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starlightkun · 4 months

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⇢ word count: 14.4k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that, multiple needle/injection mentions, main characters are morally gray, and oh yeah cursing ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ author's note: ohhhhh my god y’all, THIS PART!!! parts 3 & 4 have the scenes that made me want to write this fic in the first place, i’m so excited!!! ideally, parts 3 & 4 would have been one part, but due to tumblr's 1000-block limit, i had to split it up ⇢ series masterlist | prev. | next

“No, no, no!” You whined, clutching at your head as you shook it furiously. “It hurts! Feels like my head is exploding!”

“What’s happening?”

“I think her head is exploding,” Yangyang said frankly.

It was quick work to pack up camp after breakfast the next morning, and then you were all gathered together at the door to the ag bubble to leave. The crew members were back in their armor, and you had an oxygen mask on, which reminded you of a more structured version of the rebreathers that you’d used before. Everyone was carrying several packs of supplies, and on Kun’s nod, the door was opened, and Kunhang exited rifle-first.

You took one final glance over your shoulder at the bright blue synthetic sky of the ag bubble, the rolling rainbow hills of orchards and crop fields, cut through by the gleaming river, then followed Yangyang out. The sight in the hallway hadn’t gotten any better. The time that had passed only worked to degrade the bodies further, and you were very thankful that your mask was hooked up to its own oxygen supply instead of filtering the air around you. The Skipper bodies were decomposing faster than the human ones, their already minimal tissue beginning to liquefy and slough off their thin, wiry, birdlike skeletons. While you wished you could just look up at the ceiling the whole way out, you had to keep your eyes on the floor to avoid stepping in the new, unknown substances in your path.

The crew had put you back in the center of them as you walked through the halls, Kunhang and Yangyang at the front, Ten and Dejun at the back, and Kun and the Professor on either side of you. As you turned down one hallway, your eyes unwittingly landed on a human corpse, and after a half-beat, you recognized it as the same woman you saw when you left the storm shelter, but only by her dandelion yellow blouse. Her face was rendered unrecognizable by bloating and discoloration, and even her shirt was marred by stains, no longer a bright yellow.

You gasped and stumbled, your eyes locked on hers, open and glassed over, no longer holding whatever color they used to—brown, blue, green, hazel. A hand immediately shot out to catch your arm and keep you upright.

“Y/N, come on,” Kun’s voice was firm as he pulled you forward, and you let him usher you on.

Once you were past that sector, he shifted you behind him and grabbed your right hand to put it on his upper right arm. “Here, just watch my back and your feet. Don’t look anywhere else until we’re out. Okay?”

You couldn’t reply audibly with the oxygen mask on, so you just squeezed his arm once, and he moved onward again. You kept your eyes trained on a spot in his middle back, between his shoulder blades, occasionally looking down to make sure you wouldn’t step on his heels as you went. But otherwise, you didn’t look over his shoulder up ahead, or at the carnage on either side of you. You tried to forget the woman in the dandelion yellow blouse.

In your time with the crew of the Vision, you hadn’t been to the side of the facility where the exit door was. When you were searching for the proof of concept, your team was in a different area. So as you walked, and walked, and walked, you realized that your hiding place must have been equidistant from the ag bubble to the exit door.

You recognized the sign above the door, with a singular large, bright red Outspacer glyph for ‘EXIT’ and the doorway itself painted the same bright red as the sign. Hard to miss. Kunhang readied his rifle as Yangyang quickly opened the door for him, and he quickly looked around first before lowering it. Everyone else followed.

As soon as you stepped onto the surface of Aegeum, goosebumps flared along your skin, and you shivered. The surface was barren, gray rock, covered in a thin layer of dirt the same gray color as the rocks, eroded from the wind and occasional surface weather. Despite it being morning in the ag bubble that you had just left, it looked like nighttime on the surface of the artificial planet, pitch black outside. It was only illuminated by light from the stars in the sky. You didn’t know off the top of your head how close Aegeum was to the star at the center of its solar system, nor if it had a moon, as you couldn’t spot one above you.

There were three ships on the surface. You could identify the two Fishead pods that the Skippers had come in, which had most definitely seen better days, with significant scuffs and dents along their bulbous surfaces. One looked like some kind of energy cannon had even landed a hit in the hull—it wouldn’t have made it very far after that. The third ship was definitely the dropship for the crew of the Vision: A shiny, sleek new vessel with the UHN logo on the side, which everyone was headed towards. Judging by the size of the cockpit area visible from the outside, it looked like it only had room for one pilot, and the rest of you would need to go into the passenger and/or cargo areas.

“Zennie? You mind?” Kunhang addressed the AI as your group approached the side of the ship.

You didn’t hear ZEN’s response this time, but a door on the ship opened, and a ramp extended to the ground. Ten got on first, heading for the cockpit, and the rest of you followed, the ramp and door closing up after you. As Ten fired up the dropship, the rest of the crew secured the cargo. The couple packs that you had been carrying were taken from your hands and put somewhere, and you were ushered into a seat against the wall as a couple pairs of hands simultaneously buckled you in and tightened the harness strapped around your shoulders and waist.

The Professor suddenly turned to you, on your left. “Do you get carsick?”

“Do you honestly think she remembers ever being in a car?” Dejun scoffed from across the small passenger space from you.

“Right.”

“Hopefully not!” Yangyang said cheerfully from next to Dejun.

“Passengers, this is your captain speaking,” Ten’s voice suddenly came through the ship.

“I’m pretty sure that’s insubordination, Ten,” Kunhang joked.

“Please follow all directions of the flight attendants and keep your seatbelts fastened at all times. We expect this to be a very short flight. My co-pilot today is ZEN, again, this was your captain, Ten Lee, thank you for flying Ten Airlines.”

That earned a laugh from the Professor, while the others had varying levels of exasperation. Some merely sighed, others rolled their eyes, and still others outwardly groaned and complained.

“Can we just take off already?” Dejun grumbled.

“Ten!” Kun barked from your right side. “Wrap it up!”

“Sir, yes sir!” Ten’s zealous salute was barely visible from behind his seat in the cockpit.

And just a few moments later, the ship hummed to life around you, rumbled, and you felt the pit of your stomach drop out for a brief moment as it thrust upwards from the surface, then all your senses snapped back together. You could still feel that you were rocketing quickly up through atmosphere, that you were moving, but then the ship began decelerating, slowing down, and then the rumbling stopped altogether. There were a few clicks, the occasional bursting again of the rumbles, then one last definitive latching together of something on the outside of the dropship, and no more movement, no more rumbles, and no more humming.

“Attention passengers, we’ve landed right on schedule,” Ten announced, and everyone’s immediate relieved noises nearly downed out the rest of his words, “I thank you again for choosing Ten Airlines.”

Seatbelts were unbuckled, and materials were quickly unloaded from the dropship onto the Vision. Crew members took their own personal effects back to their rooms, and if they were in charge of particular materials, they took those back to their respective areas—Dejun took his medical packs back to the infirmary, Kunhang and Ten took the rations and cooking supplies back to the kitchen.

“Here, we’ll get you your basics and then I’ll show you where the room is,” Kun motioned you further into the ship. You’d been hovering at the entry bay, not wanting to get in anybody’s way as they went about their individual tasks. They hadn’t been lying when they said the Vision could get cramped. It was obviously larger than their dropship, but not built for a crew much bigger than the one they had now.

The walls, floors, and ceilings, of the Vision were all a flat, medium gray metal, and every few steps there would be a bulkhead above you with a letter and number, presumably to keep track of where you were in the ship.

You followed Kun down the hall, where he pointed out things to you as you passed them—infirmary, kitchen, laundry, armory—before stopping in front of a door in the hall. He pressed on a recessed button, and it slid open to reveal a rather large closet of sorts. There were a lot of simple clothes in there like you’d seen the crew members wear when they weren’t in their armor, as well as basic hygiene products.

After grabbing what you needed, you followed Kun into the area of the ship with the crew quarters. He pointed out each cabin to you—Dejun and Yangyang’s, Ten and Kunhang’s, the Professor’s, and then his. And yours. Kun’s and yours.

The room had three beds total, a top and bottom bunk on one wall, opposite a wall with only one bed. The far wall had a small surface protruding out of it to function as a desk, a chair, a dresser, and a door handle that you were fairly certain opened into a closet. The single bed, though immaculately made, did look as though somebody used it, as it was the only one that had sheets, the other two only had mattresses.

“Settle in, I’ll get you sheets,” Kun gestured to the two open beds and rest of the room, then disappeared through the open door.

As you approached the dresser, intent on finding out if there would be any luck in you being able to keep your clothes separate in there, you heard footsteps coming down the hall, and figured it probably wasn’t Kun returning already.

“Knew it,” Ten’s voice was victorious, and when you turned around, you spotted him leaning in the doorway, a wide grin on his face.

“Knew what?” You questioned.

“I knew that the captain was going to be getting a roomie.”

You looked at him blankly. “And…?”

“And nothing. Welcome aboard, Y/N.” He sent you a wink before turning on his heel and taking off somewhere.

Kun had just returned and starting putting the sheets on your bed (at his insistence) when you got another visitor. Dejun popped his head in, taking a brief survey of the room, then asked, “Hey, how are you settling in?”

“Oh, fine,” you flashed him a smile and offered a thumbs-up. “Got clothes, toothbrush, sheets, all that stuff.”

“Good. Make sure you swing by the infirmary before we leave for Earth, alright? The scanner I’ve got here is more comprehensive than the field scanner.”

“Will do. Thanks, Dejun.”

And he was gone too.

Kunhang and the Professor walked by as Kun was putting the pillowcase on.

“What do you need sheets for?” Kunhang snorted, biting into a granola bar or some other small snack that you couldn’t distinguish from his place in the hallway.

“For her to sleep on?” Kun retorted.

“But—” The Professor stopped as Kun dropped the pillow back onto the bed with force then pivoted to look at him incredulously. The civvie and Kunhang exchanged a look before wordlessly walking away.

Kun turned back to you, letting out a deep breath. “This is going to be a long trip back to Earth.”

“How long will it take?” You asked curiously.

“Good news, we have the latest slipdrive technology that’s been upgraded with some newly discovered Outspacer tech. Bad news, Aegeum is still very, very, very far from Earth. So, a month,” he informed you. “With the old slipdrive tech, it would’ve been six months, and with no slipdrive, ten years.”

“So it could’ve been much worse.”

“Yeah. But I have a feeling they’re all going to make it feel like ten years.”

“Maybe five,” you snickered. “Thanks for putting the sheets on, Kun.”

“Of course.”

“Do you have to go give Admiral Lee your update?”

“Yes, but after, I’ll show you around properly,” he promised.

“That’s fine, Dejun wanted me in the infirmary. I think I can find it, we passed it on our way here.”

He touched your forearm briefly. “I’ll see you in a bit. Good luck.”

“You too.”

The two of you stepped out of your cabin, Kun turning left down the hall and you right towards your separate destinations. You were easily able to locate the infirmary again, a few doors down and around the corner from the crew cabins. When you arrived, however, you found it empty.

Before you could debate about going to find Dejun yourself or not, a green box popped up in the air front of you, presumably projected from a computer terminal somewhere in the room.

“Hello again, Y/N,” ZEN’s voice was the same as it had been down on Aegeum, and you found yourself smiling at the cube’s blank faces.

“Hi, ZEN,” you greeted him brightly. “Good to see you again.”

“I would have done reintroductions earlier, but I thought it best to let you get settled in first.”

“And I’m sure you needed to reintegrate your fragments, too.”

“Yes, that too.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you at full capacity.” You looked around the vacant infirmary. “I’m looking for Dejun. Can you help me with that?”

“Lieutenant Xiao is in the kitchen. I’ve already paged him for you.”

“Thanks.” You strolled around the open room, but made sure to keep your hands to yourself. “Are you happy to be stratified data again, ZEN? No more viscera?”

As you looked back at the hovering green cube, you saw a ripple of light go through the pixels, which you figured was meant to emulate a chuckle of sorts.

“While I can conceptualize human emotions like happiness, I can’t say that I feel any particular way. I will tell you that there has been a significant decrease in the processing load put on my system since being removed from the crew’s neural ports, however.”

“I imagine that you might be able to conceptualize that as… relief, then?”

The cube bobbed up and down. “Yes, I would agree with that sentiment.”

“Good to see that you two are getting reacquainted,” Dejun’s voice carried in as he stepped into the infirmary.

“Hi, Dejun. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Nah, Wong was trying to fix the coffee machine,” he waved off your concern, taking a seat behind a computer monitor. “Wasn’t going so well.”

“Does he not have the manual?”

“He does,” ZEN informed you.

Dejun continued as he clicked a few things and typed on his keyboard, “He likes to feel handy, he’s just not very good at actually being handy. The captain will let him keep at it until everyone needs coffee in the morning. Then Ten will step in.”

“Ten is handy?” You asked.

“He has to be able to fix up his ships,” the medic nodded. “No mechanics on abandoned planets, just AIs without hands.”

“Staff Sergeant Lee also worked part-time at a mechanic’s shop prior to enlisting,” ZEN helpfully supplemented.

“Do you frequently read off factoids from our personnel files to each other behind our backs, ZEN?” Dejun cocked an eyebrow at the hovering cube.

“While that is information that I could access, Staff Sergeant Lee mentioned it in conversation to Corporal Wong, Professor Dong, and myself some time ago. I didn’t see an issue with repeating it now.”

“Good to know.” Dejun must have been done with whatever he was doing at the computer, as he stood up from the seat and walked over to a clear booth that took up one corner of the infirmary. He opened the door and gestured you in. “This is the scanner. Literally the only thing you have to do is stand in here, it’ll take just a minute.”

You obliged, stepping into the compartment, and he quietly closed the door after you. You watched through the clear material as he walked back over to the computer and sat down. Looking up above you, you saw a square panel that appeared as though it had several different prismatic, multi-colored components layered on top of each other, the size of the whole booth, but you couldn’t tell anything else about the material or their construction.

“Okay, two things you need to do in here,” Dejun’s voice came through a speaker in the booth. You looked out to see him pressing a button on his desk. “Don’t look up while this thing is running. You won’t go blind, but it won’t feel great if you’re staring directly at it, alright?”

“Sorry,” you replied, staring straight ahead. “How does this work?”

“ZEN can send some materials to your cabin for you to read later.”

“You can’t explain it to me?”

“I mean, I can tell you how it works like how I can tell you how a stethoscope works. I put this end in my ears, I put this end over your heart, your heart beats, and the stethoscope is constructed in a way that magnifies the sound of your heartbeat so I can hear it more clearly. I can’t tell you how soundwaves work, or the exact properties of the stethoscope materials that make it work like that or anything. Same thing with the scanner. I feel like you’d want something more in-depth like that, right?”

“You’re right. Thanks, Dejun. You too, ZEN.”

“And you’re done,” he declared. “You can step out.”

You looked around in confusion. “When did it turn on?”

“When you stopped looking up.”

You pushed the door open and exited, crossing over to where Dejun was still at his station. He looked at his computer screen with a furrowed brow, tapping his fingers on his desk. ZEN had moved his avatar to a projector on the edge of the desk.

“Everything okay?” You asked nervously.

“Yeah… everything is just fine,” he sighed. “Not that I wanted there to be something bad. It’s just that the scanner would tell me if you had any injuries, or disease, anything wrong with you at all. There’s nothing, which means I really have no clue what’s caused your amnesia. Sorry, Y/N.”

“That’s alright,” you reassured him. “Good to know there’s nothing wrong, right?”

“You’re right.”

“Captain’s on his way in,” ZEN announced, then blipped out of sight.

Kun poked his head into the infirmary just a moment later, his body following when his eyes landed on you. “Hey, how’s it going in here?”

