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sserpente · 3 years

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A/N: That Hyundai ad hit different. *chuckles*

Words: 3097 Warnings: kidnapping, hostage

New York smelled pretty bad, come to think of it. You had almost forgotten the hustle and bustle of this huge city that never slept and if there was one thing you had not been missing at all after spending a few months in Morocco for work, it was the constant traffic jams.

It was hot, unbearably so. You’d been a sweating mess ever since your cab driver had picked you up at the airport and the fact that the air conditioning in the cab was broken didn’t exactly help with that. Your thighs stuck to the leather of the backseat, your forehead glistening and your make-up… well, it used to be make-up.

The cab driver seemed nice, at least and since the long snake made entirely of cars had not moved for at least an hour now, he had offered to park on the side of the road and get you both a bottle of water. Ironically, you were only a few yards away from Stark Tower.

Perhaps you shouldn’t complain about the traffic jam. Half of the city was a mess after the atrocious battle you had been fortunate enough only to have witnessed on the news on the plane. You could only hope that your tiny studio flat was still intact and quite frankly, it was short of a miracle that a cab service had actually agreed on picking you up so shortly after an almost-war—not to mention that the plane had actually landed.

You sighed, brushing a strand of hair sticking to your cheek out of your face. You were unbelievably tired—even more so knowing that you had dodged a catastrophe that would go down in history all thanks to work. Your eyes fell shut and you leaned against the car window when suddenly, the driver’s door was all but yanked open and someone who certainly did not resemble your cab driver, started the car and clutched at the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

Your lips parted. Shackles and a muzzle, along with a blue glowing cube landed on the passenger seat with a loud clatter, followed by an annoyed groan. It was him. The man who had attempted to take over the entire planet only moments ago, he was here in this car and he was currently kidnapping you with it.

A scream escaped your lips, a mixture of shock and fear spreading in your body and fuelling the rising amount of adrenaline. It was only then the God of Mischief glanced at the rear-view mirror and spotted you there panicking—but by then, he had already stirred the car back on the road, straight towards the traffic jam.

“You… you are… Let me out! Let me out at once!” You screeched, the heat around you—along with your miserable appearance—all but forgotten. Loki rolled his eyes. Great. Another mortal.

“I am not stopping this car,” was all he said. Your eyes widened in utter shock.

“Then don’t! Fuck!” Danger was radiating off of this man like heat from an active volcano; so if necessary, you would jump out of the moving car as well. Biting your lower lip and wondering if you should go through with this risky stunt at the speed he was going, the wheels squeaking over the asphalt with every abrupt turn he took, or if that would be a suicide mission. It was probably the latter, and when you reached for the handle of the back door, it took the God of Mischief only a mere second to lock it, trapping you inside.

“Let me out! Let me out!”

“You’ll kill yourself.” Loki spat. You did not miss the patronising tone in his voice—stupid. He believed you stupid.

“And if I stay in here with you I won’t?” You retorted hysterically. And it was justified, really—for when your gaze drifted back to the road ahead of you, you could see him racing straight towards a long line of cars waiting for the traffic to clear up.

“Watch out! The other cars, watch out! Oh my God…” You screamed, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face with your arms but the imminent crash never came. When you opened your eyes again, Loki had all but moved through the other cars as if by magic. God, what was this, Harry Potter?

With your heart in your mouth, you brought your trembling hands to your thighs and pressed down on them in a desperate attempt to fight off the panic attack rising within you like the forthcoming eruption of a volcano.

But even when you reached the suburbs, ironically moved closer to your home, and the car finally slowed down to a reasonable speed, making you wonder how a god from another realm knew how to drive a car in the first place, your dread kept growing steadily. What would happen once Loki decided he had reached his destination? What would he do with you? Would you end up as another casualty? You’d know where he was, after all, and only God knew how he had managed to escape after the Avengers reported his capture—not to mention that he was in the possession of that mysterious blue cube you were certain bore even more chaos and destruction in the wrong hands.

“I take it this vehicle is supposed to be a means of transport in exchange for payment?” He suddenly said.

“What?” You gaped at him, swallowing. “Yes! I mean, yes, it’s a taxi. That’s… I was…”

“Where do you live?”

“Excuse me? What, are you going to drop me off and expect me to tip you?”

Loki smirked. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why but he did like your feistiness. “I need a place to hide.”

“What… no! No! I am not giving shelter to a criminal!” You snarled, swallowing your fear of him—and then you made the mistake of peeking at the navigation system the taxi driver had set up next to the steering wheel, with your address on bright display to show Loki exactly where he’d have to go.

The God of Mischief tilted his head. “You don’t have much choice in the matter, my dear.”

You took a deep shaky breath, digging your nails into the backseat. If your lower lip was trembling, you didn’t notice. “P-please… please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone where you are or where you went. Please.”

“I am not going to kill you if that is what you are worried about.” He replied after a long pause. When you said nothing, too stunned and scared to come up with another snarky comment, silence spread in the car like wildfire.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you closed your eyes, hoping that this was a bad joke, a terrible nightmare and any moment now, you would wake up safely on the plane, yet to land in half-destroyed New York City—but the end of slumber never came. You were wide awake; even more so when, after what felt like hours, Loki finally stopped the car. Of course, you had not noticed him observing you repeatedly through the rear-view mirror, almost as if to check if you were still alive.

Your eyes met and then, finally, he unlocked the doors. Only now, you did not move an inch. You had no idea what to expect if you stepped out of this car.

Naturally, Loki disagreed with your cautious decision. He yanked the car door open when he saw you frozen in place, grabbing your upper arm so fast you didn’t even have a chance to react, and all of a sudden, seeing the entrance door of the apartment building you lived in did not at all look as appealing as it had at the airport anymore.

His grip around your arm was firm but when you whined in pain, the God of Mischief actually softened it—if only a little, barely noticeable.

“Unlock the door, my dear, will you?” He inquired, smiling sweetly at you. Right beneath the surface, you could hear that there would be dire consequences if you failed to comply.

Surely at this point, he could hear your rapid heartbeat. Shaking, you fumbled for the keys in your bag until they were jingling in your palms all the while Loki watched you like a hawk. You had dismissed calling the police on your phone in the car already—for now.

Fuck, you had been kidnapped. You were about to be held hostage in your own flat, or… or… was he just going to enter and kick you out? Had he been lying about not killing you? Would he fling a dagger at you any moment now like you had seen him do on TV?

Loki followed you when you approached the door and unlocked it clumsily. One floor up and to the left. For just a brief moment, you wondered what would happen if you started screaming bloody murder, alerting your neighbours but even when you opened your mouth to attempt it, not a single sound would escape your lips.

Even a little further out and farther away from the centre of New York City, rent prices were horrendous. Your salary was not bad but your apartment was no more than a small studio equipped with a humble kitchen, a separate bathroom with a tiny shower and lastly, your double bed in the centre of the room, posing as your sofa during the day.

Loki looked around unimpressed when he entered. “Well… it will do.”

“N-now what?” You choked out.

Loki raised his eyebrows, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Right—because that was going to be so easy. He sighed and rolled his eyes when you only stared at him in horror.

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

“W-would you? You tried to subjugate our planet like ten minutes ago!”

“And for good reason too. This realm is lawless, your people slaughter each other day in and out and you feel threatened by me? I would have given you a new purpose.”

He had a point… but… “And what is that so-called purpose? Slavery?” Loki’s expression darkened, making you flinch back.

“S-sorry… I’ll… I’ll be i-in the bathroom taking a shower. Please just… I mean… whatever.” Would he stop you? Hesitating, you made your way to the bathroom, waiting for him to yank you back, press you against the wall and threaten you? Threaten you with what, exactly? Could you trust that he wouldn’t kill you? Loki felt like a ticking time bomb in your flat.

But a painful yank never came and when you locked the bathroom door behind you, you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled, trying to process the fact you had a war criminal in your home.

Once you had gathered enough energy to do what you had come to the bathroom for and, an hour later, returned to the main room, Loki was sitting on your bed cross-legged, the Tesseract right before him, glowing away.

“I roamed your ‘kitchen’”, he said without glancing up to meet your eyes, “Do you have anything edible at all?”

“I was away for a whole month.” You argued. “I haven’t done any shopping yet because I was kidnapped by a space Viking.”

Loki smirked. Amused, he finally looked up. “Well, perhaps I should take you back to Asgard with me then. I could use a diligent little servant.”

Your reaction did not disappoint him. Chuckling to himself, he slid off the bed more elegantly than you could ever muster, the Tesseract disappearing into nothingness.

“What I am trying to say is that even gods need to eat and I am, quite frankly, starving.”

“That sounds like a you-problem.” You grumbled. And then, as if on cue, your stomach growled. Damn it.

“Fine. I’ll order some pizza.”

Loki had all but watched you like a hawk upon calling the local pizza place. Everything inside of you had screamed to let them know about your predicament, to beg them to call the police and send them to you instead of the pizza.

But as soon as the food was delivered, the mood in your apartment changed so rapidly it left you wondering if the only reason for Loki’s world domination attempt had been his hunger. The man devoured a family-sized pizza in but what felt like two minutes and, upon realising you were done with yours, leaving three pieces in the box, he devoured those as well. And never before had you seen someone eat pizza so gracefully.

It didn’t exactly make it feel like you had been kidnapped anymore. Perhaps… perhaps he hadn’t been lying about not wanting to kill you after all. Perhaps he wasn’t as evil as you… no, stop. He had literally just tried to take over the planet!

“What are you pondering on, little mortal?”

You shivered, the nickname affecting you in a way it truly shouldn’t, especially after he had lost his armour and magically exchanged it for more casual clothes—they still looked like they were from a different time period altogether but it wasn’t nearly as intimidating as before.

“W-why did you really do it?” You found yourself asking. It was a risk—but you were feeling braver now that your stomach was full even though part of you was surprised you had managed to eat at all.

“What?”

“Why did you really try to take over the planet? Did you… do you really want to enslave us all?”

“A lack of freedom does not equal slavery. It offers protection from failure and bad choices.” He said. You frowned.

“You truly believe that?”

“You fight wars over opinions, religions and race among your own species. Your choices are suffocating the whole of Midgard. I would have changed that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

You looked down, reaching for the sweet treat that had come with your pizza to stop your fingers from trembling.

“What is that?”

“Oh, uh… those are marshmallows. This pizza place always packs them with your order, don’t ask me why.”

“What’s that?” He repeated, frowning at the plastic wrapper.

“It’s candy…”

“Well, it doesn’t look very natural.”

Woah. How had this conversation just gone from “humans should not have freedom of choice” to “marshmallows look unhealthy”?

“They’re… I mean they’re not. They’re made of pure sugar and artificial flavouring.”

“Then why do you eat them?”

“Because… because they taste good?”

Loki gave you a taunting look. See? It said. This is what I meant.

But when you opened the package and handed it to him, he took one out nonetheless. It looked tiny between his long fingers—as tiny as you must have looked next to him.

You gulped when it disappeared between his lips. When you reached out to take the package back, he snatched it away from you.

“They are quite delicious, actually.” Your jaw dropped when he popped them all into his mouth at once, winking at you. Not quite sure how to react to this, you averted your gaze, taking a feigned interest in your digital alarm clock on the nightstand instead.

It was only 5 PM but you were positively ready to pass out. Where would you even sleep tonight? Where would he sleep? Would he even sleep?

“You are tired.” He suddenly stated as if on cue. He couldn’t read your mind… right? He did have that weird cube of his, after all.

“Well, yeah… I got kidnapped, experienced a live remake of ‘Fast and Furious’ and I have a criminal in my flat.”

“I only understood half of what you just said but I can ensure you that I will not harm you when you sleep.” There it was again, that frown that almost made it look like he was offended. As if the very circumstance of him hurting an innocent for no reason other than malice insulted him.

“So by all means, retire to bed.” He went on, gesturing to the bed and eventually, standing up to make space for you. The pizza boxes disappeared in but a green shimmer of light and you watched Loki, albeit still suspicious, heading over to the small kitchen table. To be quite frank, it was the last thing you remembered.

Loki was gone, no trace of him left. It was as if he had never even been here. It was already past noon—the exhaustion from your flight as well as the racy car drive and last but not least, your shining time as a hostage had worn you out to the point you didn’t even remember falling asleep anymore.

You only realised now that it was your doorbell that had woken you up. Jumping out of bed and moaning when your vision turned black for a moment, you headed over to your speaker and pressed the button. Perhaps it was Loki. Perhaps he had locked himself out but then again… would he not be able to magic himself back in? Why had he insisted on you unlocking the door yesterday in the first place? You shook your head.

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is Henry, I’ve got your delivery.” A boyish voice responded.

“W-what delivery? I didn’t order anything.”

“You did, ma’am, would you come open the door, please?”

You sighed. “Fine, I’ll be down in a second.”

You had fallen asleep in your clothes from last night, so one quick glance in the mirror was all you had before you headed back down and opened the main entrance door.

The delivery boy was holding both your suitcase and a jumbo-size package of marshmallows in his hands. Big marshmallows—the bonfire kind, to be precise.

“Who…” But you knew. You knew the moment you made the connection and knew the moment you looked straight into Henry’s eyes and noticed them glowing unnaturally blue when he handed the items to you.

It had not been a dream then. Loki had really been here. You had been eating pizza with the God of Mischief and now… the gesture was almost sweet. Was that his way of saying thank you? For what? You hadn’t exactly done much except for trembling in fear.

“He instructed me to tell you that you will meet again soon.” Henry announced and then, before you even had a chance to respond, he turned on his heel, hopped back into the delivery van parked in front of the building and left. You only realised now that the Hyundai taxi was gone too.

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barbex · 2 years

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9. 10. 11. Justice, Lyrium, The Fade

Slides in on the last day with three prompts in one for @18daysoffenders. A little pre-fenders fic for the prompts Justice, Lyrium, The Fade.

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Hawke has the worst ideas. On Fenris' mental lists of bad ideas, there isn't even room for entering the Fade via some obscure dalish ritual to rescue an untrained mage. Things like that are just not done! Fenris shudders to think what someone like Hadriana or Danarius would do with such a ritual.

Not to be overmodest, Hawke also decided that the best companions for this event are the abomination and the dalish witch. Fenris doesn't have enough room in his head for all the worries this idea gives him.

"It'll be fine," Hawke says. Of course she does. For Hawke, magic is just a tool she uses while she swings her sword around. She grew up in a mage household and with only weak magic abilities, never sees magic as a problem.

The first surprise, once they've entered the distorted dream scape of the fade, is that it's not Anders, but Justice with them. Even if he looks like Anders, he moves differently. Stiff, his back too straight, his hands unmoving at his sides. Anders' fingers are always busy, twitching. Justice holds himself too still.

"I had not thought to return in such a way." His voice reverberates strangely, but somehow fitting for the unnatural world around them. "It is good to feel the breath of the Fade again, not the messy air of your world."

Hawke turns and steps in Justice's way. "Is Anders alright?"

"Yes, he is here. But I can help you better. Let us hurry, I can hear the boy."

The Fade forms buildings around them, it could be the Gallows but the layout changes all the time. Justice looks at him with blue glowing eyes. "This is home. It feels good to be here again. Does it feel good to you too?"

Fenris misses the warm amber glow of Anders' eyes with a sudden stab of pain. "Why should it feel like home for me?" he presses out against the something constricting his chest.

"The lyrium. It should feel free in the Fade,"

Fenris has to admit, reluctantly, that the pressure under his skin is lessened, it even feels comfortable. He stretches his shoulders, letting tension fall from them he doesn't even remember when it became a permanent guest there.

"It's not my home."

"I would have liked for you to feel as I do."

Fenris stares at the body he knows as Anders. "I wasn't aware you worry about things like that."

Justice turns his blue glowing eyes at Fenris again. "Anders does."

Fenris has no time to dwell on the strange onslaught of feelings at that, because it only gets worse from here. They find Feynriel in debate with the facsimiles of Keeper Marethari and the Grand Enchanter Orsino. They promise him that he will restore the greatness of the elves and to Fenris' surprise, the boy resists. But Merrill doesn't, falling for the idea of being respected by her clan.

Justice reminds them not to fall for demons with a gravely voice but it's too late. Merrill disappears from the Fade dream after they have to fight her.

Another room, another promise of influence by a demon and Hawke laughs in his face. Fenris stretches his neck, feeling safer. Hawke has the worst ideas but his trust in her has never been misplaced.

Maybe this is why is guard is lowered when the Pride Demon speaks to him.

"Those who are free to choose, always want power. You think your friends are different?"

There is a kernel of truth in this, he can't help but notice. Power does things to people.

"You think this slave would choose you over his freedom?" the demon says to Hawke.

Hawke scowls at Fenris. "Don't you dare."

Wild anger rises in him so fast it leaves him breathless. "And how quickly you resort to threats." How dare she?

"Fenris." The reverberating voice of Justice rings through the air. "It's a demon, it lies."

"Unlike you, demon?" Fenris snarls back at the thing wearing Anders' body. "I don't need your help, I can decide for myself."

"Indeed you can," the Pride demon entices. "Imagine what you could do with that kind of power."

Something snaps. The images are strong, tangible, as if he could touch them. Being powerful, more powerful than Danarius. Forcing the magister to kneel by his own powers. The revenge he deserves, easily, with a smile like the magister smiled at him.

He doesn't fully realise that he gave in to the temptation until Hawke's sword crashes against his. Magic hits him, biting, freezing his muscles. He knows it's Anders' magic but it doesn't feel like his. Not like the warm, gentle flow of healing magic or the tingling barrier he casts over him in a fight. This is vicious battle magic, burning his skin.

Fenris turns facing Anders' body. His eyes glow bright blue when he casts a spell that burrows a flame into his heart. Fire eats him from the inside out and he can't even scream.

"Fenris."

Merrill's voice. The real world. He sits up, his hand involuntarily going to his heart, feeling for burns that are not there. He wants to run, fast, away. Anywhere but here.

But he waits. He watches Anders and Hawke wake up and only then he allows himself to leave. He hides in in the rotting mansion that doesn't even belong to him.

Of course, Anders finds him there. He leans against the doorframe. "Well, you failed your Harrowing."

"Are you here to gloat?"

Anders pushes away from the door and steps into the room. "Aww, come on, let me have a little gloating."

"Fine. I failed the test and I guess you didn't."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I." Anders slides down the wall to sit next to Fenris on the floor. He takes Fenris hand in his and squeezes it too hard. "Luckily you're not a mage and this wasn't a real Harrowing."

"Luckily?"

"Mages who fail their harrowing get killed."

Fenris stares at his hand in Anders'. It's the first time that anybody held his hand in years. "That is harsh." He sighs. "I should have been stronger."

"You didn't know what to expect. The Fade is dangerous for non-mages." Anders releases his tight grip around Fenris' hand but Fenris holds on to his fingers. Anders looks at their hands. "This is new."

Fenris glances at Anders' face. "Yes. Is it alright?"

Anders looks up and smiles at him. "Yes, it's very alright."

Maybe Hawke's ideas aren't the worst after all.

#18daysoffenders #fenders #fenders fic #Fenris x Anders #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #my writing

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throwawayfish · 3 years

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𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: moving from new york city to the outerbanks was already difficult in itself. but having to deal with being hated by a blonde surfer who questioned your existence made it harder to keep a secret you cannot disclose. especially when his friends roped you into what they called a gold game

warnings: focuses on how you got to the outer banks, language, mild derogatory terms, mentions of death, adoption, accidents

a/n: my second series! hope you guys like this as much as the first one. let me know if you want to be added to my taglist.

the atrocious heat of the sun hit your substantially exposed body. as much as you didn’t want it to look too bare for people at the beach to have a free exhibit, the scorching july day made even your sheerest sundress too uncomfortable to wear.

you were unacquainted to the small island called the outerbanks. used to the chaotic hustle of new york city, it was as if life came to a sudden halt when you stepped out of the ferry to live a new life. a life where waking up early to avoid the morning frenzy on the subways and anticipating the city’s midnight madness was no longer your usual.

it did not take too long of living on the island that you mustered up knowledge about your new environment. how there are two sides of the island and two different groups. which meant it didn’t take long for you to realize that you were put in the kook category, just by the look of the houses in the area much like your own. but you hated it, the title and attention.

you closed your eyes, not minding the squeals and giggles of kids at the beach with their families. ignoring a few whistles you got and muttering of locals that you were sure were about you. as you blocked out the distractions, you laid under a palm tree seeking shade until the rays of light didn’t shine through the leaves anymore as the day progressed.

as the wind picked up, you headed back to figure eight, careful not to be followed by whoever. it has been a routine for you to do your laundry at the house as well as take a small amount of cash enough to suffice for a week or two. and as you finish what you need to do, lock all doors and go to where you felt safe and invisible, the cut.

life in new york city came naturally to you. growing up with adoptive parents made you thankful for them having to put up with you. it took years for you to open up when you were adopted, but when you did it was something you would even call magical. helena and marcus hawke made you feel loved you as their own, doing everything they can to make you have the best life to live, and for that you couldn’t be more happy. the house always smelling like freshly baked goods and breads. lively flowers littering the windowsills and the house well lit with the rolling stones playing no matter what the weather or season was.

it was a sudden shift in scenery. your brownstone that was once cozy became dull. one that could be a contender to houses used in horror films. you were closed off to people because of the handful of times you’ve had a foster home just for them to put you back in the system once they got tired of you, so you learned not to get comfortable.

you came home from school one gloomy, winter day. cheeks red and tight from the blizzard you barely just escaped. the house blue despite the candles and lamps doing everything they can to improve it. you heard thumping from upstairs, voices loud enough for you to hear them trying to keep it down. thinking that it was your parents who just got home from their three day business trip, up the rickety stairs you went. you were welcomed by your aunt in your dad’s old art room, the one turned into a boring office.

noticing the almost bare walls and a surprisingly clean desk, you knocked on the slightly opened door. two pairs of eyes were suddenly looking at you. cold ones, which only heightened your worries.

