coin into a beggar’s satchel while he slept. I didn’t expect much. Maybe a confused look, a grateful prayer to some forgotten god. But when I passed by the next day, I saw him standing tall, holding a loaf of bread in one hand and sharing it with a child in the other.

And I felt… something. Something good.

So I did it again.

And again.

Two years later, the capital of Aelren buzzes with rumors.

They say if your purse feels heavier in the morning, it means the generous thief has passed you by. They say he moves like smoke and whispers like wind. That he wears shadows like a second skin and has a laugh like distant chimes. I never meant to become a legend, but here we are.

I live in the attic of an old watchmaker’s shop. Mr. Verin knows I’m not exactly renting, but he’s also too blind to care and too tired to chase me out. He leaves out extra bread sometimes. I pay him back with new pocket watch cases I commission from a smith across town.

My days are quiet. But nights? Nights are for the dance.

I slink across rooftops like a lazy cat, hunting for empty windows and open shutters. But instead of snatching lockets or letters, I leave things behind—coins tucked into boots, necklaces draped on mantels, little carved wooden toys left on windowsills.

I’ve perfected the art of reverse theft.

And the city has noticed.

One evening, as I perch atop a chimney overlooking the Plaza of Whispers, I hear a commotion below. A crowd has gathered, murmuring and pointing at a notice posted on the old well.

Curious, I drop down and melt into the throng.

The paper reads:

“By order of Queen Mirena, a royal bounty of 10,000 gold pieces is offered to anyone who can reveal the identity of the so-called ‘generous thief.’ This figure is believed to be a skilled rogue and is hereby declared wanted—not for crimes, but for curiosity.”

Beneath it, a handwritten note:

“Come have tea with me. – M.”

I laugh aloud.

The Queen and I have a history. We were inseparable once—both orphans of the war, scuttling through the orphanage halls like mice. She grew up and put on a crown. I grew up and put on a mask. 

We haven’t spoken in over two decades.

Until now.

I accepted the invitation two nights later. Not by knocking, of course—what do you take me for?

I slip through the western tower’s laundry chute, past a dozing guard, and into the Queen’s garden. A table awaits, already set: two chairs, a pot of jasmine tea, two steaming cups.

She’s there, waiting, wrapped in silks that shimmer like moonlight. But her eyes—those eyes haven’t changed a bit.

“You’re late,” she says, sipping her tea.

“You put a bounty on my head,” I reply. “Had to be sure it wasn’t a trap.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t say dead or alive, did I?”

“No,” I admit. “But I’ve met your new captain. Subtlety doesn’t seem like her strong suit.”

She gently slaps my hand. “Be nice, Almira is lovely.”

We drink in silence for a while, surrounded by roses more expensive than houses and the chirp of crickets.

Eventually, she says, “You know this is madness, right?”

“Which part?”

“All of it. The sneaking. The gold. The secrecy. If you want to help people, there are better ways.”

“Like taxes?”

She grimaces. I set my cup down. 

“I don’t do this to fix the world, Maeve. I do it because it’s who I am. I can’t stop sneaking. Can’t stop watching, listening. This is the only thing I know.”

“Then why give the gold away?”

That gives me pause, I think for a moment. 

“Because I’ve stolen enough. Because the world is hard, and coins make it softer. Because I like the look on people’s faces when they find a silver where there should be none. Because... I can.”

She nods, quietly. Then she says something that surprises me.

“You’re doing good work. Just... be careful. Most of the nobility want to use you as a deterrent, to show what happens to those who defy them. The rest want your head. Plain and simple.”

I chuckle. “What else is new?”

Weeks pass. The city grows warmer. Word spreads of new bakeries funded overnight, of a sick boy whose family woke to find a purse heavy enough to afford a healer, of an old woman who found a deed to her house signed and sealed.

Still, the hunt for me intensifies. Traps are laid. Whispers turn into shouts. I start wearing masks again, disguises. I start walking in daylight, passing as a common merchant or a bard, or a fool. The danger is half the fun.

But one night, while dropping a small pouch into a barrel behind a struggling tavern, I feel a presence.

I spin, dagger drawn.

It’s a child.

A girl in her teens with eyes like embers and a jaw set like iron.

“It’s you,” she says, half shocked, half amazed. “You’re King Penny.”

I lower my blade. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve been watching. You walk funny. You hum when you think no one’s around. You left coins at Mrs. Henley’s door last week.”

I blink. “You followed me?”

She shrugs. “You’re not that sneaky.”

“Excuse me?” I sputter.

“I want to help,” she says simply. “Teach me.”

“No.”

She folds her arms. “Why not?”

“Because this isn’t a game. Because powerful people are looking for me. Because—” I pause. “Because you’re a kid.”

“A kid who snuck up on you,” she retorts. “Listen, I know ten people on this street who’ve eaten better this month because of you. I want to do that too.”

I sigh. “What’s your name?”

“Paper.”

“Fine, Paper. I’ll give you a test.”

Her eyes light up.

“Tomorrow night. The baker on North Street. You slip this into her flour bag without being seen.” I toss her a gold coin. “If you pull it off, maybe I teach you.”

She grins, snatches the coin, and vanishes into the alley like smoke.

And for the first time in years, I feel something close to purpose.

That was six months ago.

Now, I’m not alone.

Paper has three recruits of her own—scrappy, fast, loyal kids with eyes sharper than blades. Together, we’ve become something else: not just a legend, but a movement.

We’re still ghosts. Still whispers. But now, when the nobles lay traps, they catch empty baskets. When guards wait in alleyways, they hear only laughter from rooftops.

And across the city, hope grows—not just in pockets, but in hearts.

As for me?

I’m still a rogue.

Still a creature of the night.

But now, I’m also a giver. A mentor. A myth people want to believe in.

I don’t know what my legacy will be. I don’t need statues or songs.

Just the occasional story.

Of a thief who gave too much.

And taught others to do the same.

You’re a rogue with enough gold to last ten lifetimes. But old habits die hard—you sneak through crowds, slipping coins into people’s pockets. The kingdom is buzzing about the mysterious, generous "thief."