“According to the scanner, I’m all clear. Right, Dejun?” You prompted the doctor.

Dejun nodded passively, eyes still on his screen. “Yep. Nothing wrong at all…”

“So we don’t know what caused her amnesia, then?” Kun immediately caught on, a pensive frown on his face.

“Nope.”

“What are you looking at?” You asked. “The scan?”

“Scanner results. All clear…” He then shook his head as if to clear it, then offered you a smile. “It’s good news, Y/N, that there’s nothing wrong. It was probably an injury that caused your amnesia, and the injury itself has healed, which is why the scanner didn’t pick anything up. Whether your memories come back or not will just be a waiting game at this point.”

“Thank you, Dejun.”

“Do you need her for anything else?” Kun asked the doctor.

“Nah, she’s all yours, Captain.” Your friend said knowingly, making a shooing motion with one hand at the two of you.

“Thanks, Xiao,” he said dryly, then turned to you and nodded towards the door. “Here, Y/N, I still need to show you around properly.”

“See you at mess, Dejun.” You waved goodbye to him over your shoulder before you and Kun left.

Despite the Vision seeming cramped, the crew disappeared effortlessly into all the corridors, rooms, and chambers. You didn’t see another member other than Kun throughout the entire tour, even ZEN making himself scarce, despite the fact that you were aware of his omnipresence.

“And this is the observation deck,” Kun had guided you into a small room at the far side of one end of the Vision. One of the walls had been outfitted with a rudimentary bench, and as you stepped into the center of the room, Kun stayed back to press a panel next to the door.

Darkness dematerialized from one wall panel opposite the bench, and from underneath your feet, leaving you standing on something sturdy but utterly transparent, the gray surface of Aegeum far below you.

“I wanted to show you this before we departed,” Kun explained, walking over to join you. “Once we’re in slipspace, there’s not much to observe.”

You looked out the newly revealed window, seeing nothing but stars in front of you, pulsing and blinking back at you.

“This is great, Kun, thank you,” you breathed out, turning your gaze back down at the planet. “Is the UHN going to come back to Aegeum?”

“There will be a more in-depth investigation than what we’ve done, I’m sure.”

“I mean… Will somebody come get their bodies? All the humans? Or at least notify their families? We were able to identify them.”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “This project was kept secret even from the head of Intelligence. Their families might have already mourned them.”

You moved away from the floor panel and over to the wall, letting your eyes drink in the darkness interspersed with a seemingly endless number of pinpoints of light. Kun stood beside you, quiet, but you could feel that it was a heavy, contemplative silence.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, able to picture the furrow in his brow despite the glass that you were looking through having no reflections on it.

“Your memories… I know the all-clear from Xiao is a good thing, but how are you doing?”

“Nothing’s really changed. Even if he’d been able to tell that I had some kind of brain damage or whatever, he wouldn’t be able to go in and press a button to undo my amnesia just because he knew that,” you replied with a shrug. “I was never holding out hope for that to be some magical solution to all my problems.”

“That’s wise.”

“They’ll either come back or they won’t. Either way, I’ll keep going. I’m not going to sit and stare at a wall for forever.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, loosely looping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Good. I think you’d get awfully bored staring at a wall forever.”

“How’d your report with the Admiral go?” You asked.

“Fine. Short and sweet. He’s aware that I’ll have more when we arrive on Earth.”

“And when do we leave?”

“Soon. Ten and ZEN are completing their final systems check then we finish our tour at the bridge for departure.”

“Tour’s not over yet?”

“Not quite.” He had a hint of playfulness in his tone.

You finally looked from the stars over to the man with you, seeing a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You felt that you had one of your own fondly across your own lips as well. “Kun?”

“Hm?” He met your eyes.

“I’m… happy,” you admitted almost sheepishly. “Is that weird? I’m happy to be away from that place, to be with you—and the whole crew, that you’re going to be getting your adjustments, that we’re all okay.”

“No, of course that’s not weird,” he shook his head, moving his hand to rub your back. “Honestly, I’ve been used to things just being shit or less shit, it’s weird for me too. But yeah, I think we can be happy.”

You started leaning in towards Kun, stopping short in case he had second thoughts about showing so much affection in a public place on the ship. But he just met you right where you were waiting, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that, despite the lack of strawberries, was sweet nevertheless. You lifted a hand up to gently caress his cheek, and as his smile grew wider into the kiss, you could feel one of his dimples appear under your thumb.

“We’re ready when you are, Captain!” Kunhang’s cheery voice abruptly rang through the observatory deck.

Kun whirled around to face the entrance, where the corporal was leaning against the doorway with a broad grin on his face. Your heartrate, meanwhile, was through the roof as you looked between Kunhang and Kun, opting to let the captain take the lead on this one.

“And you couldn’t have paged me to let me know that?” Kun replied through gritted teeth, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I advised that he do so, Captain,” ZEN’s voice came from the panel by the door. “However, Corporal Wong insisted on coming to get you himself.”

“And you didn’t think to give us a head-ups that he was coming?” Kun rounded on the AI, who was noticeably not projecting an avatar this time. “You’re aware that you’re complicit as well, right, ZEN?”

“I’ll go to my nexus and think about what I’ve done,” ZEN replied somberly.

Kunhang, meanwhile, was laughing behind his hand. “Don’t blame Zennie, I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.”

“Is the crew actually ready to depart, Wong?” Kun stared him down.

“Yep!”

“Then go back to the bridge. We’ll be there soon.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Despite his salute, Kunhang was still wearing the same smirk on his face as he left.

Kun pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. “They don’t respect me enough, is that it?”

You laughed, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Of course they respect you—”

“Even the AI was pulling my leg.”

“Your crew has a strong sense of camaraderie, and they include you in that,” you reassured him. “That’s a good thing. I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m sorry he did that,” he said quietly. “Are you—”

“Kun, I’m fine, other than being a bit startled,” you chuckled. “We weren’t exactly being inconspicuous. This is a common area on the ship.”

“Well, do you still want to go to the bridge with me? I’m sure the whole crew already knows…”

“You did say there’d be no keeping this from the others,” you pointed out.

“I did.”

You nudged him towards the door. “Come on, might as well get it over with.”

“Good point.” And with that, he started from the room, closing the solar shields over the observatory windows on the way out.

The chattering from the other crew members on the bridge that you could hear from down the hall ceased as soon as you two entered. Kun looked over at you, clearly already annoyed.

“So this is the bridge,” he explained to you in the dead silence, gesturing to the area. At the front were two panels that you could see out of, while along the walls were various buttons, knobs, levers, and gears, a total of five chairs set up at various intervals designating stations. The crew didn’t sit in any of those chairs, but at an oblong table in the middle, with seven chairs.

Kun continued showing you around slowly as he explained, “ZEN manages all of the controls, but there’s of course analog controls in case we need to fly it ourselves.”

The two of you had finally ended up at the table in the center. “Here’s where the human crew will usually be if we’re on the bridge. We have any sort of crew meeting here, and we always gather for take-off, even with ZEN at the helm. Just in case.”

“Hi, guys,” you greeted everyone brightly. There were two chairs left open at the table, and you presumed that the one at the end was the captain’s, so you gestured to the one next to it, which also happened to be next to Yangyang. “Mind if I sit here, Yangyang?”

“Saved it just for you, Y/N.” He beamed.

“How considerate, Liu…” Kun commented dryly as he took the only open seat left.

“Ready for departure, Captain,” ZEN announced, his cube suddenly appearing around shoulder-level above the center of the table. “On your word.”

“Ready for departure,” Kun confirmed with a nod. “Destination: UHN Main Headquarters, Earth. Activate slipdrive.”

“Hold onto your buttholes,” Yangyang muttered under his breath, and you saw both his hands gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles.

There were no seatbelts or harnesses like on the dropship, but you suddenly understood why Yangyang was white-knuckling the furniture like his life depended on it. It felt like all of your internal organs were being pulled through the eye of a needle the size of an electron. Then, before you could breathe, it was gone. You blinked, trying to reorient yourself. Outside the windows there were no longer pinpricks of stars, but utter darkness so deep your eyes almost couldn’t comprehend it.

“Ugh, that doesn’t get any less unpleasant,” Yangyang groaned, shaking his head. “The Outspacers seriously hadn’t figured out how to make it not feel like that?”

“Crystallized ginger?” The Professor offered you a piece from across from you, and you saw a small bag on the table in front of him. “I get carsick… and spaceshipsick, it turns out.”

You accepted the candy as a nice gesture, despite not feeling very queasy. “Thanks, Professor.”

“Alright, quick debrief,” Kun addressed everyone. “We’re headed to UHN Main. Thanks to the new slipdrive, we’ll arrive in about a month. Once we’re there, you’ll all have at least three days of shore leave. I’ll be giving my full report to Admiral Lee, which may or may not alter where we go next.”

When it seemed nobody else had anything to add, he continued, “Xiao, have you started analyzing the sample you got from that lab?”

The doctor nodded. “Yeah, should have the full results in the morning.”

“Okay. We didn’t find the proof of concept, Dr. Yoon is unaccounted for, we do not know why the Skippers were there nor how they found out about the facility, and Y/N will be aboard for the foreseeable future. Anything I’m missing?”

A throat was suspiciously cleared, but you couldn’t quite tell where it had come from, as the others all had varying degrees of guilt on their features. Even ZEN seemed to be pointing his lightest plane away from you.

Kun rolled his eyes and sat up straighter in his chair as he addressed them all sternly, “I’m sure Corporal Wong has already imparted his newfound knowledge to you all, so I see so need to ruminate on it. If there’s nothing further, you’re all dismissed.”

A discordant chorus of incredulous voices immediately erupted around the table, and you simply popped your ginger candy into your mouth as Kun dropped his head into his hands with a groan. It sounded like a few bets had been wagered for various things—laundry tasks, drinks to be bought once they arrived on shore leave, second portions of dessert at mess, anything but money—and the winners were now victoriously recounting their forthcoming prizes.

“If there’s nothing further,” Kun repeated loudly over the rabble, standing from his seat. “I have reports from Admiral Lee to go review.”

He lingered for just a moment with his gaze on you, as if to see if you’d ask to come with. But you shook your head minutely, staying put in your seat. The captain gave a final stony look to the rest of the crew, “I’ll be in my office.”

And he left.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Ten cleared his throat, the sound awfully familiar. “How long have you and the captain…?”

“Only since last night, promise,” you answered.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Kunhang coughed.

“And exactly how long were you standing there watching us, Kunhang?” You cocked your head curiously, then aimed your question at the AI. “How long was he standing there, ZEN?”

“Don’t answer that, Zennie,” Kunhang rushed to swat at the hologram cube.

The others snickered and made various comments about him being a voyeur.

“My turn,” Yangyang cleared his throat with a grin. “How did he do it?”

“Do what?” You asked.

“You know, ask you out, or whatever. Make a move,” he clarified with a teasing lilt to his words. “I’m just having trouble imagining the captain flirting. Or doing anything other than lecturing me for two hours straight.”

“That’s because you keep doing and/or saying stupid shit that requires two-hour lectures,” Dejun retorted.

“Why are you assuming Captain Qian made a move? Could’ve been Y/N,” the Professor pointed out.

Yangyang held his hands up. “True, my apologies.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “I don’t know about making moves… We were just talking.”

“And what? Came to a business agreement to enter into a romantic relationship?” Ten snorted.

“No,” you rolled your eyes. “Look, it’s not my fault that you guys can’t imagine your captain as a human being.”

“I, for one, am happy for you two,” the Professor said.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Hey, we never said we weren’t happy for them,” Kunhang said defensively.

“You’re just being nosy little shits,” Dejun finally spoke up. “Leave her be.”

The others grumbled, but acquiesced, slowly dispersing from the bridge as well.

“ZEN’s loaded up those articles for you, Y/N. I’ll walk you back to your room,” Dejun offered. “I know it’s a bit of a maze in here, it can take some getting used to.”

“I think I’ve got it—”

“I’m headed that way anyway.”

“Right, thanks, Dejun.”

As you and Dejun walked down the ship’s narrow halls, you found that the mental map you had was correct, as he took all the turns that you anticipated. As you stopped in front of your room, you expected him to leave you there, but he stepped into the cabin with you.

“ZEN can get the reader on the desk set up for you,” he gestured at the furniture. “But I just wanted to check in with you.”

“Oh, I feel fine,” you assured him. “Still got the amnesia but… otherwise all good.”

“And you’re okay? Like, you’ve had a lot happen.”

“Yeah, Dejun. It’s been a lot but also… I’m happy, strange as that may be. With all of you, with Kun.”

The doctor nodded. “Alright. That’s all I needed.”

“Thank you for checking on me.”

“Anytime.” He offered you a smile before ducking out of your room.

Kun found you sometime later sat at the desk, reading through the materials about the infirmary scanner that ZEN had gathered for you.

“Hi,” you said over your shoulder as he walked in, your eyes still on the diagram on the screen in front of you.

“Hi,” his voice got closer as he walked over to you. “What is that?”

“A schematic of the full-body scanner in the infirmary,” you replied, then touched the screen to select one of the pieces, pulling up a diagram of the different layers of materials that were suspended above you when you stepped into it. Another tap brought up an up-close image of the crystalline structure of one of the layers. “So that’s what that looks like.”

“Wow. It’s… kind of pretty,” Kun remarked. “Any particular reason you’re studying the infirmary scanner?”

“I was curious. Dejun offered to have ZEN give me some reading materials.”

“Maybe you can read the coffee machine manual next and give Wong a hand in the morning.”

“He hasn’t fixed it yet?”

“He never does.”

“I’m almost done with this article, I can take a look at it next,” you replied, tapping back out of the images and diagrams to get back to the main text. “Maybe fifteen more minutes?”

“Well, do you think you have time to eat first?”

“Oh, is it time for mess?” You finally looked up from the screen, craning your neck up and bending back just slightly to see where Kun was standing directly behind your chair. You were aware of how much time had passed while you’d been sitting there, but you didn’t know what time they ate mess on the ship.

Kun smiled fondly down at you, patting your shoulders. “Yes, if you can spare the time from your studies.”

“Of course.” You digitally marked your place in the article before pushing the button for the reading screen to recede back into the wall. “It was just some reading, really. I don’t know if I’d call it studying.”

“I don’t think I’d call schematics of complex diagnostic scanners and accompanying scientific articles detailing how they work, ‘some reading.’”

“I was curious about how it worked. It’s not like I’m going to build one,” you replied, letting him lead the way out of the cabin.

“I hardly think we have the parts for one, except in the one we already have.”

“Well, they use some similar materials that are used in robot construction, actually,” you told him. “According to the articles I was reading. I don’t know a lot about robots, other than the gist, you know? Positronic brain, metal body, that stuff. But the articles said that a lot of the basic materials that are used in the scanners are also used in robotics.”

“Maybe you and Yangyang can make one then.”

“I just said I don’t want to build one,” you replied with a sigh, despite knowing that he was teasing you. “But I do think it’s interesting that a lot of these materials were scarce on Earth—they’re literally called rare Earth metals—but then once humans started building robots, and got into space, they found places in space where the materials were abundant, and started mining them, and could build more robots to mine even more, and make even more robots. And now there’s so much of them that they started trying to find even more applications outside of robotics, like the medical field.”

The two of you had reached the kitchen, where a couple crew members were sat around the small table in there, and a couple more were up by the counters. Dejun was at the table already, playing some card game with Yangyang.

“So you like the articles so far, Y/N?” The doctor asked you humorously, setting down a card.

“I’m not quite done, but yeah!” You nodded enthusiastically.