“what are you guys doing?!” you pointed at the wedding canvas that was taken down and leaning on the bookshelf. not meaning to raise your voice at them, you muttered a soft sorry and went back to scanning the room.

“y/n, you are coming to brooklyn with us.” vera, your aunt said dryly, making your head snap in her direction. austin, her husband didn’t bother looking at you and continued rummaging through the drawers and putting them in piles.

“austin, what are you doing? and what do you mean i’m going to brooklyn? where’s mom?!” tears were threatening to fall down your now warm cheeks though you didn’t have any idea why. but with the looks on their faces and actions, you could tell something was going on. mainly because the family you have been adopted into had too much pride to just accept you as their own blood, despite your parents loving you from the moment they saw you.

“helena and marcus got in a car accident yesterday. dead on arrival. now i don’t have much time, i have a busy schedule so will you please just pack. we’re leaving in a bit.”

you felt your heart breaking. it was like a huge punch in the face, the one that knocks you out and you forget what happened hours prior when you wake. and then you felt it, the feeling of being closed off because people who are important left once again, leaving you all alone.

“and you’re gonna tell me this when?! when they’re burried?! fuck!” austin strided towards you, vera not holding him back when he gripped your arm rather harshly.

“you should be thankful we’re even here, you ungrateful bitch! if it weren’t for the will i would be kicking you out into the streets so you can be a drug addict just like your real mom when she gave you up! now go pack!”

his words and behaviour were unexpected. of course you accepted the judgemental stares and coldness gave you every time there were gatherings or meetings your parents brought you to. you learned to accept that they will never treat you normally as part of the family, but you have never imagined it escalating to this. and with what he said, you further confirmed he was bad news.

you ran to your room, hurriedly gathering the things most important to you. including the shark tooth necklace your dad gave you when he gave you a tour of their lab. heading out the door, you turned back to grab the cassette he always played on the radio. you opened it to check if it was not damaged, and as you slid the tape out of the cardboard protector a pink paper your mom loved writing on fell on the floor.

to panic was your first instinct, especially with the footsteps approaching the room. so you hid the paper in your pocket together with your emotions just in time before your aunt barged through the door.

“i’m sorry for the way he acted, but it’s not like you didn’t deserve it. we’re leaving in ten minutes whether you like it or not. ten minutes.” she uttered and left, goosebumps travelling your body from her piercing eyes.

you immediately shut the door, doing your hardest to make the slightest sound. then you leaned against it and fished out for the letter. it was your mom’s handwriting, you haven’t started reading anything and just saw the usual cursive letters and just like that tears poured down your cheeks.

the letter contained information, of how to get into an island you had never heard of in your life. so you reached for the envelope said to be under your nightstand which contained fifty thousand dollars. and you were off, into the cold not caring for the protests of your aunt and uncle. smashing and throwing away your phone, with your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you hollered for a cab, and to the airport you headed.

the letter contained fairly easy instructions, but it was difficult to ponder. the letter said to look for heyward and once you asked around as you stepped off the ferry, you were led to meet with a man with a welcoming aura, finishing up some groceries before ushering you onto another boat when you introduced yourself.

it was more or less half an hour when the dated boat parked on a dock of a huge estate not isolated but far enough from other mansions. the outside was surrounded with bright green grass. cobblestones in perfect placement lining the path to the front porch with large antique oakwood doors.

as you dropped your bag into the tiled floor, you heaved a deep sigh. looking at heyward as you forced a kind smile.

“thank you. my parents must really trust you if they told me to find you.” he nodded as if he bowed, looking around the bare living room before answering.

“you’re safe here, kid. and you’ll figure it out. you’re brave to go to a place you don’t know, especially from new york. it takes guts.” you raised the corners of your lips which he returned

the short stay you were in the house you noticed minor details that could be of great significance. no decorations or paintings on the walls, it was different back in the city as your dad loved art. no antiques suiting your mom’s taste, and no sign of anyone having lived there. the massive space only decorated with necessary furniture.

and with that, as heyward tapped your upper arm and turned around, you called out “is there somewhere i could stay that will not capture attention?”

you hated the feeling of asking him such question. after driving the boat to your house that are bright to the eyes of people, here you are asking for another place to stay. you felt like you were interrupting his tight schedule, but you felt worse thinking that you were bragging. he was occupied with his job when you arrived, working hard to make a living and you don’t even have to worry about paying for another house.

negative thoughts were wiped out of your mind when he let out a laugh, tapping his temple with his pointer finger “i knew you’re a hawke! smart kid. i know a place. but you stay here for a bit to explore. i’ll pick you up after a delivery i have to make.” you nodded, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders.

as he stepped out the door, he peeked one last time gaining back your attention “third room to the left upstairs, the small wine cooler is a safe, i’m sure you’ll know where to find the code.”

it was a peaceful drive that even you were surprised, used to having clouded thoughts that you cannot seem to get rid off. having the windows down definitely did you wrong as a loud honk of a horn from a rundown volkswagen startled you along with its bright headlights, making you swerve your jeep.

the probability of you crashing was high, being that you closed your eyes trying to control the vehicle. it just so happens that you are lucky enough to have pressed on the brakes faster before falling in a ditch.

heavy breaths escaped your now pale lips, your heart pounding twice the speed you were driving before the unfortunate incident.

“oh my god! are you okay?!” you heard a girls voice query in a loud tone as you tried to steady your breathing. you nodded quickly but she did not buy it, the shaking of your head made you panicked state apparent.

you looked up, three pairs of eyes glancing intently at you. “john b you stupid asshole!” she yelled once again as you observed all of their expressions. blue eyes catching your attention but breaking the contact as you tried to start the car once again only for it turn off.

“shit” it wasn’t unheard by the three teenagers as you turned the ignition for the hundredth time “we can give you a ride if you want.” the guy who the brunette lass called john b offered, you looked at him and back at the other for confirmation earning nods except from the blonde one.

“we’re not giving a kook a free ride.” he declared and your doe eyes widened by the statement not knowing how he can identify your so called title before relaxing as you watched scan your car.

“good to know that if i died i would’ve died right here because your bus is pogue exclusive.” you rebutted. he let out a laugh, the three others merely watching the exchange

“it’s a van, princess. not a bus.” his remark made you roll your eyes. you didn’t know if it was because of the reply itself or the nickname he gave you, nonetheless it made your stomach turn.

“don’t be a prick. come on, we’ll help you get your car back tomorrow.” the girl once again said. it was late at night, so as much as you wanted to decline, you had no choice but to agree. especially when her smile made you feel welcome despite the inhospitable approach of the blonde.

a shriek was let out by another boy when the sliding door was opened, the others let out a laugh and you couldn’t help to do so too by the sight of him trying to cover his lower area even with boxers.

“didn’t know we have a guest i would’ve prepared!” you giggled with the three, accepting his hand as he introduced himself as pope. the others soon doing the same except that one boy once again.

“do you have a problem with me?” you couldn’t help but ask out of annoyance. “i don’t need to explain myself to you, kook.” he answered under his breath and avoided your stare.

problems with any body on the island is one thing you wished to avoid, so at any given circumstance, and because you have the excuse for it, you played your last card.

“i’m a pogue, stupid.”

attention was on you, even john b who slowly stopped driving and looked back to ask you where you lived. making a u turn once you told him where your house was on the cut.

“are you new?” pope uttered starting a conversation. you shook your head, already having come up with a lie “lived here my whole life.” a scoff was let out and you looked at the blonde once again

“how come we haven’t seen you here before?” he asked, and you smirked “that’s because i’m a vampire, you just got lucky to spot me tonight.” the others laughed, making you comfortable to stand your ground against the blue eyed boy

“i still haven’t gotten a name you know.” all you got was a frown which turned to a smirk “that’s for me to know and y—” “it’s jj!” “kie!” you laughed at the altercation, secretly wishing to have a friendship like theirs as you watched them playfully slap and kick each other.

“a pogue with a brand new jeep, interesting.” he blurted out and drilled a hole into your head with his cerulean eyes “i’ll let you take it for a spin don’t worry.” he hastily shook his head, an irritated look on his face “i don’t want anything to do with you so fuck off will ya?”

as your eyes widened you let out a whistle and raised your hands in defeat. telling john b to let you out as your house is not far enough. for your own good and the blonde pogue’s sake.

you barely started your walk when you heard footsteps approach. turning around, you were ready to defend yourself from whoever would cause you harm, but were met by the boy who just made it clear he hated your presence.

“you don’t come up behind someone like that! i could’ve taken your eye out!” you wished to call the silence comfortable if it weren’t for the stares of the jj creeping into your arms and back. reciprocating the attention, you noticed he was staring just below your face. you were about to call him out when you glanced down your neck, where your shark tooth necklace carefully sat.

“why are you here—” “where’d you get that?” he asked sincerely, sending a tightening feeling on your throat. “found it laying somewhere. not that it’s your business. why are you here?” you lied and asked once again

“john b told me to tell you he’s picking you up tomorrow to get your car.” he stuttered, “okay cool.” you quickly muttered and turned around not wanting to further drag the interaction.

convincing yourself to relax, the blonde boy was bothered as he went back to the twinkie, letting out a laugh of dismay “she’s hiding something.” his friends furrowed their brows, ready to hear what he has to say

“she’s hiding something and i’m gonna find out what it is. even if it means being around her annoying ass.”

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kaz11283 · 3 years

Text

Love Never Wins

Summary: Words will be said but do you really think either one of you mean them. Sometimes actions speak louder.

Warnings: slight angst

Characters: Loki, Thor, Y/n, Clint, avengers in the background here and there

Loki x you, Thor x you (platonic), Clint x you (brother,sister)

ANNOUNCEMENT: Not going to lie. This was going to be a simple short sweet straight to the point drabble but it turned into such a looooong one shot (i guess) I was in a good head space wgile writing this and just couldnt stop really. But it is something that I am very proud of.

ANNOUNCEMENT 2: I've had to make this a simple 2 part. I got way to carried away with everything in it!

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's going on with you?" You yelled as you grabbed Loki by the arm pulling him away from the girl who was obviously flirting with him and he with her.

"What are you talking about? We were talking." He yelled back.

"You were flirting Loki in front of everyone! Openly! Don't play me for the fool you think I am. You've been off lately. Not around as much, zoning out when we finally have some time together. If there's something you want to say tell me now." You felt the tears rush to your eyes. You had seen all the signs, hell you were an expert at the signs. Multiple boyfriends had given you the signs before but for some reason you though that maybe, just maybe, he was diffrent.

"I just feel like we've grown apart in the last few months y/n. I don't think I can do this anymore." he said simply.

"You said I brought out the best side of you, that I was the love of your life." You said tears streaming down your face now, to hell with the makeup you was wearing you wasn't going back to the party anyways.

"You're not." He stated simply clenching his jaw.

"Ok fine. It's not the first time I've been broken up with. Just the first time that I had ever put so much into someone that I truly did see a future with just to have my heart completely ripped out in front of me. You got me good this time trickster. Don't think I'll be able to fully recover from this one." You spat back at him before turning to head up stairs to your room that the two of you had shared for so long.

Luckily Tony hadn't done anything to the room you had once occupied on a lower level of the tower so you easily moved all of your clothing back into there in a matter of no time. You weren't use to the feeling of being alone but thats all you wanted right now for the rest of your life. The god of tricks had ruined other men for you, he had once shown you love like you had never felt, and now your heart broke like it had never broke before.

"Hey sis, noticed you weren't- oh god what did he do?" Clint asked walking into your room. "Knew something was up. I could feel it."

"Hawk stop with the twin shit, its creepy." You huffed whipping your eyes on the back your long sleeve hoodie.

"What happened? All I know is you two disappeared, he came back, you didn't, and he said I should probably find you in your old room." He sat down next to you.

"We broke up. Easy as that. Ya know I never understood why they say not to date your co workers till today." You shrugged turning to him. "When we first got together you hated it-"

"To be fair he did brainwash me."

"I didn't say you didn't have a right. We kept it from you for a while though. But we hadn't been together long, Hawk, I thought he was diffrent from any man I ever dated-"

"Well he is a god, kinda different."

"Would you shut up so I can vent just for a little bit then you can go back to the party."

"Na, parties lame anyways, I was thinking about hanging out here for a little bit." He said kicking his shoes off and proping his feet on the coffee table throwing his arms across the back of the couch.

"Whatever," you rolled your eyes as you snuggled into your brother. "He was so kind, gentle, he was paciant with me. He knew that me and you were close and he didnt wamt to get in the way of that. He wanted us to be closer than he and Thor was. I think it helped him realize just how important family is when you only have each other. We kept it a secret for so long though." You pulled the hood up closer to your face. You didn't want to admit to yourself but you had kept the jacket because it still smelled like him.

"Nat seen the two of you making out in the hall weeks before you told anyone by the way." He laughed pulling you closer to him. " I didnt say anything though because I knew you would tell me when you were comfortable with it."

"I love him so much and he played me. Completely tricked me into these feelings that I dont think will ever change." You sobbed wrapping your arms around his waist, he through his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer.

"Hes a dick with a god complex. Hes not good enough for you at all. Coming from a brother, a twin brothers point of view, I think you could do better. All is fair in love and war, but dont put it past me to be a little rougher on him during training, and I wont point anything out if you happen to let some bad guy kill him on the field." He said kissing the top of your head.

