#everyone in this fic is gonna go through it

[sugarygetoo]

divine.

-> pairing: nanami x fem! reader

-> summary: the moment you walk down the aisle, nanami realizes just how deeply in love he is with you.

-> cw/ tw:  nothing (suprisingly lmao).

-> wc: 430 (dang, i fell off T-T)

-> song inspo: die with a smile - lady gaga, bruno mars.

-> an. suprise! it's yena! yes, i'm alive, yes i wrote this, yes, this sucks. i suck at writing fluff, but what are you expecting from someone who's 20 and still never even held hands with a boy romantically (please help me, i want to stop being single PLEASE)💀😭

starting a new masterlist for certain fics that were inspired by certain songs, so make sure to keep an eye out for what is basically my way of giving out song recs lmao

apologies about not writing more often, i'm just much more of reader then i am a writer so I've just been reading a crap ton, so I'm sorry!!!

forgive me, i'll write more angst i promise 🙏

main masterlist. | yena's playlist.

✎ xoxo, yena.

“i, i just woke up from a dream. where you and i had to say goodbye. and i don’t know what it all means. but since i survived, i realized wherever you go , that’s where i’ll follow.”

there were no words to describe the feelings that nanami feels in his body right now. 

you are so, so beautiful. 

as he watches you walk down the aisle towards him, he feels as if everything around him has disappeared, all he could see was you. from the way your hair was done to how you look divine in that pristine dress as if it were made solely for you. 

his heart is beating so fast that he’s sure he might not even make it through the rest of the event. his hands are shaking from nervousness and wet from sweat. every step you took felt like cupid’s arrow shooting him in the heart over and over again, and everytime time he made eye contact with you felt like lightning shooting through his entire body.

you were everything that he’s ever wanted and more.

“nobody’s promised tomorrow.”

by the time you arrive right in front of him, nanami is sure he’s no longer breathing. you looked like the epitome of an angel and he couldn’t believe he was gifted the opportunity to stand in front of you and declare his love for you. 

holding his hand out for you to take, he couldn’t help but tighten his hold on your hand. the heat radiating of from it reminds him that this was real.

that this was all, very, very real.

he was getting married. to you.

“so i’m gonna love you like it’s the last night, like it’s the last night.”

he felt like crying. 

being able to hold onto you like this and stare into those eyes of yours that he loves so much. he’s sure his heart is beating loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, but he couldn’t care less. 

not when you stare at him as if he was the most precious person in the entire universe. not when you wrap your warm, comforting hands around his. not when the biggest, sweetest smile blossoms on your face as your eyes slowly turn red.

nothing else mattered. 

nothing, other then you.

“if the world was ending, i wanna be next to you. if the party was over, and our time on earth was through. i wanna hold you, just for a while.  and die with a smile. if the world was ending, i wanna be next, to you.”

@ sugarygetoo, all rights reserved.

[beefrobeefcal]

Married Joel Sits on You feat. Joel Miller

Summary: Joel has a question for you. My contribution to my own Married Joel Sits on You challenge.

No Outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader | Rating: Teen | Word Count: 615

Content Warnings: joel sits on reader, possible collapse of popchair imminent, fire pit recklessness, mentions of marital weight gain

Author's Notes: thank you to me for being such a menace. not read or proofed by anyone but me so you get what you get.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

This was not what you had envisioned your Saturday night to be. 

It had started out normally -  sitting in your neighbour’s backyard around the firepit, chatting with him and his wife and his brother and his brother’s wife. It had been pleasant, downright agreeable and gratifying even. At least it was until Tommy bid you and the rest of the group good night and he and Maria stood up and left.

You were left alone with Joel and Tess. Their exchanged glances from the otherside of the fire pit left you feeling a little nervous. 

Tess smiled at you, her face’s shadows flickering and dancing, carving a sinister visage that you hadn’t been aware she could hold, and her voice was lower and seedier.

“We been neighbours for a while.”

You nodded, almost too politely. “Yes.”

A silence fell over the three of you, then Tess stood up and made an exaggerated stretch.

“Well, if that’s the evening, I’ve had it. I’m gonna turn in.”

She gave Joel a look and a head nod towards you, before giving you a curt smile, and leaving to head inside.

Joel’s fingers nervously strummed on his knees as he raised his brows with a tight mouthed grin, and you returned one in kind, leaving you both sitting in silence once again. You had no idea what Tess’s ominous actions were indicative of, but you could feel the nerves come off Joel in waves, and that heightened you own.

You finally decided to cut the hush between you and cleared your throat. “Ahem uh, I.. I think I should also turn in - myself… and leave, too… and go home - to my house. Over there. My house -uh, home.” Your voice was trying so hard to keep the nervous timber at bay while you motioned to your property behind the fence.

Joel looked at you wide eyed, almost scared, and his mouth opened to protest. His need to keep you there must have taken precedence over basic host etiquette because as soon as you went to stand up, Joel jumped over the firepit and sat on you, pinning you to the flimsy popchair.

You could feel his heart racing as your face was pressed against his back and you felt his whole weight on you.

“I need you - “, he huffed and you felt the vibrations from his deep voice reverberate through his back.

You stiffened. Sure, you’d watched him through the blinds in your bedroom as he mowed the lawn, and caught him running out the front door in nothing but his boxers to chase the newspaper boy who threw the morning’s paper a little too close to the bay window out front. But once he and Tess were married a few years back, you’d tried to stop because marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. Tess made him happy and kept him taken care of and the only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline which was now pressing you uncomfortably into the creaking chair. 