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

I was wondering if you could do the Allies for the one ask you done with the Axis in the “Death is much more merciful than being with you” scenario?

Sharp branches snapped and scratched against (Y/N)’s (S/C) skin leaving small crimson rivers with red, raised banks. The dried, yellowed, grass crunched under foot as she ran between the lifeless trees like a panicked doe.

His calls were growing closer and louder by the second.

Heart racing with prayers for escape thrumming along like a broken song in her mind, (Y/N)’s eyes danced around for a break in the dense, wasted foliage.

The rising sun teased safety by showing an exit as a lighthouse would to a sinking ship. An abrupt crack behind (Y/N) forced her to the unknown.

The clearing she had torn into felt like a cruel trapped set by the universe. It short, dead, grass didn’t go more than ten feet before suddenly ending. Below lied a deep gorge full of uneven stones, whose edges glinted like sharpened knives in the morning light.

(Y/N)’s heart continued its pounding, creating an ache against her bruised ribs, as she backed away. Shuffling back like a nervous horse, she hoped to disappear again into the cadaverous woods.

Except she couldn’t.

Her fearful (E/C) meet his angry glare.

Tears flowed like salty, crystal streams. She trembled as he stalked forward.

“It’s time to end this game (Y/N).”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stumbled back, the cliff’s edge pushing into the middle of her soled foot., “I won’t go back to that hell.”

Gritting his teeth her tormentor reluctantly backed up. Watching her wobble on the blade’s edge.

He lowered his stance, offering his hand. Gently, the devil plead, “(Y/N), please. Let’s just go home-“

“HOME?!” (Y/N) shrieked as the stream of tears became a torrential flood.

“YOU’VE TAKEN EVEYRTHING!! MY SANITY, FAMILY, FRIENDS, THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF ME!” Sobbing, (Y/N) proclaimed that the reaper would be a better lover than he ever could be as her arms crossed to hold herself in a comforting embrace.

Scoffing at her hysteria, the fiend again attempted to coerce her away from the edge. Logical and emotional appeals came from his lips like sinful desires.

A final sniffle came with the slowing of (Y/N)’s tears. She gazed behind her to see that the sun had barely risen above the bottom of the canyon.

Her voice now cold and hollow as she spoke a truth that she never wanted to admit.

“You’ll never let me go. Not in this life anyway.”

Empty-eyed, she smiled at her executioner and allowed gravity to take her.

France: Frozen François sat as his love fell backwards. The sickening, heavy crunch that followed felt like boiling water poured on icy skin. He raced forward and shuddered at the sight below him.

Sobs slowly bubbled up like the blood flowing many feet below him. Sinking to his knees, François brokenly cursed the heavens above.

America: Allen leapt forward, his gloved fingers brushing against the front of (Y/N)’s white shirt as she dropped.

“NO!” He screamed.

The wet splat and silence that came made the world power tremble. With unstable legs, Allen crawled to the edge and gazed on the gory sight underneath him.

Stifling a sob, he climbed down to his beloved doll. Pebbles scuttled and rolled like pill bugs as he approached his broken bride.

His dark boots were soaked in by her ruby pool, his jeans followed as he knelt beside her. Carefully cradling her damaged head, he cried into her stone chest. Begging for her to return.

Canada: “WAIT!” Exclaimed Matt as he dove.

Together they dropped down into the ravine. Both grunted as they collided with the solid ground before rolling before into the shadowed abyss.

His body slowly slide to a stop, scraping against the various stones along the rocky bottom. Matt groaned as he drunkenly sat up. The world spun as ventured to stand.

Forcing the tide of vomit back to his stomach, Matt’s violet eyes whipped around for (Y/N). Dizzily dancing as, he fought to maintain his balance, he saw her still form six feet up the ridge.

Her limp form was soul crushingly beautiful in the dawn’s glow. The blood slowly dripping from the large obsidian gem stuck within her forehead, down her face to her half open (E/C) eyes.

“NOo…” Was all he could whisper as the tears began to flow.

England: Oliver slithered down the gorge after his beloved. Her busted body speared by many tiny stones like ancient arrows.

“Get up.” He chirped as his foot pushed against her.

(Y/N) body slumped back with the release of pressure. Again, he repeated the action as a stressed giggle seeped with the beginning of Oliver’s panic.

“Poppet, this isn’t funny.” Harder he pressed.

As the results imitated the original. Oliver’s chested heaved as his hands scrambled downward to feel along her body.

Reaching the crown of her head, something wet and sticky covered his pale hands. With practiced grace, Oliver twisted her head. Slowly he processed the haunting wound before him.

The giggles resurfaced for only a couple moments before morphing into a tear fill cackle of madness.

Birds scattered and rabbits fled as Oliver loudly promised to return what was lost back to himself. No matter the price, he would have (Y/N) returned to his arms.

Russia: Crimson eyes widened as (Y/N) descended into the deeps of valley. It felt like slow motion to the giant Russian as his wife took herself out of this world.

Large hands plunged into his pockets as he fished for his phone. Cursing in his native tongue when the cold plastic didn’t meet his hands fast enough. With a quick button press, Viktor demanded an air ambulance come to his location.

Keeping the phone in the juncture between ear and shoulder, he slid down the canyon wall. Stones were crushed under his heavy boots as he ran to his beloved’s side.

Answering questions in a sharp tone, Viktor applied pressure to the gushing wounds. Anger erupted like the blood around him as he snapped at the official. Telling them to hurry. That she was becoming limp. Dying.

The steady rhythm of chopper blades offered no relief to his anguished soul. For, his darling had died, unconscious and within his large, blood-soaked arms.

China: Jin swore he heard the shattering of glass, and not the harsh crack of bones as his Qin hit the ground.

Paralyzed on the cliff’s edge, the stench of blood rose like a polluted tide. A harsh cough wreaked his chest as he protested the tears. Gasps filled the silence as he sank to the cold ground.

Griping the grass, he ripped it from its own life-giving roots as he struggled to the edge.

Below him was Qin, soaked by her own liquid life. Her body bent like an exotic dancer’s with its unnatural angles.

She was gone, he sobbed.

What was he to do now?