"Hawk, you know I'm not like that. I habe a reputation to up hold." You said slapping his arm before pulling away. "If you wanna stay theres still some of your sweats that I stole in the bedroom and ice cream in the freezer, but your sleeping on the couch. Its been since we were kids that we shared a bed but I bet you still kick."

~~~~

A few weeks had passed since you and Loki had called it quites. You had been mainly staying in your room trying not to cause any uncomfortable silence if you and Loki wede in the same room. On one occasion when you had ventured out to the living room you seen Loki holding an icepack to his eye and a busted lip, your first instinct was to rush over and make sure he was ok but instead you turned and took a seat between Thor and Clint.

"Lady Y/n, as always your peresnts lights up the room. We just havent been seeing much of it as of late." Thor greeted you with a warm smile throwing his huge arm ober your shoulder, making you look smaller than you already was.

"No more gods." Clint mumbled beside you.

"Thor is just a friend. One of the best I have." You laughed. "What happened?" Nodding toward Loki.

"Payback." He shrugged.

"Ah yes, it turns out Loki is not very good at hand to hand combat unles he is able to use his magic." Thor laughed. "I always tried to get him to train with me but he never did, turns out he probably should have."

"Oh for god sakes I'm right here and you three are not really whispering. I shouldn't have to learn hand to hand combat I have my sedair! I'm assuming it was just your brothers idea so that he could get back at me." He yelled.

"And you forget that there could come a time when you might need hand to hand. I told you many times that you needed to train but no mister 'I'm Loki prince of Asguard, burdened with glorious purpose', mister I have my magic. Bullshit. Your just sour because a mear mortal bested you at something. Grow a pair and learn how to actually fight." You jumped up. You had finally snapped. It had been coming tough sitting in you waiting for the right, or wrong, time to show up.

"You watch your tone!" He shouted jumping up. "I know how to fight better than half the people in here." Clint and Thor slowly stood watching the scene in front of them neither one know what to do.

"You know how to use your pixie dust to make things happen! Well guess what tinker bell this aint Neverland. We get in weird predicaments all the time you never know what to expect." You yelled back. "Hell Loki, your probably so bad at hand to hand even I could beat you."

"Oh your on. Training room, 30mins. That is unless your scared?" He said giving you a mischievous smirk.

"Trust and believe I'm not afraid of you by any means. No weponds, no sedair strictly hand to hand." You said turning on your heel to walk to your room to get ready leaving Clint and Thor standing alone in the living room aww struck.

"So what do we do?" Clint finally asked.

"Well of course we have to stop this. It will not end very well." Thor answered.

"So tell the others?"

"Yes you tell the others I will get refreshments for the battle." They took off in seprate directions.

#loki and thor #loki avengers #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki daily #loki #loki angst #lokilaufeyson #loki one shot #loki fandom #loki x y/n

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ilikekidsshows · 3 years

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could talk more about what you thought about the conflict that happened between Ladybug and Chat Noir in the new york special?

Certainly. Mainly, it’s the same issue we saw in ‘Glaciator’ but manifesting in a different way: these two tend to misunderstand the relationship between them because of their personal experiences and expectations, which tend to naturally be in conflict because of the very different pasts the two characters have. I also think the conflict was two-sided and only one side of the issue at hand was solved. We had Cat Noir’s dishonesty and Ladybug’s inability to act as a comforter, with only the former being solved.

Since it's the one that gets resolved and it's more straightforward, let's start with Cat Noir's side. He's the child of a strict, emotionally abusive father and we've repeatedly seen that he projects his relationship with his father into his relationship with Ladybug, and here it happens again. Gabriel would not let Adrien do what he doesn't allow and we've seen what he does when Adrien disappoints him: punishes him severely.

Strict parents don’t raise obedient children, they raise children who lie well. And Adrien had more of a motive to be deceitful than most. This special was the first time Ladybug gave him responsibility over something. If he said he couldn’t do it, would she ever trust him with anything again? Or, would she simply tell him to suck it up and do as he’s told, forcing Adrien to choose between her and his father in their demands of him? And Plagg, who I will point out, has been actively more helpful in season three, actually helped Adrien come up with a plan that, to their reasonable expectations, would not have led to anyone being hurt or disappointed, so Adrien obviously saw that simply not letting Ladybug know that he wouldn’t be physically present in Paris would work out. Adrien even was responsible about it; he kept himself actively informed of the situation in Paris up until he was made to put his phone away. And then things went to hell in a handbasket at the worst possible moment.

However, here comes the fault in Adrien’s reasoning, which was very reasonable to him and his implied-to-be equally abused Kwami: Ladybug is nothing like Gabriel. Marinette would have heard him out and they’d have come up with a plan together to deal with the situation, as long as Cat Noir got a hold of her soon enough for them to meet up and make a plan. We don’t really know what the time frame is between Adrien finding out and the departure of the plane to New York, but, considering Plagg stopped Adrien from contacting Ladybug, and no time constraint was mentioned, they’d have had plenty of time.

This is the beginning and end of Adrien’s half of the conflict. After this point, he’s merely reacting to what he thinks are clear signals from Ladybug. He tries to help with the villain the best he can, while Ladybug keeps distracting him by berating him in the middle of the fight, finally breaking his will to fight entirely by declaring she can’t trust him anymore, one of the nightmare scenarios I mentioned earlier. Add to that the villain using his power to harm Uncanny, he was convinced that Ladybug would be better off with any other partner. When Ladybug didn’t refute his assessment that he was a failure and no good hero, he decided he was right and abandoned his ring. However, when Uncanny revealed to him that Ladybug did, in fact, still need him specifically as her partner, he came back, deciding that it didn’t matter if he was a worthless failure as long as Ladybug would find a use for him anyway. Adrien repeatedly describes himself negatively in comparison to others, his self esteem is awful, but that wasn’t really a matter being handled in the special.

When Cat Noir made it to Ladybug and was instantly welcomed back, he apologised for not being honest and Ladybug signalled her forgiveness with a fistbump. This gesture signalled to Adrien that he could trust Ladybug and that Ladybug trusted him back, that the things she’d said in anger were just that. This showed Adrien in a blatant way that Ladybug was nothing like Gabriel, who would have lorded Adrien’s failure over him and punished him, instead of accepting his assurance that he’ll do better next time. This was an important lesson to Adrien, because he needs to be as honest with Ladybug as their secret identities allow because they’re a team and can’t go doing things independently when it affects them both. Adrien’s experiences in the special are ones that will specifically help him overcome his character flaw of being too distructful of others’ intentions when it comes to Ladybug.

Then comes Marinette’s side, and this one is more complex. While how badly she was distracted in that fight and how badly she distracted Cat Noir was an issue in and of itself, it wasn’t the thing on her part that escalated the conflict. It was merely what set up her state of mind. What escalated the conflict were the things she said in anger that she didn’t take back while Cat Noir was clearly falling apart. Marinette was understandably upset by what happened in Paris, but she made a very big mistake with how she handled that: she focused only on herself. Marinette needed comfort because she couldn’t heal Paris, but Cat Noir needed comfort because they could do nothing to help Paris, he’d just temporarily killed someone and he felt like a failure as a partner. But, when Cat Noir didn’t instantly move to assure her that she was fine, Marinette turned her back on him and walked away. She wanted space, because Marinette usually finds a quiet corner to think when she’s dealing with something, but Adrien saw that as a rejection. And when Cat Noir voiced all these things going on in his mind, she was silent, making him feel like she was condemning him, seeing him as worthlessly as he did. So he decided to leave her so that she could find a better partner.

Marinette also has her own misconceptions about her and Cat Noir’s relationship. This is another thing I noticed in ‘Glaciator’: Marinette doesn’t think Cat Noir is an actual human being with real human emotions and problems. She got better about it after ‘Glaciator’, like accepting his feelings for her as genuine, but she still doesn’t understand that Cat Noir can get hurt emotionally and might need a bit of support every once in a while. In fact, in ‘Timetagger’, she blatantly shuts him down when he’s looking for affirmation, claiming he “already knows he’s the best”, when Adrien actually has very poor self esteem. I mentioned in another comment that Marinette sees Cat Noir as a fae-like being, someone who only goofs around and supports her, and is never touched by worldly things like pain and sadness. The only threat to him are the supervillains they face. Every time one of them has shown a need for comfort, it’s been Ladybug, and Cat Noir has always been the one to comfort her. They’re stuck in these roles, and Marinette doesn’t know how to break out of them when Cat Noir is the one needing comfort and support. To drive this aspect of the conflict home, this is the direct reverse of the situation in ‘Miracle Queen’. In ‘Miracle Queen’, Marinette makes a mistake with real consequences, gets Fu’s identity revealed to Hawk Moth which led to his capture, but Cat Noir overlooks that to support her instead. In the special, Cat Noir’s mistake causes property damage in Paris that they can’t undo, but Marinette can’t overlook it to support her partner through his mistake.

Here’s the thing: Marinette has a good life. She has a supportive family and supportive friends. This gives her a solid foundation as a superhero and it means she’s used to people picking her up when she falls down. It’s not just her relationship with Cat Noir that’s characterized by the idea that support just shows up when she needs it. Heck, at the end of ‘Love Hunter’, Luka seemingly magically appears for the sole purpose of giving Marinette some comfort. However, we’ve seen some hints, mostly in ‘Weredad’, that at least her dad wants to overly protect her. We don’t know how well Marinette would actually take Adrien rejecting her, but, considering how miserable she was repeatedly in season two over just not getting to see him, I suspect not well, and her dad was convinced she’d go as far as being easily shattered by that. Children need to feel small disappointments to be able to handle the actual hurdles they’ll face later in life. The way Marinette becomes an anxious mess over failing at something reminds me of myself as a teenager, and I was a very shielded child. My mom pampered me, not by much, but enough that I had to learn to pick myself and others up at a later age. And I feel that’s a lesson Marinette needs to learn as well.

We saw from what Marinette said to Uncanny that she didn’t think Cat Noir’s mistake was irreparable. She didn’t mean the gestures I described earlier as how Adrien saw them. She didn’t mean to turn her back on him to reject him and she didn’t mean her silence to be read as her agreeing that he was a bad partner. But she never once considered that she might be sending Cat Noir these signals, even as Cat Noir told her how he felt about himself in relation to her. Instead of supporting her partner by saying anything to refute his self-disparaging comments, or even sharing their pain together, Marinette remains silent, experiencing her own pain alone and leaving Cat Noir with his. Marinette is a good leader, but she’s not a good partner, because she lacks the ability to support Cat Noir. This isn’t her fault, it’s a character flaw like Adrien’s distrust of others to consider his well being in any scenario. However, it’s one that’s harder to fix than Adrien’s, because Adrien’s flaw is one of perception, so he just needs to see contrary evidence to learn better. Marinette’s issue is that she lacks important skills for comforting someone: spotting a need and responding to it. I’m pretty sure we haven’t seen Marinette actively comfort anyone during the entire series. It’s very likely she’s never had to do so before the moment with Cat Noir in this special.

This is why Adrien leaving her was so important to Marinette’s future growth as a partner specifically. Technically Marinette needed it to happen. Marinette had to learn that you can’t expect someone to be there indefinitely if you never let them know you want them there, and she had to learn that Cat Noir needs her to reciprocate the supportive relationship between them instead of only enjoying the benefits of her partner’s almost unwavering support. An unequal relationship will not last. If you just keep someone around for their comfort, they’ll leave you once they have none left to give. If you just keep someone around for their good days, they’ll leave you once their bad days come. But in this special we saw Marinette taking the first steps towards realizing her partner’s humanity, ergo, fixing the part of the issue that’s in her perception: she was still thinking about him when she was Marinette. I noted in ‘Glaciator’ that Marinette usually stops thinking about Cat Noir once she’s Marinette again, which is part of that whole “seeing him as otherworldly” thing. Breaking out of that mindset is as important as it is for Adrien to break out of the “everyone would turn on me if I didn’t please them 24/7” one.

Basically: the conflict was resolved, but it showed where development still needs to happen.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml meta #dats chats #long post #popular

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5lazarus · 3 years

Text

Ultramarine

Sylaise attempts to trademark the color blue, initiating a civil war. Fen'Harel disapproves. Felassan, at this point, is just along for the ride.

Highlights include: Andruil attempts to create biological weapons out of the conquered children of the stone and sell them to absolutely everyone, Mythal may or may not involve, Solas greatly disapproves, and everyone wants to kill Fen'Harel for disapproving. Also an explanation as to why Solas has to think before answering Sera on whether he has ever pissed magic by accident.

Sorta a love story, sorta a comedy, sorta a story about political intrigue--but hey, Solas said Arlathan was even worse than Orlais!

A big thank you to @potatowitch and isomede for talking me through this and getting me to finish it--and for giving me the best ideas for it. Read on Archive of Our Own here.

Felassan drowses in the marketplace, listening to the gossip and basking in the bright sprint light of the Durgas Durgen’len. The Valley of the Children of the Dwarves marks the frontier of Mythal’s demesne, but is no less busy for it. Thaig-crawlers anxious for a Stone-milk fix bring the treasures of their houses. Elves from across the empire come to hawk their wares for the Stone’s blood, and under the Dread Wolf’s supervision, the two species live in uneasy coexistence under the Sky. He is a better procurator than Dirthamen, people whisper, but is that really a high bar to exceed?

Felassan shifts against the cool marble pillar of Mythal’s temple gate and keeps listening. One trader has come from Arlathan, seeking lyrium milked from the heart of the Titan itself. Another has high ambitions of dealing with the Dread Wolf himself, for a fragment of the Titan’s heart. Another is wondering what kind of money could be made out of the Children of the Stone’s need for the blood of their own god. Felassan lazily opens an eye at that. Fen’Harel does not want speculators driving the cost of living up, and is in rather tense negotiations with Mythal for a cleaner way to treat her new stone-children. He takes down the woman’s face: marked with Andruil’s vallaslin, but blue, so moderately wealthy and looking to buy her freedom soon. He resolves to arrange for her to meet an accident soon, but not too soon--he wants to see where she leads to.

“They could be useful, you know,” Andruil’s agent is saying. “Not just as miners, not just for their pretty little crafts. Since they need that fix, they can be controlled. You just need to mine enough lyrium and water it down to milk, and after a generation, you can train them into whatever you want. That’s what the Titans do to them, after all. Why not us? At least we’re brighter. And war’s coming, anyway.”

Felassan opens his eyes and stirs. He makes a show of warming his hands, trying to look like an indigent trader and less like the Dread Wolf’s spy. “War’s always coming, lethallin.”

The woman says, “Not like this. Of course, Mythal always stays neutral.”

“Hail the Adjudicator,” Felassan says pointedly.

Andruil’s agent rolls her eyes. “Hail the Adjudicator. I suppose news makes it to the frontier slow. Sylaise invaded Dirthamen’s lands last spring. Their champions are currently fighting it out for control of Dirthamen’s lapis lazuli monopoly. She’s declared that all colors of the sky are hers, and especially the stones that make blue.”

That’s remarkably stupid, Felassan thinks: but she has always been vain and foolish. He makes his excuses amiably, and heads out to tell the Dread Wolf. At the market’s gates he finds another of the Dread Wolf’s loyalists and sets them to track Andruil’s news-spreader. He ambles through the narrow streets, dodging clever halla guiding floating aravels to their destinations, and slinks into the Dread Wolf’s personal residence. As he suspects, he is still at home. He could hear music drifting from an upstairs window. He knocks on the door, and a hand emerges from the window to throw down the keys. Grinning, Felassan catches them, and lets himself in.

Felassan says, “I suppose you’ve heard the news. Sylaise has trademarked the color blue.” He has come bearing gossip straight from the caravansaries, right to the Dread Wolf’s headquarters—a cheap apartment at the outskirts of Mythal’s newest colony, Durgas Durgen’len. Solas has moved recently; Felassan glances up at the blank ceiling and notes he hasn't had the time to start drafting his starry mosaic yet. The Dread Wolf himself is sprawled in his chair, feet on his desk, reading a report and laughing. Solas grins. He hands Felassan the lyrium tablet. “Alas, not entirely--you know I was planning on painting my ceiling?” Felassan looks down at the tablet. It’s a trade manifest. “I put in a massive order of lapis lazuli seasons ago--and it arrived safely this morning, despite the current trade war. Sylaise may be fighting for the mines, but production cannot continue when there is war going on. So we have the largest supply of lapis lazuli in all of Elvhenan. And the All-Mother wrote me that they’re running low on blue pigment in Arlathan--so Sylaise will not have enough ultramarine paint to finish that magnificent dome she was planning for her palace.” Felassan reads through the trade manifest, impressed despite himself. The Dread Wolf preens slightly. Whoever named him pegged him perfectly. He does so like to be praised. He says, “I suppose you started hoarding pigment when you heard she started the project. So we’ll make some money. But what about Andruil? Her spy’s doomsaying war and talking about--shaping the stone-children with lyrium itself, turning them into a whole disposable workforce. How are negotiations with Mythal?” The merry mood dampens. Solas taps the crystalline music player, and the song shifts. It sounds like lyrium, except cleaner and somehow sad. He says, “The dwarves listen to this. They play it on their own crystal communications array. I’ve tracked two in the Valley, and there are at least three more. Beautiful, isn’t it? Unthinking, but with its own natural harmony.” Felassan thinks it sounds like waking up in the bright morning, tousled in the sweating arms of a still-drunk lover, when he untangles himself from the sticky sheets and picks up the abandoned wine glasses, knocked over but unbroken on the floor. It sounds like flicking a wine glass, slightly hungover. It sounds like the last time Solas let him stay over. Felassan coughs, a bit embarrassed; the lyrium song caught him. Fucking dwarves: he still doesn’t understand their enchanments. “What do you want me to do about the spy? Kill her?” The Dread Wolf looks meditative. “No. Not yet, at least. We do not need to give Andruil more reasons for war, and if we need to escalate let us have one of Mythal’s temple guards do it. If she’s talking about shaping flesh, she’s been talking to Ghilan’nain. And we know Ghilan’nain has been talking to Mythal.” He smiles thinly. That answers that, then. Negotiations with Mythal are not going well, and this petty war between Sylaise and Dirthamen covers up something nastier. The alliances between the Evanuris are shifting, and that leaves Fen’Harel and their people in the lurch. The Dread Wolf says, “If Andruil wants Mythal’s little stones, she will have to come to me first. Sylaise’s vanity will not be the reason for outright war. I will speak to her and Dirthamen both, and then we shall see what hand she plays next.”

Mythal’s court is terrifying. Felassan trails Solas, who has traded his usual homespun tunic for a more impressive set of lyrium-inscribed leather armor. The lyrium sings as they walk, and Felassan can almost taste the words. Solas projects an aura of calm authority, with a testier threat of violence underneath. It’s the lyrium, somehow. The Dread Wolf is manipulating it. When they approach the throne, Felassan kneels but Solas only ducks his head. Insane, Felassan thinks. He’s caught wind of an incipient civil war so he’s decided to tease Mythal. What a fucking madman. Mythal sighs. “Get up, you fool.” Felassan glances at Solas worriedly. Solas says laconically, “She means you.” Hurriedly he rises to his feet, blushing. Mythal shakes her head. “I have always said the People are too quick to bend the knee. I expect more pride from your people, Dread Wolf.” Solas gestures at him to retreat to his back. Felassan gladly slinks back into the shadows, and scans the hall for potential enemies. It is empty but for the lyrium ostentatiously woven into the very brickwork, shaping the earth into a temperature-controlled paradise. She could pull at it and made the whole palace implode, but Solas could as well. Even Felassan could give that a try. He realizes, slightly shocked, that the All-Mother trusts the Dread Wolf, as much as she is capable of trusting anyone. The All-Mother rises from her throne and stalks down to greet her favorite. She places one claw on his shoulder and caresses his face with another. The Dread Wolf stiffens but does not draw back. “My child,” she says fondly. “You’ve come to ask about the blue war, then.” “It’s a particularly idiotic reason to start a civil war,” the Dread Wolf says. “Particularly since I have enough ultramarine pigment to last out Sylaise’s monument to her own stupidity. And my workers have found a lapis lazuli cache in the Durgas Durgen’len, so we will be able to shift productive in the valley from lyrium to paint readily enough.” “Your workers,” Mythal says. “You mean my workers.” Solas says, “I do not own them.” Felassan tenses. When he was manumitted, Solas swore never to hold another in bondage, even the durgen’len. They are his workers only because they toil under his supervision, and Solas is quick to point out that he pays them and encourages their economic freedom beyond his holds. Mythal is doing this deliberately to upset him. Felassan knows how much Solas resents how Mythal keeps her hands on the reins of her freed slaves. He knows how much Solas resents how that is still how the court thinks of him, encouraged by Mythal: the All-Mother’s freed slave, her Dread Wolf—and not even his workers are safe from her clutches.

Solas says, “My man found one of Andruil’s agents, spreading rumors of war in the marketplace—and worse, suggesting we splinter the autonomy of your little stones, and addict them to their stone-milk to keep them pliable. You know Ghilan’nain put that into her head, and Ghilan’nain is not to be trusted. She dares too much, we cannot—“

“Ghilan’nain is not to be trusted?” Mythal is amused. “Dread Wolf, you’re the one who put her eyes out.” Solas opens his mouth and closes it. Felassan looks down at the ground. He has never seen him at a loss for words before. It is less satisfying than he imagined. Mythal laughs. “Trust in my judgement, as you always have. Ghilan’nain may overreach but her experimentations with lyrium and my new subjects will do Elvhenan no harm. These…weapons are soulless, but not at a risk to our own souls.”

“You do not know that,” Solas says. “Is this why you have allowed Sylaise’s hostilities to increase? Are you looking to test her new experiments in this petty war? Nevermind her…trademark,” he sneers. “We will begin production forthwith. This war will stop here.”

Mythal says, “War is inevitable. Winning is not. When will I next see you at court?”

Solas leaves seething, Felassan dogging his footsteps. Felassan follows him home. It is clear that he is upset. Felassan himself is more frightened than angry, but the gods are different than the rest of the People, even ones like the Dread Wolf, who had been born a spirit made enslaved flesh.

Solas lets him enter his home and finds a bottle of wine. He pours them both a glass, hands shaking, and settles back in his desk chair.

Felassan drags the chair in front of his desk and places it next to him.“I thought you were going to fight her,” he says. “I thought you were going to snap and yell at her.”

Solas says, “Drink.” He leans forward in his chair, pride demon eyes staring him down. Felassan wishes he would blink. He looks away and drinks the thick, sweet red wine that tastes too fresh, too close to the grape. This was a wine to get drunk to, not to drink.