“Joel - I think we shouldn’t-”

“No, please - hear me out!”

He cranked his head back to try and look at you. “I didn’t want to ask this in front of everyone and even Tess thinks this is a good idea.”

Butterflies or some other sort of fluttering insect bustled in your core, but you tried to maintain whatever decorum you could. 

“T-Tess thinks it’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, she said you’d be perfect but I didn’t want to take advantage of you.” He then sighs and finally says, “I need you to help me with my taxes.”

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

[cheynovak]

Can you do a fic where the reader Jensen wife likes doing tiktok trends and finally gets him to do one please when you get time that is maybe have were he only does it if she does that thing he likes

Hi! @deanwinchestersgirl8734

I love that request! I happened to be off from work today so I had spare time today! Here it is ❤️ I hope you like it!

Warnings: None, all fluff, maybe little grumpy Jensen, but that's cute.

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

'That tiktok-thing'

You sit on the couch, scrolling through your phone as comments flood in on your latest TikTok. There it is again — the same questions you’ve been getting for months.

*“When is Jensen gonna join one of your TikToks?”* *"How is Jensen?"* *"When are we going to see Jensen?"*

You smile to yourself. They always ask. No matter how many times you’ve said he’s not interested in tiktok, the fans just keep pushing for it. And honestly, you can’t blame them. Jensen, your ridiculously handsome husband, would be a hit on TikTok.

Not that you haven’t tried before.

You glance over at him, lounging on the other end of the couch with his eyes glued to the TV. He’s so relaxed, totally in his element, blissfully unaware that you’re scheming again.

"Hey, babe?" you say sweetly, leaning over just enough to catch his attention.

“Hm?” he hums, not even looking up.

“Everyone’s asking when you’re going to make a TikTok with me,” you say, dragging out the words in your best attempt to sound innocent.

Jensen doesn’t even flinch, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Not gonna happen.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, pouting a little, “you already do TikTok trends with your PA. Why not me?”

That gets his attention. His eyebrows shoot up, and he turns to look at you, an incredulous smile tugging at his lips. “She tricks me into doing them. There’s a difference.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, sure, she tricks you. Right. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

"Come on babe, it's your fans that ask for it. Not me, you know... you call them your supernatural family, those people who love you for what, almost twenty years now." You weren't planning on giving up. He smirks and say, "I do plenty of cameos for Mish on socials." You sigh dramatically.

Jensen chuckles, his eyes returning to the TV, clearly thinking the conversation is over. But you're not giving up that easily.

You get up from your spot on the couch and crawl over to him, positioning yourself right in his lap, effectively blocking his view of the TV. He gives you an amused look, his hands instinctively resting on your hips as you settle in.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks, though there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.

“I’m just saying,” you begin, leaning closer until your faces are only inches apart, while your fingers play with his shirt. “I could make it worth your while…”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “Worth my while, huh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

You grin mischievously, biting your lip before you speak. “I’ll do that thing you like…”

His expression shifts instantly, his eyes widening in surprise, looking at your lips. “T-The thing thing?” he stammers, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

You nod, giving him an exaggerated wink. “Uh-huh. That thing.”

Jensen swallows hard, glancing from you to the TV behind you, then back again. Trying to act like it was a very hard decision to make. His resolve is clearly crumbling, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he weighs his options.

Finally, with a dramatic sigh, he gives in. “Well… I guess I can be persuaded.”

You let out a small cheer, throwing your arms around his neck. “You won’t regret it!” Jensen smirks, pulling you closer. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I won’t.”

As you lean in to kiss him, you can already imagine the look on your followers’ faces when they finally see Jensen making an appearance in your next TikTok. "I love you!"

Jensen lifts you up and starts making his way towards the bedroom. You make sure your feet touch the ground before you say. "What do you think you're doing."

His thumb point towards the bedroom. With a confused look. You kiss him and pur sweetly "That's payment babe, first the tiktok."

His shoulders drop, his head falls back with a dramatic sigh. "Fine."

All enthusiastic, you grab Jensen’s arm and pull him toward the kitchen, where the lighting is perfect for filming. “Come on, this is going to be fun!” you say, practically bouncing on your feet as you show him the ideas you’ve saved on your phone.

Jensen raises an eyebrow, looking less than convinced. “I’m not doing that,” he says, crossing his arms at the first suggestion.

You sigh, swiping to the next. “Okay, what about this one? Super easy!”

Jensen shakes his head without even blinking. “Nope. Not even that.”

You pout, trying to think of something that might entice him. Then it hits you. “Oh, I get it… Maybe this couple dance?” You scroll to a clip of a romantic dance challenge, but Jensen's eyes go wide with mock horror.

“What?! Are we starring in, Dirty Dancing now? Sweetheart, I’m not Patrick Swayze,” he teases, though the smile on his face betrays him.

You start giggling, imagining it. “You’d look great in the water though. Ooooh maybe you could lift me in the pool?”

Jensen lets out a laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t believe you. “Yeah, that’s exactly what this is missing. Me, soaking wet, attempting a lift. Very graceful.”

After a few more playful back-and-forths, you finally settle on a classic: the “Islands in the Stream” shuffle, inspired by David and Victoria Beckham. It's cute, fun, and simple enough. Plus, it fits the vibe of the two of you perfectly. You’ll start the dance, and Jensen will come in later, pretending it is all natural.

He gives a reluctant sigh. “Alright, fine. But no lifts.”

You grin victoriously, quickly setting up the phone to capture the perfect angle. With the music queued, you start dancing, following the rhythm, moving effortlessly through the routine. At first, you think Jensen might back out last minute, but to your surprise, he steps into frame exactly when he’s supposed to, nailing the timing.