“She’s going to read the coffee machine manual next, try to help Wong out,” Kun said, nodding towards where the Corporal was still tinkering with a partially taken apart contraption in the corner. “You said what, fifteen more minutes, Y/N?”

“I’ve got it!” Kunhang cried out.

Dejun looked at you curiously. “Wait, you’re almost done? Already? I thought ZEN would’ve given you more.”

“ZEN, how much reading did you give Y/N?” Yangyang asked aloud to the room.

The AI’s avatar popped up into the middle of the table. “Y/N received the manufacturer’s manual for the infirmary scanner model on the Vision, as well as fifteen articles from various scientific publications detailing the past five years of research into the scientific principles behind the technology for review. I can confirm that she’s completed nearly all the materials except for one article.”

The crew all turned to look at you in disbelief, including both Kunhang and Ten—who had previously been tending to the food. You suddenly got the feeling that that was not normal, the same pit in your stomach that you felt when Kun had unwrapped your hand to reveal your perfectly healed palm, which was still bandaged up now.

“Uh… fast reader?” You supplied hesitantly. “I-I don’t know…”

“What’s the word, Xiao?” Ten pointed at the doctor and snapped his fingers.

“I’m not a mind reader, Ten, you need to give me more context,” Dejun snorted.

“Damn, it’s on the tip of my tongue. You know, when someone’s like, really not smart, but can play the piano really well? Or is a genius at math but can barely read?”

“Savant syndrome?”

“That’s it! Idiot savant.”

“That’s really not the term we use anymore, dude.” Dejun looked very perturbed. “And honestly, it’s not a diagnosis that’s even handed out because—”

Ten completely ignored him, focusing on you. “Maybe you’re a savant. Amnesiac who can read super fast.”

“Or she’s a very smart, but normal, person who got hit on the head very bad and has had her brain scrambled,” Dejun rolled his eyes. “And you should stop calling her an idiot.”

“I’m with Xiao on this one,” Kun interrupted sternly. “Ten, stop calling her an idiot.”

“I’m calling her a savant, but fine.” The Marine shook his head. “Anyway, soup’s on, where’s the Professor?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” The Professor came running in then, out of breath. “Sorry, I was deep in some research. Y/N! You need to read some of my notes.”

“You have more Outspacer notes?” You asked, a little in disbelief.

“Not quite, it’s Ourogish, but I figured you can try your hand at it, right?”

“I mean, I don’t know how helpful I’ll be, but sure?” You replied doubtfully. You’d never seen Ourogish written down, nor learned to speak, read, or write it.

“You see, when we were on Ourogos, I got to see some ruins, and there were these carvings there. Ancient Ourogish. Even the Ourogi who live there now can’t translate it, it’s too distant from the writing system they use now, and they’ve been at war for so long that they’ve lost their entire caste of scholars. But, when you were going through my Outspacer notes on Aegeum and explaining some of the language features, they felt very familiar to me, and I want you to take a look at the Ancient Ourogish.”

“Uh-oh,” Ten sighed knowingly, setting a dish down in front of the Professor. “He’s got an itch.”

“He’s not going to sleep tonight,” Yangyang declared, accepting his plate from Kunhang.

“Sure, Professor, it sounds fun,” you grinned, taking the food that had been passed down to you.

Towards the end of the meal, as everyone was mostly done with their food, but weren’t quite ready to retire to their cabins for the night, Dejun cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention.

“Now that everyone’s eaten…” He prefaced his words cautiously.

“I don’t want to know what could follow that,” Ten groaned.

“Some of the results on the organic sample have come back,” Dejun continued. “The rest of the tests are going to take until morning, but…”

“Get on with it, Xiao,” Kun prompted him.

“It’s definitely human tissue.”

Everyone was quiet as they looked at each other. Nobody looked surprised, maybe queasy, disgusted, remorseful, or resigned, as if this was exactly what they were expecting but they didn’t want to be right.

“Everything else will have to wait until morning…” Dejun finished quietly.

“Right, thank you, Lieutenant.”

That night, as Kun continued reading the novel he’d picked up on Aegeum, you finished up the last part of the article, then skimmed through the coffee maker manual. When you were done, you shut off the reader then stood up from the desk.

“I’m going to get your med-pods from the infirmary,” you announced, heading towards the door.

“No need,” Kun replied casually, shutting his book.

“Kun—”

“Because I already got them,” he continued, opening a drawer under his bed. There was a small assortment of med-pods and disinfectant wipes, neatly organized in a small container.

“Oh,” you stopped in your tracks. “Good.”

Kun set the book aside and turned over onto his front, resting his arms and head on a pillow as you got out the two med-pods and wipe. As you pulled the hem of his shirt up, you couldn’t help but think back to mess again.

“Do you think it’s all related?” You ripped open the disinfectant wipe. “My hand healing fast, and me reading fast, and the amnesia and… where I was?”

Kun was quiet for a moment as you disinfected the area, then lined up the first med-pod. “I’m not thinking anything about it right now, Y/N.”

Click.

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t know… anything. And what we do know… if we assume that it’s all connected, that would be a big fucking assumption that I’m not comfortable with making. So I’m not going to. These are all extremely disparate pieces of you, and assuming they’re all connected is a huge leap. It would be like walking into a grocery store and seeing a box of pasta, an orange, and a can opener and deciding that because they’re all together in one place, they must have all been made there at the exact same time.”

You pursed your lips, then nodded. “You’re right.”

“The others didn’t bother you too much today, did they?” He changed the subject. “About… you and me?”

“No, not really,” you chuckled. “They’re just having a hard time coming to grips with the idea that you might, you know, be a human being with feelings.”

“Oh, the horror…”

As you watched the med-pod drain, the thoughts of his skeletal enhancements, and the crew’s (albeit, mostly joking) comments about him not being human, and Kun’s own statements to you about feeling like something other, all swirled together in your mind. “Kun… what you were saying, about not being able to remember what you felt like, before you went through the program…”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“You’ve told me so much about living on Dura-Jil,” you said. “You can’t remember, even a little, about what it felt like being a kid and stealing a Dumbo dropship with your friends? Or learning to drive a Gecko?”

“I mean, I can remember those things happening, but it’s been so long…” he mused. “I can’t recall what breathing with those lungs felt like, or what adrenaline rushing through that body felt like, or how it felt to move those muscles, to learn things with those hands. I know it’s different now, better, faster, stronger, whatever. But I can’t… describe it. Can’t remember why it’s different.”

You scooted further up the bed to rest your hand on his shoulder. What he was describing felt almost painfully familiar to you. A different kind of forgetting, an amnesia of the body instead of the mind. He shifted to rest his cheek against your hand, and you saw his eyes close for just a moment.

When the med-pod clicked again, signaling it was empty, you regretfully had to reach back to swap it out for the second one.

“Strawberries taste different,” Kun finally said, when you’d taken the empty, second med-pod off his back and disposed of the trash. “I remember… the ones I ate on Dura-Jil were always sweeter. I don’t know if it’s just because of where they’re grown, or if my tastebuds have changed, but I remember that. The ones from my mother’s greenhouse were always sweeter than any I’ve had since.”

You sat back down next to him, wanting to make sure he didn’t get up and strain his enhancements too soon. There was a solemn twinge in your chest, a longing for something you had never experienced yourself.

“Y/N…” He rolled onto his back with a soft grunt, but thankfully made no further moves to get up. “Will you… Can I hold you? For a little bit?”

You smiled softly, pulling the covers out from under him. “Of course, Kun, as long as you want.”

Laying down beside him, you brought the sheets and blanket up over the two of you, then curled into his side, resting your head on his chest as he encircled his arms around you.

“Thank you,” he murmured, already sounding very close to sleep.

You closed your eyes, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear, and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. And you thought to yourself that if your days ended like this, you didn’t really care what else they were filled with before.

Two (relatively) peaceful weeks passed on the Vision, and you were definitely counting down the days, mentally celebrating that you were halfway there to Kun being in far less pain.

On this particular day, you were reading again. There wasn’t much else for you to do, really. This time, you’d taken the spare tablet you’d been given into the observatory deck for a change of pace from reading in your cabin, though.

“Now what are you reading? Quantum physics?” Yangyang had appeared in the doorway, playful smirk on his lips.

“No, info on the second gen slipdrive model,” you said, eyes still hungrily drinking in the diagram of how all the pieces fit together. “ZEN apparently can’t declassify the stuff for the newest model that’s in the Vision right now without a direct order from either Admiral Lee or Kun, and Kun’s busy.”

“ZEN, come on,” the roboticist snorted. “She’s literally the captain’s… okay, I don’t know what label they’ve got but dude, I think that’s enough of a security clearance.”

ZEN’s avatar popped in for a split-second to defend himself. “I understand the social dynamics quite well, thank you, Lieutenant. However, it’s not my decision, it’s programmed into me. I cannot declassify that information without a direct order from either Admiral Lee or Captain Qian.”

“And what is our esteemed captain doing right now anyway that he can’t be interrupted?”

“He’s in the gym,” you replied. “I’ll be done with this by the time he’s finished anyway, I can ask him then. I told ZEN not to bother him.”

“It would take him all of two seconds,” Yangyang pointed out.

“It’s fine, really. I’ve got some guesses as to how they improved this slipdrive with Outspacer technology, I want to make sure I finish this before I read the new stuff and find out if I’m right.”

ZEN’s cube silently blipped back out of sight.

“You are like an information sponge.”

“I mean, I don’t have a whole lot else up here.” You tapped your forehead. “No memories. More room for information, right?”

“You read any stuff on robotics?”

“No,” you shrugged. “I mean, the stuff about the infirmary scanner mentioned it briefly, but it wasn’t about robotics, you know?”

“Why not?”

You looked up at him finally, chuckling as you said, “I mean, I also haven’t picked up a medical textbook, either. I hope I’m not offending Dejun.”

“I’m not offended,” Yangyang assured you. “Just asking. We found you somewhere with a robotics lab and a synthbio lab. Thought you might have gotten curious.”

“Oh, I mean, I guess not. Maybe one day.”

“With the rate that you consume knowledge? Probably.”

There was a certain glint in Yangyang’s eye in that moment, one that felt eerily familiar to how he was looking at you on the first day on Aegeum.

“Were you looking for me, Yangyang? Or were you going to use the observatory?” You questioned.

“Guilty. I was looking for you.” He was still smiling at you. “Do you mind if I run some diagnostics?”

“On… me?” You tilted your head, chalking his strange phrasing up to being a roboticist rather than a doctor. You laughed airily. “I appreciate the concern, but I was already checked out in the infirmary my first day on the Vision. Other than the amnesia, I’m fine.”

“In the full-body scanner?”

“Yeah, so everything’s just fine. Promise.”

“I just want to take a quick x-ray, really.”

His insistence put you off a bit, but you really saw no good reason to say no. After all, it would just tell you the same thing the infirmary scanner told you, that you were fine. So you bookmarked your place in the article, then clicked your tablet off. “Uhm… sure.”

You’d only been to Yangyang’s robotics lab twice in your whole two weeks on the Vision. Once, on the tour that Kun had given you on your first day, and the second time a few days later when you offered to bring him a cup of coffee from the newly refurbished coffee maker after mess.

The lab was probably one of the larger areas on the ship, about as big as the infirmary, but felt infinitely more cramped by all the stuff that Yangyang had fit into it. There were only a few areas to walk around in between tables and workstations and various contraptions that you didn’t touch for fear of jostling something in the exact wrong way. Unlike the lab on Aegeum, he didn’t have any partially-built robots here. In fact, there weren’t any robots on the Vision at all. It sounded like a miserable existence for a roboticist, but Yangyang made no complaints, and certainly seemed to find something to do to fill all his days on the ship. There was definitely stuff everywhere that looked like the beginnings or middles or pieces of projects, but how functional they were, you couldn’t tell. They certainly didn’t look like robots, nor could you spot a positronic brain anywhere, the thing that would make it a true robot, and not just an automated machine.

Yangyang brought you over to one of the machines, which was a large disc that you stepped under with two panels hanging down from it that went on either side of your head. He guided you to put your chin on a rest, adjusting it to fit your height comfortably.

He went to sit back at a nearby desk, typing a few commands into the computer that was there. “Alright, hold still.”

As the panels slowly rotated, you heard an occasional heavy thud at random intervals, almost like the sound of a camera shutter, but much deeper. At the same time that Yangyang announced that you were done, Kun stormed in, still wiping sweat off his face with a towel as he glared at his crewmate.

“What the hell are you doing, Lieutenant?” He demanded. “ZEN tells me Y/N’s busy getting an x-ray not in the infirmary, but in your lab? You bump your head and forget who you are too? You’re not the fucking doctor.”

“Right, yes, very true.” Yangyang held his hands up defensively. “But also… you should both take a look at this.”

You and Kun looked at each other, before hesitantly walking over to look at the screen.

That… didn’t seem quite right.

“Your machine’s broken, Liu,” Kun said.

“No, I calibrated it right before this.”

You peered closer at the image of your head on the monitor, at all the… glowing pieces. “It’s…”

“A positronic brain,” Yangyang confirmed. “That’s what an x-ray of a positronic brain looks like, outside of a metal head. And inside a human skull, presumably. Humanoid.”

It felt like someone had turned the slipdrive on again but magnified exponentially. All the air left your lungs—did you even need air?, you swore your heart stopped—was it even beating in the first place?, your stomach twisted in on itself—did you have one of those?, and your skin prickled in a scalding, white-hot discomfort, an all-consuming knowing that nothing would ever be the same again that hit you like a meteor. And you were frozen in the moment of impact, stretching out that crushing sensation for eternity.

You didn’t even want to look at Kun, didn’t want to know what sort of horror he felt at this realization. Didn’t want to see the look of abject disgust, betrayal, distress that must be there.

Yangyang finally spoke again, “I’m s—”

“Destroy the film.” Kun cut him off harshly. “ZEN! Erase your recordings. Delete everything.”

You and Yangyang had similar looks of wide-eyed bewilderment as you looked at Kun. The captain clenched his jaw as he stared down the roboticist. “Now, Liu!”

“Captain—”

“We can’t tell anybody. They’ll register her. She’ll be property,” he spat out, crossing his arms.

“You can register her under your name—”

“No. I won’t do that. She won’t be registered.”

“Cap—”

“Our story stays the same. We found a human on Aegeum with amnesia. Do you understand, Leiutenant?” Kun’s voice was strenuously calm, a sharp edge to it.

Yangyang gulped and nodded. “Sir, yes sir.”

“Destroy everything. Now. While I watch,” he demanded.

“Christ, you don’t trust me?”

“I do. I just need to be sure. I need to see it with my own two eyes.”

Yangyang did as he asked, in a strained, suffocating silence. You also watched as he made a few clicks, then confirmed the permanent deletion of the x-rays he’d just taken.

“ZEN!” Kun barked for the AI again. “Suspend the slipdrive.”

Yangyang blinked at him. “You’re suspending us in slipspace?”

“And you—”

“Are not going to say a fucking word to anybody. Sir, yes sir.”

Kun seemed at least somewhat satisfied with that. “Come on, Y/N.”

You hurried down the halls after him, barely trusting yourself to even breathe, much less say a word, before you were behind the closed door of your cabin.

“ZEN, blackout!” Kun ordered, already pacing. There was no response from the AI, confirmation that he had blacked out the incoming feed from your room. Kun ran a hand through his hair, then took a deep breath. “I suspended the slipdrive to buy us time and… there’s no way anybody can find you in here. Safest place in the Universe, outside of linear time.”

His gaze settled on you, intense, unwavering, so determined despite how little he knew.

“When he suggested… registering me. Under your name. That would be less risk, wouldn’t it? Than trying to hide what I am?” You said hesitantly.

“You’re not my property.” He shot back immediately.