He casts about for something to say, anything to move that stare away. Ghilan’nain and her grotesqueries are not an option. Solas will not respond if he tackles the issue of Mythal directly. Finally, he tries, “You’d think she’d do something about Andruil’s spies.”

Solas quirks an eyebrow. “Why would she? She’s paying her.” Now he leans back. The gold night is slating through the apartment’s window and lends a shimmer to his skin. Felassan watches him sip. The apartment might be small and a bit rundown, but Solas has arranged himself impeccably, glorying in the natural light. He is a god, he is Mythal’s procurator, he is a lord in his own right: and he is still ever the artist.

“What,” Felassan says.

“Oh yes,” Solas shifts in his chair, gesturing with his glass, “the All-Mother has spoken, before witnesses—yourself included—that Ghilan’nain’s experimentations with lyrium and Mythal’s own little stones are for the good of Elvhenan.” He barks a bitter laugh. “You know the dwarves sing a hymn to their own children, about the promise of Mythal’s freedom? Let me show you.” He waves a hand at the crystalline radio and once again the music plays, the odd echoing that vibrates within the nose and the smallest bones in the ear and the jaw.

Felassan closes his eyes and listens as the voice of the Stone reverberates, “Ir sa tel’nal, Mythal las ma theneras. Ir san’a emma. Him Sola evanuris. Da’durgen’lin, Banal males elgara. Bellanaris, bellanaris.”

Solas says, “She uses me to keep them placid, promising them their freedom—freedom of thought, through their imagination, but they will never freely walk under Elgar’nan’s sun. I have no love for the Children of the Stone. I find them lacking in understanding. What can be gleamed, by people who do not dream? But no one, for all the horror they have wrecked with their earthshaking, deserves Ghilan’nain. Mythal promised me my freedom. That should be extended to all the workers under my control.”

Felassan throws back his drink and sets his glass on the desk. “Pour me another one,” he says. “So. What are we going to do, to stop this war? Because that is what you intend to do. To make the need for these lyrium-worked stone weapons redundant. What do you need me to do?”

Solas is taken aback for a moment, though he should know better. He was the one who left him, after all. Solas reaches for him. Felassan leans into the touch reassuringly, knowing Solas is already making excuses, a moment of weakness, a moment of sentimentality, he has been alone for so long. They lock eyes, Felassan thinks let me stay over again, let me love you but the music changes pitch and Solas gets out of his chair to turn it off, and then shifts to the kitchen for better wine.

They spend the night strategizing how to prevent a war, but when Solas goes to bed, he chooses to go alone.

Arlathan is resplendent for the peace summit, but the Dread Wolf’s retinue is glorious in their wonderfully-dyed ultramarine silks. It is a statement and it is a bold one, and Felassan is feeling smug, because not only are they, the former foot soldiers of Mythal’s army, wearing an entire kingdom’s worth of cash on their backs—they also look magnificent in blue.

“You’re strutting,” Felassan tells Solas, beautiful in a blue tunic and a woven gold scarf.

Solas laughs. “Look at them, watching,” he says happily. “I see Sylaise’s little spies chattering away—the Dread Wolf has enough ultramarine to turn out his own court, and spare. I love this pageantry. Next time, if we live to see another time, I will ask the dyers to dress the cloth like peacocks. And then we truly will put on a show.”

Felassan was more referring to how he was walking so everyone would look at his ass, which was certainly one of the nicest he himself has ever seen, but he does like the idea of both of them done up in turquoise and gold, glittering in the sunset. Solas rarely dresses well outside of court, preferring the anonymity or alternate political statement of plain dress. But the message here is clear: the Dread Wolf carries enough wealth, independent from Mythal, to stop a war.

They process into Mythal and Elgar’nan’s palace, which is of course overheated. The ritual of welcome is interminable. Mythal is clearly amused, Elgar’nan is already drunk, one of Falon’Din’s slaves attempts to trip Solas’ herald, and Sylaise glowers the whole time. Solas is simply serene. Felassan does his best to arrange his face, but he’s best at parties, not the cult aspect of life as a servant of an immortal godking. When he first hit on that bombastic new recruit in the barracks, this was not how he thought it would end. He really had thought they would all be dead before then.

Eventually they are released to Solas’ own wing of the palace, much smaller than all the other children of Mythal and their co-rulers. There Solas will arbitrate the terms of the peace agreement between Sylaise and Dirthamen. Even for a former slave—and a rumored bastard child—the quarters are grandiose. An obsequious slave branded by Andruil’s insignia informs them that Sylaise specially redesigned them in line with the latest fashions, and then makes a quick gesture with his hand as Solas enters. Felassan catches it: pinky and pointer up, middle and ring finger touching the thumb. He’s made the sign of the wolf at them. He’s asking for help.

“Rubies,” Solas says. “Gold. Far too gaudy.” They stand in the atrium, bejeweled and overheated, with rooms all along the courtyard. The Dread Wolf’s retinue—loyal soldiers, clerks from across the caste system, kitchen staff and cleaners—all stay close. The heat is overwhelming. The red seems to shimmer in Arlathan’s bright light

“Well,” Felassan says. “It’s gaudy, but it’s a peace offering from Sylaise. Anyway, you’re one to talk. You’re wearing enough blue dye to buy an army.” He brushes against Solas, trying to get his attention, and Solas leans into the touch and then abruptly moves away. For fuck’s sake, Fen’Harel, Felassan thinks. For once I’m not trying anything.

“Which is the point,” Solas says, refusing to look at him. “This though,” he waves a dismissive hand, “is a migraine. But the expense and insult to Sylaise for redesigning apartments she so kindly put together…”

Felassan says, “I think some of this is colored glass.” He flicks a particularly obnoxious cut gem over the threshold of the drawing room. It resounds like lyrium-song, but even more distorted, haunting and hot in his ears. It’s red lyrium, and the retinue pauses and draws together quickly.

“Touch nothing!” Solas barks. “Pack up your things. This is red lyrium, and it corrupts what it touches.” He shakes his head. “Unsubtle. This is a gift from Sylaise, but at Andruil’s prompting.” He puts his hand on Felassan’s shoulder. “I must ask a favor from you, my friend. Stay close to me. I need you to be my slow arrow, to catch Andruil out.”

Felassan remains Solas’ only guard. The rest work quickly to calculate and capture the red lyrium contamination in their quarters. He’s nervous. Normally the Evanuris are more subtle, but Andruil has changed since the war. He tells him about the sign Sylaise’s slave made and Solas just looks smug, choosing to keep the story to himself. Of course Fen’Harel has spies in every court, of course Fen’Harel knows who needs him before they even do, of course Fen’Harel doesn’t communicate anything beyond need-to-know even to him, his personal guard. He thinks, not for the first time, that Solas is a hard man to love. At least Solas knows that too.

The peace summit is boring. Sylaise puts on a show, decked out in lyrium-woven silver and lapis lazuli, which makes her brilliant red hair shine gold and rather disruptive. Dirthamen is more severe. His graying hair is braided with silver thread, making the red in it even more distinctive, and the lyrium-silk he wears whispers the impressions of all that he has seen. At this point Felassan has ceased to be rattled by how very much Solas looks like him. Fen’Harel keeps his head shaved because it is anonymous and convenient, and also because it makes him look even less like his rumored half-siblings.

The children of Mythal gather around a round table. Solas opens negotiates. Felassan is bored. There is so much lyrium in the room, it thrums in his sinuses and he is afraid his nose will bleed. The conquest of the Durgas Durgen’len has brought plenty to Elvhenan. The excess is rather grotesque, and while Felassan likes grotesque—why else would he be in the Dread Wolf’s retinue?—the other Evanuris are a bit much. Absolutely no one in the room brings up Andruil or Ghilan’nain’s name, but their presence is felt.

The meeting ends after Solas successfully convinces both to sign a nonaggression pact that includes reporting to the other when they begin outfitting for war. They can track the movement of Andruil’s experimental soldiers that way, though the clause does not require them to inform Mythal. They have enough spies. Solas has them sign the contract in blood laced with lyrium, providing his own knife.

“Ah,” Sylaise says. “Fen’Harel’s fang. How cute. Did my mother give you that?”

Solas smiles coldly. “My father, actually. I have never asked how he received it.” Score, Felassan thinks. Sylaise has always been a fucking idiot.

Dirthamen says, “You’ve never asked?”

Solas says, “It was his once and is mine now. I rather think I have made written is backstory.” He glances at the contract, slowly drying on the table.

Felassan says helpfully, “In your blood. Literally.” Solas catches his eye and they both begin to grin before he looks away hurriedly. “Now, everyone will know, that it is at this daggerpoint that war was averted and peace brokered between two of the greatest powers of Elvhenan, and the nation’s supply of blue dye restored.”

Solas says mildly, “I should add that Mythal has asked me to draft legislature making it clear that colored dyes themselves cannot be patented, though of course ratios and forms of manufacturing may remain trade secrets to the craftsman.” He bows slightly to Sylaise, who visibly grinds her teeth. Felassan can hear the squeak.

Dirthamen says, “Good. If you will excuse me? I must tender my regards to our mother. She and I have much to discuss.”

Solas says, “Give her my love.” He means it, too. For all that Mythal has wrecked, Solas has always loved her. He may have removed the mark from his face—and Felassan’s too—but the writing is in the blood, as the saying goes. The vallaslin can never truly be erased.

Dirthamen leaves and Sylaise follows hurriedly, and Solas leans forward, elbows on the table, steepling his hands. He rubs the bridge of his nose, staring at the contract.

“Nicely done,” Felassan says. “Dirthamen came very close to acknowledging you as his brother. You might’ve alienated Sylaise, but she was always a lost cause.”

“I’m not,” Solas says sharply. He drops his hands. “As you know. But it’s interesting that he has an audience with Mythal. Perhaps Andruil approached him first, rather than Sylaise. Perhaps this all was yet another game of hers, testing to see how easily her children fracture if she chooses to leave Elvhenan unattended. Or perhaps they’re simply gossiping together, as a mother is wont to do, with her only son.”

Felassan says, “Fine. Forget I said anything. Sorry. But no one’s tried to kill you that well yet. The red lyrium was a cheap shot, but Sylaise has always been cheap. What now?”

Solas says, “I need to clean my dagger, file some paperwork, and see when Sylaise will try to kill me again. I hope, for your sake, that it happens so soon, because I can see that you’re bored.”

“Nothing like an assassination attempt to liven up a peace treaty,” Felassan says. “If you would try to risk your life in more entertaining ways, I would not complain.”

Solas says, “Don’t worry. Andruil’s slave, the one you saw? He invited us to a party. He’s working for the Forgotten Ones. Things will get entertaining yet.”

Geldauron throws the best parties. Everyone knows that. It’s because he’s no longer corporeal, so he focuses on the vibes of the space, to bring everyone’s desires to fruition. He is also a wonderful musician, because he is music and thought becomes music, and he knows how to sing everyone’s desires into a wonderful piece. Felassan is excited, because Solas is his favorite person to get fucked up with, and while both of them will have to pretend to be sober, the night promises to be fun.

Geldauron throws the best parties. He’s also a fucking asshole. The two return to Solas’ quarters to prepare—Solas changes his clothes and Felassan smokes instead. He lounges on Solas’ bed, watching him dress. Solas swaps the cloth leggings for blue-dyed leather and a gold-edged tunic. Picking up a wolfskin, he turns to Felassan, only to catch him ogling his ass. He raises an eyebrow.

Felassan says, “Good choice. But if you take those off you’re not getting back in them any time soon.”

Solas snorts. “I doubt it is that kind of party.”

“We could make it that kind of party.”

Solas grins. He says, “No.”

“I thought you like mixing business and pleasure,” Felassan says. He takes a drag and, concentrating, blows a smoke ring toward him.

Solas’ smile fades, and he returns to the mirror, adjusting his collar. “Not now,” he says. “I cannot afford to be so reckless anymore.”

Felassan sees himself, desirable in the mirror, and Solas looking frustrated. He says, “Why did you ask me to come along?”

“Because I trust you,” Solas says readily. “Because I care about you, and I will behave more cautiously so I may keep you safe. As you would to protect me. And that is why I must ask you—stop this. I am your commander now. It’s inappropriate concerning our differences in rank. We might no longer be slaves, but I have certain responsibilities.” He stops, seeing Felassan laughing in the mirror. “What?”

Felassan sidles up and puts his arms around him. “You’re so full of shit,” he says fondly. Solas stiffens, and then relaxes. “Sure. I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

“I,” Solas begins, and then stops. “Yes. Thank you.”

Felassan thinks, you want me to persuade you, don’t you? You’ve always enjoyed being courted. But tonight, I’d rather not. It’s my turn for some flattery. I’m tired of being hung out to dry. He pushes him away and goes to the door. “So,” he says. “Where in the Void are we going? Didn’t Geldauron get rid of his physical form? This is a trap, isn’t it?”

“We wouldn’t go if it weren’t,” Solas says. “You asked for adventure, and I am glad to deliver.”

They have to take three different eluvians and briefly melt into the Void to get to the spot in the Abyss where Geldauron has shaped according to his munificent Will. Melting always makes Felassan have to piss, but there are no bathrooms in the Abyss. Geldauron eschews such mundanities.

Felassan grumbles, “Subject and object, actor and acted upon. Easy to say when you’ve jettisoned your bladder to become a fog of resentment and envy. That still smells like piss.”

The Abyss, triggered by Felassan’s desire for shape, sense, and a toilet, warps. Tiles, Felassan thinks. Please. A nice hole in the ground to piss in. I’ll take a tree. Solas waves an idle hand, and a cobbled path appears out of the blankness. A white threshold opens at the end. From there they feel the vibrato of lyrium-song, electric and hungry. Felassan shivers. Carefully they step on the path. Halfway up, Felassan stops.

“What do you think will happen if I piss off the map?” Felassan says. “Into the Abyss?”

Solas pauses. There is mischief in his eyes. “We know that Geldauron will not bother to manifest anything to accommodate our corporeality.”

Felassan squints into the blankness. “If I conquer his Will with my Will, it won’t bounce back.”

“It would be purely an experiment of magical energy,” Solas agrees. They stare at each other.

Felassan says, “I bet you I can aim farther than you.”

“There is no distance to measure,” Solas says. “It’s the Void.”

“Coward,” Felassan says. “Don��t you need to take a piss too?”

Solas looks exasperated. One more taunt, Felassan thinks, and I’ve got him. He’s never been able to back down from a bet.

“I bet you I can Will it farther than you, and get rid of the smell,” Felassan says. “And, anyway, there’s not going to be anywhere more private to take a piss than our personal pathway through the Abyss. Especially if we’re walking into a trap. Unless you want to weaponize your bladder.” He pauses. “Is that why Geldauron smells like piss?

“Geldauron stinks because as he lost his physical form, his body relieved itself of all its former functions. He captured himself in the moment of his dying renewal. Unfortunate, but to be expected for one as foolish as he,” Solas says, amused. “But to your question—are you saying you think you can piss magic?”

Felassan says, “Wanna bet?”

The lyrium-high hits them both as a physical force as they pass the threshold, and Felassan’s heart skips a beat as it thrums through his body, teasing his sinuses and twinging behind his eyes and ears. Solas takes a deep, steadying breath, and Reality begins to vein, blueing the whiteness into shadowy shape. Felassan sniffs: lightning, storm clouds, fertile earth, and—that’s it, just the hint of piss.

He whispers, “I think I found Geldauron.”

Solas chokes back a laugh.

The slightly stinking vibration that is the Forgotten One Geldauron wraps around them and gives a token attempt at conquering their Will. Solas brushes him off as if he were a fly. Felassan thinks very hard, shit piss shit piss shit piss fucker—and the buzzing stops. Geldauron backs off, giving off a sense of being decidedly rumpled. Felassan is smug.

“Greetings, the Will that is Geldauron,” Solas says. There is a touch of irony to his voice.

Geldauron arranges the particles of the voice into a throat, complete with tongue, lips, teeth, and vocal cord. Felassan eyes it with disgust, Solas with interest. Felassan has always thoroughly enjoyed having a body, and has never understood why the Forgotten Ones gave up their form to vibrate in the Abyss—and, of course, the fact that they backed down from fighting the Pillars of the Earth when thousands were dying in those earthquakes does not incline him to being kind. Solas, though, has always liked to experiment.

Geldauron says, “Welcome to the Void. I see you’ve brought a guard.” Felassan stands up a bit straighter and attempts to look intimidating. The vibration that is Geldauron twinges. “You wouldn’t trust your old friends?”

Solas says lightly, “I especially wouldn’t trust old friends. How’s your lyrium-mining operation going?”

“Better, if you’d give me the workers.”

“Which I would, if you added basic safeguards to your mindvision. The Abyss is still Evhenan, and follows the same operational safety protocol as part of the empire.”

Geldauron scoffs. “Anaris is still pissed you backed out of the deal. He’s looking for a better buyer.”

Solas says, “Anaris caused the death of three hundred and twenty-nine elvhen miners from my home province. Not every man has the ability to project, with utmost confidence, the certainty of their own mortality while handling certainly noxious substances. Is he here?”

Around them the party swirls in blasting lyrium-song and crystal colors, and Felassan closes his eyes to feel the Will solidify as the voices sing. He is not drunk and only a little high, but there is a hive and there is the mind and there are infinite and only two hundred people in this Void, just vibing, and six at least are vining around each other, flesh to plant twirling photosynthesis, and he tastes—

Solas says, “If you think your profit margin outweighs the worth of any freethinking person in my employ, I will override your thought-form myself.” He puts a hand out and grips a shoulder as he forces Geldauron to take shape, Will snapping Will back into Reality, and Felassan shakes himself and watches as the old god flashes into a form, snarling, and then unravels again. Showing up the host at his own party, Felassan thinks. That’s a mistake.

He steps in, to back him up. “Can you still be the Will when others have more Will than you?” He waves a hand through where Geldauron’s vibrato played. There are others staring at them, taking physical shape, and now the Abyss becomes a black castle, lyrium roots twinging at their feet. The air is hungry. He suppresses a shiver.

“Cute,” a voice drawls, and then there is a body to match: the slave Felassan saw, who warned them about the red lyrium in their quarters. Then the vallaslin melts away and he grows taller, face sharpening and eyes narrowing, pupils elongating to slits.

“Anaris,” Solas says neutrally. Felassan looks at him quickly. There’s history here. The most physical of the Forgotten Ones is unearthly handsome, as aesthetically perfect as a monument, and thus completely unfuckable. Judging from the slight tension in Solas’ posture, Fen’Harel once disagreed. Felassan checks a sigh. He looks at Felassan. “Give us a moment. I’ll meet you near the path.” Felassan pauses, because leaving him alone with the Forgotten Ones is ridiculous, however ridiculously overpowered Solas is, but Solas gives him that cold Fen’Harel look so he backs off without trying to argue. There is never any point. He never listens, and out of the few arguments Felassan has ever won with him, it has only been because Solas has already decided to agree. He bows slightly, only to make him uncomfortable, and wanders off into the Void. Maybe they are just meeting to talk over labor disputes. Maybe it is something more—but it is not every night that Felassan finds himself partying in the Abyss, and so he intends to take advantage of it while he still can.

Felassan has a crowd of sympathetic quasi-corporeal spirits surrounding him, and they all pet him and tell him he is right. He is drunk and this is the Fade leaching into the Abyss to massage his desires into reality, but that does not spoil it.

“I am done with bad bosses,” Felassan announces to the crowd. “Bad bosses who say they love you and take you along to arbitrate weird labor disputes with their exes and then cut you out of the interesting part. Bad bosses who when they’re promoted above you stop sleeping with you but keep you around anyway. This has been a centuries-long break-up and I deserve better.”

A Compassion spirit says, “You should tell him. Communication is always key.”

Felassan wails, “But he told me!”

The spirits rustle. The Compassion spirit looks slightly less sympathetic. A spirit of Authority and their friend, one of Geldauron’s lackeys who couldn’t quite eschew their form entirely, say in unison, “Is it the debasement that you like?”

Felassan pauses. “No. Yes.” He thinks. “No. Just the presence. I could handle the profession. I can! I am. But mixing business and pleasure?”

Suddenly, out of the Abyss, comes Solas’s voice, and then Solas’s presence. He says, amused, “Anaris is not my ex. How have you managed to get drunk off the Abyss? There is nothing here.”

Felassan flushes. Solas offers him a hand and helps pull him up. Felassan says haughtily, “I find the Nothingness very intoxicating.” Solas’ eyes crinkle, and Felassan hangs onto him a second longer before Solas gently lets go. Felassan says, “Someone manifested the drunk. Not me.”

Solas says, “Yes. Compassion, or Authority, manifested your current state of inebriation. Not any of your desire to taste oblivion.”

Felassan says, “Yes, that’s right. Everyone brought oblivion to me.”

Solas chuckles. “Ridiculous.” He takes hold of Felassan and walks him into the blackness. “Place more drunk,” he whispers. “We’re being followed.”

Felassan stumbles. Solas leans over to catch him. Felassan whispers in his ear, “Anaris? Geldauron? Ghilan’nain? Which one of your enemies is it today?”

Solas’ lips brush his cheek. “Andruil,” he mouths. He presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, and Felassan draws back, furious. Solas closes his left eye quickly, barely even a wink: Felassan whirls around, and Andruil jams a needle into his neck, and then he is falling as Solas backs away, eyes flashing with Mythal’s lightning.

“Where the fuck is that fucker?”

Felassan is rudely shaken awake. “Easy, easy,” he grumbles, putting his hands out. Anaris, beauty distorted by frothing rage, slaps them away. Felassan sits up, takes stock: he is sitting on the worn stone path out of the Abyss, hanging over the Avoid. Anaris looms over him. Fen’Harel is nowhere to be found. Felassan decides to play dumb. “What fucker?”

Anaris says, “That fucker. Your fucker. Fen’Harel.”

Felassan objects: Solas hasn’t let him fuck him since Mythal made him a god, citing the power differential. That, of course, has not stopped them from flirtation, tension, and angst, and Felassan is occasionally jealous that Solas seems to fuck everyone but him—Anaris, really?—but that all goes to say: Fen’Harel is not his fucker. He opens his mouth to say all that, but Anaris shoves him roughly to the ground.

“He’s mine,” Anaris says.

Felassan props himself up on his elbow. “Yeah. I had a nice talk with a spirit of Compassion early….” He looks over his shoulder, trying to find the entrance to the Abyss where Geldauron’s party was. There is nothing, which makes sense, because this is the Abyss. He shrugs. “Really, he’s no one’s but his own. Built his own brand on that. Terrible commitment issues, and not the most appropriate commander—you need to learn to let him go—“

“The fuck are you on about?” Anaris stares at him. “He broke our fucking contract. Mythal ordered him to sell us her workers, he backed out. And now he’s sitting on an entire kingdom of gold because of Andruil’s stupid gambit—biologic-fucking-weapons. Not like he’s doing anything useful with those dwarves. May as well test them out in one of Sylaise’s petty wars.”

Felassan stares up at him, disgusted. “They’re not weapons,” he says. “They’re people. Just because they don’t dream…we threw down the Pillars of the Earth and scorn them for making machines of their own people. We can do better than that.”

Anaris says, “Did I ask for moralism? No? Gods. You’re definitely one of his followers, ugh. Does he keep you around for his conscience?” He shakes his head. “I’m done with that shit. Geldauron said—whatever. Where the fuck is he? He owes me money. He broke our contract!”

Felassan thinks, I’m done with this shit. He rubs his aching head wearily. “I think Andruil took him.” He isn’t quite sure, but he thinks Solas was trying to protect him. He’s never been very good at letting his guards guard him, but Felassan is rather glad to still be alive. Doubtless enough time as Mythal’s thrall will teach him to let others die.

Anaris swears so loudly and angrily the path, which is itself a thought form, shakes slightly. Felassan eyes him warily. He points in a random direction. “I think they went that way.” A doorway, shining brilliant with white light, opens up onto the path. Felassan considers it. The wondrous thing about living in a malleable reality is that if one Wills hard enough, it comes true. Felassan wants Anaris to fuck off and find Andruil, so the gateway appears. “Nice,” he says aloud.

Anaris sets off. Felassan lays down on the floor, which obligingly broadens so his limbs won’t dangle into the Void. This is the sort of mess only Fen’Harel could get embroiled in. He thought they were just investigating a trade embargo, then a war, and now it’s a labor dispute. He pities himself and his aching head a little bit longer, and then rolls to his feet. “Right,” he tells himself. “Let’s get him out of there.” With that, he walks into the light.