And then, out of nowhere, he starts singing along.

“Islands in the stream, that is what we are…”

You nearly mess up the next step because you’re trying not to look head over heels when he sings, but his voice is so smooth, and he’s actually getting into it. He flashes you a playful grin, clearly enjoying the moment, even though he’d never admit it.

By the end of the dance, Jensen even improvised, he turns you and pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist. Before you can even react, he dips his head and captures your lips in a soft, lingering kiss — the perfect romantic finale.

You hear the TikTok music fade, signaling the end of the clip, but the two of you stay there for a moment longer.

When you finally pull back, Jensen looks down at you with that signature smirk of his. “See? Not so bad, was it?” You smile up at him, your heart doing little flips.

“Nope. Totally worth it.” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, “that thing you promised better be worth it too.”

You laugh, leaning into his chest as the phone chimes, notifying you that the TikTok is ready for editing. “Oh, it will be.”

As you check the footage, you realize it’s even better than you imagined. And Jensen? Well, let’s just say the fans are going to lose their minds.

But he takes your phones out of your hands and place it on the kitchen counter, "Now..." he said while walking you back towards the bedroom.

"... making love to each other ah-ha..." he singles softly under his breath. And all you could do was follow along.

He deserved... that thing.

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read! If anyone feels like you're tagged too much, also let me know please. :)

@yvonneeeee @kr804573 @nancymcl@suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27

@winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny

[scarrletmoon]

Do you have any Ed and Stede fic you could recommend to me? I love your fics so I think I'd like your recommendations :)

i'm so flattered 😭i barely read anything to begin with for multiple reasons (nothing to do with quality -- i've been in a lot of fandoms and this one BY FAR consistently has the most incredible fic) but uuuuhhhh let's go through my most recent bookmarks!

in case you don't want to scroll through all the rambles (oh and feel free to tag anyone if they're on tumblr, i just linked their ao3 pages):

An Uncharted Level of Waves by Living_City (E)

politely menacing by daydreamcrash (E)

charted by darcylindbergh (E)

serial blusher by daydreamcrash (T)

CringeFail Mob Boss Stede (series) by Panda_Birds (T)

but that's none of my business by chaotic_neutral_knitter (T)

Telescope by Jimsnose (E)

Untitled by oatmilktruther (T)

An Uncharted Level of Waves by Living_City (E)

something about this trans ed fic just got me. something about ed talking about his body with someone he trusts? something about how you can tell how deeply stede adores ed even when it's not from his perspective? also uuummm this has coming untouched, so. i'm a simple man,

politely menacing by daydreamcrash (E)

i'm so stupidly picky when it comes to stede characterization, but i took a chance bc i saw "what if......stede in the cat collar" and you know what. it was fuckin great. i love when stede gets to be the brat. i love seeing ed and stede trust each other. i like when ed gets to dom on his own terms. i love them being disgustingly in love

charted by darcylindbergh (E)

i assume im like, the last person to read this but it's one of those fics that just pops into my head out of nowhere sometimes and i just 🫠 as i said before, im a simple man and i'm a sucker for play that involves one of them trying to distract the other. sexually. anyway it's hot AND shows off how intelligent and skilled ed is. win-win

serial blusher by daydreamcrash (T)

(see sometimes i read stuff that isn't filth!) this fic is SO FUCKIN FUNNY. i just love the fact that ed's spent so long trying to meet someone, but of course the guy he instantly falls head over heels for is the one archie never even considered. it's "stede? STEDE stede?" manifested into a hilarious 5k fic. i love it

CringeFail Mob Boss Stede by Panda_Birds (T)

just gonna rec this entire series bc it's so FUCKING funny. i haven't read Performance Review but i trust sowmz' humor so much that i'm going to rec it sight unseen. they just manage to capture stede's terrible but kind-hearted boss energy without going too far into clueless michael scott territory. also ed is completely smitten and everyone is confused by it. it's great

but that's none of my business by chaotic_neutral_knitter (T)

i've probably hyped this fic too many times but idc. it's 1.5k of lucius losing his mind bc he's CONVINCED ed and stede have something going on but NO ONE will believe him (except exactly who you'd expect)

Telescope by Jimsnose (E)

another one of my always-recs. pretty sure jimsnose has left the fandom at this point but that doesn't change the fact that Telescope is incredible and i hope one day i write something even half as good as this. one thing i love about their writing is how you don't so much read it as let it HAPPEN to you. and sometimes i remember parts of this fic like glimpses through that telescope and it's just so incredibly vivid. you can feel the tension so well between ed and stede here, how much they care for each other, how that breaks them, how it brings them together. and jimsnose so good at what they do that i happily read their Ted Lasso fic. i've never watched Ted Lasso. idk if i ever will. idk what i was doing over there, reading it. but the fics are fuckin banger

Untitled by oatmilktruther (T)

first of all, read anything abs writes on sight, like go sub to them right now if you haven't already (i'm biased but im RIGHT). im picking kind of a weird one but you try and get the image of leather and stede and tongue-tied ed out of your head. right. exactly.

[magpod-confessions]

i am getting so tired of the Jon-asexuality discourse like just LET PEOPLE LIVE

LET PEOPLE DO WHAT THEY WANT

I’m ace, i get off, i make sex jokes, I don’t want to have sec with an actual human being, but I’ll read slash fics, I get horny for fictional men, I joke that I want to fuck them, I don’t, but I might be a smutfic of these characters when I feel like it, none of this makes me any less asexual.

saying all ace people are virgins and have never and will never have sex and have no libido and are “uwu liddle babees” who are oblivious is just factually incorrect.

some ace people don’t have sex.

some do.