“You don’t treat me like I am. I don’t believe that you would just because I’m registered as such. But what would happen to you if they found out you had an unregistered robot with you?”

It was the first time anybody—Yangyang, Kun, or you—had called you a robot, and you could tell that Kun had noticed, as his jaw tightened. But it was law that every robot had to be registered, whether to an individual or a governmental agency. There could be no ‘free’ robots, and having one in your possession was considered to be possessing contraband, which carried severe consequences.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Kun—”

“Because once you’re registered, that’s it. Even if to me, you’re not property, what happens when I die?” He thumped himself on the chest. “You’re not magically freed, Y/N. You just become someone else’s property.”

You sat down on the bed across from the one that you’d been sharing with Kun, that had remained empty these entire two weeks, a hollowness in your chest. “Oh. Right. You will die. And I...”

“God, Y/N…” Kun sighed, looking up to the ceiling ruefully. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Maybe Yangyang can help, with the amnesia,” you suggested. “Dejun’s been looking for a… natural reason for it. Maybe it’s not.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay, yeah.”

Back in Yangyang’s lab, you sat down nervously in the chair he had motioned you towards as Kun watched from a spot by the closed door. The roboticist picked up a small, flat disc from his counter, which looked almost like a silver coin, save for the soft red light that emanated from a triangle at the center. As he went to hold it up to your forehead, Kun started forward.

“What are you doing?” His words halted the other man’s motions, the disc hovering in front of your eyes.

“I need to run diagnostics on her. However, she doesn’t exactly have any buttons, or switches, or ports for me to use for access to her internal systems,” Yangyang replied bluntly. “Whenever a robot is built without external access to those sorts of things, they have to have a receiver to put them into stasis for work to be done. This should activate it, if she’s got one and I can find it. If she doesn’t have a receiver, it won’t hurt her, robot or human.”

“And you think the receiver would be in my head?” You questioned.

“Common practice is to put it at the front of the head or the back, if the robot has one. Need access to the brain.”

“Like where a neural port would go.”

Yangyang tilted his head curiously, but still made no further moves. He looked at Kun over his shoulder. “Can I proceed, Captain?”

He eyed the coin with distrust, but agreed anyway. “Yeah, fine.”

“If this works, Y/N, you won’t be able to move. You’ll be frozen in whatever position you’re in. You probably also won’t realize what’s happening until it’s over.”

“She’ll black out?”

“Not quite. She’ll be awake, but since I’ll be looking at her memory systems, she won’t retain anything. She’ll be unresponsive, and I imagine may only blink at consistent intervals so her eyes don’t dry out.”

You met Yangyang’s gaze. “Go ahead, Yangyang.”

The coin was placed against the center of your forehead first, cool against your skin, and Yangyang slowly slid it over your temple, then behind your ear and around to the base of your skull.

“Well, it’s nothing mechanical, it’s nothing with the alignment of her positronic brain,” Yangyang declared, suddenly across the desk from you, sat at his computer.

You blinked rapidly and sat up straighter, flexing your fingers and shifting your legs.

“Then what? She’s not lying.” Kun was next to you, and you looked between him and where he had just been over by the door. You didn’t remember him moving.

“Hey, Y/N, welcome back,” Yangyang smiled at you, drawing Kun’s attention back down to you as well.

“Are you okay?” Kun touched your shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassured him, patting his hand. “So, you ran the diagnostic tests, then?”

The roboticist gave you a thumbs-up. “Good news, the alignment of your brain is just fine.”

“She’s not lying,” Kun reiterated.

“I didn’t say she was.” Yangyang held his hands up defensively. “You’re familiar with the Three Laws of Robotics, Captain?”

“Of course. We had to be trained on how to interact with the robots and AI we would be deployed with.”

He then turned to you, “Y/N, do you know the Three Laws?”

You scrunched your nose as you tried to think, but just came up empty. “…No.”

“What?!” Kun blurted out.

“I think you do,” Yangyang replied knowingly.

You looked between them, panicked, “I’m—I’m not lying. I swear. I don’t know—”

“I know. I don’t think you’re lying. I think that if asked to list the Three Laws, as I just did, you would be unable to. Genuinely.”

“How would a robot even be built without the Three Laws?” Kun demanded. “That’s—That’s illegal. Impossible, the regulations—”

“You’re correct. It would be impossible. I’ll tell you the Three Laws, Y/N, working backwards. The Third is self-preservation. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second laws. The Second is obedience. A robot must obey orders given to it by a human, unless those orders conflict with the First law. The First is human safety. A robot may not, through action or inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. They’re all programmed into each and every robot’s positronic brains no matter their purpose or design.”

You nodded slowly. “So you’re saying that even though I didn’t know the three laws and couldn’t articulate them, I still have them programmed into me, and would have been following them anyway.”

“Correct.”

Kun paced a few steps away, rubbing his forehead. “I’m going to have a stroke.”

“I’m no robopsychologist, but I believe it’s the Second Law that we have to blame for your apparent amnesia,” Yangyang continued, ignoring the captain’s comment.

“Someone ordered her to forget she was a robot?”

“Yes, as well as everything else about her, for lack of a better word, life.”

“Why would somebody do that?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t think of a single good reason,” Kun muttered.

You glanced between them hopefully. “Can one of you just order me to remember, then?”

“Y/N, I ran diagnostics on your data bank,” Yangyang began gently, leaning forward in his seat. “The amount of information in there… it’s consistent with when your memory starts.”

“Oh… I see.”

“So…?” Kun prompted him.

“When whoever it was ordered her to forget, it wasn’t just to make the data temporarily inaccessible. It’s not there at all,” Yangyang clarified.

“They had her destroy it?”

“Or they moved it to an external storage device. Either way… it’s gone.”

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” Kun’s voice was soft and pained as he walked back over to you.

“Even if it wasn’t, whoever gave her the order, at the time the order was given, would have been of a higher importance to her than either of us. She’d prioritize that order over any we gave now that would try to override it.”

“And it doesn’t matter at all what she wants?”

“The data isn’t there for her to attempt to retrieve, Captain,” Yangyang reiterated. “Positronic brains are incredible feats, and are in many ways, superior to ours. But unlike you and I, who have neuroplasticity, and no matter the extent of the damage, could have some nonzero chance of spontaneously recovering those memories… if her data wasn’t backed up externally, I’m afraid it’s unrecoverable.”

A pain like you’d never experienced suddenly erupted in your head, your hands flew up to grip at your temples, pushing them together as if your head itself was about to burst apart. You involuntarily let out a scream, squeezing your eyes shut as you cried out, “Oh my god, my head!”

“Y/N!” Kun’s hands on your arms kept from entirely collapsing out of the chair and onto the ground.

“It… It hurts! Make it stop!” You yelled desperately, barely feeling the hot streams of tears as they poured down your cheeks.

“This happened on Aegeum, when we first found her. Whenever she’d try to remember stuff, she’d get headaches, but never like this,” Kun rushed to explain to Yangyang.

“You said it hurts?” Yangyang asked you.

“Didn’t you hear her? Fucking do something!”

“I am, I’m running diagnostics. Y/N, please. It hurts? Not that it’s overheating, or is misaligned, or is returning errors?”

“No, no, no!” You whined, clutching at your head as you shook it furiously. “It hurts! Feels like my head is exploding!”

“Oh. Come over here.” You were guided to somewhere else in the shop, then pushed into another seat, presumably. “Sit down.”

“What’s happening?” Kun asked.

“I think her head is exploding,” Yangyang said frankly.

“What?!”

“Y/N, stop trying to remember. Stop thinking about your past before you met Captain Qian. That’s an order.” Yangyang’s voice was firm, authoritative, cutting past all the white noise threatening to fragment your mind.

“What the hell, Liu?” Kun snapped.

Your hands fell from your head to your lap as the pain drifted away to nothing more than a memory, and you sat up, looking straight ahead. “Okay…”

In front of you, Kun grabbed Yangyang by the collar and jerked him away from you. “What the fuck was—”

“I’m going to choose my words very carefully to hopefully keep that from happening again.” Yangyang pointed to you. “Understand?”

“Fine.” Kun huffed, letting him go.

“I’ll need to run some more diagnostics; however, my theory is that her headaches are some kind of failsafe to prevent… investigating.”

“Well you can run your fucking diagnostics later, she’s going to rest.”

“Of course. My apologies, Y/N. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t think it necessary,” Yangyang offered you an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay, Yangyang. Thanks for helping with… whatever that was.” You hesitantly mirrored his smile, unable to remember what was even happening to you before Kun grabbed Yangyang.

Kun offered you a hand, his voice soft as he suggested, “Come on, do you want to lay down?”

You put your hand in his, letting him help you to your feet. “I think that’s a good idea, yeah.”

Your limbs still felt heavy and your thoughts sluggish with sleep, but you groaned and rolled over nevertheless, surprised when you didn’t bump into anybody. Pushing yourself up onto an elbow, you opened your eyes, looking around the room for Kun.

He was standing by the dresser, and turned around upon hearing you stir. Kun walked over to sit on the other mattress across from you. “Morning. How’s your head?”

“I slept through mess last night?” You questioned, pulling yourself all the way up to sit against the pillows behind you.

“Yeah. I told the guys you were stuck in one of your articles, brought our dinner back here,” he indicated toward two bowls sitting on the desk, one empty with a spoon sticking out of it, the other covered, the spoon sitting atop the lid. “How’s your head?”

“Oh, fine. Did Dejun give you your injections?”

“I gave them to myself. The angle was a little awkward, but I didn’t want Xiao asking why you couldn’t.”

It was then that you saw the sheets he was sitting on were wrinkled and out of place, the pillow with a noticeable head dent in it, askew from its usual position. “You slept in the other bed.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked like you needed the rest,” he stated, his words kind, but you could see the unfamiliar stiffness in his body.

You sat cross-legged to face him. “You’re debating the ethics of continuing our relationship after witnessing the effect a direct order had on me yesterday.”

“Well…”

“It’s not unreasonable. It also wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to question if a robot can even love.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s understandable, Kun,” you reiterated, sincere.

“Look, I just don’t want you to be doing this because you think saying no would hurt me. You don’t need to worry about inflicting that kind of harm.”

“You think this is all from the First Law?”

“I don’t know, is my point,” he stressed.

“Kunhang flirted with me first, shouldn’t I have ended up with him then, by your logic? According to the First Law? To not hurt him and the clear advances he was making on me?” You didn’t mean for your words to come out as harshly as they did, but you could feel the bitterness on your tongue coating them as they left your lips.

“I don’t know,” Kun repeated.

“I can’t prove to you that what I’m feeling is real. Or that I’m feeling anything at all. I don’t even know what that means. I mean, how do you know that you’re feeling things? That you’re feeling them ‘right?’” You argued.

“I-I just do. Sometimes I feel them in my body, too. My heart starts beating faster, my face gets warm, my fingertips tingle, my stomach feels funny, my chest hurts.”

“That sounds like you should see Dejun.”

“Maybe, it’s chronic at this point. Been happening for a few weeks now.”

You shot to your feet, “Kun! Oh my G—”

“Love. I was describing love,” he finished.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You sat back down, staring at your feet with what you could only describe as righteous anger. Kun said he loved you, and it was marred by this realization, by a debate of if you knew what that meant, if you could even reciprocate, if it was even ethical for him to feel this for you in the first place. Clenching your jaw, you took a deep breath before picking your head back up to look at him, “There is nothing I could do to objectively prove that what I feel for you is love, Kun. There is also no way for me to say that I love you in the same way a human does. I don’t know what that’s like. But the best I have to offer you is that when it comes to you and our relationship, it feels distinctly different than when I was given that order.”

“How did that feel? The order?” Kun asked.

“It overrode everything I was thinking and doing in that moment. I-I mean, I was about to say I’ve never experienced anything like it, but I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry Liu did that, but it was life or death. Your life or death.”

“I trust you guys.”

“I— That’s what I mean.” Kun was suddenly on his feet.

“What?”

“You’re not even a little bit upset? That he did that to you?”

“He saved my life and you’re expecting me to be pissed at him?” You replied incredulously.

“I don’t know, even a little violated? Whether he was justified or not, you don’t feel uncomfortable? That you went through that? And somebody who you thought was your friend knowingly, completely took away your free will?” His voice was gaining volume and fervor as he spoke, and he couldn’t seem to stand still.

“I didn’t say any of that,” you said firmly. “All I said was that I trust you guys. You’re the one assuming I’m being docile and passive.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He crossed his arms, seeming to deflate in front of your very eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He then grabbed something off the desk that you couldn’t see. Walking back over to you, he pressed a small, flat, cool coin of metal into your hand.

“Here,” he murmured.

You looked at the object in your palm, at the soft red glow emanating from the center. “This is the…”

“Positronic Allen key that Liu used to…” He trailed off. “You should be the only one on this ship who knows where that thing is. Not Liu, not me.”

You wrapped your fingers around it. “Thank you, Kun.”

“It’s time for mess,” Kun announced abruptly. “I’ll go get our food.”

“I’m okay, I can go with you,” you said, then paused with realization. “Unless there’s a reason you don’t want me to.”

“You’re not under house arrest or anything, Y/N. I just think it’d be easier—”

“If nobody saw me? What would you say? I’m still reading? I’m sick? Then Dejun would definitely want to come check on me.”

He rubbed his face. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“I’ll go to breakfast. Won’t mention I’m a robot. Humanoid. Whatever.”

And so you and Kun went to breakfast. Kunhang and Ten were already in there, as they usually were, being in charge of the meals. Kunhang took a long sip of his cup of coffee before nodding appreciatively.

“Good stuff, Y/N,” he lifted the mug in your direction from where he was leaning against one of the counters.

“And Wong hasn’t broken it again since you fixed it,” Ten added.

“Good to hear it’s still functional,” you replied, taking your usual seat around the table.

“I think you improved it, actually,” Kunhang mused, taking another sip.

Dejun came in then, still looking half-asleep, practically falling into his chair and dropping his head into his arms. He said something that was muffled by the table.

“What was that, Xiao?” Kunhang asked, handing Ten the first plate for him to start dishing up the food.

“I’m going to kill Liu,” Dejun pulled his face out of his arms to deadpan. “Kid sleeptalked for four hours last night. I was about to smother him.”

“Earplugs?” You suggested.

“First thing I tried. Barely lower it to an indiscernible mumble.”

Ten asked over his shoulder, “Did he at least say anything good this time?”

“No. He was just saying some crazy shit about those people-robots from Aegeum again.” The doctor ran two hands through his hair, making his bedhead stick up even more.

You froze for a moment, noticing that Kun also tensed as Dejun kept ranting about his roommate.

“First it was a bunch of jargon about people-robots and positronic brains and whatever the fuck. Then he said something about the robot not remembering it was a robot, which, like, I think is literally impossible?”

Kunhang laughed, “How would that work? I’m not going to get amnesia and wake up one day and think I’m a Skipper.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Ten called for you, also cracking a smile. “Do you think we could’ve convinced you that you were a K’llor if we tried? When we found you in the shelter?”

You chuckled lightly, tapping your fingernails on the table. “Probably not. Don’t really look like them, you know?”

Yangyang walked in then, looking about as worse for wear as Dejun. He collapsed into his chair, lolling his head back as he groaned, “I’ll marry whoever gets me a coffee of cup right now.”

“No, you do not get the first cup after keeping me up with your sleeptalking for four hours straight,” Dejun snapped.

“Ever heard of earplugs?”

“I should’ve smothered you with your pillow last night, you ungrateful little—”

You grabbed Dejun’s shoulders before he could lunge across the table and very possibly strangle Yangyang right then. After less-than-gently pushing him back down in his chair, you stood up, offering, “I’ll make both of you a cup, if neither of you marries me or kills each other. Sound good?”