The Void opens into a dark forest, somewhere south of Arlathan—Andruil’s demesne. The earth is warm and welcoming below his feet, and the trees press closely, watching his back. Felassan can hear the night-birds sing, bats chitter their paths through the darkness, and the ever-present insect scream. He looses a breath. He walks through the material world reassuringly, touching a tree or caressing a leaf as he goes. Anaris’ deep footprints mark an angry path through the mud. Felassan tastes the rain-rich air: it has rained before and it will rain again. Andruil will be quite damp.

A clearing with a warm fire opens up through the woods. Felassan hears Andruil’s laughter. Obeying his prey instincts, he hurriedly clambers up a tree to get a better view. Solas is trussed up, hands and feet bound, leaned against a tree. He is entirely nude, covered in mud, and looking a bit scratched up and tired. Felassan raises a hand and waves at him from the canopy. Solas looks up, makes a face, and looks down quickly.

Andruil says, “No. He’s mine. He ruined my bioengineering program and now my mother expects me to pay out of pocket for the trials. We’re going to test the red lyrium armor on him first and present him to her as a gift. You can use him when we’re done with target practice.”

Anaris stomps his foot. “He broke our contract and bankrupted half the Forgotten Ones—and you promised us you’d invest. I claim him, in the name of the Abyss.”

Solas, temporarily forgotten, begins to chew on the ropes binding his wrists. Felassan stifles a laugh. Intervening now would be suicide. He’ll wait for the right moment.

Andruil says, “Fuck off. Your Abyss is nothing.” Literally, Felassan thinks. It is an abyss after all. “He is mine to do what I wish. After what he did to Ghilan’nain, his life is forfeit.”

Solas mutters, “Notwithstanding what she did to me and mine.”

Anaris says, “Ghilan’nain isn’t here to pursue her claim.” He strikes a pose. “By the All-Mother’s law, there is only one recourse. A duel of honor!”

Solas says, “How flattering. And the winner gets my entrails. One does love to see the letter of the law followed.”

Andruil kicks him over; Solas takes the blow and falls with a grunt. She says, “Fine.” She draws her magnificent bow, reinforced with lyrium mined from the heart of the Titans itself.

Solas calls out, “Sylaise made her armor—there’s a flaw just above the right hip, where it curves to show off her shape. The silverite is weakest there. Stab well, my friend. And quickly, if you do want my entrails.”

Andruil shrieks, “Shut up,” but Anaris blurs, skin tearing into bear hide and his skull elongating into a bestial mix of lizard, bear, and elf. The two gods wrestle; Solas hurriedly rolls out of their way, towards the tree Felassan climbed. His nose is bleeding from the kick in the face, and his bottom lip is swollen. He holds up his wrists, and then twists them, easily slipping a hand out. He gestures: throw down a knife.

Anaris is stabbing wildly at Andruil now, trying desperately to get at the weak spot at her right hip. Andruil has her hands fixed around his throat. Felassan passes down the knife, unwilling to get involved in the carnage. Solas, rather than cutting through the bonds at his feet, stabs it into the grass and leans over the hilt, hiding it from view. He puts his hand back into the loops of rope, and waits.

“Try a sixty-degree angle,” he suggests idly. “No, twist the knife, if you please.”

Andruil’s hands fall from Anaris’ neck and he stands up, baring his bruised throat at the Dread Wolf. The Dread Wolf stares at him, amused. Anaris says, “Dead.”

Fen’Harel says, “Unlikely, but you are welcome for the break. Twist her neck to make sure. You owe me your victory, Anaris.” He smiles, teeth showing. Above, Felassan shudders slightly. He’s left his wolf’s teeth in—normally he eschews mixing shape as gauche. “She would have killed you outright, if I had not helped. You owe me my freedom.” He makes a show of displaying the ropes around his wrists.

“Go fuck yourself,” Anaris says angrily. “Fuck off, you halfbreed whoreson slavey bastard. I will burn my mark into your flesh, you imbecilic—” A gold-tipped arrow protrudes from his throat. His eyes widen, he tries to scream, but his knees crumble. Anaris collapses to the ground. Andruil, eyes flashing blood, drops her bow.

“My victory,” she says. “I never lose.” She presses a hand to her bleeding side and stumbles over to Solas. He scrabbles back, but she has him cornered against the trunk. Felassan pulls out his own bow and aims.

Andruil prints her bloody hand onto Solas’ face and pushes his head against the tree. Quickly he tugs his hand free of the ropes and grabs at the knife he hid, stabbing at her back. The armor dents the knife, and Felassan sees Solas begin to panic, but then she coughs in his face and falls over.

“Fuck,” Solas says. Felassan jumps down and quickly cuts the ropes at his ankles. Solas slowly pulls himself up, massaging his feet. “They’re in uthenera now, dreaming their wounds away.”

“And you’re naked,” Felassan says.

“And covered in the blood of my enemies,” he returns, holding his hands out. “Like one of Andruil’s own slaves.” He wipes at his face, but only succeeds in smearing the blood across his face. “Let us go—before they wake.” And so, they escape. Felassan tells everyone Solas chewed through the ropes, because that is better than the alternative: being drenched in the blood of your enemies, naked and afraid.

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kirkwallgremlin · 3 years

Text

Memories of a Little Boy

1873 words, Carver & Malcolm Hawke featuring his relationship with Hawke and Bethany. Brothers can be a pain in the ass, especially when you're the one that always seems to get in trouble. Carver talks about the latest problem his brother is causing with their father.

[read on ao3]

“Go away,” Carver shouted, kicking the sticks he’d been building with aside in frustration as the entire thing crumbled to the ground again. Garrett just poked his tongue out. “This is why nobody likes mages.”

“Carver!” he heard their mother snap and he spun in alarm, not realising she had exited the house, let alone moved close enough to hear them.

Of course she’d heard him and not seen Garrett being a pest. It always happened like that.

“Apologise to your brother,” she told him, the look on her face telling him that he was in big trouble. But Carver stood silently looking at her, his fists balled defiantly by his sides. His lip wobbled but he clenched his jaw, determined not to let any of them see it.

Garrett should be apologising to him. He was the one using his stupid magic to make things impossible for Carver for absolutely no reason except to be the most annoying person in the world.

“He deserved it,” he said, watching his mother’s frown deepen. He knew he was in trouble, knew he’d only get in more trouble by refusing to apologise, but he couldn’t. Apologising was like admitting he was wrong and he wasn’t.

Tears burned in his eyes, threatening to fall and he tried to blink them away. The effort of holding them back made his throat hurt.

Garrett folded his arms, standing beside their mother. He poked his tongue out again and Carver stamped his foot, frustrated.

“You always take his side,” he yelled. “You like him better because he’s a mage. But I’d be happier if the Templars came and took him away.”

He knew he’d gone too far but he felt like sometimes it was true and the words were out there now. Determined not to let either of them see him cry, he turned and ran, heading away from the house, hoping he wouldn’t run into anybody else.

“Carver Aristide Hawke!” he heard their mother yell after him, the full name further compounding evidence that he was in Big Trouble. “You come back here right now.”

Maybe by the time he came back, she’d be less mad and he wouldn’t be in as much trouble.

Maybe he wouldn’t come back. That’d show them.

There was a rocky hill near the lake outside the village and Carver found himself there, tucked in behind a boulder where he could keep himself slightly hidden from the main road. He didn’t know how he felt, really. Angry yes, at Garrett, at their mother, at himself. Upset. Frustrated. He felt like he was shaking.

A tuft of grass grew nearby, almost out of arm’s reach and he scowled at it, imagining it was Garrett’s head. If he focused hard enough, maybe he’d be able to do something magic to it. Set it on fire. Freeze it. Shake it out of the ground or suck the life out of it like mages could apparently do.

Nothing happened.

Nothing ever happened when he tried. Not like the others. Not like Garrett or Bethany.

He ripped the grass out of the ground instead, flinging it away as hard as he could.

“Whoa there,” somebody said and Carver curled in on himself, legs tucked up against his chest. “Careful, Junior. You’ll take somebody’s head off.”

His father came into view beside the rock. He didn’t look angry but Carver didn’t want to take any chances. If he was here, then Mother must have told him that something had happened. He just hoped she hadn’t told him what Carver had said.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

The urge to cry was still there and Carver didn’t trust himself to answer. Instead he just shook his head. He really wasn’t sure if he was saying no, I don’t mind or no, you can’t, but his father sat beside him anyway.

“Want to talk about it?”

Carver just pulled out another tuft of grass, throwing that one away too. It didn’t go anywhere near as far as he hoped, the weight of the plant not enough to stop it from falling frustratingly short.

His father pressed something against his hand and he took it silently. A rock, one of the small fragments broken from the larger rocks around them.

“This one’s a bit heavier than grass. Might travel a little further,” he said as Carver wrapped his fingers around it. Carver glanced at him quickly, looking away when he thought their eyes might meet, pulling his limbs tighter around himself. “Just aim that way, away from the path. We don’t want to be responsible for any injuries.”

The edge of the rock was rough under Caver’s skin as he ran his thumb along the broken edge. He finally gave in, releasing himself slightly from the ball he’d curled into, pulling his arm back as he threw it as far he could, the distance much more satisfying than the grass had been. Before he even had time to lower his arm, another rock was being offered.

“Think you can make it all the way to the water?” his father challenged him, lifting his own rock. “I bet I can.”

None of their rocks made it even close to the water, but Carver didn’t really care. It felt good to throw them, like he was throwing parts of his anger and frustration away with every pebble.

“Hey Junior, this one looks like a heart,” his father said, holding the rock up to Carver. Carver did his best not to smile as he took it.

“Can I keep it?” he asked shyly and his father laughed, nodding as Carver slipped the rock into his pocket, flipping it between his fingers. It was the perfect size to hold.

“So Junior, ready to tell me what happened yet?”

“Garrett was using his magic on me,” Carver said, still fiddling with the rock in his pocket, trying to stop his mood from dipping too much again. “I was trying to build a wall so Bethany and I could be knights attacking a castle and he set one of my sticks on fire. And then he kept making the ground shake so they’d fall over. And he wouldn’t stop even though I kept telling him to.”

“Ah. We’ve been practicing that one,” his father said. “I wondered why he was so enthusiastic about practicing it. I’ll talk to him about that.”

“He always does things like that. But then I always get in trouble. Mother didn’t even want to hear what happened. She just yelled at me when he was the one who did something wrong.”

Carver’s lip wobbled as he gripped his new rock tightly. He ran his thumb over the smooth surface, rubbing circles against it.

“Must have been frustrating,” he said and Carver sniffed, trying to stop his nose from running like it was threatening to do. He nodded.

“I didn’t mean what I said though. About nobody liking mages or the templars taking him away. I’d miss him if that happened.”

“I know. And I’m sure Garrett does too. ” His father wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in for a sideways hug. “It’s easy to say things you don’t mean when you’re angry. But it’s important to be careful. You can’t always take things back once they’re said or done.”

“I know.” Carver looked down at the ground. He’d felt guilty about it ever since the words had left his mouth. “Why do you all get to be magic though? Why am I the only one who isn’t?”

When he and Bethany were younger, they’d pretend to be mages like their father, bravely casting their spells in the privacy of their own homes, with nobody around to wonder how the Hawke children knew so much about magic. Then Garrett had discovered his power and the twins had been fascinated, wondering what it was like, wondering if they would be magic too or if they’d be like their mother.

They shared so much that they always imagined they’d share their magic or lack thereof as well. But then Bethany had thrown somebody across a field trying to protect Carver and now he sometimes felt like he was losing her. Instead of the two of them playing together, she’d disappear with Garrett and their father to practice, doing Maker knows what, while he was left behind.

Now, instead of Carver and Bethany, a united force against the world, against Garrett, he was the one on the outside.

He’d tried so hard to make something magic happen, so that he could be like his sister, practicing with his father and his siblings, but no matter how hard he tried, how hard he’d practiced, nothing had ever happened. Bethany had told him how it felt, tried to teach him, but he was starting to lose hope.

“I don’t think anybody really knows how it works,” his father said. “It’s not always a blessing, Junior. It can be scary and dangerous and it’s forever. You’d always be looking over your shoulder, forever.”

Carver couldn’t help but think he didn’t care. He could face that danger with Bethany, both of them together. It wouldn’t matter, not if they were together. But instead, she was facing it alone.

“You have an important job too, Junior,” his father said. “There’s lots of ways to protect people without magic. Things you can learn to do when you don’t already have magic. Maybe we can practice those some more if you’d like to learn to fight.”

Carver looked at him, nodding with wide eyed enthusiasm. They’d done play fighting before but never proper teaching, and he liked the idea of that.

And what use would magic be against a sword? Maybe he’d finally get the upper hand on Garrett.

“Alright, tell you what, kiddo,” he said, ruffling Caver’s hair. “We head back and I’ll see what weapons I can find for you some time. You ready to go?”

“Can we start now?” asked Carver, still full of enthusiasm as he bounced to his feet. The rock in his pocket bounced against his leg as his father laughed.

“Maybe not today,” he said. “It’ll take time to find something and I’ll have a think about the best way we’re going to practice. I’m a little rusty with a sword, haven’t needed one much. But we’ll find something, won’t we, Carv?”

Carver nodded, a grin spreading across his face. Maybe he couldn’t do magic but he could protect his family in another way. Maybe he could be the best warrior in the Hawke family.

“You’ll still need to apologise to your brother and mother though.”

Carver frowned, his lower lip stuck out.

“Fine,” he said.

But even the idea of that, of admitting that he was wrong even though it was definitely Garrett’s fault, wasn’t enough to outshine his new excitement as he took his father’s hand and they headed home.

If being a mage was so dangerous, then maybe the reason he wasn’t one was because it was his job to keep his family safe instead.

Maybe he wasn’t ever meant to be Carver Hawke the mage.

Maybe he was meant to be Carver Hawke the warrior, protector of his family instead.

#i am once again emotional about #carver hawke #malcolm hawke #carver and malcolm #this idea barged its way into my head at 1:40pm on monday when i was driving to a work meeting #and it was written and finished less than 10 hours later lmao #gremfic

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harringrovetrashrat · 4 years

Note

bodyswap au

This turned into... something. Dunno why, but it just needed to happen this way, lolololol

Hope you enjoy, yo!!!!! <3

When Hopper arrived at the station, he was hoping for a quiet morning of coffee, contemplation, and sneaking some donuts that El would definitely be mad at him about later. No donuts. Doctor said less sugar. He appreciated the care, but also he wasn’t going to stop eating donuts. Not with the world being as weird as it was.

But when he walked in, Flo had a look on her face that made him want to turn right around and leave.

“You have visitors,” she spat out. “I’ve never known the Harrington boy to be so rude--”

“Thank you, Flo,” Hopper said, cutting her off before she got started. “Why don’t you take an extra break and get yourself something from Melvads?” He grabbed his wallet, putting a five on the table in front of her. “On me.” She eyed him warily but snatched it up and grabbed her purse. He gave her a smile that wasn’t more than his lips stretched into a line, before grabbing a cup of coffee. He downed one, ignoring how it burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth, then poured another. Harrington being rude? It meant something was up. Bratty, sure. Snarky, probably. But rude? Not with the parents he had.

When he walked into his office, Hopper paused. Billy sat in a chair next to Steve, legs crossed at the knee as one foot bounced nervously and he chewed on his lip. Next to him was Steve, legs spread wide, slouched in the chair, chewing on his cuticle aggressively. When they heard the door open and close, they turned, both speaking at the same time.

“Hop, you’re not gonna believe this--”

“Some seriously fucked up shit is going on in this fucking town--”

The words came out of the wrong mouths. Billy looked at Hopper, eyes big and innocent in a way he’d never seen on the kid. And Steve looked like he’d stepped in dog shit, nose scrunched and mouth turned down. They spoke over each other, making Hopper rub his temples as he sat down heavily in his chair.

He was getting too old for this shit.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he said, voice loud. The boys’ mouths snapped shut, Billy looking sheepish and Steve clenching his jaw and looking away. “One at a time, please.” He lit a cigarette, taking a deep inhale. He exhaled slowly, letting the nicotine calm his jitters, before looking back at the two teens. “Steve,” he gestured to the boy. “You first.”

Billy started talking.

“So when I woke up this morning--”

“I said Steve,” Hop said, cutting him off.

“I am Steve,” the blonde replied. Hopper stared at him before taking another long drag off his cigarette and a large gulp of his coffee.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice calmer than he’d thought it would be. “You’re who?”

“I’m Steve,” Billy, no, Steve, said again. “I woke up this morning in Billy’s body, in his bed, in his house.” He could see it now. Had seen it before but couldn’t place why. The way Billy ran a hand through his hair and gestured wildly. The way Steve was silent and taking up space with a large scowl. They weren’t themselves. Because they were each other.

“Okay,” Hopper said once the boys had explained. “So last night you two had a fight in the woods.” He gave them both a stern look, getting rolled eyes and a sheepish grin in response. “And,” he rubbed his forehead, eyes wide as he tried to wrap his head around whatever the fuck was happening, “This lady came out of a tree,” he closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, “And said she was cursing you until you admit the truth.” The two boys nodded and Hopper felt himself age 10 years. “It ended the fight and you both went to your respective homes and woke up,” he sighed, “Like this.”

“Yeah,” Billy replied, twisting Steve’s face into an annoyed grimace. “That’s what we fucking said.”

“I need you to turn the attitude down about 10 notches,” Hopper snapped. Billy just sank lower in the seat. ��This is a lot to wrap my head around, so excuse me for making sure I got the facts right.” Billy scoffed, but there was a flush to his cheeks. Well, Steve’s cheeks. Steve was a blusher, Hopper knew. Boy turned red and clammy when he tried to lie. His skin was pale enough that any color stood out.

Hopper wondered if Billy even realized.

“What do we do?” Steve asked. The genuine concern coming out of Billy’s mouth was weird, but at this point, weird was normal and normal was a distant, fond memory. Hopper sighed, pushing back a little and rubbing his hand across the stubble on his chin.

“Well, you admit the truth, whatever that is.”

“Fucking obviously,” Billy snapped. He slid down a little at Hopper’s warning stare. “But she didn’t give us any idea of what the truth even was.”

“Well, what were you two fighting about?” Steve and Billy looked at each other and shrugged.

“I mean, it just kinda started?” Steve said, voice going up at the end.

The two of them had been tousling since Billy had arrived. The amount of times Hopper was called to basketball practice, or the park, or the arcade, were innumerable. And they didn’t even seem to know what they were fighting about. They just got under each other’s skin, he guessed. Billy knew how to needle and jab until a person snapped, and Steve was as bratty as they came, though he had gotten better since the whole monsters thing. Billy had too, for that matter. They should have been friends. It wasn’t like they didn’t get along at all. They were a good team, capable, and he trusted them with El.

So it made no sense for them--

Oh.

Hopper pursed his lips. Thought back to their fights, really thought. Remembered the way Billy would watch Steve like a hawk, eyes always on him. The way Steve never stopped talking about Billy, even if it was to complain. Thought about how it wasn’t right for boys to be physical with each other unless it was a fight.

Thought about Neil Hargrove and John Harrington and their bullshit.

“Can I ask you two something?” He sniffed, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth as he tapped on his desk anxiously. “And I want an honest answer.” He looked at them, face grim and serious. They stared back, equally wary and confused. “Why do you keep fighting?” Neither of them replied, just shrugging and not looking at each other.

“Just, I dunno, just ‘cause?” Billy said, poking at the desk with his foot.

“Yeah, you know, rough housing,” Steve said. Billy nodded, like he was convincing himself that was only what it was. “Boys being boys and all that.”

“Sure,” Hopper said. “That’s a reason. But I don’t think that’s why you two are doing it.” He leaned back in his chair. Steve’s eyes darted to Billy and back, panicked. Billy didn’t look up, but he was tense. Long fingers curled into a cashmere sweater, ready for fight or flight.

Hopper knew he wasn’t approaching this right. Knew he was in some dangerous territory. But this was some fairy tale shit, so it probably had a fairy tale ending.

He honestly hoped the boys liked each other like he thought, or his suggestion was going to get him way more grief than he’d like.

“What do you think?” Billy’s voice was as tense as he was.

“I think,” Hopper said, trying to keep his voice soft and without judgement, “That fighting is an excuse. I think that you two like each other a lot more than you let on.” Billy stood, chair squeaking as it scrapped on the floor. Steve’s knuckles were white against the denim on his legs.

“I don’t know what you think you’re playing at--” Billy’s voice was shaking.

“I think you both know exactly what I’m saying,” he said, cutting Billy off. “And I’m not--” He struggled to find the right words. “Look. I don’t care whether you two like each other or not. It makes no difference to me. But I know that there aren’t many ways to show that. Not when it’s two men.” Both of them were sweating and tense and Hopper didn’t know what to say to fix it. “I think you two would rather date each other than fight, but don’t know how to say that to the other person.”

“Wh-What?” Steve laughed, all nerves. “There’s no-- Billy’s not-- I mean, I’m not--”

“That’s a real riot,” Billy said, mean and scared. “A real laugh riot, Chief.”

“Listen!” Hopper boomed, tired of it. Tired of magic and weird and bullshit. The boys’ both stopped talking, staring at him. “I said honest answers. This lady saw you two fighting in the woods, right? Fighting over nothing. Fighting as an excuse to get close.” They opened their mouths but he held his hands up. “Why would she say you needed to tell the truth. Why did she put you into each other’s bodies?” This made them both relax, made them think. “This is all some weird high fantasy, sci-fi shit. I don’t understand it. But what I do understand is finding excuses to be near someone you shouldn’t want to be near.” They looked at each other and Hopper felt the energy between them shift. They locked eyes and didn’t move.

“I--” Steve stuttered. “I--”

“Be honest with each other,” Hopper said. “And maybe you’ll see some changes.” The look the boys shared got more intense and Hopper didn’t want to witness them being honest. Whatever that would entail.

“I’ll call the school, get you guys out for the day. Go to Steve’s and talk. But get out of my office.” With a nod, and not even a spare glance to Hopper, the boys left. Hopper rubbed a hand over his face before holding his head in his hands.

When he got a call that afternoon, confirming that Everything has gone back to normal, well, except…you know, he allowed himself an extra donut. Because he fucking deserved it.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #prompt #gideongrace #jim hopper #body swap #ficlet #how is this almost 2k wtf

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lilchibi-chan · 4 years

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Siren Song: The Date

If you haven’t read part 1 you can read it here

18+ WARNING FOR SEXUAL THEMES AND LANGUAGE

Tonight is the night of your date with Keigo and your stomach is absolutely tied in knots. It’s currently 4, which gives you enough time to get ready so that you won’t keep him waiting. You decide to take a relaxing shower to help calm your nerves. Then you brush your teeth, so that your breath is fresh and clean. After, you decide to do your hair and throw some bombshell curls in it. At this point, it’s 5:30 meaning you have enough time to do a movie style montage of going through your clothes until you find the perfect thing. A red body con dress with spaghetti straps and some clear heels. It was definitely one of your favorite dresses, but it also reminded you of Keigo’s wings. You decided to do a “no makeup” makeup look to make yourself feel like even more of a bad bitch. You also added a small amount of highlighter to accentuate your cheek bones. You spray some perfume and look at the clock. It’s 6:15, so you decide to clean while you have the time and you won’t come home to a messy apartment.