Jon’s asexuality is left vague for a REASON.

we hear about through gossip, from someone who 1) hates Jon 2) heard it from his EX. That’s not the most reliable source. I hate to break it to you, but it’s not. It’s second hand information that is, AGAIN, left vague. So that the viewer may interpret it however they like.

someone interpreting Jon as sex-favorable is fine. It’s a headcanon. We don’t ACTUALLY know bc there’s no sex scene or lack of sex scene. Because it doesn’t matter whether or not he has sex! It adds nothing to the overall story, but if you want to write smut with Jon, that’s fine!

Stop getting so uncomfortable, it’s a fictional character and these fics are hurting no one. Stop “calling people out” just because they’re writing something you don’t like. It’s like saying someone who writes detective novels is a cop or condones murder.

and most of the fics I’ve seen are by ace people who are projecting their own sexuality onto Jon, maybe even figuring out their asexuality through him. I realized a lot of my asexuality by reading some of these fics!

hell, even if you don’t like Jon having sex or feeling attraction to people, there’s fics where he ISNT attracted but will still have sex bc guess what! Even allo people have sex with people they aren’t attracted to! Bc they want to! Bc some people like having sex with others!

no ond is trying to erase Jon’s asexuality. You’re just mad because not everyone has the same headcanon as you. And guess what? You can block tags, block creators, you can block people on ao3, you can filter out smut on ao3, all of this is easily avoidable if you just curate your own expirience.

people are gonna write smut of any and every ace character. It’s not inherently acephobic to do so. Especially not when someone who is acespec is just projecting onto a fictional character who’s sexuality was left vague for that reason.

if you disagree, fine. You can always just look the other way.

🗣️

God. Agree these are my exact opinions on it LMAO. Idgaf how someone portrays jons asexuality and frankly the whole 'HES ACE HE HASNT HEARD OF SEX EVER' is just. Uncomfortable and aphobic to me as an ace person LMAO - rosette

YEAH . agreed ! as an ace person as well it isss . a spectrum guys . somebody making the canon ace character have sex isn't going to kill you . i can obviously understand if you're uncomfortable with it due to being ace yourself but non-ace people shouldn't be trying to dictate how other people headcanon a characters asexuality to be . - deceit

[aft3rhrs]

Update:

Hi guys!

I appreciate your asks and messages so much. 🥹

Thank you so much for thinking of me, for remembering me and being so so supportive and patient. It truly means the world to me. You guys are amazing and the only reason I'm still here 😭

To sum it up: physically and mentally I have struggled a LOT in this time. Going through some transformations I guess dhdjdhdh and as painful as it was, I came out stronger and I'm doing much better mentally. After years of struggle there is finally some light in my life and the journey is gonna be long but at least I got it started. There will be good and bad days but that's just how it goes.

My biggest struggle is to keep up with my courses and therapy and house work and etc while still managing myself, there is a lot going on, but I will get there!

When it comes to writing. I'm not gonna lie. As I said some times were hard and for a while I really thought I was done here. I was preparing to make a goodbye post. Nothing was going right and I just couldn't create anything. I thought maybe these topics just got too depressing for me to write at this point or maybe writing just isn't for me at all (as much as I love it, I had a crisis 😅)

Then my brother went and got me a LAPTOP just so I could write again 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 it didn't help much at first, especially since by now I am used to my little phone screen and the big blank page was intimidating 💀

But hey

I'm back. And I wanna say I'm so sorry if I don't end up posting stuff you were looking forward to at first. I'm just getting back into the swing of things and trying out whatever feels comfortable and right.

This entire fic is finished lmao. I just need to edit it and hopefully after that I'm planning on starting another.

I will get back to everyone soon, thank you sm 💕

[timeofjuly]

Wishbone

Chapter 1 - The Second Mage

Power hums at your fingertips. It burns like menthol, a cool, searing tingle that makes you want to ball your hands into fists.

After three years, you’ve learnt to suppress the impulse. You know how to keep your hands relaxed and open, to hold back the way your fingers want to jitter against the pulse of power. Even your fingernails have been polished and artfully trimmed and they shine under the harsh studio lights. You have been scrubbed into softness. A faux gentleness.

Your publicist has impressed the importance of this onto you many times before. Let the First Mage convey the image of violence and blood and power, she says. You’re the face of the Circle. You lend us humanity. You laugh and smile and know the right things to say. Your hands should say that too.

But your fingers, belying their appearance, are itching for violence and blood and power now as you stare at the side of Empress Toriel’s head as she begins her portion of the Mage-Monster Peace Treaty proceedings. It’s route now to keep the glare off of your face, but it’s never become easier.

Find it on AO3.

Fic summary below the cut:

Wishbone

Hold tight.

When the barrier fell, the spell preventing humans from using magic broke with it and you, along with your twin, became one of the first mages in a millennia. The monsters emerged from beneath the mountain hungry for retribution against the humans who trapped them there and the newly formed Circle of Mages responded in kind, launching the start of a bloody conflict. 

Three years on, the two factions finally agree on peace terms. You are the Second Mage, subordinate only to the First. You want one thing: justice for the death of your twin at the hands of a dust-mad monster.

Pull.

When a soulmate bond snaps into place between you and Captain Sans Serif’s brother, Papyrus, your goal becomes harder to pursue. The unfulfilled bond between you and the Captain only complicates things further. Your rage burns, warring with the two new links that have been thrust upon you.