They grumbled something that sounded enough like an agreement that you headed towards the coffee maker, setting two mugs side-by-side and starting the two cups to brew simultaneously.

The Professor came into the kitchen last, as usual, looking around with hopeful eyes. “Coffee?”

Kun didn’t say a single word through breakfast, very clearly on edge as he maintained a death grip on his utensils, and shot Yangyang a warning look with every mention of robots, or positronic brains, or any technology at all. Which made for a very uncomfortable breakfast, considering that was seemingly the only thing that everybody wanted to talk about this particular morning, presumably due to Dejun’s complaints of the roboticist’s sleeptalking.

When you were done with your food, you rushed to excuse yourself from the suffocating atmosphere. “I was in the middle of something—”

“Oh, Y/N!” Ten caught your attention before you could fully leave, though. “Did you want to see the slipdrive today?”

“Sure, Ten, uhm, later?” You requested. “I started a good article on water filtration and irrigation in ag bubbles this morning. Would you mind if I finished it first?”

“No rush. We’re stuck here for another two weeks.”

“Thanks.”

Back in your room, you brought out your tablet, rummaging through the files stored in the Vision’s server to find the ones from the most recent mission on Aegeum. Specifically, ZEN’s archiving of all the Outspacer glyphs that the crew encountered. You pulled up the ones from the info panel on the ag bubble, at the only three glyphs that weren’t fully translated.

Person-machine-move. People-robots.

The door to your cabin opened again, and you didn’t even greet Kun, still staring at those glyphs, trying to make any additional sense of them with what you knew now about yourself.

“I’m the proof, aren’t I?” You looked back at Kun.

He slowed to a stop a few steps back from you, clearly at a loss for words. “I…”

“Positronic brain in a human skull. That’s what Yangyang said. Humanoid.” That was from before you were in the diagnostics stasis, and before the order, you could remember it all.

“Yeah, that’s what he was saying when he was… running diagnostics.”

You looked back at the tablet, quickly pulling up the emergency manual for a partial scrub. “We didn’t leave Aegeum without finding the proof of concept, you guys found it on your first day.”

Preserved in a safety shelter, with no recollection that you were the proof, or even an inkling that you were not human. Safety mechanisms. Your head was hurting.

When you turned to Kun again, you saw his eyes were shining, and he put the back of his hand over his mouth as he seemed unable to form any words. You felt an ugly hatred in you as you looked at him. Not a hatred for him, but for the situation that you two were in, that had broken the seemingly unshakable captain down to misty-eyed silence, to such uncertainty. You couldn’t even hold him to comfort him without making him feel even worse, like he was taking advantage of you by you offering your affection willingly. The tablet in your hands still displayed the directions from Aegeum. Only the Admiral and the Research Director can order a scrub. You understood Kun celebrating Dr. Yoon’s death, as you wished very much in that moment for him to have never existed.

“I want to apologize for something, and I know it’s not my fault, but I don’t know how else I could possibly make you feel better,” you stated hoarsely, unaware of exactly when your throat became that parched.

Kun look at you with clear confusion on his features. “What are you talking about?”

“I was created by him. By the man who… did what he did to you. How could you not hate me too? Suspect the worst of me?”

He shook his head quickly. “Y/N, no. Remember what you told me? He didn’t create me or you—”

“You have parents. A life before him. That’s objectively true,” you cut him off. “I was built. There’s concept sketches and blueprints and multi-phase procedural experiments of me. In his lab.”

“And none of that is your fault.”

You got to your feet, meeting Kun’s pleading gaze steadily. “Maybe you’re right, Kun. We need time. I don’t think you’ve thought this—me—all the way through.”

Dejun found you on the observatory deck, hugging your knees to your chest and staring down through the glass bottom of the ship at the inky blackness beneath you.

“Hey.” He stood next to you.

“Hi.” You didn’t even try to conceal your sullen tone or glum features from him.

The doctor eased himself down to sit across the glass panel from you. “I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you, so: What’s going on with you and the captain?”

“You’ve noticed something is different.”

“Yeah, breakfast felt a bit… off.”

“I can’t… say too much.”

“That’s alright. I was just checking on you. I’m your friend, Y/N.”

You rested your cheek on one of your knees, piecing together your words in your head first before you said them. “Kun isn’t sure if we should continue our relationship.”

“What? He said as much? In so many words?” Dejun clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“More.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yes…”

Dejun took your hesitance in stride, following up with another question, “Are you able to tell me why?”

You once again had to muse on what to say for some time before you spoke. “He thinks that due to… circumstances… I didn’t have much say in the matter.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he snorted. “None of us do. We’re on a black ops mission deployed for an indefinite amount of time, all of us selected specifically because we had no family in case it went bad, and doing some incredibly shady things for the government. I don’t know how he can possibly be using any normal dating metrics right now. But anybody who just watches the two of you can tell that you’ve gotten something good, really good, out of whatever the fuck we’re doing. Love, connection, partnership, whatever you want to call it.”

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you. I think that too. I don’t think it’s just… infatuation or an obligation or whatever he’s afraid of. But I also can’t remember ever being in love before, or infatuated before, so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“He doesn’t get decide if you’re in love or not. That’s stupid. I don’t care how noble he thinks he’s being.”

“I… also have my own reservations, to be fair to him. This situation isn’t entirely his doing,” you added.

“You think he has a point? You did kind of get with the first guy you laid eyes on after losing your memory…” Your friend said.

“Kun had a helmet on when I met him,” you reminded him with an eye roll. “The first one of you whose face I saw was Kunhang, actually.”

“That’s true.”

“But no, that’s not my concern.”

“So what is it? I’m assuming you want to talk about it, since you brought it up.”

“I don’t think he’s… letting himself really see all of me. The good and the bad. I don’t want him to fall in love with this fake version of me that he’s convinced himself is true, then one day wake up and realize who I actually am and decide that I’ve changed and hate me for it.”

“You’ve got amnesia,” Dejun arched an eyebrow. “Kind of a big problem if he’s already ignoring the few things we do know about you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been as honest as possible with him, but he just makes excuses.”

Your friend sighed and leaned back against the bench that was behind him. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix all your problems, Y/N. Make the captain stop being stupid, make everything make sense for you. You’ve been through enough.”

“I appreciate the thought, Dejun.”

“Liu and I have got a spare bunk, you’re welcome to it any time. You’ll have to put up with the kid’s sleeptalking, of course, but…”

“Thanks,” you actually smiled this time, remembering their spat over the sleeptalking that happened just an hour ago. “We both agreed to take some time to think.”

“If you show up to our cabin at bedtime tonight, no questions asked, I promise. I’ll smother the kid myself.”

“It sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to kill Yangyang at this point,” you laughed.

“Whatever it takes,” he joked, cracking his knuckles.

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dollwritesarchive · 3 years

Text

𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒹𝑜 ⎹ 𝓙. 𝓕.

fandom shadow and bone / six of crows masterlist / @dollsgrisha-library

featuring jesper fahey x dregs!reader ( f! )

rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.

content warning lots of sexual tension, masturbation, fingering, teasing

summary all you can think about is walking in on Jesper naked the other night. part one

word count 4k / one shot

attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed. i appreciate every single person who requested a second part! i meant to post this as a response to one of the asks, but tumblr is currently being dollphobic.

you felt silly.

your mind was clouded with the visage of Jesper’s nude, wet body since you’d walked into his room the other night and seen him standing there, warm skin illuminated by lamplight and speckled with water droplets.

no, not silly.

you felt shy around him, now.

you’d thought all of the decency you’d grown up with, all the manners that had been engraved on your mind had dissipated after months of living at the Slat, but your modesty seemed to return after that night. now, when Jesper’s gray eyes flicked towards yours in the Crow Club or he snuck up behind you and slung a lazy, lean arm over your waist, you blushed madly. you wanted to disappear. you couldn’t look into his countenance without seeing every intimate shape of him gleaming with liquid gems, hardly covered by little more than a strip of stained cloth. Jesper didn’t seem to mind, though. his smile was as relentless and charming as ever— an amused twinkling in his eyes when he saw you purposefully avert your gaze. did he enjoy making your cheeks hot? of course he did. did it piss you off? of course it did.

tonight, the Slat was alive with a raging party; all of the Dregs gathered in their makeshift home and drinking together. even Kaz was there (and you assumed Inej, as well), but they stayed out of sight. you weren’t exactly high enough on the chain of command to brush shoulders with your fearless leader aside from carrying messages to and from the Crow Club where you made the majority of your honest wages, and by all accounts, you shouldn’t have been so close to Jesper, either. it was simply a stroke of luck that your bedroom sat across the hall from his. besides, Jesper was personable. fun, even. and he didn’t mind hanging out with the lower rung of bruisers and spiders. you’d been grateful for that at one time, but now you just wished he’d be like Kaz. remove himself from the Dregs’ base company, from your company, because you couldn’t think straight when you looked at him anymore.

after far too much whiskey and hardly dodging a drunken kiss with another, newer member of the gang, you were hurrying up the stairs. most of them wouldn’t have tried to corner you with mouth open and eyes closed, but this new boy had to be completely brainless. you’d given him a hard shove and a firm knock to the gut for assuming you were there for his entertainment. you were a Dreg, not a doll for them to toy with when they got bored. as you hit the landing on the floor where your room was located, you could see Jesper leaning against the railing at the bottom. he was watching you. had he seen the whole exchange? the boy try to kiss you, and the way you’d attacked him for it?

wonderful.

snorting to yourself, you amble into your room and slam the rickety door closed. you were plenty dizzy from the booze and it was getting late; you wanted to sleep. any normal person would’ve had trouble with the raucous downstairs keeping them up, but you were just drunk enough not to care. standing in front of your bed where a beige robe lay, you kick out of your heavy boots. the robe was well worn, with a couple of conspicuous stains that you’d clearly tried to scrub out. it was almost the only nice thing you owned anymore, and gunpowder and grease was unrelenting to the fabric. you sigh, soft, and pull your jacket from your shoulders; silver buttons tinging against each other as you toss it aside, and do the same to your dark, velvety vest. it joins your jacket, and soon, your inky undershirt. you liked wearing all black, the color of the gang’s mascot— the crow. it felt right, especially trimmed with rusted silver. it felt like home.

it was only when you’d wrenched your bottoms off and kicked them aside, your trusty switchblade lying against the mattress, did you pause. standing in the center of your quaint, dusty bedroom, completely nude. you should’ve been embarrassed by how easily your mind wandered to Jesper again, but you weren’t this time. because you were alone, and you could indulge those impure thoughts. both of your hands rise to envelope your bare breasts, pinching your nipples until you cut loose a soft breath. you imagined it was his mouth that embraced you, his teeth that pinched, and your eyelids flutter closed. you could see those slate grey eyes, and you imagined he’d have to kneel in front, look up at you with his lips forming a seal over your skin. would he smile at you from there? wink? let a breathy chuckle die against your flesh when you whimpered and dug your fingers into his scalp.

you expel a breath of a swear, one hand slipping downward to delve between your thighs with a fervency that almost surprised you. “Jes,” you experiment by relishing the taste of his nickname on your tongue, your first two digits pressing against your clit together, rubbing in slow circles. would he tease? would Jesper torture you with slow strokes and grazing touches until your body screamed for him, and would he laugh when you begged him to fuck you? you could almost hear him crooning, ego boosted when he took one look into your eyes and saw nothing but pure need. “Jesper!” you moan louder, your brows furrowing as you push your foredigit inside, rocking against your own palm. your other hand clutches your breast, tugging at the nipple as your knees turn in to press against each other. your teeth sink into your lip, imagining how he might feel inside of you. there was no doubt you’d need to stretch to accommodate whatever his size demanded— and it was more than your finger could emulate.

but still, the steady pumping had your breaths coming in shallow panting now, your eyes closed tightly. you could see him on top of you, his height making it difficult to kiss him so you cling pathetically to his heaving chest as he plows you deeper into the mattress. the visage is dizzying, and coaxing an orgasm from the depths of your belly. another purr of his name, eyes rolling behind their lids as your head tilts backward, face turned up to the ceiling.

and that’s when you hear the footsteps. boots swaggering much too close. you’d been so busy indulging yourself that you hadn’t heard them stomp up the stairs, but they were right outside your bedroom door.

you panic, snatching the drab robe from the bed. living with mostly boys in their twenties with little to no restraint, and who stayed drunk more often than not, had made you quick and cautious. you heard the door whine as it opens, but you’ve already twirled around, a flurry of khaki as you pull it over your naked body and cinch it tight with the stained excuse for a tie. then, your hand is grabbing for your knife, you aren’t sure why. who did you think it was? the idiotic boy from before? who did he think he was, following you up here? but… would you cut him for it? no, of course not. you’d only scare him, maybe slash his dusty vest to get him to leave. the rusty blade still glinted against the candlelight when you whirl around, holding it out as a threat.

Jesper stands in the doorway, well, leans forward so his height doesn’t cause his head to knock against the jamb. he looks slightly bemused, but he’s smiling, too, hands up as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “Easy,” he soothes, smoky gaze flowing like dark water to the pitiful switchblade in your grasp, one brunette brow arching high, “I’d bet that would leave an ugly bruise on my pretty skin.”

you want to roll your eyes, or laugh, or do both, but instead you take a breath. if your heart wasn’t jack rabbiting before, the sight of Jesper in your doorway whilst you stand before him, thighs soaked from pleasuring yourself to a fantasy about him only moments ago had certainly started it like an engine. “It’s sharper than it looks.” you murmur, half indignant, but flick it closed and toss it on to the bed.

your ears must’ve been playing tricks on you, because you could’ve sworn you heard him reply with a giddy, “We should test that theory one day.” under his breath.

“What are you doing, anyways?” you ask, trying not to look into those damn oceans of silvery smoke as he lets himself through the threshold, and closes the door behind him. the faint click of the lock doesn’t go unnoticed.

Jesper shrugs, stepping closer, but you step back. taking your discarded clothes into an armful, you whisk yourself away to the other side of the room to pretend you’re busy tidying up. tidying up, of course, being tossing the clothes into a corner. “Came to check on ya,” he offers, and you can feel him staring at you, but thankfully he doesn’t move to corner you there, “you ran off before I could ask you downstairs.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need to be coddled.” you snort, once again indignant. why was it offensive that he was worried? should you really be so upset? “And I didn’t run off, by the way. I just wanted to go to sleep.”

“Should I go, then? And let you get your rest?

you turn to look at him, the faintest, “No.” upon your lips.

he smiles, and sits at the foot of the bed, stretching out his long legs. “You really decked that kid.”

you find yourself smiling at that, like a little girl proud that her parents took notice of her talents. “He really should learn not to try and kiss someone uninvited.” you answer, instead, and Jesper laughs.

“Yeah, I think your fist to the gut is a pretty good lesson.” then, there was a brief silence in the air, and you open your mouth to speak, but he does, first. “I’m glad you didn’t kiss him.”

you blink, flustered, with that familiar heat on the apples of your cheeks. “Why?”

“I’m not a jealous type of guy,” Jesper prefaces, leaning back with his hands planted on the mattress, “but I didn’t want to see him kiss you.”

you felt like your heartbeat stuttered, and your lungs seemed to expand in their small cage, painfully pressing against your ribs. he’d said it so easily, each syllable coated in his Zemeni drawl, his eyes listing over your frame as he spoke. how? how had he said it so easily? how did the words come with no resistance, when you couldn’t even look him in the face without feeling like your heart was going to leap into your throat and your face was going to burst into flames?