[hotwings0203]

Yandere ghost or demon aizawa breaks Legs of exorcist darling and possesss their body to get them to sin or they are sacrifice by cult?

Let’s go with demon here since ghosts aren’t technically tangible in a lot of AUs

“H-hello? Anyone in here?”your wobbily voice echoes in the catacombs.

Your own voice comes back to you as if mocking your terror.

A lone rat scurries out from behind your feet and you shriek to the heavens as the water splashes around your shoes. You drop your flashlight in the muddy abyss, and with one last flicker, you’re left in complete darkness, save the randomly lit torches on the walls.

20$ for this was not worth it.

Your friends knew you were squeamish when it came to these things, but after an hour long horror movie of you screaming at small jump scares and hiding your face behind annoyed friends’ arms, they knew you had to get over this irrational fear once and for all.

Ghosts aren’t real. Demons aren’t real, you chant to yourself, but yet your arms still become locked by your shoulders as if protecting anything that might shoot by your head, your legs are still shaky as if you just ran a 5k marathon and not climbed a flight of stairs underneath the city grounds.

Clinging to the wall, you try to retrace your steps and head back above ground. But you find that it’s easier said than done, because all the massive tunnels are the exact same-echoing with creaks and groans of god knows what, and completely pitch black.

Except for one.

The tunnel to your left is lit up by a couple of rusted holders. It looks more promising than the other ones, but unlike the ominous sounds from the other paths, this one is surprisingly silent.

You hope for the best, and tread on through the gaping entrance. There’s significantly less rats and roaches here which you find to your immense relief.

Until it isn’t relief anymore, but rather a strange foreboding sensation.

Everywhere you went had at least tiny spiders scuttling around, and water droplets dripping in harmony. So where were they now?

In fact, when you look down at your feet from the lack of sound, you find that the water has dried up and your footsteps don’t even echo on the stone ground.

And then, after hesitantly treading forward for about 15 meters more of endless hall, you see it.

A dim red light, much similar to the ones on the wall. If you squint hard enough, it looks like a wall of flames in the dead center of the tunnel.

You find that your feet start moving rapidly toward it, as if an unknown force was pulling you by force.

You start to panic and will yourself to stop or walk backwards, but to no avail. Your body breaks out into an almost jog and in no time, you’ve come face to face with the narrow room.

The walls truly were made of flames, but rather than envelope the whole room, the merely stay there and wave their little hands in silence, beckoning you forwards.

It isn’t the flames that scares you. It’s the figure sitting towards the front of the fire-engulfed room, slouching easily on the dirt floor.

From its back you see ragged black hair that reaches to his shoulders, a greyish-black tunic draped over its body and long arms.

You think it’s a regular man, but a regular man wouldn’t just sit in a flaming room almost two hundred feet below the city, sweltering in the catacombs.

“Um…excuse me…”

You take a step forward and cautiously clear your throat.

The man doesn’t respond.

“Hello? Are you alright…sir..?”

A low growling sound comes from the figure when you’re merely 5 feet away. Your outreaches hand freezes and your eyes widen. No human should be able to make a sound as deep and inhuman as the one it just made.

The thing slowly starts to stand.

But instead of a smooth rising motion, it looks like it’s humanoid limbs slacken and drag against the ground before tightening in their sockets and rising up, up, and above to almost 7 feet.

Your mouth opens in horror as you retreat in almost slow motion.

The thing has no real face, just red smoldering eyes that darken almost to black as it’s gaze trains on you, it’s arms start stretching out towards you as it’s fingers curl into long claws.

It’s hair starts to frazzle with the increasing temperature of the room, the fire swelling as it’s eyes glow, as it’s wide mouth opens to reveal a slobbering, red tongue and rows of shark-like teeth.

“Where are you running off to, mortal? Weren’t you going to stay and ask if I was alright? I know you humans are big on manners, so come kneel down and service me.”

You let out a strangled sob as you windmill backwards, and fall unceremoniously to the door mere inches away from the fire.

“Oh? You want to play with fire? Don’t worry pretty morsel, there’s much more of that where I’m from.”

He raises a clawed foot-no, a clawed hoof is more like it- and slams it down on both your legs.

You vomit as the white-hot pain sears through your muscles, tearing through your bone and every cell that comes underneath the demon’s crushing.

Your body goes slack as you pant, almost paralyzed on the floor as you fight for consciousness.

The thing steps closer and kneels over your body.

“And now…the fun I have waited eons for”

He leans closer to you, but instead of his body keeping physical contact with yours, it starts to warp and vanish like smoke towards your face. Throughout the entirety of his vessel claiming yours, a weird dizzy sensation colonizes the pain from your legs.

The fire rages on around you, bigger than before, almost roaring now.

And then, it all stops.

You catch your breath and looks around quickly.

He’s not in sight.

You slowly rise to a sitting position-wait a minute, rise?

Your legs are intact, no longer at a broken angle. What just happened?

But when you raise your hand to inspect your body, it moves with your intention and slaps you square across your face.

“Ow! What the f-“

“You move when I tell you to.”

The voice comes inside of of you, yet your mouth doesn’t move.

“Stand up.”

Your lips seal by themselves as your healed legs wobbily make their way up, your heart beating rapidly as you turn to face the front wall of fire.

“And now. Now you will walk, and service my people. Use your body as their outlet, for they have pleased me greatly in their efforts of bringing a pretty mortal for my enjoyment.”

And as your body takes you headfirst into the caving wall of fire, the city above you rages with the same hues of flames that sear your flesh underneath.

[shanes-collection]

Shane weaseled into a pair of underwear that was laying on the floor, searching for his pants that had been tossed into the abyss of the room, finally finding them in the far corner by the door. He rifled through his pockets until he found what he was looking for, the pills, thankfully still all there, all three of them. He'd bought them months ago on a website he found and they surprisingly arrived, the suggested dosage was two, but he needed time, three would be okay right?