Sacrifice, you find, has many faces, and all of them are looking at you.

Rip yourself in two.

[benevolenterrancy]

@hereticcryptid I appear to be slowly but surely developing an entire series about how Hensheng and Baxia apparently get fed up with their owners' inability to express their feelings and take matters into their own hands...

[todayisafridaynight]

redraw

[astaraels]

why do people think Yevgeny wasn't Mickey's son? in 3x06 there was clearly no condom used (not that Terry probably would have let Svetlana stop to get one), but there's no reason to think she wasn't using condoms with her regular clients. it's not Svetlana's fault that she was a tool used to rape Mickey—the sole blame for everything that happens in that entire situation belongs to Terry Milkovich and him alone—so why does it feel like it's just another way for people to shit on Svetlana for something that wasn't in her control? it's not as though she'd asked to get pregnant in the first place...

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[monards]

"It's so rare for R to be in her right mind for a spell. Should she really be wasting the precious little lucid time she has writing this?" "Don't worry. For a witch, this is the most important thing."

you mean to be telling me that it's an explicit point that rhinedottir is rarely in the proper state to do spells and write things like this. and of all the choices she had not to. she chooses to write it and places importance (read. it's established as the MOST IMPORTANT THING too.) in spending said-precious-time to write something with her friends commemorating andersdotter. hoyo i need youto stare me in the eyes and real the implications of rhinedottir expending what the other's are describing as her "precious little lucid time" to commemorate and make an ode to her dead friend HOYOPLEAS

[shift-shaping]

nine arrows

enaste meets the duke of wycome.

rating: m

pairing: solavellan

warnings: still pretty bad latin, blood

<- prev fic | next fic ->

first fic in this series

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Enaste and her companions followed Lady Volant's directions to the room where she'd last seen the Duke. She took a moment to heal her finger before they went on; something about facing a blood mage with an open wound concerned her. 

Much of the manor was dark, its long hallways lit only by the glow of Enaste's staff and the occasional lantern. She could see beyond the light, the shadows full of depth and detail until their darkest points, but the blackness was still somehow suffocating.

They approached a large room off one of the main corridors. She could hear the rain outside, pounding against glass windows. Something prickled along her skin, and though she scratched at her arms through her clothes, the itch remained.

She looked back at her companions. Jester was directly behind her, bow drawn, a sheathed dagger at each hip and a series of small grenades attached to a sturdy leather belt around their waist. Beside Jester was Elion, as quiet and confident as Enaste had ever seen him with their clan, wielding a larger and more powerful bow than Jester that bore intricate carvings from their clan's craftsmen. Instead of grenades, he bore several flasks of poison on his belt. Cole took up the rear, his daggers glinting in the dark.

All four of them were still dressed in the clothing they'd left Clan Lavellan wearing, all black and deep brown and green as dark as winter pines. They'd chosen colors that would blend in well with the night and make them harder to spot, but now that she eyed her party, she saw that they looked very much like assassins.

As she crossed the threshold, she dropped her hood. Before her was a large room just as lavishly decorated as the others she'd seen in the manor. Several dark red couches and armchairs filled the center, and towering bookshelves occupied the walls. Above them was a balcony that wrapped around the room, supported by several thick columns of black-veined marble. Eyes gleamed in the darkness above them, watching her entrance in tight silence.

A massive fireplace roared against the far wall. Before it stood a stout human man in expensive, yet disheveled clothing. He had a thick silver beard and a mostly bald head. Red armchairs sat on either side of him.

Enaste stepped carefully into the room, feeling the floor first on the balls of her feet, then her heels. "Are you Duke Antoine of Wycome?" Her voice was louder than she expected it to be in the tall, echo-y room.

The Duke nodded. "Are you who I suspect you are?"

Her companions followed behind her. She remained tense. "That depends who you're expecting."

He eyed them with a slight smile. "A Dalish mage with raven-black hair and a glowing green hand? I have seen many elves tonight, but none so striking as yourself, Lady Inquisitor." His voice was gentle and friendly, and rumbled with age. He gestured to one of the armchairs. "Come, please, sit. I would enjoy some conversation, if it pleases you."

She did not move. "My ambassador told me you were under the control of a blood mage in the service of a Tevinter magister. Is that true?"

He looked down at the floor --dark hardwood panels polished to a glossy sheen. He closed his eyes for a long moment, then shook his head. "It was, but I am under no compulsion now. However, I understand if you do not believe me."

Enaste glanced over her shoulder. "Cole? Is he telling the truth?"

Cole frowned, staring at the Duke. "I... Think so. You are you. But you weren't always completely you. Before, at the party, on the walls, you were someone who isn't you, your skin a cloak for someone else. It hurt, you and them, but --you didn't push them away." He shook his head. "There is magic here, but you are not under the blood mage's control." He looked up at the balcony, at the eyes shining in the darkness. "They are."

Enaste stared into the shadows, and with focus came the outlines of at least nine archers, all elven, all completely still. Their arrows were drawn: within less than a second, the most skilled of them could pull back their bowstring and fire.

She reached for her staff, and the Duke held up his hands. "Wait." Her fingers wrapped around the grip of her weapon, but she otherwise stilled. "You have nothing to fear, my lady. The mage, the one who commands them, would not see you harmed. And neither would I."

She narrowed her eyes. "I have already been harmed here, as have my allies."

"And I sincerely apologize for that." His voice teetered between nervousness and earnestness. "It was a terrible error, a miscalculation on the part of Magister Malchus."