“Oh.” it was a pathetic excuse for a reply, but the only one you could muster at the moment, mind flooded the very moment he’d let fly the admission. you shift on your feet, looking around the room. it seemed smaller, and you were trying to think of another time when he had been inside it. you couldn’t.

Jesper tilts his head; he didn’t look as if he were necessarily expecting you to say more, but you still felt as though the word fell flat in comparison to his own. “Can I ask you something?”

i really wish you wouldn’t. “Okay…”

a gunmetal gaze zeroes in on your face, as if searching for any hint of a lie. “How often do you think about me?” your eyes widen, and he continues. “How many times have you thought about what happened the other night?”

you wanted to evaporate, meandering around in your little corner. “I don’t— I mean, I haven’t…” but the tone of your own voice betrayed you.

Jesper stands up, now, and you chew on your bottom lip. “I have.” he admitted, shamelessly. “I’ve thought about it a lot. How you looked at me, like you’ve never seen a naked man before. It’s been keeping me up at night.”

“It has?”

he nods, stepping closer, and you find yourself inching backwards. why were you so nervous? “You looked at me with want in your eyes,” he hums, taking another step, “and now, you can’t so much as make eye contact with me for more than a few seconds before you look away. Which tells me that you’ve been thinking about it, too. That want is still there, you’re just trying to hide it.”

“Maybe a little.” you admit, eyes flickering down the length of him and back up. “Okay, a lot.”

Jesper grins wide, a killer smile. “It’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“Unfair?”

“I mean, you saw me naked,” he continues with a quirk of his brow, “don’t you think it’s my turn to see you?”

“Do you want to?” you ask, but he’d already made it perfectly clear. you just needed to hear him say it. directly.

“Yes,” he murmurs with a nod, “I want to.”

you tug at the skin of your bottom lip as you consider his words, your shyness hardly waning. he made you want to show him. the way he smiled at you, the sweet slur of his words, and the swagger in his walk as he approached. you nod, albeit a half nod, and you’re still taking another step back when he comes forward, your back nudging the old, wooden door, but your shaking fingers dig into the tight knot at your waist and pull it loose. you keep your eyes on his face, but his have drifted downward to watch your digits work the belt until it falls in defeated tendrils at your sides. your chest heaves with a deep breath that you suck in, fabric of your dingy robe sliding as it’s disturbed, and you shrug your shoulders. it shimmies over them and down completely, pooling in a soft heap at your feet.

there was no hiding. no cloth to cover yourself with. you were utterly vulnerable and bare in front of him, and your entire body felt as though it were made of fire.

for some time, Jesper doesn’t say anything. his smoky gaze trailing over every inch of your exposed flesh. you could swear the only sound between the two of you was the ferocious beating of your own heart. you want to shy away, but you don’t dare shrink from him.

finally, you watch his arm outstretch, reaching for you. this is when you really want to recoil, but force yourself not to. you imagine he would grope your breast, or force his hand between your legs— too greedy to care about being gentle, but he doesn’t. his fingertips are full of certainty as they brush over the flare of your hip, hand cupping it to urge your lower half off the door, as if positioning you as an offering to himself. his free hand slides along your nape, guiding your head up towards his as he leans closer. you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheeks, and his lips are so close to yours it’s maddening. “You’re beautiful.” he whispers, his fingers drawing curls over your bare skin. your back, first, and then along your waist and down your hip. back up towards your chest, leaving a mass of goosebumps wherever they traveled.

“Thank you.” you breathe out, tilting your head up more in an attempt to close the space between his and your lips, but he shifts, keeping the distance the same, his silvery hues half lidded. part of you wondered if he was daring you to kiss him first, but whenever you tried to push up on to your toes to chase his couplet, he held himself just out of your reach. was he playing with you? “Jes.” you whisper in a partial plea. his lips hover close to yours for a moment longer before they dip and crest over your clavicle instead. you emit a shaky breath, clenching your fists at your side. you didn’t imagine anyone’s lips could be so… soft. so gentle in their waltz over your collarbone, along the side of your neck. “Jes.” you whisper again, louder this time. leaning back, your shoulders rest against the door.

“Do you moan my name a lot?” he teases, his hand rubbing your lower belly before it slips between your thighs. you feel his lips stretch into a smile against your neck when he feels just how wet you are; you whimper. “Because you’re damn good at it.”

admitting to him that you had; that you’d loved to edge yourself to the syllables of his name would’ve been humiliating, and you can’t bring yourself to find the words, but you nod, suppressing a whine behind the teeth that sink into your lower tier as your hips rock forward, and you grind into his palm. Jesper grins, fingers working your slit, allowing themselves to be drenched in your essence, and he peppers your beck in heated kisses. “Been a while since I felt something so soft,” he admits, pushing one finger inside, “the Barrel hasn’t made you rough at all.” you wanted to protest— you were strong, by Barrel’s standards, and you open your mouth to snap that at him, but pause when he continues, “I love that about you. I love this.” flushed, you can feel his finger curling inside you as he pumps, as if beckoning your sweetest spots to come to him, and you melt into the sensation, moaning his name again. this time, much louder.

Jesper hums, and it’s almost a moan itself, in your ear with a delightful nip at your lobe. “You’re so tight,” he says as he adds another finger. you suck in a breath, but it leaves you in a shuddering mewl when his pace quickens. your thighs beginning to tremble, one of your hands grab at the collar of his heavy coat, and the other flees to hold his wrist. you didn’t want him to stop, but you needed to feel like you had some sort of control, even if that wasn’t exactly true. “Are you going to cum already?” it almost sounds taunting, but you couldn’t help but nod. you could feel yourself losing what little autonomy you had left, your stomach in knots as he plumbs your depths with curious, adventurous digit tips.

“Y—yes,” you whine, tilting your head up to look at him with desperate, half lidded eyes. his height guaranteed your lips only grazed his jawline with how close he was to you, “yes, Jesper, I’m… I’m cumming!”

Jes stifles a chortle by blowing it through his nose, “Soft, tight, and so easy to please. My kinda gal.” if he wasn’t knuckle deep in your cunt right now, you might’ve been offended. however, all you could think of was the wonders his fingers were doing when they rub against your fluttering walls. “Let’s see it then, love, let’s see you cum all over my fingers, and I might even let you suck them clean when you’re done.”

there’s a single knock at the door, and your startled yelp is muffled by Jesper’s free hand clasping over your mouth, his body pressing you firm against the door. his lips purse into a shushing shape, but the rhythm between your hips didn’t stop.

“Jesper.” Kaz’s voice came from the other side and your eyes widened.

“Yeah, boss?”

Kaz said something you didn’t hear, muffled or, perhaps it was a garbled type of code. maybe, your mind was just too overloaded with sensation that you didn’t care. you glance down to Jesper’s fully clad chest is pressed to your naked one; every inch of him pinning you down, keeping you as still and quiet as he could.

“Right now?” Jes asked, before he adds with a mischievous edge in his lilt. “Give me two minutes, got my hands full.”

“Wrap it up, I need you with me for the job.” you could practically hear the scowl in Kaz’s voice.

Jes’ eyes grazed over your countenance, smirking a bit at how your cries of pleasure died in the palm of his hand pressed tightly to your lips. his fingers pumping away in the same, blissful pace and massaging the same sweet spot as you came undone right there, pinned to the door. “I’ll be right down.” he answers, cool and collected, even as you squirm against him. his body was pressed so close to yours that you could feel his cock, hard and twitching, against your thigh, and when you did cum, you left a patch of wetness against his trousers. it was only after footsteps faded down the staircase as they descend that Jesper released you. you were panting, hips trembling when he took a small step back, and pulled his fingers free of your clenching, soaked core. “Looks like we have to cut the fun short, sweetheart.” he hums, looking surprisingly disappointed.

you feel it, too. and you mask a pout as best you can. “What will you tell him?” you ask, reaching down to retrieve your discarded robe from the floor and pull it around you. you try to avoid glancing down at the mess you’ve made of his pants, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“What do you mean?”

your eyebrows raise as you cinch the tie around your waist, effectively covering your quivering, wet thighs and your heaving chest. “Kaz. What are you going to say about being in my room?”

Jesper looks at you as if he were watching a child, fondly. it was condescending, but you weren’t exactly angry. just confused. “I’m sure Kaz knows exactly why I was in here, and I doubt he’ll ask.”

you frown, “Then, why did you cover my mouth if you weren’t trying to keep it a secret?”

he chuckles, and steps close again, bringing one hand up to caress your cheek, “Because I don’t want anyone else to hear those pretty sounds you make but me.” so much for not being the jealous type.

“Jesper,” you call, breathlessly as you grip his jacket tighter, this time with both hands and try to bring him close to you again. you push yourself on to your tip toes, hoping to coax him into a kiss, but his simper remains just out of your reach. still. you were flustered, and you felt like you might go insane if you didn’t taste his lips. “Stop being a tease and kiss me.” you grumble, narrowing your eyes. “Just once? Before you go. Please…”

Jesper smiles, licking his lips as if he’s considering your offer, and his head dips. “Oh, love,” he croons, oceans of ash pouring into your gaze, twinkling with adoration, “The urge to kiss you has been overwhelming since I first stepped foot in here.” you stare up at those beautiful, shapely lips as they form each word, your heart beating faster and faster. his couplet crests over the bridge of your nose as it descends, closer to your lips. hovering mere inches away. “But, I like you needy like this too much to give it all up just yet. After all, why would I fold with a winning hand?” you want to punch him, hard. you both admire and detest him right now, but perhaps that was your own greed talking. he runs his two, sticky digits over your parted lips and you’re quick to latch on to them, suckling your own taste from them. your tongue swirls around the metallic coolness of each ring, cleaning them thoroughly as you stare up into his eyes. if he wanted you needy, you’d show him needy. Jesper exhales. “But you certainly don’t make it easy to say no to you.” he notes, working his jaw. “I’ll have to come back and see you tonight after the job.”

784 notes · View notes

pars-ley · 4 years

Note

hi! i just came across your page the other day and i’ve read all of your drabbles and stories multiple times lol! so for my ask, i would love it if you did a college AU with popularjock!jk and have it be similar to the movie ‘A Cinderella Story’. some angst with smut and a happy ending if possible! oh and bestfriendjimin! as well :) hope this is not too much to request! ily

At the stroke of Midnight

Pairing: Jungkook x f reader

Summary: One popular boy + One 'uncool' girl + One school dance + One necklace left behind = A cinderella story.

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Smut / Cinderella au / A Cinderella story au / comedy / popular jock jungkook / best friend Jimin

Warnings: Suggestive language / sex

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Word Count: 4k

Beta reader: @casuallyimagining

A/N: I am so sorry this has taken me so long! I had no clue about this film, so writing this entailed some research and me watching the movie...twice haha. I really hope I did it justice for you and you enjoy it. Thank you for the request!

"So, what's prince charming saying now that's so much more important than your best friend?" Jimin pouts, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

You flush slightly. "He wants to meet." Grimacing at the words.

"And that's a problem, why?"

You bury your head in your hands. "Because I'm me and I'm certainly no one special, what if he's disappointed?" You groan, the dilemma churning your gut and making you feel like your breakfast could make a second appearance.

"Hey," Jimin scoots closer to you along the bench and throws an arm around your shoulder. "No best friend of mine gets away with speaking about herself like that. You are lovely, and if he thinks you're anything other than amazing, there's something wrong with him and he needs to be studied in a lab."

You laugh in spite of yourself, hearing Jimin’s words rattle around in your brain, knowing that you should not be this hard on yourself. You lean into his snug embrace.

You open up Tumblr and stare at the conversation between you and @gameoverguk. Your favourite gaming blog you’ve followed for ages, by chance seeing your gaming fan art and following you back was one thing, but conversing with him and finding out that he also attended your school was a completely different matter. Trying to solve the equation of who this mysterious creator might be is harder than you thought. And the way he converses with you, so open and honest and sweet, that had to narrow it down surely?

Something slams into your back, pain immediately in its wake. You and Jimin turn to see the popular boy of your university, Jungkook, gawking at you and his best friend Taehyung in hysterics.

Jimin looks down in the grass behind you at the offending apple and calls, “Hey, watch it guys.”

“Really sorry!” Jungkook calls over, a slight dusting of scarlet across his cheeks but looks like he’s also fighting a laugh. It burns you how someone so smug can still be so handsome, and you hate yourself for even thinking about him in any way other than the airhead jock that he is.

Taehyung jogs over and picks it up, still somewhat amused. “What, didn’t your crystal ball tell you that was gonna happen?” He says to you, loud enough for everyone in a mile radius to hear.

You cringe inwardly, attempting to fight your embarrassment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the top athletes in this university? And you can’t even catch an apple.” Jimin snarks in your defense.

His face drops as he looks like he’s about to take a step towards you both.

“Tae!” Jungkook calls, an air of command in his voice, breaking the tense air as he looks away from you ruefully. Walking off with Taehyung following, eating his apple and laughing between bites.

“Ignore them.” Jimin says sternly. “Speaking of, are you working tonight?”

Your face falls into an unamused expression, as if he even had to ask.

You were working so much you were almost taking residence at your step-mums 'magic shop', as everyone called it.

He smiles at you, his nose wrinkling, and you can’t help your face softening.

“Ok, ok, my bad. Can I swing by later? I need some more incense.”

You shrug, grabbing your bag and chucking it over your shoulder. “Sure. I’d be glad of the company to be honest.”

“Ooooh, maybe we could do a seance?”

You glare at him and head off to class causing his melodious laugh to ring out around you.

Sitting in the bleachers after class, with your sketchpad and pencil, the perfect view of the city line and the departing sun staring back at you, you sketch away. The pencil etching fast across your paper as you manage to block out the sounds of the team practicing and their bodies crashing against each other.

Long after you've lost yourself in your landscape, fingers grey and shiny from shading, you neglect to hear some of the team members leaving, climbing over the seats and headed in your direction. That is until your pad is snatched from underneath you as you frantically grapple for it, without success.

"You know, this isn't where the nerds hang out." Taehyung smirks at his two other buddies, clearly impressed with himself.

You let out a bored sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you owned the bleachers." Your words drip with sarcasm.

His face drops and a mean glare spreads across his features as he throws your drawing pad in the air. You watch helplessly as the pages flutter in the wind as it flies away and disappears under the stands.

"Have a nice night." He says quietly, an attempt to be intimidating, as him and his friends leave.

Your veins alight with fury, hands balled into fists at your sides. You wanted to stamp your feet like a petulant child. This isn't fair. Why you?

It's only then you notice Jeon Jungkook standing on the field watching. Embarrassment suddenly extinguishes your angry flames as he breaks your gaze first, walking off under the bleachers. You grab your bag to leave for work before you suffer any more humiliation.

As you reach the last step you yelp with surprise as Jungkook appears suddenly in your view, you manage to steel yourself before tumbling into him.

You stare at him, wishing he'd get on with it and tease you so you can go...but it doesn't come. Instead he hands you your sketchpad, gently dusting off the pages.

You take it, a hesitant, "thanks," ghosts from your lips.

"I'm sorry about him." He says quietly.

You shrug. "Not your fault, I guess."

Seconds tick by as you both stare awkwardly at each other, unsure what else could be said.

"You're pretty. I-I mean, it-it's pretty." He stammers, tapping the unfinished sketch in your book. "You're very talented."

Your cheeks flush an undignified fuchsia as you duck your head slightly, letting your hair hide you. "Thank you."

He offers you a weak smile before giving you a halfhearted wave and jogging off across the field, leaving you watching his back, perplexed at the exchange you've had.

You stare at your messages, every moment he can see you're online and not replying makes your cheeks flush crimson and makes your mind run frantic.

Meet me at the Happy Holidays dance.

Could you?