Quietly he left the bedroom, walking down the hallway where he could hear Riley, relieving himself into the toilet loudly, aiming directly into the water. He had to hurry up lest he come into the kitchen and find him. He ripped open a cabinet in the kitchen, pulling out two glasses he had specifically for this moment, ones that were special to him, ones from Riley's kitchen. He filled the glasses with water from the tap, his mind racing as the night was finally coming to its real climax, the moment that would change their lives, all for the better. Shane knew how Riley was, he was lost, he couldn't see how perfect they were together, he went from man to man, always trying something new, when all he needed was almost always right by his side, it was time to help him see what was meant to be. The three pills dropped into the glass of water to his left, stirring them in with a butter knife, watching as they dissolved, pausing for a moment as his mind screamed at him with fear. The website said to use two, it said nothing about three. What if three hurt him, took him away? He stared at the glasses mind in a frenzy debating what to do, he didn't have more pills, he couldn't just redo the drink, he had to risk it, he would take care of him if something happened, he would. The sound of the sink turning off sent a chill up his spine, he had to get back to him now.

He scuttled out of the kitchen, holding the glasses in his hands, Riley's handcrafted glass of water in his left, almost to the bedroom Riley stepped out of the bathroom, bumping into him, water splashing his white shirt, thankfully being saved by his own hand. Fate. The cup could've spilt and it would have been over. All his hard work, planning obsessively, it would have left him with nothing, let him slip through his fingers. Fate wouldn't let that happen. His pupils were still dilated with excitement, an almost unsettling glisten to his eyes in the light of the hallway as he looked at Riley with an excited grin hearing that he had to stay the night. It was perfect. Fate.

"Y-Yes! Of course that's more than fine! I'd love another follow-up! You did… really well…."

Shane let his now free hand graze over Riley's hip, fingers lingering for a moment longer than what would be considered flirty, leading Riley back to their bedroom, taking a sip of his water, feeling it flow down his dry throat. He was losing it. Everything was perfect, but never as perfect as him, he was so close he could feel it, feel his soft skin laying next to him in bed years from now, kissing his neck before they fell asleep in their bed, in their home, living their life as one.

Shane sat at the booth alone, his hands anxiously tapping at the table as he waited, picking up his phone from the table to check the time. 8:10. He set it down and glanced towards the door, still closed, no one new in the bar. Riley was supposed to be here for 8:00, he was here at 7:30 ashamedly. Panicking and leaving early once the date was set into motion, unable to contain his excitement, it had to be perfect for him. He hadn't been to this bar before, and he knew Riley hadn't either, it was more of a quiet place that you had to know, to know, but a perfect medium distance for Riley to drive to, not to far for him to offer another bar, not too close for him to know it well.

His Cranberry Vodka sat in front of him half gone already from anxiously sipping it, the minutes eating away at him waiting for him to walk through the door. He had to pace himself with the drinking, he couldn't get to many drinks in before he got here, that could ruin things, remember it has to be perfect. His hand reached into the pocket of his pants, feeling the loose pills sitting in them, running over the plan in his head, once more as his mind raced, it was finally time to actually speak to him, face to face! He almost still couldn't believe Riley agreed to meet up with him, he had been so worried he wouldn't like how he looked, or just flat out reject him, but he actually said yes! It felt like fate to him. His eyes shifted to the full glass of Cranberry Vodka in front of the booth where he would hopefully soon be sitting, close enough for him to see every little detail about him, see his individual strands of hair and even maybe smell him a little, he absolutely couldn't wait, he felt like a kid the night before Christmas, patiently waiting for his present to arrive wrapped in a neat and tidy little bow.

@vanderbrook

[talonsandtails]

I wrote a thing because I was bored. And yes, believe it or not I do write occasionally. Don’t forget, my persona, Lyric, is also an OC. For context she served as a messenger during the War of Sandwing Succession

Sand.

It stretched as far as the eye could see, dipping and rising. A sea of gold and white that went on seemingly forever, occasionally disturbed by the lone cactus or the scuttle of tiny paws, the desert creatures that dwelled beneath the earth.

It was a pleasant night, a soft breeze drifting through the desert, with two of the three moons full, breaking the dark abyss of the night. The stars were like a net of fireflies cast across the sky.

On a soundless night like this, one could almost forget about the blood that stained these sands.

Overhead the blue dragon soared, blue and green scales catching the moon light, as if it were made of sapphires and emeralds. It’s blue wings beat the air, the spray of emerald scales glittering beneath the moons. It looked dangerously out of place in the desert around it.

Lyric scanned the ground nervously. Why the queen had chosen her for this mission, she would never know. Perhaps it was because she was the fastest? Even so, her pale blue scales were hard to miss in a wasteland like this one.

Or maybe the queen thought she was the most disposable. The council was short on messengers, and this was a dangerous delivery, so best send the young, insignificant rookie. It wouldn’t matter if she died on the way back, as long as the message was delivered.

Lyric shook her head, as if shaking away those thoughts. There was no time to contemplate the queens somewhat questionable decisions. She had to focus on the task at hand.

Lyrics focused on the ground below, her eyes darting around frantically. Was she still on the outskirts of the Sand kingdom? Or had she gone the wrong way and stumbled into the mainland? She’d already passed the Scorpion Den, which she’d thought was on the outskirts of the kingdom. She’d stayed close to the beach, to avoid Burns stronghold, and she thought she should be close by now. Had it gotten unusually colder yet? Or was it so cold because it was night? Deserts were supposed to be cold at night, right?

Lyric beat her wings faster. She could feel time slipping through her claws like sand. The queen had stationed a wing of her army on the border between the Ice Kingdom and the Sand Kingdom. She had hoped to attack the outer Icewing villages. But one of her spies had reported that Burn, the strongest and cruelest of the Sandwing sisters, had caught wind of the queens plan. The vicious princess was planning on wiping out their troops tonight.

The queen had ordered the soldiers to retreat. It was Lyrics job to warn them.

The mountains yawned ahead in the distance, and for a panicked moment Lyric thought she’d gone the wrong way. Did the Ice Kingdom have mountains? Was this the Ice Kingdom? or had she stumbled into the Claws of the Clouds Mountains by accident? But she felt her heart leap when she spotted the gleam of green and blue scales. Yes! The army tents were cleverly disguised in the rocky slopes. Lyric lashed her tail, putting on a bolt of speed, beating her wings as hard as she could. Who knew how much time they had? She needed to get the troops away from here as fast as possible.