"And you expect me to believe you?" She shook her head, but dropped her hand from her staff. "My allies have seen what you did to the wells. You use red lyrium on your own people."

He sighed. Regret drew heavy on the lines of his face, cast in shadow by the fire at his back. "I realize it is all very confusing. Please, Inquisitor, allow me to explain." He gestured to the armchair again.

She looked at her companions. Jester shook their head quickly. Elion stared up at the balcony of archers. She turned back to the Duke. "I was advised to kill you on sight. Why shouldn't I follow that advice now?"

"Because I have information you would likely wish to hear."

She hesitated. The Duke sat down in one of the armchairs and waited for her to join him. Her mouth was dry, her body heavy. So long as she was in this room at all, she was in danger. She could kill him and leave, risking death from above, or she could figure out some way for them both to escape alive.

And admittedly, that chair looked pretty comfortable.

"Fine," she said finally. She took her staff from her back and drew a barrier around herself for protection. "My allies will be safe as well?"

"Of course."

She stared at him a moment longer, then joined him in one of the large armchairs by the fire. The seat gave in easily beneath her, the cushion soft and pliant. Still she sat near its edge, her back straight, one hand holding her staff in front of her.

"Thank you," he said as he sat back. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his relaxation was at odds with the nine arrows poised to turn them both into pincushions.

She lowered her voice. "Do you even know what red lyrium is? It turns people who come into contact with it mad. It drove the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall insane and led to countless abuses in the city's Circle. It is a tool of Corypheus, and of Tevinter."

The Duke opened his eyes just enough for her to see their gleam in the firelight. "And you are a tool of the Chantry, and of the Orlesian Empire."

She shook her head, exhausted, frustrated, the absurdity of what he said enough to make her head ache. "No, I am not. I know the magister has filled your head with lies about what the Inquisition does, but look at me," she gestured to her companions. "And look at my allies. How could a bunch of elves and apostates be tools of the Chantry?"

He glanced at her party, then sat forward in his seat. "Inquisitor, I would ask that you try to see this from the perspective of the city of Wycome." She sighed, but he went on. "We are a small city on the edge of the world, surrounded by greater nations that would happily swallow us whole. For ages, through Blight and famine and conspiracy and plague, we have scraped out our independence--"

"And you throw it away at the first offer of power."

"Power?" He asked, frowning. He shook his head, bushy white eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The sky is broken and demons are running about and you think we grasp at power?"

"You wouldn't be the first," she said wearily. She sat back from him, one hand on her staff and the other balled into a fist on the armrest.

He glanced at the fire, then at his feet, then at her. "Your Inquisition. What is its goal?"

She frowned, annoyed that he had been so thoroughly fooled that he even felt the need to ask. "Could you not have asked my ambassador this?"

"I want to hear it from you," he replied evenly.

Something snarled inside her and she rolled her eyes. He was drawing this out, asking inane questions just to test her patience and buy himself a few more minutes of life. "I am very tired, and I'm not here for you to waste my time."

"I understand that." He leaned forward. The firelight danced in his eyes. "Is it not an easy question?"

"It is an easy question." Annoyance bubbled in her chest like acid. "The Inquisition exists to stop Corypheus from destroying the world." Her voice came out clipped, obviously irritated, yet laced with exhaustion. "You could have heard that from my ambassador, or from a pamphlet, or from a child begging on your streets."

He considered this, then asked her another question: "and what then, when Corypheus is defeated?"

"We won't have any reason to exist." Obviously. "There will be no more Inquisition."

"Is that what happened to the old Inquisition?"

"Yes."

He shook his head, but his gentle expression remained. "No. The Inquisition of old became the Seekers and Templars, the strongest arm of the Orlesian Chantry."

"But they did stop being the Inquisition," she cut in quickly, her words short and cold. "That's what I meant."

"Of course." He conceded. He was mocking her. "So you understand then, that the Inquisition became a weapon of Orlais?"

"That's not true, you're twisting the facts," she spit back.

"And the modern Inquisition, with its Orlesian castle and Orlesian leaders and Orlesian priests, it is different from that?"

"Our leaders aren't Orlesian. I'm the Inquisitor, and I'm not Orlesian. I just told you we aren't a tool of the Chantry, I-- I barely know the language."

"But your founders are the former left and right hands of the Orlesian divine?" He spoke faster now, his voice more certain. "And your territories are spread throughout the empire? And you seek the support of the Orlesian empress?"

"I'm not --I didn't choose any of those things." She hadn't wanted any of this. She only came here to protect her clan --she didn't even care what happened to his nobles and their wells. This conversation was pointless and she was falling for his trap but she couldn't see its purpose –and she couldn't find a way out. "Why are you asking me this as if it's my decision?"

He was quiet for a time then, looking away from her and up to the balcony where the archers stood in tense, heavy silence. Enaste's cheeks burned. She stared at the fire.

"Inquisitor," he spoke softly, but she kept her eyes on the flames. "I am asking you these questions so that you understand what I mean when I tell you that a choice between two empires is hardly a choice at all. I allowed Malchus to stay in Wycome because he and his Venatori promised this city its independence, and their protection."

He was stupid, and naive, and cowardly; that was explanation enough for her. Her upper lip curled in disgust. "Did we not promise you independence as well? But you didn't trust us, so instead of taking our word, you betrayed the Inquisition and let an agent of Corypheus experiment on your human population --leaving the elves to clean up your mess." She glanced at the balcony. "Though I suppose you're used to that."