You walk out into your living room at exactly 7 and sure enough you hear a knock on your balcony door. Keigo is there with lilies, your favorite. He looks at you floored by how beautiful you look.

“W-Wow kid, you look-wow,” he says basically speechless

“Ya know, you could just come in through the building like everyone else,” you say jokingly to try and get him to say something

“Why would I do that...when I can come straight to you,” He says following you inside as you go to kitchen to get a vase for the flowers

Keigo watches as you walk to the kitchen, he eyes you up and down because he is still not over how good you look.

When you turn around, you notice him staring.

“Like what you see,” you ask teasing him and receiving a laugh

“You have no idea,” he says under his breath, so that you don’t hear

You quickly placed the flowers in some water and walk over to where he was standing.

“Ready!,” you say with an excited smile

He grabs your hand and leads you to the balcony. He then climbs up on the ledge and reaches out his hand

“Do you trust me,” he asks expectantly

“Yeeesss,” you say nervous, but intrigued

He pulls you up on the ledge with him then cradles you in his arms.

“Hold tight kid,” He says, his eyes glimmering with excitement

He takes off and at first you have your eyes closed. You feel your heart beating so fast that it’s gonna beat out of your chest from the excitement and adrenaline you feel.

“Take a look kid”

You do as he says and you can see the lights from the city as far as the eyes could see. Any fear you had went away, as you were too mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of you. Keigo was used to seein this view, but as a first time flyer on Air Hawks, he figured it was something you should see.

“So what d’ya think,” he asked

“It’s amazing,” you say with laughter in your voice,”it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“That feeling you have right now... that’s the feeling I had the first night we met and that’s how I feel every time I’m with you. Whether it’s listening to you sing or hearing your laugh. Seeing that gorgeous smile and that beautiful face of yours. That feeling of pure happiness and wonder and hope, that’s how I feel with you. My baby bird.”

“Keigo,” is all you manage to get out before his lips meet yours and you can literally feel every ounce of his feelings for you in that one kiss.

“C’mon kid, there’s somewhere I wanna take you. Not that you really have a choice considering we’re hundreds of feet in the air and you can’t really follow me up here,” he says with a soft,breathy chuckle

He flies through the sky once more and you arrive at a really fancy restaurant. It’s empty, with the exception of the host and a couple waiters, the bartender and kitchen staff.

“I rented out the whole place for us. I hope that’s okay, if not I understand if it’s too-“

You cut him off by giggling, finding his anxiousness very cute.

“It’s fine,it’s not too much at all. I find it very romantic actually.” You say trying to reassure him

He let out a deep breath of relief.

You both sat down at the table and ordered drinks. Hawks had actually ordered the appetizer and entree beforehand. He even ordered desert.

While you both waited for everything, you decided to strike up conversation.

“Keigo,” you start,“can I ask you something?”

“Of course, baby bird,” he says in a comforting tone after hearing the uneasy-ness in your voice

“Why me? I know for a fact you have women fawning over you, basically worshipping the ground you walk on and you chose to ask me to go on a date with you. ” you ask, insecurities flooding your mind

“Baby bird, to put it simply, you’re the only woman who makes me feel the way I feel when I’m with you. That sounded better in my head, but what I’m trying to say is, you don’t want Hawks the winged hero, you’re more interested in getting to know me. From the night I heard you singing on your balcony, I knew you were special. What I feel for you, is that once in a lifetime, can’t eat-can’t sleep, reach for the stars kind of love. I know it’s really early to say that, but you’ve got me hooked kid.” He says honestly

You can’t help, but blush and feel a little embarrassed by his honesty. Obviously not embarrassed in a bad way, but in the best,most amazing way possible.

Your appetizers and entree come out of the kitchen at the same time and you devour everything. Not like an animal though, you have class. You were just really hungry because you didn’t wanna be rude and not eat anything if he did take you to a restaurant, so you had a light lunch, just something to hold you until dinner with him.

“A girl with an appetite huh,” he says teasing you and it caused to blush for the millionth time tonight

“I like it,” he says with a warm smile causing your whole face to go red

“I didn’t wanna be rude and not eat everything,” you say honestly while playing with your fingers

“Baby bird, you don’t have to starve yourself for me. I like you just how you are and nothing is gonna change my mind about that or how I feel about you.”

You give a small smile

“Thanks Keigo.”

Dessert comes out and you see that Hawks has ordered you a slice of tiramisu because he remembered it’s your favorite and on the plate it has a special message Be My Love Bird?

You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes and a huge smile on your face.

“Yes. A thousand times yes.” You say happily

He is just ecstatic and can’t contain his excitement. He rushes up from his chair and moves next to you. He then turns your chair so that your whole body is facing him. He cups your face and bends over, so that he can kiss you. Filled with pure happiness he deepens the kiss and asks for permission to enter your mouth by moving his tongue between your lips. You allow him to enter and this turns into a full make out session. You can feel yourself getting carried away, but you don’t care. Before things get more intense, you feel Hawks pull away.

“How about we get out of here? Then I can show you how happy I am the right way,” he says in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and your eyes roll back from the sensual tone of his voice

He puts some money on the table and the whisks you outside. This time you both take off like you’re hugging, you holding as tight as you can, but not cutting off his ability to breathe.

You both arrive at his penthouse and you are in awe at how big it is.

“Like what you see, baby bird,” he asks mockingly as you had done before

“It’s just-wow,” you say blown away by the size of the place and the view from it

He laughs at the expression on your face

“So cute,” he says just before kissing you again and again deepening it as he did before

You start to feel the heat raise on your face and ears again as you get lost in the kiss, wanting more from him. You drape your arms around his neck and he proceeds to lift you up, so that you’re straddling him and he carries you to his room. He gently lays you on the bed and then just stands there admiring you and how vulnerable you look. He smiles, then bites his lip.

He then hovers over you and whispers in your ear.

“I’m going to devour you baby bird.”

This leaves you shocked, but still ready for him to do whatever he wants with you.

He begins to kiss your lips then leaves trails of kisses down your neck, breasts and stomach. He starts leaving kisses and small bites on your inner thighs which gains small moans from you and builds up anticipation between your legs.

He released a deep chuckle at your reaction, knowing he was driving you crazy. At this point, you were dripping wet just waiting for him to enter your pussy. He can sense you getting impatient, so he moves back up to your face to look you in the eyes and give you a smirk.

“Relax, you’ll be my song bird soon,” he says, then grinds himself into you, so you can feel his growing erection. Another moan leaves your body. The teasing isn’t over yet, as he decides to work some magic with his fingers. Slowly rubbing your clit, he can feel you get wetter by the second. He enters your body with his fingers causing a gasp to leave your mouth and you arch your back.

“Yeah~, that’s it baby bird. Give yourself to me,” he says seductively

After few minutes of this you start to beg.

“P-please Keigo, I need you.”

“Tell me what you want songbird~. I wanna hear you say it.”

He starts to eat you out. Slurping, licking, even kissing down there. Making you go crazy, having a fit a moans escape your lips.

“You taste so fucking good, songbird~” he says in a low growl

“Keigo,” you say weakly

“C’mon baby bird~, you gotta tell me what you want,” he says in your ear, sounding greedy, but waiting for you to give him permission

“I-I want you...inside me,” you say shy

He looks at you and with the moonlight shining in, he can tell you’re blushing.

“So fucking cute,” he says adding emphasis on ‘fucking’

You hear him slip on a condom and then he hovers over you. He slowly eases himself into you to prepare for his size. At first he has the tip and a bit of his shaft.

“Fuck! So fucking tight.”

He starts to move, slowly and once he feels you loosen up, he inches more of himself into you.

As he moves deeper, moans escape your lips.

“Relax baby bird,” he says then moves super close to your ear,“I’m just gettin started with you,” he says in a deep, husky voice

This causes your eyes to roll back from the erotic tone in his voice. You couldn’t wait for him to ravage you, for him to claim you as his. Just his.

His movements become more comfortable, as you’ve adjusted to his size. He picks up his pace, hit you a little harder and deeper. You start to feel your juices start to drip down as he keeps thrusting himself into you.

“Fuuuuuuck kid,” he says reveling in how warm and wet you are

“Get on all fours,” he demands and you do as he says

Before he enters you he says,“If you want me to stop, just say so”

You nod in response and then he enters you. The feeling of him filling you in this position was almost too much to take, but mama ain’t raise no punk, so you let him get used to you this way before you made him stop.

He started muttering fuck several times under his breath, starting slow just as he did before, but this time the sensation was different. He had a hard grip on your ass as he pulled you into him, doing hard strokes, causing there to be a loud clapping sound as you made impact with him.

He starts going faster and harder. His bedroom is now filled with a symphony of moans coming from the both of you.

“Ah fuck~, ahhh~” he sang feeling himself get closer to his climax

“K-Keigo, ahhh, fuck... so fucking good”

“That’s it song bird, sing for me.”

His movements are now faster than before, stronger now too

“Fuck..K-Keigo, I’m c-close,” you confess

“Me too, song bird.. but I’m gonna take care of you first”

He started to move a little slower so that you could ride out your orgasm. He finished soon after and then cleaned up.

After he cleaned, he met you in the bed and pulled you into him. He wanted to feel your warm skin against his in the purest way. He wanted to hold you in his arms and cuddle you.

He started humming in your ear, resulting in you drifting off to sleep. He did the same and you could feel his chest rising and falling as he took sleepy breaths. This was the most perfect place in the world and you had it all to yourself.

The next morning, you wake up and see Hawks isn’t there next to you. You figured he must’ve left, so still tired, you decided to take a shower and let the warm water heal your body from last night. When you were fully awake, you realized you don’t have any extra clothes.

You grab the extra towel that hung from the towel rack and enter the bedroom. You see on the corner of the bed, he left you a tshirt of his and some sweats. He even wrote you a note.

Baby bird, meet me in the kitchen when you wake up. Breakfast will be waiting for you

You got dressed and walked out into the kitchen. His back was turned, but he heard when you opened the doors to his to room.

“Hey there, baby bird,” he said in his deep voice, sounding like sweet music to your ears

“Good morning,” you say politely

“It’s a little past morning,” he says to you causing you to be confused

You look at your phone

“12:30!!”

“Yeah, sorry about that love bird, but I do tend to have that affect,” he says with a smirk

“S-shut up Keigo,” you say blushing

He chuckles at your reaction

“You’re so cute baby bird,” he says sauntering over to you. When he reaches you, he places a kiss on your lips

You both sit together and eat breakfast, technically brunch at this time. He found little ways to touch you, whether it be your foot, leg, arm, whatever. He just wanted to be close to you.

You spend the rest of the day watching a couple movies until he brings you home.

“See you tomorrow, song bird” he says before leaving

You can’t help but smile about your magical night with Keigo and can’t wait to see him when he visits you while he’s on patrol tomorrow.

I just wanna thank you guys for all the love on Siren Song pt. 1, it means a lot, especially since I love writing and I love this bird man so fucking much. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Lmk if I should do a part 3 🥺

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oohnoniall · 3 years

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Hawk & Sparrow [Rowan Whitethorn x OC] - Chapter 3

WARNINGS; Fantasy violence, cursing, Mirima doesn’t have self-control and that leads to her burning out a Lot, Rowan avoiding his feelings, Mirima having no idea about her feelings, there’s a lot of feelings being avoided, power dynamics in the relationship.

Prologue.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Her body ached, her mind ached. While she had not done anything as horrible as burnout, Fenrys had put her through her paces. She had never known how hard just keeping her control could be. She had never realized just how badly she suffered from control issues. Rowan had told her time and time again that she needed to control herself. But she hadn't realized how hard it was actually going to be.

She trudged into the kitchens, slumping onto a stool that sat just before the fire. Normally, Emrys sat there but he was at the countertop, forming some type of dough that had what appeared to be raisins in it.

"Hard day?" The older man questioned, his eyebrow quirked up slightly.

Mirima scowled slightly as she slipped a dagger from her belt and a whetstone from her pocket. "It didn't seem to be until this morning," she admitted as she dragged the blade along the stone.

"Rowan goes easy on you," Emrys teased her, causing her scowl to deepen. "I haven't seen you this exhausted in twenty years."

"I'm used to Rowan's tactics," she sat down the dagger once she was certain the point was sharp enough. She took care of her blades ritualistically most of the time. Sharpening the blades calmed her, oiling them helped ease her mind. Normally it was saved for a pre-bed ritual, but the night before she had crawled into her bed and fallen into a hard and heavy sleep. She hadn't dreamt. Instead, she had been blissfully at peace. For once in her life, she had not been aware of the dangers surrounding her. She had been aware of the pillow beneath her and the blanket on top of her.

It had been peace she didn't know she craved.

"Of course," Emrys' eyes twinkled as he looked away from her. Mirima knew he meant well. But it was hard to know that he was well aware that she cursed Whitethorn's name half the time and still assumed Rowan was kind to her.

The man had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want her there. He had told her time and time again that she was not ready for any of this. Mirima wanted to prove him wrong. She wanted nothing more than to be welcomed into the cadre. Although, at this point, she was unsure if it was because of her own dreams or if it was just to spite Rowan Whitethorn. Anyone with half a brain would know that spiting him was unwise. The man was more of a monster than anything. It was one of the reasons that Mirima admired him.

Even if she didn't admit that fact to anyone.

"I am! He's been putting me through Hellas and back since I got here," she nearly snarled as she began to peel the potatoes for breakfast. She wasn't normally on breakfast duties, but she had figured it would be best to help out. At least while she was complaining to Emrys.

"Have I?" His voice caused her spine to straighten, her grip on the dagger tightening just slightly. "Considering you're still here, I haven't done a good enough job."

Mirima looked up then, her eyes catching Rowan's long white hair before anything else. Her throat felt dry, her stomach knotted up as she glanced once at the expression on his face. He looked as though he was either amused or furious. With Rowan, it was hard to tell the difference. Especially when it came to her and her training. She knew that he didn't want her there. She knew that he thought she wasn't good enough.

That or he really hated the cadre. She couldn't actually tell.

"I thought you'd be gone for a week," Mirima stated, her tone casual despite the racing of her heart. At least her training had taught her how to keep her composure.

"I never said how long I'd be away," he stated as he leaned casually against the wall. Rowan never looked casual. Something was off. Mirima did not know what it was or what it potentially could be, but she was determined to figure it out. If she didn't it was likely to drive her mad.

"You're normally away for a week," she shrugged her shoulders, turning her gaze back to the potato in her hand. She focused on how the skin felt gritty underneath her calloused fingers. She focused on the way the blade slid across the potato, the slight bit of force it took to begin the initial peeling process. How it felt to focus on something other than Rowan Whitethorn and the stare that always made her feel somewhat nervous. "I assumed that it would be the same."

"We have something to discuss," Rowan said before she could ramble about his usual schedule. "In private."

She knew his meaning. She wiped her dagger off on her breeches before she stood, sliding it back into its sheath in a graceful movement. "I'll be back by dinner. Tell Luca to stop taking the good jobs," she said cheerfully to Emrys. Neither man would be allowed to know how nervous she was.

Rowan had met with Maeve. He had told her he would be. He had also said he'd be away three days but had barely been gone two. Maybe she had been declared unworthy. Maybe Maeve had given up on her. Or maybe it had nothing to do with that whatsoever. This could be something completely different, she just had to trust him.

Easier said than done.

Mirima followed Rowan up the steps and towards his quarters. She had been a fair amount of times. He would patch her up in his rooms, often snapping at her for whichever stupid choice she had made. She had been allowed to watch as he tattooed Gavriel once. She had been silent the entire time, her eyes never left his hands.

His rooms were grander than anyone else's. She wondered if it was because he was a Prince or if it was all to do with the fact that he was part of the cadre. With his dark, wooden furniture and his grand fireplace, it felt cold. Uninviting. Rowan clearly hated Mistward. He had never made it into his home, unlike Mirima.

She had turned the fortress into her own personal safe haven. She had spent so many years there that she would have gone mad if she had not. There was no reason for her to feel cold, alone. Not when the forests sang with the early morning sunlight. Not when she could smell the sea whenever a fresh breeze blew through the fort, always making her ache with need. The need to control it, to harness it. To be part of it. She knew there was a lake hidden somewhere nearby, she had been able to sense it from the moment she had stepped onto the grounds. Yet, she'd never had the time nor opportunity to go off and search for it.

Rowan was not fond of letting Mirima near large bodies of water. He seemed to believe it would be the quickest route to a burnout. Mirima thought he was too cynical. The water was part of her. As much as the air was part of him.

She stood in front of his desk while he took up space in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled, albeit not merrily, spreading slight warmth through the cold room.

"What did you want to discuss?" Mirima's voice came out softer than she had expected it to. She hated sounding small around him. Hated that he might see her as someone meek, vulnerable. She knew that she was a warrior. Someone who would one day stand beside him in battle. She couldn't let him see her as anything else. It would risk the only future she could see for herself.

"I didn't speak to Maeve about you," he didn't look at her as she spoke. Despite his words, she did not feel relieved. "I didn't have the opportunity to."

"What happened, Ro?" Normally, he would have glared at the use of the familiarity. He would have told her how inappropriate it was. When he still didn't look at her she realized just how horrible things must be. Rowan never missed a chance to show his disapproval.

"We'll have a visitor during our training sessions," the words seemed forced. She could practically taste the tension in the air.

Mirima worried her lower lip as she took a cautious step toward him. "What do you mean? Is Fenrys going to stick around for a bit?"

"No," his voice was clipped. At least that was normal. He wasn't dying or sick. Mirima hated to think that he would never get to see her successes. She didn't know why she wanted his approval, why she aimed to please him in some fashion. Maybe it was just because then she would know she had done it. She'd beaten the odds and become the member of the cadre she had always wanted to be.

"Tell me," she rested her hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, causing her to drop her hand. It felt as though a shock had gone up her arm from the brief second her fingertips had brushed against his neck. But that was stupid. It was probably just her being far too familiar with her trainer.

"Maeve wanted me to train another girl."

"For the cadre?" Mirima's eyes grew hard as Rowan finally turned to face her. There was something in his eyes. Something that dulled the forest green to a grassy color. She wondered what that emotion was but found that she did not care. Anger coursed through her body. It burned too brightly and too quickly for her to care about whatever Rowan Whitethorn was feeling.

"Hellas, Mirima, no," Rowan snapped at her. The anger that had flared so brightly quickly calmed. "I wouldn't train another damned soul for the position you want. You'd gut them than me. No, this is just a little demi-fae who never got control over their magic."

"Who can't control their magic?" Mirima did not see the irony in her own question. She had always assumed her own control issues were rare. She had no idea where they stemmed from, just that no one else in her village had ever had trouble doing what they wanted with their magic. Neither had anyone else in Doranelle.

"Someone who's afraid of it," Rowan stated bluntly.

Mirima gave him a mock glare. She wasn't sure if he was completely wrong about that. It brought forth a question that she had never had to ask herself before. Was she frightened of her magic? Did she know what to do with it? She thought she did. She thought that it was as much a part of herself as breathing. But could there be something deeper? Rowan had never brought up this idea before. It was enough to temper her tongue, to make her sit and think for a moment.

"I'm not afraid," she stated after thinking for a few moments. She didn't know if she was telling him the truth or not. But it felt like it. She felt as though she would know if she truly was afraid of the power that lived within her.

"You're not afraid of anything," Rowan sounded as though this were not a compliment. "You'd sooner get yourself killed than listen to reason. That isn't bravery, Mirima. That's foolishness."

His words stung her more than she cared to admit. Is that why he didn't want her fighting alongside him? He thought her nothing more than the village fool? Perhaps it made sense. Mirima had lived her entire life in the same small village. She had been stifled there but that didn't mean she had belonged elsewhere. Maybe she was just a foolish girl from Varnsway. Maybe that was all she would ever be.

"Tell me about my new friend," she moved then, sitting on top of his desk as though it were her own. Rowan seemed not to notice, too lost in his thoughts as he stared at the mantle above the fireplace. "Will I have to play nicely?"

"Maeve will kill you if you drown her," he said bluntly. "Besides, Terrasen would be left without a queen."

That caught Mirima's attention. Her spine straightened, her eyes turning into the blue of a crystal sea. "So it's true then? Aelin did survive the massacre?"

"It stays between the two of us," Rowan warned as he finally looked away from the mantle. Upon seeing her on the desk, one of his brows twitched slightly.

"Why?" Even as she asked, she realized that it would be safer for the woman. "I mean, wouldn't she be better off with a guard surrounding her at all times? I'll volunteer for a shift."

"Mirima," he snarled, causing a slight smile to cross her features. "She'd be in more danger if anyone knew. Adarlan is after her. If they manage to kill her, you know they'll have some advantage over Wendlyn. It'll break their spirits."

"Which means we're next." One didn't have to be a military strategist to understand the risk the wrath of Adarlan. Mirima was not afraid of anything, Rowan had not been wrong about that, but the idea of bending the knee to the tyrant of Adarlan.

"You'll help me train her. You know what it's like to be uncontrollable. Help her get used to life here," he looked older. His eyes darker than she had ever seen him, lines beside his eyes showing his half-century of life. She wanted to make things easier for him. She wanted to give him a moment's reprieve. But she couldn't. Mirima knew that they needed to keep some sort of wall between them.

Even if she gave him nicknames.

"Ro," she picked at her fingernails, "are you certain that's a good idea? I could drown her. Or you. Or I could accidentally kill her during swordplay or something."

"I trust you."

He'd never said that to her before. Rowan had never made her feel as though she could do anything she wanted. Half the time, he was trying to get her to abandon her dreams. Half the time, it felt as though he wished he could snap her neck and be done with her. Having his trust was something that she had never dreamed of. She had always thought that he would turn his back on her the second he was done training her.