Lyric angled her wings down in a dive, lashing her tail behind her. Unfortunately, she misjudged her speed and ended up jerking upwards, flapping her wings wildly in an attempt not to crash headfirst into the rock at top speed. She ended up tumbling into the camp, rolling several times before landing on her back with her wings sprawled. At least she was still alive.

Several of the soldiers around her squeaked in alarm, scrambling out of the way. Lyric winced at the harsh comments they were throwing at her. Way to make a fool of herself.

“Ack! Are you delusional?!”

“Learn to fly idiot! Don’t go flapping around like a drowned seagull!”

“Three moons, shut the heck up! Your going to bring the whole mountain down on us!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so so sorry!” Lyric yelped. This was not exactly the grand entrance she had planned. Lyric scrambled upright and whipped her head around frantically. Who was it she needed to find? Who was the commander? Three moons, why couldn’t she do something as simple as remembering a name?

Suddenly, a large, bulky dragon burst out of one of the tents. She radiated menace and strength. It almost made Lyric jump back.

“What in Pyrrhia is going on here?!” The dragon roared. The name suddenly and conveniently popped back into Lyrics head.

Tempest. Commander Tempest. This had to be her, with her gruesome scares a bulky build. She’d certainly lived up to the rumors.

One of the soldiers flicked his tail at Lyric, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“This squid-brained dragonet just crashed into our camp. We’ll be lucky if she hasn’t alerted the whole Ice Kingdom by now.”

Commander Tempest glared at Lyric, her gaze cutting right through her.

“What does this idiot want?”

Lyrics throat closed over her words. Moons above, Tempest was every bit as intimidating as she thought she’d be.

“Well?” Tempest sat on her back talons and crossed her arms, glaring down her snout at Lyric. She poked Lyric with her tail.

“Are you deaf? Speak.”

Lyrics voice returned to her. “I-i-I, I’m s-sorry, Commander Tempest,”

Lyric crouched into a hasty bow. She wondered if this was right protocol for talking to the commander or if she was making an even bigger fool of herself.

“I-I have a message from Q-Queen Coral!”

Lyric fumbled with the bag slung around her neck, hastily tugging out a small scroll.

“The-the Sandwings- er, the prin- Burn has been alerted to your presence. They may be attacking tonight. The queen has ordered you to retreat.”

Tempest raised a scaley eyebrow. She took the scroll from Lyric and unfurled it, pausing for a second, then nodding.

“Slithering sand snorters,” Tempest snarled. “Why don’t we stay and fight them off? We could take out Burn and the lower Icewing villages at once.”

Lyric hadn’t considered that, but this wasn’t her decision. “Y-you can talk it over with the queen. But, t-this is a direct order, so, uh...”

Lyric, under Tempest’s glare, figured it a was probably a good idea to shut up. Tempest turned to several of the dragons around her.

“Go spread the word. Pack up as fast as you can. Anyone not ready in ten minutes will be left to the sand snorters.”

Tempest glanced at Lyric for a second. “Thank you. You better scurry on home, shrimp. This is no place for a dragonet.” Tempest turned back to her soldiers, barking orders.

Lyric was taken aback for a second. Did it really matter? But Tempest was right, Lyric wasn’t much of a fighter. Lyric nodded, gave a half bow, and sprang into the air. Her wing beats were shaky, but oddly confident. She’d done her job. Well, she’d made a fool of herself, but at least she’d done her job. Hopefully the queen would be pleased.

Lyric flew on, with a small grin on her face. She looked behind her occasionally to see the SeaWing troops soaring behind her. She’d done her job, she’d been useful. She’d helped save those soldiers, and-

Suddenly, a dune exploded right below her. Lyric squeaked in alarm. Her wing beats faltered, and she flapped wildly for a second to right herself. She flew higher to get a better view of what was going on.

She wished she hadn’t.

Below her, the ground was bursting with sand dragons, like ants swarming out of their piles to fight whoever had disturbed them. The Sandwings lunged towards the sea dragons, with talons outstretched and teeth bared. Lyric watched in horror as the blue dragons began to drop like rain, crumbling to the ground, staining the sand below them.

Lyric was snapped out of her horror by claws raking across her snout. A Sandwing, a large female with pale white scales, had snatched lyric out of the air, throwing her towards the ground. Her tail stabbed for Lyrics heart, the venomous barb gleaming menacingly.

Lyric lashed out, clawing frantically at the sand dragon. She batted the Sandwings tail away with her wings, and felt her claws grab hold of the Sandwings neck. Lyric sank her claws in, holding on desperately. Her attacker hissed furiously, beating her wings frantically, struggling to stay in the air against Lyrics weight. Her tail snaked towards Lyric again. Lyric snatched her tail in her jaws, like a bear catching a fish, and bit down as hard as she could. She felt her teeth sink into the weak spot that every dragon had in their tail.

The sand dragon roared and yanked her tail away, ripping Lyric off her neck and sending her spinning towards the ground. The sea dragon yelped and spread her wings, landing rather clumsily on the sand.

Lyric turned to the bloodbath above her, her heart sinking, with blood from her snout clouding her vision. Her mind couldn’t register what had happened. Had this been her fault? Had she been too late? Had she somehow caught the Sandwings attention?

Her mind desperately grabbed onto an explanation. Something, anything that could explain this outcome.

As Lyric watched the sky in horror, one of the sand dragons snaked her head around to glare at her, as if she had felt the sea dragons gaze. The Sandwing was large and bulky, her body disfigured with gruesome scars that told stories and fearsome battles and vicious foes. The chain mail armor on her chest gleamed with pride. Her obsidian black eyes had a sharp gleam to them. The eyes almost had a smug look to them. A look that said “nice try” and “I win” and “you failed.”

Burn, Lyric realized, must have planned this all along. Now that she thought about it, it was a rather clever plan. Prompt your enemies into retreating, then ambush them when they try to escape. Quite clever, indeed.