"You are an elven prophet in the Orlesian Chantry." She grit her teeth. "If we fully allied with you, we would be giving our support to an organization that threatens everything about our way of life." He shook his head and leaned towards her.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes, suddenly recalling why Bran had wanted him dead in the first place. "Your way of life. How often does it involve cutting off servants' hands?"

He looked confused for a moment, frowning, then his expression fell to one of deep regret. He shook his head and directed his gaze elsewhere. "Only once. It was a terrible and complicated situation."

"How complicated could it possibly be?" She scoffed. "Your kind call mine savage, but not even the worst of my people would resort to such brutality."

He looked up at the balcony again. Did the archers above them understand their conversation? Did they bristle, somewhere inside, at the reminder of the 'terrible and complicated situation' that led to the destruction of their Vhenadahl?

"I understand why the story you likely heard would be upsetting, Inquisitor." He shifted in his seat. "It was not a decision made lightly."

"Given your other decisions, I find that difficult to believe."

"It was a compromise. The servant you speak of stole from both myself and my guests." The floor creaked underneath them. Rain pounded at the windows. "We learned he took something from one guest that she could not replace: a pendant passed down from her mother, who had passed away long ago. She was devastated. Her husband demanded the servant's head." He paused, looking at the fire. "I recommended we exile him instead. It was not enough." He exhaled slowly. "She said if she couldn't have his head, she would have his hands." He shrugged --tired, hopeless. "I agreed."

Even if she saw logically why he'd done what he did, it was still cruel and unnecessary. In a place like this, where the only work left to elves was hard, grueling, menial labor, such a thorough disfigurement was hardly better than killing him outright. She tried to imagine it, opened and closed her hands and tried to imagine what she would do if even one were gone.

And to think that was the lesser of the Duke's cruelties. "You sent him back to the alienage like that. And you were surprised when the elves were angry."

"Anger, I understood," he said quietly. "Even hatred. So long as they knew who to be angry with." He swallowed. "I was foolish to think they would save their rage for myself."

"The leader of the alienage said you called a few petitioners a riot."

He hummed. A dark, aching heaviness weighed on his voice as he spoke. "It was not a riot. It was an assault." He cleared his throat and looked up at her from under his eyelashes. "Inquisitor, in all your time in this castle, in all your ambassador's time, have you or your allies seen any members of my household besides myself and my servants?"

She watched him. Something tightened in her chest. "No. I have not." She should have noticed that earlier. A man of his age and wealth, with no family to speak of, would be extremely unusual.

He nodded. "The elves took out their rage on them." The wind howled outside, and in its strange, hollow moan lent his words an undercurrent of painful, haunting grief. "What happened that night left my son unable to care for himself. His wife feeds him from a spoon. My grandson suffers severe headaches and can scarcely leave a dark room. My granddaughter--" he stopped and shook his head. "Has yet to remember what was done to her. I sent them far away, to a place I hope none will follow."

Enaste didn't want to believe him. This version of the story could easily have been invented to sow mistrust between herself and her allies. It felt wrong to doubt him when his eyes looked so hollow and the lines of his face were wrought with so much guilt and pain, but she knew an expert could wear any mask convincingly. Regardless, she still saw the destruction of the Vhenadahl as a step too far: why punish the entire alienage for the actions of a few monsters?

"What I ordered my men to do was unjust and unworthy. It was a decision made in grief and anger." He finally looked at her. "I wanted them to feel the hurt I did. I wanted to send a message. But what I did was cruel, and unnecessary." He glanced up at the balcony. "And I am deeply, unspeakably sorry."

She sucked in a slow, shaky breath and closed her eyes. "If you're so sorry, why did you use elves as the scapegoat when your red lyrium started making people sick?"

He was quiet then, brows furrowed, apparently considering his answer, before he frowned at her in confusion. "Inquisitor, I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."

She sighed, frustrated again now that he was back to wasting her time. "You hired mercenaries to attack my clan so you could convince your nobles you were doing something about the 'elven plague.'"

For the first time in their conversation, the Duke looked genuinely lost. Even when she had pushed back at him or been outright annoyed, he'd remained poised and confident. Now he was taken aback. "I... I'm sorry, Inquisitor, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

She threw up her hands. "How do you expect me to trust anything you say if you won't admit to the one thing I know you were responsible for?"

"He's trying to confuse you," Elion said quietly, and Enaste looked at him. He stood stoically a few feet away, bow still in his hands. His eyes shined like a cat's in the dark.

The Duke glanced at him, then brought his attention back to Enaste. "How are you so confident in my involvement?"

"Because I found your mercenaries and talked to them myself," she replied, exasperated. "They told me you hired them to harass my clan."

He blinked in confusion and shook his head. "Inquisitor, with all due respect, the only information I know about your clan is that it is your clan. The only reason to attack your people would be to draw you, personally, to Wycome. If I wanted to do that, I would send a letter." He ran his hand over his beard. "Deliberately invoking the wrath of the Inquisition by attacking the family of its leader would be suicidal."

"You are a very good liar," she spat.

"No," Cole said suddenly. Both Enaste and the Duke turned to look at him. "He's not lying. He really doesn't know."

She frowned, not understanding. Perhaps the magister hired them then. Or another noble on behalf of the Duke. What did it matter anyway? She knew it was done on his behalf, whether he knew about it or not. "Cole." He stared at her, unmoving. "Is the blood mage still here?"

He looked up at the balcony and squinted at the dark. "Yes."

Enaste stood slowly. Tension strummed tight and thick around her. She turned in a circle, taking in the archers, glaring into the dark, looking for anyone out of place. "What do you want?" She called out. Her voice echoed amongst the towering vaults of the ceiling. "I know you are loyal to the magister. I also know you are an extraordinarily gifted mage." She took a deep breath. "I don't want to fight you. I just want to talk."