It’s the first holiday dance your university has put on--one you had no intention of going to, because you frankly didn't need the added teasing from the popular kids. It is a masquerade ball however, so no one had to know it was you, you could fall pleasantly under the radar.

Were you really considering this?

What did you have to lose? You can hide behind the comfort of your mask. If he discovers it's you, it's his problem if he doesn't like that, Jimin is absolutely right.

Ok. Where will I find you?

You press send and chuck your phone down, throwing your head in your pillow to scream. Did you actually just do that!? No taking it back now, it's out there.

When you hear your text tone sound you scramble quickly back to it.

By the old sundial outside. At 10.00?

You grin dorkishly at your phone, typing a quick reply.

Sure. See you then.

You call your number one speed dial, two rings in and Jimin's voice sounds.

"I was just going to call you, how strange. Listen, do you remember that time I-?"

"I'm in need of some urgent assistance. I just agreed to go to the holiday dance!"

He cackles excitedly on the other end. "I'll be right over!"

As you step out of Jimin's car you have to lift your ice blue dress up to avoid the floor...and tripping. How Jimin pulled this costume together in time, you'll never know, he's taking that secret to the grave.

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and adjust your matching lace mask, making sure it's comfortable.

"Ok, go get him tiger." He roars, as he swipes a clawed hand in front of you.

You giggle at his silly antics and take a deep breath before giving him a final nod and heading into the dance.

From the moment you walk in, you want to go home. This is a bad idea. He won't be interested when he finds out it's really you.

You have no time to continue your anguished thoughts as you get swept up in the crowd, fighting your way through to grab a drink. Standing to the side and surveying everyone's costumes, noticing a lot of dark or bright colour choices, you being one of the only people in a pale colour, making you stand out more. Something you were definitely hoping to avoid.

A few songs later and the clock in the hall catches your eye, noticing you had fifteen minutes until you meet your mystery man.

You head outside, footsteps echoing along the cobbled floor, and see that the outside is empty save for a few smoking and talking.

You get to the large, metal sundial and wait. Stomach churning from the butterflies that swarm wildly inside.

"Blue hour artist?" You hear your Tumblr tag spoken behind you and freeze.

You're about to meet him, come face to face with the person who understands you more than anyone, who opens up to you in ways most people wouldn't and who's creativity knows no bounds.

You turn slowly, not knowing who to expect but definitely not who you're faced with.

"Jeon Jungkook!? You're 'game over guk'?" You ask, your mouth popped open in shock.

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "that's not fair, you're wearing a mask. How will I know who you are?"

You stare at him, trying to find words to answer his question, but the fact that it's him stood before you blows you away.

How could this be? The person you've been talking to online is the complete opposite to Jungkook and yet, here he is, one and the same.

"You'll h-have to guess." You try to get yourself together.

His mouth stretches into a toothy smile. "Ok, how about we play '21 questions' to help me guess?"

You nod, playing with your fingernails out of nerves.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks, looking over at one of the benches.

"Um, no, I'd rather walk, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, sure." He agrees eagerly and you head off down the pathway around the building.

A few awkward side glances between the two of you and he finally asks, "Do we have any classes together?"

"No."

"Ok, narrows it down slightly."

You take this opportunity to look at what he's wearing and he's every part the Prince charming. In a white satin shirt, with light blue trousers and a one shoulder half capelet to match, complete with silver, trim detail. Surprisingly similar to your choice of dress, what a strange coincidence.

"You take art I assume?" He asks, into the comfortable silence.

You nod. "That's an obvious one." You refer to your Tumblr page full of your fan art and projects.

He smiles bashfully and your stomach flips at the sight, feeling like a true-life Disney princess with heart eyes and birds singing above your head.

"I don't know many girls in art." He admits,

"Ok, what about outside uni, do you go to any popular hangouts?"

Your cheeks flush, knowing you're admitting how dorky and uncool you are. "Nope."

"Ok, harder than I thought." He laughs, revealing his perfect teeth again. "Do you have a job?"

Nodding again, you play with the hem of your lace sleeve, channeling your nerves into the action.

As you're about to answer, your heel gets stuck in between the paving stone, causing you to buckle. Panic strikes you. You cannot fall over and embarrass yourself! Not when finding out who you are will be embarrassing enough. Luckily, you steady yourself against a nearby lamppost before falling on your face but at the cost of leaving your shoe stuck in the ground.

You tuck your leg up under your dress, steadying yourself against the street light, directly underneath the assaulting brightness, illuminating you like a spotlight.

Jungkook rushes over to your lonesome blue stiletto and retrieves it before crouching on one knee in front of you.

You stare at him, eyes wide and alarmed by his sudden closeness as he holds out your shoe in the most sincere way.

You bring your foot down and arch it back into its rightful holster. As you do, his fingertips graze your ankle, sending a flush of heat cascading up your body and neck, stopping only at your hairline.

He lingers there, looking up at you with huge doe eyes, but with a severe intensity you've never noticed from him before.

His fingers skate up your leg slightly as he rises, sending a delicious shiver through you. His fingers tips hint at your hand, you yearn to reach out and hold it, as he stands mere centimeters away from you. His intoxicating scent swirling around you like your own personal hurricane, taking your composed state and tearing through it, leaving it whimpering weakly on the ground. His face is too close to yours and yet not close enough. You feel feverish from his proximity and yet you need him closer to sate your heat.

Your breast vibrates from the aggressive pounding of your heart. Having him here on his knees in front of you, something not even acceptable in your wildest dreams and yet, here he is.

The person you've gotten to know so well, such a contrast to the person you've seen around campus. But then again, he seems to like the person he's gotten to know too, maybe he won't be as disappointed when he realises who you are? Maybe you can kid yourself into thinking that.

A chiming sounds in the distance, barely there and yet it creeps further into your subconscious.

"Your phone is ringing." He whispers, his breath tickling your face, as his eyes still blaze into yours.

'My phone. My phone? Oh, my phone!' Your muddled thoughts clear themselves enough for you to understand his words. You pull it out of your little silver handbag and see Jimin's number on screen.

"Hello?" You ask, staring dreamily at Jungkook who is rooted firmly in his spot.

"Ok, I apologise if you're throat-deep around prince charming’s dick but I really need to make it home before midnight so my dad doesn't turn me into a pumpkin...and by that I mean, pounded, pulped and pressed into pumpkin pie."

You snap out of it suddenly, realising Jimin's words and not wanting him to get in trouble because of you. "Of course. I'm coming, right now."

Jungkook's eyes flit back to reality with a deep frown. His hand clasps yours as you hang up and tuck your phone back into your bag. Your legs, already moving towards the front entrance where he would be waiting.

"Wait," Jungkook's pleading pierces right into your chest, feeling your resolve bubble up to the surface, enticing you to stay and see where the night takes you. But you don't.

"I can't, I have to go." You say, gently slipping your hand from his and jogging elegantly to the front parking lot.

When you see Jimin's dads silver Rolls Royce, you're suddenly eager to get in and share your news.

"So...did you meet him!?" An excited Jimin shakes your arm as you close the door behind you.

"Yes. You will never guess who he is." You fasten your belt and Jimin pulls off quickly, both of you wincing as he narrowly misses a barrier post on the way out of the campus.

"Who?"

You smile to yourself, heart fit to burst. "Jeon Jungkook."

Jimin's foot taps on the brakes, lurching you forward.

"I'm sorry. What?" He turns to you, eyes wider than you've ever seen them. "As in, popular boy, sex god Jungkook?"

You scoff. "Who told you he was a sex god?"

"I'm making assumptions. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." He grins as he elbows you in the ribs and sets off driving you home, while excitement rapidly blooms inside you.

You dropped your necklace.

You read the words over and over, unsure what your response should be. You needed that necklace. The simple silver chain holding the tiny teardrop pearl. It was all you had left of your dad. When he died, your step-mother sold most of his things, including gifts he bought for you. This was your last, most cherished item. The only reason you were allowed to keep it is that you were wearing it at the time and you haven't taken it off since. Losing it had your chest aching. You stared at Jungkook's last message until sleep over took you.

Monday morning. Eyes gritty and burning, you wake to the sea of sleep trying to entice you back to its darkening depths but you fight your fluttering eyelids and get ready for a new day.

How are you going to look at Jungkook now? You should tell him who you are. Yes, you'll do that and get your necklace back and it'll be happily ever after.

Only it won't.

From your experience happily ever after doesn't happen for most people, even accomplished, brilliant, beautiful people. You're entirely average and ordinary, why would it happen for you?

By the time you get to campus, your manic mind has been changed numerous times. You decide to wait until you see him, which you spend every moment of your arrival scanning the faces that pass you.

"Hey, hey, Jelly Bean. Looking for me?" Jimin's cheerful face comes into full view, distracting you.

He's clearly unimpressed with whatever expression you're portraying currently, as he pouts and turns to the sea of faces. "Clearly, I no longer matter, now you've got big dick Jungkook."

You hush him loudly, looking around to ensure there were no listening ears. "Firstly, I'm begging you, stop talking about his dick and secondly, stop being stupid."

He laughs at your stressed rant. "Ok, ok, jeez. Is he meeting you this morning?"

Your body tenses, knowing, already hearing the lecture he's about to scold you with.

"You didn't tell him, did you? He still has no idea it's you!?" He sighs, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, typical Jimin fashion. "I swear to god...If you don't tell him, I will."

Your head snaps over to him as you walk side by side into the building, glaring menacingly in his direction. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugs. "Try me, scaredy cat."

You huff and scrub at your tired eyes. "Let me just get through my classes then we shall discuss this."

He laughs as he tussles your hair and heads off in the opposite direction.

Your day passes fairly quickly, even though your struggle to stay awake during lectures only grows.

You do not see Jungkook, which is not unusual as you're not even in the same wings of the building most of the time.

Jimin's frantic waving has you puzzled as a deep frown creases your brow as you walk towards him, his jumping and pointing most unusual. It's only when you see a set of hands directly in front of you and feel your necklace land on your chest as it's draped across your collar bones, that you stop in your tracks.

Those hands, warm at the back of your neck and a mouth next to your ear saying, "I told you I'd look after it and return it." Unmistakably Jungkook's voice whispers in your ear making you quiver.

When his hands are gone you look down and find relief washing over you with the familiar feel of your necklace, having felt bare and empty without it.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?" He asks, stepping in front of you with a big bunny smile.

Wide eyed with shock, your mouth gapes open with the slow realization that he is, in fact, talking to you. "How-how did you…" Words fail you as you frantically think of any way you might have let slip your identity but coming up empty.

"How did I know it was you?" He asks, mouth pulled on one side in a smile. "When you dropped your necklace as you left the dance, I recognized it instantly. "

"Wh-what?" You squeak out. You attempt to swallow your confusion enough to form a coherent sentence. "On what planet would someone like you notice anything about someone like me."

A look of hurt flashes across his face, almost as if you'd slapped him as he takes a step towards you, a hair's width away now. "How could I not notice you? You're beautiful and smart, you don't follow the crowd and you're kind to everyone, I've noticed everything the last two years. I've just never spoken to you properly because….well...what do I have to offer someone like you, with endless talents and interests, a charming personality to boot and just when I think that's all there is, I discover something else about you. I'm just the school jock, popularity gets me opportunities, I don't have to work hard for anything...I feel...inferior to you. Worthless."

Your heart aches, hearing the words you feel escaping his mouth. How could that be possible? How on earth could he be so utterly mistaken, so completely wrong about himself?

"But gameoverguk is nothing like that person you're describing. If that's truly who you are?" You question quietly.

He nods, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook, I'm a gamer geek, I'm good at sports, I enjoy bike rides on the weekend and finding new food spots and I'd really like to take you out sometime...if you'll let me."

You feel your lips stretch into an undeniable grin. "Nice to finally meet you Jungkook. I'd love to."

As you aim the plastic machine gun, keeping it steady in your armpit and pointed towards the screen, you and Jungkook race through the game, taking down your enemies at every chance. When your team name, "Blue Hour Gamer" flashes in neon letters on screen as the winners, your hollering and hooting fill the arcade.

You don't even care that people are watching, not when you jump up and high five each other or when that high five turns into a hug, or when that hug very quickly turns into a kiss. You don't care.

You pull away quickly, embarrassment finding its way to dust your cheeks scarlet. Until you feel his hand press your lower back to him, your bodies crushing together and moving in perfect sync, making their own rhythm and inviting you to sing with it.

Heat blazes inside you like a wildfire, capturing everything else in its path and turning into thoughtless ash in the wind. Nothing else mattered, just him, his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, caressing so gently and yet setting your skin aflame.

Before you knew it, you were at his small, studio apartment, realising you had no clue he lived alone but thankful for that just the same.

When your back finds the bed, you sink into it, disappearing into a cloud of euphoria as he roams your body, slow and meaningful. Every touch makes you feel things you never have before, and every movement brings you closer to the edge of the precipice.

The way his mouth feels on you as he explores your body sends sparks of electricity racing through you. The way he feels inside you with each perfect, controlled movement lights you up like the sunrise after dark, warming you with its rays as you stare off the cliff edge and brace yourself for the impact. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks deeply into your eyes, something so sweet and pure in the action that your chest swells with emotion. His forehead touches yours as he moves in perfect time with your pounding heart. Suddenly you're falling, everything going past in a rush before crashing onto a sea of ecstasy, writhing and moaning until your climax subsides and his has joined in unison.

A tender kiss on your head, his arm winding around you, pulling you to him and encasing you in the perfect safety net is enough. Maybe he'll be your happily ever after, after all.

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ficauthor · 3 years

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inspired by the prompt by @danphanwritingprompts:

Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion. “Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked. Maddie scowled. “Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him. “It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

and some other headcannons that I've seen float around tumblr about trans Danny fic below cut if you dont wanna follow the link.

Looking out the window was making him nauseous, like really really nauseous. The kind of nauseous he only got when sick or from a good punch. He knew a thing or two about good punches. He’d been taking them for a few years now.

It really wasn’t fair if you asked him. One should ask him because it was an experience that only he could experience. After all, halfa's were rare as can be. Skulker had certainly told him enough for him to know. Every brush with alcohol in his younger days was, well, a mixed bag. He processed it faster than the average person so he was lucky in that aspect that he got drunk faster. But if anything his messing about with alcohol before he was 21 told him it was that it also left much faster than normal. Bullshit ghost rules and all of that. Genuinely being a ghost even half one had very few upsides. Some people online speculated about how cool ghost powers must be to have but clearly none of them knew about the burden that it came with. Sometimes he still wished that he didn’t know.

However this time for whatever reason the alcohol was hitting him and staying. Maybe it was because the previous times he’d been drinking cheap party booze in Dash’s garage with Sam and Tucker, no one but the three of them aware that they were even there. Instead this time the booze was some semi expensive shit, he didn’t know the name or type but he’d been promised quality. Why he of all people was being given quality alcohol he'd never know but he wasn’t going to turn it down.

That being said seemed the trade off was intense nausea. It wasn’t that bad all things considered, he actually preferred being sloshed for the upcoming event but his body was not agreeing with that. Not that his body agreed with a lot of things. The disagreement between ghost and human sometimes really bit him in the ass. His head was floaty, the world in front of him was spinning badly, maybe it’d be worth it to never drink again. Especially if he was going to have this reaction . If only he’d invited Sam and Tucker. They were great fun and always knew how to reel him in. Man he missed them, if only they didn’t all go to different colleges. But nooo all of their majors just had to have few overlapping colleges. At least they were all within a drives (or in his case a flying) distance. When he wasn’t feeling too sick and unbalanced he’d have to fly over to their dorms for a movie night. It’d be nice. Sam might even be able to get them into someplace cool again.