Lyric tore her eyes away. Sandwings were truly the worst tribe. It was their fault they were all in this war in the first place. They were horrible, vicious dragons. The messenger would never forget that. She spotted several blue and green figures, frantically trying to bolt away from the scene. Among them, she thought she saw the Commander. Retreat, yes, they were still trying to escape.

The small, blue messenger leapt into the air after them, blood pooling around her snout, dripping onto the sand. One could never forget the blood that stained these sands.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Hunting Hybrids.”

Hope you guys like this one, things are about to get very interesting. 

“This news is…. Most concerning, commander. And you disposed of all the creatures.”

“I…. did...regrettably. None of them were viable for life, but you must understand that If i run across one with some semblance of sentience that is not in pain that I will not be able to kill it, and I must insist that you do not either. I…. have a certain…. Attachment to hybrids.”

“Of course commander, we understand. However, Your spiderlings are the result of a natural process and not genetic meddling, but if you do run into a creature who is not tormented and racked with pain, then we urge you to bring them in for testing.”

“Yes ma’am. Have your scientists determined anything about the experimentation>” 

“We determined much, but  what we learned had only lead us to more questions than it has answers.” The rundi chairwoman gestures with her hand in a dismissive sweeping motion, “Your assumptions were right to begin with. The Prodigum were trying to splice human DNA with their own DNA. The way they were doing it was not particularly scientific. Each of the testing kits that you sent to us contained different variations of DNA implying that they were either trying to find a balance or their operation was being poorly run by people who did not understand what they were doing.”

“What do you believe they were trying to do?”

She turned in a circle facing away from him, “We are not entirely sure. With the human DNA we suspect that they were trying to obtain certain attributes of the human condition that would be beneficial to their own furtherment, though what it is I cannot say.

“The ability not to be ugly as hell.”

“What was that commander?”

“Nothing ma’am.”

“Very well, I want you to start in on this investigation. Figure out what other things they were doing, and determine if anyone else has this technology.”

He bowed his head, yes ma’am.” The line before him shut off and he stood on the center of the bridge hands behind his back.

“What you looking for?”

He turned around blinking in surprise when he found a large furry shape standing behind him.

Glados.

It always blindsided him at how big she was getting. She was as tall as Krill now, almost three feet in height, and the peach fuzz baby fur on her wolfish head and body had long since died off.

The hair on her face was short and tawny though the hair on the rest of her body was still prone to greyish, more like a tarantula than a human.

He took a seat in his chair, and she scuttled over resting her head on his lap.

He ran a hand over her ears, “I think something strange is going on.”

“Strange?” She wondered.

Behind him he heard the scuttling of two other forms as Hal and Glados came crawling onto the bridge.

Man they were getting massive. They were no longer big enough for him to carry, though they tried very hard to keep that traidiona alive, an attempt that usually left him lying on the floor in mock agony as they screeched at each other about having killed him.

“What are you going to do?” Cortana’s voice was warped and distorted, like he was hearing it through a static radio or the voicebox of a warped doll.

“Well, luckily for all of us, I think I know exactly where to start.”

*** Commander Vir and Sunny stood together on the slow-moving elevator into the abyss. Down in the chasm light passed by them on either side as the night life of Noctopolis went on at the fast-paced rhythm that it always had.

He leaned against the railing, while Sunny stayed planted in the middle of the platform.

“You know that if this thing drops and we fall, standing there isn’t going to keep you alive.” He mused.

“Yes, but it will keep me from accidentally falling off. Now get over here before you give me a heart attack.”

“Can Drev even have heart attacks.”

“Perhaps not in the same way, but it applies…. Please.”

He sighed, “Fine.” Stepping away from the rail and walking over to where she was standing.

“Why are we even here?”

“Because, I think I know some people who might be able to help us?”

“How is that.”

He taped his foot against the metal, “I have a sneaking suspicion that the prodigum weren’t the first people to come up with the idea of hybridization. I think that they were either trying to replicate, or someone sold them the secrets on how to do it, and if that is the case, why would someone want to make a hybrid.”

“Mix a human and a Drev and you get an indomitable warrior.” Sunny mused 

“There is that…. But who do you think might want a hybrid child.”

She looked on blankly at him, “One of those circus people/”

He shook his head and waved a hand, “I have a sneaking suspicion that this has something to do with hybrid couples.”

Sunny’s eyes widened, “You mean LFIL… “ She trailed off and he nodded 

“Think about it, if there is a market, A Tesraki is going to try and fill it. So say one of their friends is in a relationship with a man and one day they overhear how the couple really wants kids, but they can’t have them. They think about adopting, and that's fine, but one of them muses what would happen if it could actually work, and then the third gets a brilliant idea.” 

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“I suppose it’s probable, and while I like the LFIL guys, not all of the are going to be upstanding citizens who say no to experimental genetic testing.”

The elevator stopped and the two of them got off walking out into the underground tunnels.

“Where are we going.”

“I’ve been invited to come stop by in their area on one or two occasions, you know after what I did at the last protest.”

“Of course, leave it to you to make friends with literally everyone.”

HE smiled but kept walking shouldering his way down the alley until they finally reached the place he was looking for. Red and purple neon glowed around them, and --through the floor-- they could hear the driving beat of the music.”

Together the two of them pushed open the door and stepped into the dark hallway.

The walls before them were lined with images of little strings of lights. Most of them were depictions of couples in loving poses holding hands hugging or some other form of affection. Little plaques below the pictures read out their stories.

The commander and Sunny walked past these stepping into the large open room.

Music rattled the floor. On one half of the room humans and Drev danced to a driving beat, while on the other Tesraki, Finnari, Drev and Humans alike lounged about a s drinks were brought to them from the nearby bar.

More figures could be seen up on the balconies playing pool and darts and generally laughing.

Sunny stepped up beside him.

A live band played at the other end of the room.”

“Where do we start?” She wondered 

He motioned towards the bar, “Where everyone starts.”

Together they shouldered their way through the crowd, though they did not go unnoticed. As a few people turned to recognize them drinks were lifted or they were patted on the back given friendly smiles or waves of approval.

They had almost made it to the bar when most of the crowd turned to look at them.

The music cut off 

The commander sighed, “I was hoping that wouldn’t happen.”

“Is that the commander!” 