Silence met her words. She peered at the blinking eyes of the elven archers, their bodies painfully, almost unnaturally still, like statues atop a castle wall. Then she heard a quiet shuffling, and the floor above groaned amidst the ghostly wind.

She turned around and looked up at the balcony. A thin young man with short, dark hair and shining eyes leaned into the railing, arms crossed, watching her. Blood dripped from his hand to the hardwood floor below.

"You're an elf," she said softly.

He looked down at his bleeding hand, his expression distant, and drew some of the blood up and swirled it around his fingers. Then it vanished into the air, likely to feed the spell he used on the archers.

"Do you know who hired the mercenaries that attacked my clan?"

"I'm afraid he speaks precious little common, Inquisitor," the Duke said gently.

She looked at him over her shoulder. He had stood up as well. "What does he speak?"

"Tevene alone, as far as I'm aware."

"Dirthas elven?" She asked the blood mage. He said nothing, and she took that as a 'no.' "Tell him I just want to talk."

The Duke cleared his throat, then repeated her words in a different tongue. The blood mage raised his chin, as though appraising them all, then spoke to her in heavily-accented common. "I do not wish for you to save me."

Her brows furrowed. "When did I offer to save you?"

He paused, reflective eyes flicking over her, then shook his head. "You put me back in chains."

"No," she said clearly. "I have no interest in that. I told you, I just want to talk."

"I do not want to talk to you." He stepped back from the balcony, towards the shadows behind him.

"Wait. Just wait." She didn't understand any of this. What did he know about the mercenaries? Why was he so loyal to the magister? Why did he think she would put him in chains? Who was he?

The Duke called out to him then, in swift, shaky Tevene. "Si non manseris, indicabo ei quod de te scio."

The sudden volume and confidence of the blood mage's voice surprised her. "Tu nescis quid mihi nocere posset."

"Nullum?" The Duke called back. "Quid de nomine tuo?"

The blood mage gave a disinterested shrug. "Multa nomina habeo."

For a brief moment, she heard only the rain, the fire, the breathing of the many people in the room. Then the Duke shifted his weight, and gave the blood mage a pitying look. "At nemo tam magnus est quam ille Malchus in cubiculo suo te vocat."

The blood mage's eyes widened. He stepped towards the railing again, and Enaste saw his eyes glow white with power. "Quae utilitas vestra superstite?" He hissed.

Cole jolted forward and grabbed Enaste by the shoulder. She whipped around to look at him, and in that instant nine arrows sliced through the air. Pain erupted on the side of her face. Jester called out to her. Warmth covered her cheek as she stumbled past Cole, ignoring his pleas.

The arrows weren't meant for her, or for her allies. Each one had sunk deep into the Duke's head and chest, every shot lethal. His knees collapsed and he fell heavily to the floor. His eyes were wide and searching, stuck in a permanent state of shock. Enaste wiped moisture from the side of her face, and earned herself a bright, stinging pain that sent shockwaves across her right eye.

"Inquisitor!" Jester gasped. The amount of blood in Enaste's eye was so rapidly overwhelming her periphery that she could barely see them. "You're hurt, here, let me help you." They started pressing a bandage to Enaste's face, but she pushed them away.

"The blood mage--" Enaste started, but no matter where she looked she saw only blurry shadows.

"He's already gone," Cole said softly.

"How is that possible?" Enaste asked. The pain blooming over the side of her face made speaking difficult.

"He knew the way out," Cole replied.

She looked over at the body of the Duke, at the arrows jutting from his body. They were obviously elven arrows. Someone must have taught the elves of the alienage how to craft them like her people did.

She closed her eyes and grit her teeth. Even if they removed every arrow, the assumption was obvious –a group of elves had killed the Duke of Wycome. There would be no going back now: the coup Bran had wanted so badly had begun.

translation notes — "si non manseris, indicabo ei quod de te scio." - if you do not stay, I will tell her what I know of you.  "tu nescis quid mihi nocere posset." - nothing you know can hurt me. "nullum? quid de nomine tuo?" - nothing? what about your name? "multa nomina habeo." - I have many names. "at nemo tam magnus est quam ille Malchus in cubiculo suo te vocat." – but none so important as what Malchus calls you in his bedroom. "quae utilitas vestra superstite?" - to what end are you still alive?

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[overly-verbose]

I already knew that that was gonna be the case just overall due to the plans and drafting and the first proper writings

but oh bOi as I flesh it all out and slowly give it proper coherency I'm realising more and more that Part 8 is gonna be like, THE next proper 'SIkuna gives everyone

(and especially Satoru, but still kinda-sorta aside from Yuji which is incredibly ironic considering the episode(s) this continues to rewrite lol)

The Worst not-first impression ever' Part lmfao, a true spiritual successor to 'accidentally scares'/Part 3

Bro was trying for bronze in the spookiness olimpics to fuck stuff up a bit less yet still keep up the role properly, but he severely miscalculated the long jump and ended up crashing into the front-view camera at the end of the sandpit (poor guy may be getting a just-now-established platinum medal instead, much to his internal 'ahfuck') 😂💀

(Tbf the circumstances kinda forced him into some parts of it but like- lmFAO-)

.

[suashii]

hallo :3

[kanerallels]

Sometimes you're just trying to fit a subtle Zanny reference into your Jedi Survivor fan fic and you end up delving into Bode's psyche and making parallels you do not expect to make