Maybe there was hope for them yet. Maybe Mirima would be able to prove herself to him through this whole damned thing. Or maybe it would just ruin whatever trust she had managed to build. Maybe she would never truly be able to live up to her expectations of herself. But that was okay. Rowan trusted her and that was all that mattered.

At least for now. Mirima knew she still had a very long way to go when it came to proving herself.

"So what's our plan?" She looked him in the eyes, ignoring the way her stomach knotted when the forest green met hers. It had happened every single time her eyes met his. Thirty years, thirty long years of feeling something odd whenever he looked at her. It was no wonder she tried to force that away, to tell him jokes when she shouldn't and to make light of things when she was terrified.

"I don't know yet," Rowan admitted as he stepped over to her. His steps were light, never making a single sound. She wondered how often he had prowled around, silent and always listening. How many times had he caught her talking about him with Luca and Emrys? How often had he heard her curse his name?

Despite both of them having the heightened senses of a Fae, Rowan had always been more of a predator. For years, he had been walking that line by himself. He had been alone with only the bloodlust and the killing that Maeve had made him do. Mirima saw it as glory, despite not knowing the truth of any of it. It was Rowan's business. She knew better than to ask him about any of it.

She would take the stories told by others over the haunted look in his eyes whenever he pinned her any day. She didn't want to relive her own moments of glory. She supposed it would be the same for him.

"Rowan Whitethorn not knowing something?" Mirima teased, a gleam in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her head tilted back, blonde locks cascading down her back in a waterfall while a playful smirk found a home upon her lips. "Now that is something I never thought I'd see."

"When will you learn how to talk to a superior?" His brows furrowed slightly as he looked down at her. She had to ignore the overwhelming scent of pine and snow that clung to him.

She hated that stupid scent. Hated how she dreamed of it at night, how she felt both enraged and comforted by it. None of it made sense to her. Nothing about Rowan Whitethorn would ever make sense to her. He was horrible and kind, the worst and the best. He was everything to her and nothing all at once.

It was a miracle she had managed to keep his name out of her letters to her parents.

"When will you learn that I'm not inferior to you?" Mirima turned her head away from him, wanting to break free from his gaze and that disgusting scent.

"No one said you were," his fingers twitched. She wondered briefly if he wanted to run his fingers through his hair or strangle her. Either option seemed reasonable. "But you can't hope to make it any further if you don't listen to your commanding officer. They're not all as friendly as me."

"Or Fenrys," Mirima interrupted.

"I heard that he made you nearly flood our practice space," he snorted. "That doesn't seem as friendly."

"So I'm not great at breathing exercises," she shrugged her shoulders. "I still managed to go without burning out." She was surprised that Fenrys had not told Rowan of her disappearing act. She would have been made to run laps until she vomited, would have been reprimanded hundreds of times had she done the same to Rowan. He would never have let her just walk away. Perhaps Fenrys had taken pity on her, perhaps he had seen something that Rowan did not.

That or she had looked as though she were on the verge of burning out.

"Don't joke about that," his voice hardened as he stared down at her. She looked back at him, hating the way he stared at her as though she was nothing more than a piece of glass. "Your burnouts are serious. If you die on my watch, I ..."

Mirima didn't want to know what he would do. She didn't particularly care either.

"I am not going to die, Rowan. I know myself better than any of you seem to realize," she crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking more like a petulant child than she realized.

"You're not invincible, Mirima. You never will be," he told her, looking down at her with a gaze that she could not comprehend. Rowan Whitethorn gave her several incomprehensible looks. She often wondered if he hated her based on those looks, wondered if he even knew the fire that blazed in his forest.

She doubted it. Rowan was too busy with his own problems to worry about how he looked at her. That wasn't something either of them thought about. It was always about training, always about Rowan teaching her everything she needed in order to be part of the cadre. Part of everything.

"I'm capable though," she breathed softly, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll help you train her. Just ... Just don't let my training fall to the wayside. I expect to be in the cadre by the end of the year."

Mirima shoved herself off of the desk, brushing against him as she did so. Rowan quickly backed away, his spine stiff and his gaze hardening to one she knew so well. She began to leave. Her gait smooth and steady unlike the pounding of her heart.

"You'll never be ready," he called after her. "Lorcan would eat you alive just from your recklessness."

"Then I guess you'll have to enjoy the show," Mirima stated without ever looking back at him.

She kept up appearances as she headed back out of Mistward, a smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes that normally meant trouble. If Rowan thought she was nothing compared to this would-be-queen she would just have to prove him wrong.

She slid a dagger out from the sheath on her thigh, twirling it between her fingers as she headed deep in the forest. If Rowan was giving up on her, she would train herself.

Hellas save them.

#rowan whitethorn #rowan x oc #rowan whitethorn x oc #rowan is running out of patience #mirima floros #mirima is trying #rowan x mirima #mirima doesn't believe in feelings #celeana sardothien #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass oc #soulmate #mates #mate au #I ship them no one else does but I do and that’s what matters #are they soulmates or are they both just depressed #cadre

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recentanimenews · 3 years

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FEATURE: 21 Great Anime You Should Absolutely Watch In 2021

Happy Anime Day! With every season bringing a plethora of new series, there are now countless shows and movies, both new and old, to watch. Whether it's adventure, comedy, romance, or drama you're looking for, here are 21 anime series you should add to your watchlist in 2021.

1. My Hero Academia Season 5

When it comes to the next chapter of My Hero Academia, 2021 couldn't come fast enough. Season 4 showed audiences just how high the stakes really are and how dangerous the enemies can be. Season 5, which recently premiered in March, will not only deliver high-level action, but we'll also get more time with the great slate of heroes and villains showcased last season.

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2. Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba the Movie: Mugen Train

After hearing the news of Mugen Train dominating the box office, the time has come for North American audiences to experience this highly anticipated film. Mugen Train will be available for digital release this summer and will help fill the void fans of the series have been feeling since the season ended. And we can always revisit Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba in the meantime.

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3. The Devil Is A Part-Timer

The Devil Is A Part-Timer! offers lots of comedy with all the appeal of your traditional fantasy series, but it takes place in the modern world. Demon Lord Satan gets transported to Tokyo, and while his original goal was to take over his homeland of Ente Isla, Satan finds a better path to world domination ... climbing the ranks at the local MgRonalds! It's fun, it's wacky, and it's one of those series we never thought would get a second season, until now.

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4. Given The Movie

Talk about a bag of mixed emotions. Like the series, you'll feel proud and happy one minute, and then a pile of mush the next. Given The Movie provides a touching viewing experience following these fractured characters as they navigate their personal feelings, as well as expressing their innermost emotions through music.

5. Hunter X Hunter

2021 marks the 10-year anniversary of Hunter X Hunter. Whether you've never seen this series or you've re-watched it hundreds of times, come celebrate this epic title's milestone!

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6. MEGALOBOX 2: NOMAD

MEGALOBOX brought all the charm of a '90s anime, but with the story of a futuristic society that takes boxing to a whole other level. Gearless Joe made a name for himself in Season 1, and although things have changed and gotten complicated, he's "not dead yet." For Joe, the fire still burns within him, and he seeks to fight once more.

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7. Osamake: The Romcom Where The Childhood Friend Won't Lose!

Finally, a series where the childhood friend captures the heart of the MC ... I hope? It is a harem after all! Osamake: The Romcom Where The Childhood Friend Won't Lose! has a whole lot of comedy, a whole lot of shenanigans, and a noticeable amount of ... revenge. It looks like an epic competition is about to get underway!

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8. Chihayafuru

If you're experiencing Haikyu!! withdrawals, then Chihayafuru may be the next best sports anime for you! Now don't be fooled. Although Chihayafuru is all about Karuta, a Japanese card game, it still delivers the same level of development and high-stakes settings as other sports anime. This may be one of those series you always saw around but never watched but if there was ever a time to binge, it's now!

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9. Tokyo Revengers

With the manga receiving much praise, probably one of the most anticipated anime adaptations for 2021 is Tokyo Revengers. Motivated by tragedy, Takemichi Hanagaki finds himself in the past, climbing the ranks of the Tokyo Manji Gang in order to change destiny. He may not appear the toughest, but he's determined to get through the intense situations he finds himself in.

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10. To Your Eternity

Knowing this is a story from Yoshitoki Oima, creator of A Silent Voice, To Your Eternity, will surely be an adventure that tugs on your heartstrings. Audiences will witness an intimate journey of life and death revolving around an emotionless orb with no identity but can take the shape of those around it. There will be elements of time, drama, emotion, plus Hikaru Utada performs the theme? ... Sold! Want to know more? Check out the full manga catalog here.

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11. Shaman King

A Shaman King reboot was the best present fans of the original series could've gotten as the title just marked its 20th year since the show premiered back in 2001. Fans will be transported back to their childhood, all the while looking forward to a new story that reflects the manga. The series recently aired in April in Japan, and fans in North America can expect to watch the series sometime later this year.

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12. Horimiya

If you've been searching for a romance anime unlike any other, then you should watch Horimiya if you haven't already. This series takes everything you know about anime romance tropes, and delivers a series of fresh new twists, making for a warm and cozy viewing experience.

13. Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day

If in between all the action and comedy you need a good slice of life series about friendship, Anohana is the series for you! The original series aired 10 years ago, but sometimes a trip down memory lane is exactly what you need. Plus a new visual and news of an upcoming project will surely get you pumped to hit play.

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14. The Rising of the Shield Hero Season 2

Thinking he'd be the hero in this new fantasy world, Naofumi Iwatani ended up being hated, shunned, and stigmatized at the beginning of The Rising of the Shield Hero Season 1. But as he journeyed on, he developed genuine relationships, gained valuable trust, credibility, and gratitude from others. Season 2, airing in October, is ready to continue with Naofumi's journey and progression.

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15. Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid S

Miss Kobayashi Dragon Maid has it all! This series draws you in with its cute appearance, but it surprises you with its mature moments and shocks you with some unexpected sizzle. Plus it has dragons, maids, and sweet raps! Be sure to check out the second season's adventures this July.

16. One Piece

If you haven't already committed to the legendary behemoth One Piece, now may be a good time to start. The anime is set to hit its 1,000th episode this year, and while diving into a series that's so far along can seem intimidating, if you've been spending a lot of time binging TV lately, this series could be your next big marathon.

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17. S8 the Infinity

Take the Tony Hawk Pro Skater video games, and mix them together with vibrant, aesthetically pleasing animation and cool action scenes and you have S8 the Infinity. Sports anime has been really expanding its catalog lately, and this series is an entertaining addition to the genre.

Image via Hulu

18. The Wallflower

A little bit of nostalgia is nice to mix into your anime watchlist. If you're a fan of Ouran High School Host Club, then you'll love The Wallflower! It's got some handsome boys, a cute and quirky girl with a fascination for all things dark and scary, and all the ridiculous antics of a harem!

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19. Death Parade

Death Parade has stayed under the radar, but it at least deserves to be on YOUR radar. A story about the afterlife where a bar represents limbo and its bartender decides the fate of the souls in front of him whether they experience reincarnation, or disappear into the void by playing a game. This is a psychological, thought-provoking drama with some mystery, as we don't know the true nature of the people in the bar, or what led them to where they are. Those secrets will eventually be revealed as the game plays on.

20. Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Like Hunter X Hunter, this year also marks the 10-year anniversary of Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Madoka was and to this day still is a defining series that was a real game-changer for the magical girl genre, showing just how much danger magical girls face. It's a must-watch if you haven't already, so make a contract with yourself to watch or re-watch this series sometime in 2021.

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21. How To Keep A Mummy

How To Keep A Mummy is a heartwarming episodic series to watch when you want to have a feel-good time! Friends and classmates spend time together with their mythical creature companions: A precious, tiny mummy who anytime he holds anything will make your heart melt, a somewhat hot-headed but caring oni, a clever dragon, and a fluffy baku. After catching up on everything on your watch list, have fun with this series to round out 2021.

What anime will you be watching in 2021? Let us know in the comments!

Veronica Valencia is an anime-loving hot sauce enthusiast! You can follow more of her work as a content creator on Twitter and Instagram.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Veronica Valencia

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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amethyst-geek · 3 years

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My predictions for Felix’s role in season 4

A few episodes into season 4 (possibly episode 9 as we know that’s the episode titled Gabriel Agreste), Felix will return to stay with the Agrestes while Amelie has to go on a ling business trip. As to why Amelie is having Felix stay with the Agrestes in Shadow Moth-ridden Paris instead of having him stay with relatives back in London, I have a couple of explanations:

1. Just because London doesn't to deal with Hawk Moth, that doesn't mean London doesn't have its own supernatural problems. Zagtoon has a series in the works called Miss Rose, which is about a magical spy and this series will do with crossover with Miraculous in the upcoming London special, so it stands to reason, that London has just as much supernatural drama as Paris, if not moreso. Therefore, Felix probably has to deal with supernatural threats regardless of where he is, but at least in Paris, the damage caused by akumas and sentimonsters can be reversed by Ladybug.

2. Felix’s paternal relatives have sort of lost interest in Felix following the death of his father for reasons that I’ll explain later in the post (though u can probably already guess if u read my post about a possible return of Chat Blanc).

After Amelie leaves for her business trip, Gabriel asks Felix to meet with him in private. Gabriel then confronts Felix about the ring he stole. Felix tries to deny it, but Gabriel calls him out of his bullshit. Felix then states that Gabriel doesn’t deserve the Graham de Vanily rings and ask him if he even know the story of said rings. Gabriel says no, so Felix then proceeds to tell the story that Amelie told him. Felix tells him that when worn together, they give the wearer special powers. Gabriel then realizes how similar this sounds to the miraculous, particularly the Bat Miraculous he read about in the Grimoire. So he then takes off the ring he’s wearing and asks Felix to put it on to see if the story is true. So Felix puts on the ring, takes out the ring he stole out of his pocket, and puts it on his other hand. When he does this, a bat kwami appears.

After silently kicking himself for not realizing sooner that he had a third miraculous literally on hand this whole time, Gabriel then takes Felix down to the basement. Felix is pretty weirded by this, and Gabriel then asks him if he remembers the deal he made with Hawk Moth. Felix responds “how could u possibly know that... oh crap you’re Hawk Moth aren’t u?” Gabriel confirms that he is and transforms into Hawk/Shadow Moth. Shadow Moth then asks Felix to use the bat miraculous to help him in his quest for the ladybug and cat miraculous. Felix (after getting over the initial shock that his uncle is Hawk/Shadow Moth) is hesitant because while Felix had offered to help Hawk Moth back in his intro episode, that was before the NY special (AKA the one where Hawk Moth threatened to start a nuclear war, not to mention having Mayura have a sentimonster wreck Paris then recall said sentimonster before Ladybug could fix the damage). Shadow Moth then proceeds to change back into Gabriel and show Felix Emilie’s coffin.

Gabriel the proceeds to explain to Felix (and the audience) that Emilie had been using the damaged Peacock miraculous (ok we already knew that, but we still don't know how, and I hope that episode 9 will be the episode we find out via flashbacks). After the explanation, Felix then agrees to help Gabriel, but asks him refrain from trying to start another nuclear war (and to also stop akumatizing August. Not only is it really fucked up to akumatize a baby, but it also proven ineffectual).

The next episode mark the debut not only Bat!Felix, but Swan!Lila (for those who haven't read some fo my earlier posts, I predicted a while back that the Swan Island location that was announced a sometime ago will be home to the Swan Miraculous, which Gabriel will get his hands on and give it to Lila). Throughout season 4 (and probably season 5) Lila and Felix will team up both in and out of costume to cause all sorts of trouble (with Felix only wearing the twin rings when he’s about to transform into Bat!Felix while he wears the ring he already had prior to his debut in his civilian life, this helps throw Ladybug off his trail). However, unlike Lila who has almost everyone fooled (save for Marinette, Adrien, and probably Alya now), a good chunk of Adrien’s classmates will be wary of Felix because of the prank he pulled back in his debut episode. Marinette will especially cautious of him because of the shit she saw him pull while she was Ladybug. That said, some classmates r willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume the “impersonating Adrien to make them think he didn't like them” thing was an grief-induced isolated incident that he feels remorseful about (and I can see Rose being among the classmates to give him that benefit of the doubt, as she’s very trusting). He will still get along with Adrien for the most part =, at least in public. Also at some point in this season, we will also be introduced to Adrien and Felix’s maternal grandfather, an actor and film producer who comes from old money.

Around episode 20 of season 4, Felix will then confide in his kwami about his backstory. At his dad’s funeral his paternal grandmother revealed that he was not the biological son of said dad and that this grandmother only tolerated Felix for her son’s sake but now sees no point in acknowledging Felix now that his dad was dead. After the funeral, Felix asked Amelie is what his grandmother said about his dad not being his biological father true. As it turns out, Felix is actually the son of Emilie and Gabriel and Adrien’s twin brother. When Emilie was pregnant, Gabriel’s career hadn't taken off yet and they were financially struggling enough so that they couldn’t take care of more than 1 child. Around the same time, Amelie and her husband were struggling with infertility. So when Emilie found out she was having twins, she decided to kill 2 birds with 1 stone by letting Amelie secretly adopt 1 of her twins (or at least this is Emilie told Amelie; based on the interactions between Gabriel and Felix in the latter’s debut episode, I’m assuming that Gabriel isn't aware of Felix being his bio son and that Emilie convinced him that his Amelie just happened to get pregnant at the same time she did). This lead to Felix to become envious of Adrien for being the one Emilie apparently chose to keep. He also started to resent Gabriel for failing to realize that he was his biological son (because it’s pretty obvious, even if Emilie and Amelie r twins, the idea of them having identical-looking sons around the same time is pretty improbable, especially since the color of Felix’s hair and eyes is more consistant with with Emilie and Adrien than Amelie, so Felix is certain that Gabriel knows on some level he's his bio son (but Felix doesn't want to tell him until after Emilie has been revived as he fears Gabriel finding out any sooner that Emilie hid hid this from him might lead to him giving up his plans to revive her). While bat kwami can sympathize with Felix’s angst about all this family drama (plus the bat Kwami hates Gabriel's guts for obvious reasons unrelated to the twin drama), the bat kwami points out to Felix that Adrien didn’t any more of the say in matter of which twin Emilie gave to Amelie than Felix and that given Gabriel’s controlling nature, Emilie may have done Felix a favor by giving him to Amelie and her husband instead allowing him to be raised by Gabriel. This causes Felix’s resentment towards Adrien to die down a bit... until he finds out Chat Noir’s true identity.

Somehow, Felix will begin o deduce/suspect that Adrien is Chat Noir. Since Felix knows Shadow Moth’s reasons for wanting the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous, he sees Adrien being Chat Noir as a huge betrayal and decides then and there to destroy Adrien one and for all. The bat kwami tries to talk some sense into Felix, only for Felix to renounce him and place the bat miraculous in his pocket and put his civilian ring back on (which I headcanon as having belonged to his deceased adoptive father). He then asks Gabriel to akuamtize him into a superior version of Chat Noir. Shadow Moth is confused by this, but complies, and the akuma goes into Felix’s civilian ring, transforming him into the new Chat Blanc (if this sounds familiar, that’s probably because I wrote another post predicting that Felix will become the new Chat Blanc. He proves powerful enough for Ladybug and Chat Noir to bring out several temp heroes, but the heroes eventually manage to defeat him. Also during the battle, Shadow Moth overhears Chat Blanc 2.0 refer to Chat Noir as Adrien and Shadow Moth explains to Chat Blanc 2.0 that he saw Chat Noir and Adrien at the same place at the same time back in Gorizilla, and after the battle Chat Noir (thinking that Felix had been unwillingly akumatized and thus wouldn't remember what Shadow Moth told him) assures Felix that he and Adrien r separate people. Felix then goes home and un-renounces the bat kwami. Meanwhile, in order to ensure Felix believes that Chat and Adrien r different people, Chat Noir later approaches Ladybug and tells her “Felix thinking that I might be his cousin reminds me. Someone in my family keeps asking me if I’m Chat Noir, and don’t seem to believe me when I say no. Can I please borrow the fox so I can throw them off their trail?” So Ladybug loans Chat the fox.

Later when Sabine is akumatized into Verity Queen and exposes Lila’s lies, she also finds out about how Lila framing Marinette back in “Ladybug” was partly motivated by Gabriel offering Lila a modeling contract in exchange for keeping Marinette away from Adrien. Confused as why Gabriel hates Marinette that much, she considers the possibility that maybe Lila fed him some lies about Marinette, but she decides to her lasso of truth on Grandpa Graham De Vanily (who happened to be in the tv studio with them as he and Lila were both scheduled for interviews) to get his opinion on Gabriel, this leads to a reveal that the the reason Emilie gave Felix to Amelie was not because she and Gabriel couldn't afford to raise more than 1 kid but because Grandpa Graham de Vanily forced Emilie to do so. You see when Amelie and her husband realized that they wouldn't be able to have biological children, they deciced to look into adoption. However, Grandpa Graham De Vanily loathed the idea of having a grandchild who wasn’t related to him by blood, so when the then-pregnant Emilie told her father she was having twins, grandpa Graham de Vanily (after asking Emilie is she already told Gabriel she was having twins yet, to which Emilie replied “not yet, he still thinks I’m just having 1 baby and I’ll tell him about the twins when he gets home) suggested that she give 1 of the twins to Amelie, then when Emilie said no on the grounds that she didn't want to choose between her kids, grandpa Graham de vanily threatened to use his connections to destroy Gabriel’s budding fashion career and make sure that he and Emilie couldn't get any kind of work needed to support their children. Bat!Felix (who made it to the studio in time to hear his grandfather’s confession, then asks Grandpa Graham de Vanily if Amelie was aware that Emilie had been coerced into giving her Felix, to which grandpa replies that he specifically told Emilie to not tell Amelie about the blackmail. And yes, this is when Gabriel finds out Felix is his biological son, and this would also be when Adrien (as Chat Noir) finds out Felix is his brother.