He grimaced and turned on the spot to face the stage where the live band had now turned the entire room to look at them, “It is you! Everyone give this man and his friend Sunny a round of applause!”

He felt his face go red as the entire room erupted in cheering.

He waved a hand trying to get them back to what they were doing.

A few of the people on the dance floor motioned them over, “Come dance with us!” They urged .

“Sorry guys, official business. Maybe later.”

They looked disappointed, but allowed the others to go on. The music started back up, but most of the attention was on them as they made their way over to the bar. When they got there, the bar tender was already waiting.

He was a very tall and skinny man with a studded jacket and a bright green Mohawk. At his side a Finnari was busy pouring drinks.

“Can I get official business a drink? It’ll be on the house.”

“Sorry, I don’t drink on duty”

“Not even soda, or juice.”

“Well I suppose that would be alright.” 

The punk smiled at the little Finnari, “You mind, dear.

She nodded and scurried off popping off a bottle lid and pouring the commander a glass while simultaneously passing Sunny another strange concoction which looked like someone was trying to marinate about half a cucumber worth of cucumber slices in some water.

Sunny seemed to enjoy it though.

“So what can we do for you.” 

He seemed almost eager to help the two of them out.

The commander took a sip of his drink, “Well, I can’t say specifics, but….. The GA discovered something recently, and whatever it is could be a game changer for the rest of the galaxy…. Do you know of anyone who has been approached by a group or organization that…. Claims to be able to splice two species DNA together?” he kept his voice low hoping that no one would hear him over the music.

He wasn’t expecting the reaction he got.

The man’s eyes immediately widened, and he held up a hand, “Hold on. There is someone I thin you need to talk to.” 

Sunny and him exchanged glances but, after a moment the punk bartender returned with two others. A tall woman and her Tesraki partner. The group of them shook hands as they returned before business got more serious.

“So…. you know something about this? The commander wondered.

They glanced at each other, “About… the DNA thing?”

He nodded.

The Tesraki snorted, “Someone approached us with some sort of business proposal, and of course I didn’t take it seriously. I know shady business practices when I see them, I said to silvia I says that they will probably tack on charges to us as everything goes along until eventually we owe them the house and the car.” He waved his hand, “Besides hybrids, there is just something I don’t like about that.”

“So someone approached you?”

“Targeted us more like.” The human said crossing her arms,  “Came up to us all shady like asking personal questions about our love life. About how we could have kids if we wanted how it wasn’t fair that we got to see other people with happy families where we can.” She snorted, “Bitch please, there are plenty of orphaned children out there that it would be more than a little selfish, in my opinion, to bring some kind of strange hybrid abomination into this world.”

“You didn’t take their offer seriously?”

“Of course we didn’t. It was probably some kind of scam anyway.”

“Has anyone else gotten these offers?” he wondered 

She paused, “Well not that I think about it a few people have, but all of us have sort of ignored it. No one that I know would willingly involve themselves in something like that. Genetic tampering is illegal after all other than for reasons of medical research.” The commander nodded, “And how about everyone else here. Do they share the same views as you…. Or do you think they would be willing to make a deal like that.”

He saw the answer in her eyes before she even said it.

She was unsure.

“Well.” She glanced down at her partner, “Now that I think about it. There are a few people… eccentrics mind you.”

The Tesraki leaned forward, “He means unstable. Our entire community isn’t a haven for the misjudged and oppressed. There are some real craizes in here for very wrong reasons. Some eccentrics who just think its fun to be different.” he glanced around, “They give the rest of us a very bad name, and I would wager to say that something like that would not be above them.”

“And where have these people been approaching you?”

The woman shrugged, “Usually in LFIL friendly bars like this one, but since this one was recently accepted by an establishment by the state things have cleaned up around here.

“I see.” he glanced at Sunny, “Looks like we have some work to do.” 

She nodded.

He smiled, “What do you think, what to be my date for a night out of espionage”

She snorted, “You’re gonna have to buy me a drink first.”

“Playing hard to get, I see how it is.” He glanced at the bartender, “Another one of those…. cucumber …. thingies but after that I’m going to need about five gallons of nail polish, some hair dye and a shitty prosthetic leg.”

“Kinky.” The bartender commented on his way back.

“You can shut your trash mouth. I don’t tell you how to spend your free time.” 

The group of them laughed for a minute as the commander moved back to being serious glancing back at the room full of people.

What might they know, and how many of them could potentially be involved.

He didn’t want to think ill of anyone, but desperation makes people do some strange things 

[kirkwallgremlin]

An Impulse Decision

Carver Hawke x Alistair Theirin, 1565 words

Carver walks into a trap. Luckily his fellow Warden Alistair has quick reflexes. Aka what if we kissed in the Deep Roads (and we were both Wardens)? 

Read on AO3

It was odd, being back in the Deep Roads. 

He and Garrett had spent so long working to get there, determined to raise the money for Bartrand’s expedition, to make their fortune in dwarven treasure. From what he had heard, it seemed Garrett had made a relative fortune and Carver was glad his remaining family had somewhere comfortable and safe to live. 

Obviously things hadn’t turned out how they planned. Bartrand’s betrayal, fighting their way back to the surface, his own brush with death.

Sometimes Carver wondered what he’d have done if he’d been given the choice. What would he have done if he hadn’t joined the Wardens on the verge of death, the Blight poisoning his body from the inside out? Would he have joined them if the choice had been his own, and not yet another choice circumstances and his older brother had made for him? 

It wasn’t something he lingered on often. Life as a Warden was better than no life at all, and dwelling on what-ifs never helped anyone. He was happy as a Warden - he had friends, a chance to make a life for himself. And Alistair was one of the first friends he made independent of his brother, the first friend who wouldn’t always be comparing him in some small way to Garrett. 

It was Alistair he found himself with now, trekking through passages as they tried to locate a new darkspawn escape point. A group of hurlocks had made it to the surface without being observed by the Wardens, and the Warden-Commander suspected they may have found a new one. 

“You look like you’ve got a whole lot of… thoughts going on in your head,” Alistair called back to him, and Carver jumped, having not even realised he had stopped. With one final glance at the arched doorway that had caught his attention, thrown him right back to that one fateful trip with Garrett and the others, he hurried after his fellow Warden. 