Amelie returns soon after this and she is pissed at her father for forcing Emilie to give up one of her babies.

#felix graham de vanily #gabriel agreste #amelie graham de vanily #lila rossi #ml predictions #I'm a sucker for long lost family reveals

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vs-redemption · 3 years

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Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch.25)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Lazy Morning (HawksxGN!Reader)

From Cindy: I’ve decided to continue this story to go through the war arc in the manga. Because of this, I’ve had to rethink some plot points and story lines which takes time. Thank you for your patience and enjoy the chapter. It is really fluffy!

Plot summary: As a quirk geneticist, you never really imagined yourself getting involved in hero work. Of course, you never imagined catching the eye of a pro hero either. What starts as a great career opportunity turns into a relationship built upon mutual secrets and trust.

Warnings:

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

⚠️ Fluff!!!

Tag List: @gayforkeigo @marshmallow-witch @redflannel @toyo-shiro @elsasshole @astronomyturtle @iambashfulperson @omiwashere

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide

Waking up next to Hawks was a whole new experience when there wasn’t a rush to head to work or an imminent looming crisis about the secrets you both were currently keeping. With your arms securely wrapped around his body, you unbury your face from his chest and look up to admire his features which looked completely relaxed for one of the very few times since you’d met him. A smile tugs at your lips as your eyes scan over his feathery eyebrows, the black markings around his eyes, his cute little nose, those kissable lips, and finally to the few small hairs growing on his chin. He was gorgeous and you can’t stop yourself from stretching up to place one small kiss on the exposed column of his throat before tucking you head back into the warmth of his chest.

A few twitches from your boyfriend’s wings and a small groan told you that even such a small movement had been enough to disturb him from his sleep. You glance up at his eyes again which remain closed even though one of his strong arms slides over your waist to pull you closer.

“Good morning,” you say quietly.

“Mmm morning,” Hawks’ voice was a bit gravelly as his eyelids finally flutter open to reveal his beautiful golden eyes. “Throat’s dry…” he mumbles.

“Well, nobody told you to go that hard during karaoke,” you laugh softly as memories from the night before resurface in your mind. You wouldn’t mind if life was that relaxed and carefree for you both more often. Seeing Hawks acting open and goofy had reminded you what had drawn you to him in the first place.

“Don’t be mean,” Hawks pouts. “I had to impress your friends, didn’t I?”

“You impress them just by existing,” You assure him before humming contently at the soothing circles he starts rubbing on your back with his thumb.

“That’s right,” he sighs dramatically. “The only person immune to my magic face is you.”

“I’m not immune,” you correct him with a smile. “It’s just that there’s plenty more to like about you besides that.” A mischievous glint blooms in Hawks’ eyes and he raises his eyebrows curiously.

“Oh really?” He asks, “Care to elaborate?” You let out a dry laugh while slipping one of your arms free to reach up and run your fingers through his hair and then cup his cheek in your hand.

“Hmm, nah,” you tell him. “I don’t think so.” Hawks groans at the teasing before dipping his head down to kiss you on the forehead. You close your eyes and enjoy the moment for just a bit longer. As lovely as the morning snuggles were, the thought of the villains intruding in on such an unguarded and intimate time kept you from being able to relax completely. It reminded you of the conversation the night before, when Hawks had admitted to still having some secrets.

It was frustrating because, despite it being scary and stressful at times, you’d really grown to care a lot for the winged hero during your time together, and you wanted to be closer with him and know him completely. Whatever you didn’t know must be very sensitive though, and could probably be used against Hawks if the villains found out. You knew he’d tell you if he could, but until then, you supposed you’d have to bridge the gap between you both as best you could yourself.

“We should get up,” you mumble into his chest and he groans again. “I’ll make you coffee.”

It took a few minutes to convince him to get out of bed, and you had a feeling it was his own inherent need to move that finally motivated him in the end and not your coffee bribe. After all, he could probably send a couple feathers to prepare whatever he needed from the small hotel kitchen anyway.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Hawks asks, leaning against the counter in only a t-shirt and a pair of boxers as he waited for the coffee to brew. You did your best not to let your eyes wander, but hey, you were only human.

“I was thinking about what you said last night,” you hum while reading through a pamphlet of the hotel’s services, wondering if it was worth it to order something to the room for breakfast or if you should get dressed and head to a nearby café. “About learning more about each other by getting to know the important people in our lives.” Hawks looks over at you with cautious curiosity and you smile to assure him you knew to be careful about asking questions he couldn’t answer.

“I know you have to fly back to Tokyo today,” you say just as the coffee machine beeps. Even though you had told him you’d make the drink for him, his feathers set to work before you even had the chance to jump in. “But since the holidays are coming up, I thought it might be fun if you came with me to my family’s Christmas party.”

Hawk’s eyes go wide and his feathers falter just a bit, thankfully managing not to spill coffee all over the floor. “Family Christmas Party?”

“Only if we’re both able to get the time off work, obviously,” you shrug while putting the pamphlet down and shuffling over to stand next to him. His feathers deliver a hot mug of coffee into one of his hands while the other goes around your waist to pull you closer. “What do you usually do for the holidays?”

“Uh, not much,” He admits. “Most of time I’m on call at my agency in Kyushu, just in case there’s any trouble.”

“I was afraid of that,” you admit with a frown. “You said before that you don’t have contact with your own parents, or any really close friends either. That’s why I thought it might be nice to share mine with you.”

“That’s very sweet,” he smiles. “I’ve never had anyone want to introduce me to their parents before.” There was a playful tone to his voice, but you could tell the idea made him a little nervous.

“Don’t think of it like that.” you nudge him. “My parents are chill. They’re not like my boss who’s already planning our wedding. If you can handle her, you’ll be fine with my family.” Hawks hums in thought while sipping his coffee. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

“It was just an idea,” you poke him in the ribs, making him flinch and almost spill his coffee for the second time. “We could always spend the holidays just the two of us. I have more than enough love to smother you with.”

“Smothered in your love,” Hawks grins. “Now that’d be the way to go.”

“Stop,” you try to poke him again but he swings his hips to the side to avoid your finger.

“You must be pretty serious about me,” He teases, “If you’re already wanting to bring me home to your family.” Apparently he was already over the nervousness from before. “Aren’t you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

“No,” you deadpan. “I’ve already told them how weird you are, so they’re prepared.”

“Oh jeez!” He groans dramatically, “You’ve set me up for failure. Am I even going to have a chance of coming off as respectable now?”

“Probably not,” you sigh and shake your head regrettably.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Hawks lets out a laugh. “Didn’t you say everyone in your family is a genius like you?”

“I’m not a genius,” you say modestly. “But yeah, we’re all members of the scientific community in some way. It kind of runs in the family.”

“Shouldn’t you be dating a rocket scientist or something then?” Hawks challenges you with a sly smirk.

“Nope,” you shake your head resolutely. “And even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to because I love you.”

“Aw,” Hawks coos your name while setting his coffee mug down so his hands are free to pull you into his arms. “Come here, babe.” You gladly accept the affection and return the hug. “I love you too,” he mumbles before placing a kiss on your temple. “And I’m sure I’ll love your family too.”

“I knew I could convince you,” You say victoriously. “Now let’s get dressed and go find somewhere to have breakfast.”

Part of you hoped you weren’t rushing things too much with Hawks, but the fact of the matter was that you were serious about him, and wanted him to know that it was okay that there were things he couldn’t tell you right now. Your relationship could still progress, and even if it was a little one sided at the moment, there would be plenty of time later for him to catch up once his mission with the villains was over. You were really looking forward to the day you’d be able to go out with friends or spend a lazy morning with him without any fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. Hawks’ past was still a bit of a mystery to you, but it seemed like he hadn’t been given many opportunities to build close relationships with people. You couldn’t wait to show him all the joys of the things he’d been missing out on.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks #keigo takami #bnha #mha #Cindy's Writing

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pogueshomecoming · 4 years

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Cocaine - JJ Maybank

Requested? yes: "can you do a JJ fic where he gets roped into doing cocaine at a Kook party and ends up becoming a little abusive towards the reader? and she recognizes it as the actions of his father."

pairing: jj Maybank x reader

fill out this survey to join my taglist(s), here's my masterlist, and requests are open!

warnings: mention of drug use, mention of abuse, yelling/arguing, shoving

word count: 3.1k

It wasn't often that the Pogues wanted to crash a Kook party. Why would they when a keg on the point was enough for them?

Tonight was different. JJ and John B wanted to go have some fun, and maybe cause a little trouble. Initially, you, Pope, and Kie protested. There wasn't any reason that they needed to go looking for a fight. Eventually, their persuasive words won. Only on the promise that there would be absolutely no fighting.

You and Kie decided to stick together. Then you both decided it would be a good idea to keep tabs on John B and JJ from afar. You trusted your boyfriend, and even more so with John B by his side, but it was an extra precaution.

After making sure you were in the same room as them for about two hours, Kie sighs. "I think we're in the clear. We never stay a lot longer than this anyway, so they should be ready to go soon. Let's go see if we can swipe some weed to take home."

John B was chatting up a girl, and JJ seemed to be acing the wingman role, so you agreed and followed Kie outside. You texted Pope to wait ten minutes before finding John B and JJ to tell them we're leaving. Ten minutes was just enough for everything to turn to shit.

Kie worked her magic on some Kooks that hadn't been on the island long. You watched her eat up how gullible they are. Five minutes left on the clock. You knew the group would have to go right after Kie snagged what she wanted because it could cause trouble if they realize what she'd taken.

She sits down between them, right where the bag is sitting. If they're stupid enough to show off their product, they're dumb enough to let it get taken. Plus, the name "dirty pogues" didn't come from nowhere. Kie was the perfect bait, though, because everyone knew her parents were kooks, but these newbies weren't aware that she was not.

Kie pulls her phone from her back pocket, likely shoving the bag in its place. Each of the boys enters their number. Two minutes left. She stands up, immediately turning to face them both. You can see the bag slightly poking out of her pocket. She keeps backing up until she's far enough they won't notice, waving goodbye and blowing them a kiss. As soon as she turns back to you, the two if you quickly make it inside and through the house.

Back at the van, Pope is nowhere to be found, and neither are the other two. The timer has less than a minute left, but Pope is always punctual. Kie stashes the bag in the hiding spot under the backseat and joins you in leaning against the outside.

Your phone rings with a new text message from Pope.

Need help with JJ.

"That can't be good." Kie rolls her eyes, and you groan.

"Ten minutes, that's all it was. Okay, I'm going back in, but you stay here. Have the van ready in case he's pissed someone off." Kie salutes you, and you disappear back into the house.

It's not very far through the front door that you're met with John B and Pope pretty much carrying JJ. They each have one of his arms hung around their shoulders, and they're supporting his weight as he stumbles.

"What the fuck? John B, what happened?"

John B only looks at you with guilt all over his face. "We'll explain in the van, we gotta get out of here first."

Pope's words make you look at him but not for long because JJs head drops to his chest, and you reach forward to lift it back up. His eyes are glossy and red, but a slow smile spreads across his face at the sight of you.

"Hello, gorgeous! I've missed you all night."

"Hi, JJ." You say softly, but the worry is written all over your face.

Finally, you push through the front door. Kie gets out of the driver's seat from starting the car and pulls open the back door. "What the hell happened to him? Is he okay?"

"Depends on how much coke someone can do in ten minutes. John B doesn't think there was enough time for him to get enough that would hurt him." Pope blabs, causing John B to curse at him as they set JJ into the backseat.

"Coke? John B are you fucking kidding me? You did coke? That shit is dangerous! Even more so for him, have you met his dad? I'm going to kill you." Anger is written all over your face as you shove John B with both palms on his chest.

"I didn't do any, I turned my back for a few minutes, and then he was gone! It's not my fault, don't push me." John B sounds like a child, and it only makes you angrier. Angry to the point of tears.

"You said nothing would happen tonight. You said you'd be there with him. You said he'd be okay." You push him again with each sentence. Pope grabs you from behind, crossing your arms against your chest. The tears stream down your face with no end in sight.

"I know what I said. Fuck you, I didn't put him in danger on purpose." John B's voice is low, which is a sign that he's angry at you too.

"Come on, guys. This isn't helping, we need to get back to John B's so we can make a decision." Kie steps in between you two and holds her arms out.

"Fine."

You crawl into the back with JJ. He's slumped with his back to the center console and legs stretched out in front of him. You reach for one of his hands as you sit down next to him, and Kie crawls in with you.

"Are you awake, J? Can you feel me?" You give a gentle squeeze, and his eyes barely move to look at yours. It seems like they're going to roll back into his head.

"Can you tell me how many lines you did?" Kie speaks up this time, leaning in front of his face so he can see her.

JJ shakes his head. "I feel great, guys. There's no need to worry." He slurs. You and John B make eye contact through the rearview mirror, and you look away immediately.

"He's never done coke before. It's unlikely, but even one line could cause an overdose. We just need to keep him awake." You look out the window to see you've made it about halfway to your destination.

There's a knot in the pit of your stomach, and you feel like you're going to be sick every time you look at JJ. His hands are shaking, he's sweating, his breathing is heavy, and you place a hand on his chest to confirm that his heart rate has increased. You're scared for him.

Kie continues to talk to him to keep him awake. He's replying, but he doesn't sound anything like himself. You've pretty much zoned out everything by the time you arrive at John B's.

You're the first one out of the van, meeting John B as he hops out of the driver's seat. "You're going to deal with this. You're going to fix this. It's on you if anything happens to him."

The angry but empty threats spill out of your gritted teeth. You turn your back to the house and walk down to the dock to sit. No one follows. Everyone else helps JJ inside. You can't look at him like that because it scares you. You know that as his girlfriend, you should be right there by his side but you can't.

It's at least a couple of hours before you hear footsteps behind you. When you turn to see who's sat down next to you, you see John B.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." His voice is hoarse like he's been crying or yelling or maybe both. "I was talking to a girl, and she dragged me away to uh... anyway, JJ obviously didn't follow because it would've been fucking weird. I didn't think he'd go down to the basement where they were doing those things he never has before. I thought he was coming to find you. Then Pope appeared and said he couldn't find JJ, and it was too late by then." His forearms rest on his knees while his hands are tangled in each other. John B genuinely feels terrible.

"I shouldn't have blamed you. I was, and still am scared. Addiction runs in families, and it only takes one time to get hooked. But JJ is his own person, and I can't blame you for what he did. I'm sorry." You lean into his side, and he swings an arm around your shoulders.

"It's alright. I get it. We do have to be careful with him and these things, I know that now. Anyway, he's coming down, and he asked to see you. If you don't want to yet, I can tell him you went home." John B turns his head to look at your instead of the water in front of you.

"No I want to. I can't have him thinking I ran out on him. Can he come out here?"

John B nods and gets up to go back to the house. "Thanks, JB."

He gives you a smile, and you listen to his footsteps retreating. It's only a few minutes later before you hear another set approaching you, so you stand up and turn to face JJ.

"What, you didn't want to come to me?" He holds his arms out to the side in a big shrug, but you're caught off guard by his tone. It's not JJs usual sarcastic and playful tone.

You let out a small chuckle, trying to play it off. His eyes darken, and he shakes his head. "I wasn't kidding, Y/N. You ditch me for two hours and then demand I come to you? What the fuck?"

This wasn't your JJ. The soft and sweet JJ that held you when you were scared or just feeling lonely. This was a different side of him, one you'd never seen before, but it felt familiar for a reason you couldn't explain. It was a feeling.

"I was scared. I'm sorry, J. I didn't know how cocaine would affect you." You step back as he takes another step forward.

"You just didn't want me to have any fun. You think I didn't notice you at the party? Conveniently in every room, I was, watching me like a hawk, making sure I didn't do anything you wouldn't approve of." The corners of JJs mouth turn down into a frown as he points a finger at you and sneers.

"I w-was just looking out for you. You always seem to fight with a kook when we go to those parties. I want to prevent it, that's all." You put your hands up like you're surrendering.

"No, what you were doing was suffocating me. Fuck, Y/N. I'm not something you get to control." JJ steps closer to you, but you can't step any further back without falling into the water. "Do you understand me?"

His finger jabs into your chest hard enough that you think you'll have a bruise.

"I wasn't trying to control you, JJ. I was trying to make sure you didn't do anything stupid, but it didn't matter because you did it anyway." You fight back. You're not going to shrink to his angry words.

"That's where we disagree, sweetheart. It wasn't stupid, it was fun. I've never been so high. I was floating, drifting, finally not having to think about all the shit that goes on around here. Finally not thinking about everything I go through anymore. Look at this, Y/N." JJ lifts his shirt to reveal a nasty bruise with a gash right through it. Your jaw drops, it had to be recent because you hadn't seen it yet.

"It finally didn't hurt anymore."

It clicks with you. This is all familiar to you already because JJ's father is just like this. Luke is fine when he's high, but once he comes down, he's angry and mean.

"Okay, so let's get this straight, yeah?" You nod at him and he nods back at you, a little bit of confusion coming to his face. "You did this to not feel anything. To get away from how your dad makes you feel, right?"

JJ nods again, his head titled sideways ever so slightly like a confused puppy.

"So how do you think you're making me feel? You're acting just like him right now, JJ, but I know you're better than this, better than him." Your eyes are pointed as you jab his chest just like he did yours. Your face is straight, with no emotion, but his angry face returns in seconds.

"How dare you, Y/N. I'm not any better than him, and I never will be. I'm destined to turn out like him. Why can't you see that? You expect so much, I can't fucking take it!"

Without warning, he pushes your shoulders, and you lose your footing, falling back first into the water. When you surface, John B is pulling JJ away from the dock. "What the hell, JJ? You don't lay your hands on her, ever!"

As John B drags him away, Pope and Kiara lean over the deck to make sure you're okay. Besides having the wind knocked out of you, you don't have a scratch. You're not bothered by JJs words because you know he didn't mean it, you're just hoping he'll come to his senses.

Kie and Pope each give you a hand to hold on to as they help pull you out of the water. Kie gets you an extra set of clothes out of the ones you two had left here for emergencies. You change on the front porch, listening to John B and JJ fight inside.

She's waiting for you back outside, laying on the hammock with Pope. They hold their arms out, and you climb over Kie to lay in their middle. Kie immediately wraps her arms around you because she knows you love to cuddle. Pope shows his affection by giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"You okay?"

A sigh leaves your lips. "Yeah, I'll be okay. JJ didn't hurt me in any way. I just hope I said enough to make him realize he's wrong. JJ isn't his dad, he's nowhere close." Kie squeezes you tighter. Pope pushes his hand against the tree so the hammock sways. It's the middle of the night, so it's a good thing that John B doesn't have any neighbors to worry about.

Eventually, the two of them fall asleep, but you can't. John B and JJ are still going at it, but not as frequently. It gets quiet for what you'd guess is thirty minutes, and then they start up again. There's no telling what's been broken in there.

Finally, at dawn, you're starting to get sleepy when the squeaky porch door opens. You expect to see John B with an update for you, but instead, it's JJ. His eyes are sad, but so is his whole face. He's exhausted, and you can tell in the way his shoulders are slumped.

JJ doesn't notice you're awake at first, but when he does, he can't look you in your eyes. You crawl back over Kie, very ungracefully, and eventually get yourself untangled and back on your feet.

"Want to talk, down on the dock?" You hold your hand out, and he looks up at you finally. His eyes are red and full of tears, but he gently takes your hand.

"I know you're disappointed." JJ's voice is so quiet that it breaks your heart.

"Oh, baby. I'm not. I-"You reach out for him, but he steps away and cuts you off.

"You should be. That was terrible, I'm terrible. I didn't mean any of those things I said to you. You're not suffocating, you're nowhere close. You care about me and you love me more than I could ever ask for or deserve. I pushed you, Y/N. Why would you even want to look at me? I hate myself for this." JJ completely breaks down in front of you. Somewhere in his speech, his voice broke and it was like a dam holding in all of his cries and sobs. You step forward, and he doesn't fight you as you wrap your arms around his shaking body. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, don't leave me. I'm sorry."

He's gripping your shirt for dear life as if you'll start to disintegrate and slip right through his fingers.

"Hey, listen, I'm okay. It's okay. I'm not hurt. Now you know, right? That shit isn't anything to mess around with." Your fingers comb through his unruly hair. He nods against your chest.

"Never again, because you were right. I'm better than Luke Maybank. I'm not him, and I'm not going to turn into him. I owe it all to you and your unconditional love." JJ peers up at you. His blue eyes are shining, almost the prettiest color blue you've ever seen them.

"Oh come on now, you owe yourself the credit. Besides, I didn't truly know what unconditional love was until I met you and the pogues, so you get credit for that too." You smile at him, and he hesitates, but slowly, he smiles back.

"I'm so happy to have my boy back. Now, I need to clean that ugly cut on your stomach before it gets infected."

"Eh, I don't think it will. I'm pretty sure I poured vodka in it at the party." JJ lifts up his shirt again so you can see it. Instead of looking at it again, you reach up and wipe the stray tears off of his face. His attention is entirely yours now.

"You're insane, JJ Maybank, absolutely insane."

Before he can reply, someone speaks up from behind the two of you. "So... everything okay now?"

John B, Pope, and Kiara are all standing there. The sun is rising, casting golden rays on everyone.

"Yeah, everything's okay." JJ says confidently, his hand squeezing yours.

"Anyone up for a sunrise boat ride?"

a/n: honestly my computer glitched while I was editing and I couldn’t tell where I was typing at so there might be some random letters somewhere in there. I looked but I couldn’t find it lol

Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to reblog or send me feedback :)

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