“Trying to drown out the darkspawn by overthinking?” Alistair continued as Carver caught up. “Doesn’t work, unfortunately. I’ve tried it.” 

The darkspawn noise was another change to the Deep Road experience. With Garrett and the others, they had seemed almost eerily quiet, the only noises the echo of their feet and the occasional shuffling, grumbling noises of the darkspawn. Their voices, when they spoke, had echoed along the long, empty hallways, bouncing off the pillars and the piles of rubble that no longer stood. 

The Wardens could sense the darkspawn, though, and the Deep Roads had no shortage of darkspawn. Carver didn’t know if it counted as noise if it was inside your own head but it was incessant. 

“Does it ever stop?” he wondered out loud. Alistair shrugged at him, looking back over his shoulder. 

“Nope. You get better at tuning it out though. Or… maybe I’m just used to ignoring whatever’s going on in my head. It does tend to be pretty full. Always full of thoughts and… well, now I guess darkspawn too.”

Carver sighed. Alistair smiled at him, a comforting smile that made Carver’s heart skip a beat. 

“You should have felt it during the Blight,” Alistair said. “Darkspawn everywhere and the archdemon flying around Maker knows where.” He shuddered, turning back to the path. “I do not miss that. Ostagar wasn’t fun either, whole darkspawn army waiting just around the corner.”

He fell silent at that. Carver didn’t respond either. Ostagar hadn’t been fun for either of them, for a variety of reasons. While it sometimes was nice to talk to Alistair about it, something they had done a few times already, the Deep Roads didn’t feel like the appropriate venue. 

He lived in awe that Alistair had actually fought the Blight with the hero of Ferelden himself. Despite having more than enough reason to let it go to his head - son of the former king, potential heir to the throne, saviour of Ferelden - Alistair was one of the most down to earth, honest people he knew, and the Wardens were lucky to have him. Carver felt lucky to have him in his life in any capacity, let alone as a friend.

The Warden-Commander often assigned them to work together. Carver suspected it was because Alistair was one of the most experienced wardens among them, and he the least, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. He liked working with Alistair. He made everything more enjoyable, even the things that weren’t at all pleasurable.

Lost in his own thoughts, he followed his companion through the maze of tunnels, wondering if Alistair would be interested in joining him for another game of cards later on. 

Alistair turned back to look at him, his mouth beginning to open as though he wanted to say something as dimly, Carver heard a faint click. Before he had time to process what it could be, to even consider it, something hit him squarely in the chest, the air forced from his lungs as he hit the wall. Alistair’s body followed him, pressing him against the ancient stone as Carver gasped for breath. 

“Trap,” Alistair said as the stones crumbled behind them, leaving nothing but an abyss in the path where Carver had been standing. 

“Thank you,” Caver wheezed, winded. Alistair wasn’t small, and he’d hit him pretty hard, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. 

The weight of him pressed against Carver didn’t make it any easier to catch his breath and his mouth went dry as he realised how close Alistair was, the closest he could remember ever being to him. The closest he could remember being to somebody in a long time, in fact. And the fact that it was Alistair left him even more breathless, an odd fluttering feeling forming in his stomach. 

And Alistair was still so close, his chest against Carver’s, one hand on the wall beside Carver’s ear, making no move to step back. 

They stood like that for a moment, unmoving, breathless, adrenaline coursing through every inch of Carver’s body. Then something inside him gave way and his face was moving down, lips pressing against  Alistair’s. One hand slipped behind Alistair’s head, wanting to pull him closer, as close as he possibly could as he kissed him.

He sensed more than saw Alistair’s arm tense in response and he froze, pulling back, almost hitting his head against the wall behind him as he did. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, fear spiking in his belly that one impulse decision, something he didn’t even realise he wanted until it happened, had just ruined whatever friendship he had formed with his fellow warden. But now all he could think was that he had just kissed Alistair. Alistair, son of the former king of Ferelden, hero of the fifth blight, Grey Warden. Alistair, his closest friend in the wardens, the closest friend he could ever remember having. 

Alistair, who may never want to talk to him again now.

Alistair, who still hadn’t stepped back, still stood so close that Carver could see the rise and fall of his breath. 

And then their lips were together again and Alistair was kissing him, his arms around Alistair’s back. The other man’s armour was cold under his hands, no sun in the underground to warm it, his hair soft under Carver’s fingers. Alistair’s lips moved against his as Carver tried to lose himself in the moment. He had kissed people before, only a handful but enough, but this felt different, like he never wanted it to end. It didn’t matter that they were in the Deep Roads, that every sense was screaming an awareness of darkspawn, that he now had no idea what the future would bring. All that mattered was Alistair and the way he felt under Carver’s hands, under his lips. 

Something scuttled to the right, the soft sound of shifting rocks loud in the quiet. They sprung apart, hands jumping to their respective weapons with practiced ease, and Carver let out a nervous laugh at the sight of the startled nug disappearing into the tunnels. 

Alistair cleared his throat and Carver rubbed his face nervously. 

“So,” he said, otherwise lost for words. “Uh… I should probably thank you for, y’know, saving my life and everything.”

“I’m glad it’s appreciated,” Alistair grinned at him. “I thought I’d help you avoid an untimely death and all that. It’d be a terrible waste to let you fall to your doom.” The grin dropped from his face though. “Maker, I think my heart nearly stopped though. Please don’t do that again.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Carver muttered, suddenly hyper aware of every single part of his body and completely unsure what to do with it. Why was it so hard to know what to do with your hands? With your feet? “I’m... I don’t know why I kissed you. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh.” Alistair’s ears turned red. “Well, I can’t say I minded that part. You’re welcome to try that part again. If you wanted to. No pressure of course.”

“I think I’d like that,” Carver admitted, trying to ignore the fluttering continuing to grow in his chest. “We should probably keep looking for darkspawn now though. Finally get out of these damned tunnels.”

Much to Carver’s delight, however, Alistair showed him exactly how much he wouldn’t mind a repeat of that kiss before the pair of them moved on.