In a stagnant attempt to push the feeling away he turned away from the window and towards his family. Jazz was studying a text on her phone. Probably a message from her girlfriend at university. Maybe she was inviting her. That’d be nice. She seemed nice when he’d saved her as Phantom a month ago, then everyone was nice when their life had just flashed before their eyes and they were rescued from it’s visions. Even when he and Valerie were on the worst of terms he was always grateful when ever she rescued him in either form. Bar Johnny 13 his sisters' taste in partners wasn’t actually all that bad. He actually liked her last girlfriend. Even then with Johnny he wasn’t sure how much of that was actually her taste and how much was Kitty’s possession.

Certainly Jazz’s apprehension couldn’t be blamed, three of her previous partners both highschool and college were driven away by how weird their family was. She claimed she was fine with it, something about them not truly accepting all parts of her but still. That sucked. School had been rough enough, he couldn’t even count the amount of people that had been weirded out from being his friend because of his parents. Well there was also his reputation but his parents being renowned ghost hunters and chaotic town kooks certainly did not help. Looking back on it more of that might have actually been on his reputation. A nerd with A+ grades until highschool only to then end up with Ds on the best of days and bruises on the worst. Yeah some of that was probably on him.

Jazz gave him a look, he’d spaced out and looked at her for too long, it was weird now. He gave her a shrug and turned to their mother.

Laughing would be rude; he had to remind himself when he spotted her dancing along to the car radio in her dorky adult grooving. It was peaceful in a way. A down time he didn't usually get to appreciate before something bad (normally ghosts) interrupted. It was almost nice in a way to be calm with his mom and sister. Even if the former looked really really stupid.

He snorted anyway at his mom’s dance moves. Discombobulated shoulder jerks and little hand motions mixed in with little head rolls that had no rhyme or reason. It was wildly out of beat and didn’t match the tone of the song on radio. It was definitely the kind of dancing that Tucker would disparagingly call “white people shit”. The thought alone of Tucker's pain at his parents' dance moves was almost enough to send him into hysterics.

Man he missed Tucker.

He’d have to check in on Tucker soon, since he started the latest school assignment he’d sort of ghosted everyone, for the lack of a better word. It was probably the stress of dealing with his assignment partners, he’d done the same last time. Still… in a town and world with ghosts it couldn't hurt to try to check in on him. Tuck was a big boy now he could hold his own in a ghost fight but he didn’t like the idea of leaving him to it. Call him what you will but obsessions were just like that.

Maybe he was a little possessive.

Just a touch.

“Oh Danny!” his mom squealed as a new song filtered in. The Uber driver rolled his eyes, clearly he thought no one could see him but Danny caught it in the rear view mirror. ” I love this song, isn't it rad!”

He tried not to laugh, he really did, but it was so ridiculous. His parents were doing this on purpose! They had to be! There was no way that they weren’t no one was that out of touch. That behind on lingo. Warm giggles and chuckles bubbled forth, messy and loud. The kind of laugh only those closest to him could coax out of him. Back in school it was only Tuck and Sam that got him to laugh like that (maybe Jazz if she was lucky) make him lose his composure so quickly, but more and more readily his parents had been able to also force the laughs out of him.

If only fourteen year old him could see him now. He’d be so embarrassed. Sitting in the back of an Uber laughing openly at something silly his mom was doing. She said something he couldn’t catch, teased him probably for laughing. A random pop song and the air coming in from the drivers open window were just loud enough to cover even a raised voice. Even still the there was comfort. Whatever she said was from a place of love.

He loved car rides sometimes. He didn’t always appreciate them when he was younger, kind of like how he felt about his parents. Especially when he was 14 but now? They were some of his favourite times spent with his parents. He just couldn’t help it, something about the rolling scene and music with easy conversation lulled him. It helped keep his obsession at bay, blocking it from flaring if he could see that some of the most important people in his life were there, in front of him safe and sound.

He still ached. Felt that compulsion to check Sam and Tuck. Rather than scream like normal it was a soothing whisper. He was able to drunkenly send them a text about how much he loved them without the skin crawling need to see that they were still standing.

The Uber slowed to a crawl, the Sudan squealing as they stopped. Man that guy really needed to replace his breaks. He could get in a wreck and then whoever he was ferrying around could get seriously hurt.

No!

He shook his head; he couldn't let his obsession obsess on something so small. It was probably safe to look out of the window again so he chanced a look. Danny narrowed his eyes as the Uber arrived at the church, and he finally remembered the occasion.

“Wait, Mom? Did we just pregame Vlad’s funeral?” Danny asked.

Maddie scowled,“ Shut up and act sober. For some reason, your dad loved that miserable creep,” she told him.

“It’s the only way to get through the day,” Jazz agreed, fumbling to open the door and step out.

Damn he hadn’t meant to forget the occasion but he couldn’t help it his mind was already prone to wandering and the alcohol was just making it worse. Really it was a miracle he passed highschool in the first place, even when sober his mind just struggled to latch onto subjects, and that was before he had to nightlight as Phantom, hell it wasn’t even nightlighting it was a full double life. Really he didn't even know how he was managing college with the heroing on the side. Best guess if he was pressed to give one was that his parents’ disappointment and the desire to go to space was combining into the ultimate peer pressure. Funny how his brain worked like that, maybe Jazz could explain that to him. She was good for stuff like that. Explanations for why his brain was weird. She tried to give him an acronym for it one time something with A's. An attention thing of some sort. He'd have to ask her about it again sometime so he could wrap his mind around it.

“Hey!” Jazz opened the door, her face inches from his, the scent of some fruity cocktail on her breath,” get out Danny, and remember, act normal. At least for dad’s sake.”

“Yeah,” he waved her off stumbling to his feet, honestly it wasn’t fair that the ground was so unsteady beneath him, kind of transphobic if you asked him. “If you wanted me to act normal then why’d we all get plastered?” he joked.

“Shush,” Jazz clamped a hand on his face, their slow amble up the church's many steps paused. “Don’t lick a gift horse in the mouth Danny, you know this will be insufferable.”

He licked her hand, she recoiled, wiping the spit off on her fancy black dress.

“Danny!”

He stuck out his tongue in retaliation.

“Behave, ”she chided.

He rolled his eyes and followed her. It was just a funeral, what was the worst they could get into?

The second he stepped in the church threshold he knew. It put his whole body on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the faintest trickled of mist? ghost vaper? Ghost breath? He actually had no clue what it was that came out of his mouth.

Well he never really understood what he was saying half the time anyways, his mouth had a habit of running out from under him. The worst case of that was just the other week, he was talking to Sam over skype about something and he’d forgotten that she knew about Phantom, how really he had no clue, and he just went on for about twenty minutes making some out there wild excuse for why he’d missed their last hang out when she’d stopped him.

Honestly it was getting embarrassing, even worse was trying to keep things he said to his parents in each form separate. He really had to tell them soon.

It was so easy when he was 14 the breadth of his conversations with them as Phantom at the time could be summed up with a snarky quip from him or a “I’m gonna dissect you” from them. Now though they seemed to be fully taking seriously the notion that ghosts had depth to them. Which while true was deeply inconvenient for him. That meant he had to have interactions with them as Phantom and keep his identity straight ( ha ). Maybe he should be grateful, they weren’t threatening to dissect him anymore that was certainly a plus, they still definitely wanted to examine him however. He had considered it, in the depth of the night, allowing them to examine him only to drop the transformation part way through. It’d be funny, just a little bit to catch them off guard like that. But they didn’t deserve a coming out like that. He stifled a groan, he thought he was done with the closet when he’d come out but no life just had to never end and add in ghosts.

“Danny,” Jazz hissed at him.

He slurred out a huh at her in confusion.

Damn he’d been staring out at nothing, the Pastor? Priest? He didn’t know the difference to be honest, was still talking about Vlad. Shit that’s right! The second he’d walked in his ghost sense had gone haywire, Vlad was still (half) alive in that plush ass casket. He wondered how bad it'd be to fake a stomach ache and transform into Phantom for some ass kickery. Knowing his luck though Vlad might just feign full death embrace just to make a fool of him.

He would do that, fake his death, hell he was doing it right now! Motive was still unclear to him but Danny was going to get to the bottom of it. The man at the front, religious figure of whatever denomination, was gesturing large and big as he wrapped up. It was really official, and stuffy, when he finally fully died he wanted his funeral to be nothing like this. Maybe Tuck's ideas of dramatic funeral pranks were where it was at. Or maybe even Sam's ideas of celebratory parties that remembered the dead's life. He wouldn’t object to either of those.

Alcohol was fading out of his system again, well it’d been nice while it’d lasted but it’d probably be best to not be sloshed if Vlad wanted to cause a scene.

He sat at the edge of his seat as his father came up for a speech.

“Vlad,” his father stopped to blow his nose,” Vlad was a good friend of mine in college, w-we,” his lip trembled, his large jaw hammering up and down as he stammered for words. It took everything in Danny to not sink into the pew bench in embarrassment. Jack was for all intensive purposes the only person in the entire church that seemed genuinely broken up about the billionaire’s death.

“We drifted apart for a while, and he’d just started to come back to mine and my wife's lives a few years ago and- and- I-I sorry,” he winced as his fathers voice died.

While he didn’t understand his fathers affection for the man his heart couldn't help but ache for the man’s sorrow. His father had such a large heart. He was so trusting and held so much affection in his large beating heart. It was a weakness and a strength. One his mother often said he inherited. He didn’t know if he could see it. He wasn’t so soft, so trusting, so eager to love and care as his father. Then the larger man hadn’t been burned the same. Hadn’t had his heart half electrocuted to death like him.

His mom walked up on the stage, he was briefly impressed by her composure, she was buzzed but also in heels and looked to all the church exceedingly well put together. Quietly she was speaking her hands gently on Jack’s shoulders patting his back soothingly. She often sold herself short. Stating her heart not to be as big, Danny didn’t believe that, not really, his mother was just more careful in those she let in.

“I wasn’t as close to him as my husband,” she admitted, having softly taken the mic from Jack. her fingers were curled around it softly, but her other hand was in her hair. She was fidgeting and searching for words,” but I’m sure those he was close to will miss him dearly.” she said tight lipped. Jack whispered something to Maddie quietly making her smile tightly and nod. The man moved to his seat and let his wife continue his speech in his stead.

It was nothing notable really, Danny wasn’t one for paying attention to speeches or lectures and a funeral would not be an exception. He caught a few snippets though, his moms implication that she liked him better in college. A line hoping that in death that he could hopefully move on from the past. He really tried to not laugh at that one clearly because she'd noticed the exes. How many of them had known before? How many of the exes had to learn of their blueprint right then and there in the funeral.

Still he sat teetering on the edge of his seat, half paying attention to her words and mind half trained on that open casket. Vlad lay there in the plush box waiting. What for he couldn’t tell yet but he wasn’t going to be caught unaware.

The speeches couldn’t have ended any slower in his opinion. He wished that the alcohol hadn’t run it’s course already. It was so much easier to get through shit when his mind was quieted and his obsession was dulled. Instead he was forced to wait, his waking obsession tearing at his insides making him wait. Watch the lingering guests with apprehensive eyes. A few were expected. Gaggle of divorced exes. Some smattering of people that vaguely had Vlad's chin and nose. It was bizarre, some looked wildly like him and others well. They were utter strangers to Danny. They all were but they seemed almost faceless in how unknown they were. Interestingly none of them really seemed that choked up. He’d never expected troves of people depressed about Vlad’s passing. Still to only have one sobbing mourner? Maybe they just grieved differently...

Yeah maybe.

About when he got his water from the refreshments table he realized that Vlad really wasn't pulling a stunt. Still he had no clue why he was in that damn casket if he was still (half) alive in there. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, his worst nightmare was being trapped in one of those, yet Vlad had clambered in willing foot after foot laying stricken and board straight for all that he knew to see him. It didn’t make sense. There had to be some trick.

There had to be.

He thought maybe after his father had bowed his head over the casket head in hands loud body wracking sobs shaking his shoulders that Vlad might then spring to life (ha) and attack them. No, instead he remained laying in that coffin, the soft plush pillow under his head holding him still, the flowers in hand still clutched in strict fingers. He must have some sort of long con going on then. Some sort of goal he was aiming to reach by laying stricken and dead.

Wouldn’t be the first time the man had pulled a bizarre stunt. The time he’d kidnapped Danny and his mom sprang to mind. But there were few situations that came to mind where faking one’s death could come in handy.

A severe looking man walked up to him a small plate of hors d'oeuvres in hand. Sam would hate the sight of the small snacks, not a single one was vegetarian. And Tuck? He’d be laughing his head off at the name and size. He really had to rope them into a trip to the movies or arcade sometime soon.

The man greeted him, straightening his professional looking tie as he spoke. The man was exceedingly out of place, in a clean and crisp business suit that hardly matched the tone of mourning clothes. Then his parents were wearing their jumpsuits under their fancy clothes so glass houses and all that.

The man was painfully dull giving Danny his condolences in a rather stilted and clunky tone. The man clearly didn't want to be there. He raised an eyebrow at the man as he finally asked how he knew the ‘deceased’.

Telling the man something to the effect of, “Just through my parents,” somehow making it clear to the man that he wasn’t particularly choked up by the billionaire's death. Gee he wondered what gave it away, his flat unaffected tone? Or the fact that Vlad was a billionaire with no moral backbone.

Huh, he must really be missing Sam a lot to be thinking like that. he hated to admit it but she was kinda right.

Business suit was disinterested in conversation with Danny after that, he hastily wrapped up the conversation. Man even muttered “shame.” under his breath, if Danny wasn’t half dead he wouldn't have caught it. But well nothing ever really worked out well for bureaucrats did it?

Had Vlad seriously faked his death to avoid paying a few measly bucks? The man was a billionaire! He must really owe them a mean amount of money for them all to arrive at the funeral like this. Maybe they hoped the will would work in their favour? Not far in front of the refreshment table were two suits talking unabashedly about the amounts that Vlad owed them. If it weren’t for the setting Danny would think that they were coming or going from an important meeting.

For what was probably the first time he properly looked at all of the guests. Actually taking them in, a good chunk like he’d noticed before were the exes that half looked like his mom, and their kids (hopefully they weren’t biologically Vlads). Then there were the vague family members that looked like Vlad watered down with kindness. But the rest? Suits and-

Oh.

Oh he had to step behind an archway and stuff a fist in his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Vlad had fucking bounty hunters being sent after him! It was karmic, he had to stop himself from busting a gut right then and there in the middle of a church. It was already blasphemy enough to be the walking dead he didn't want to also throw in disrespecting the (only mostly) dead into the mix.

Well at least they weren’t all debtors, lurking around the corners and edges of the room was a guy he’d worked with as Phantom a few years ago. He was kind of hot in a rugged sort of way. If it weren’t for Sam and Tuck he’d have considered flirting seriously with the other man. As it was his joking flirting got him in trouble with the other two.

He was really acting up being normal, that rugged man. Mingling about with other people dressed neatly.

Clear to only Danny what he was, what the others like him were, the man wandered unaware that Danny was watching him. Ironically he only knew they were bounty hunters because Vlad had hired the rugged man and his crew to hunt Phantom that time a few years ago and now? Oh the tables have turned. Someone, maybe one of the exes, or the debtors wanted him dead. Damn what had Vlad done?

Ghost Zone inhabitants had mixed opinions on him, many of which wanted him dead or knocked down a peg. But that was the Ghost Zone, half of them wanted Danny dead at some point or another. This was the human world. Earth and shit, it was much harder to piss off someone to the level of murder. Not impossible but damn. He grinned at this, Vlad was (half) alive and (sorta) well in that casket and he couldn’t do anything if he started to stir shit up. Life was beautiful, twinkling and gorgeous, he decided. He Didn’t need Tucker and Sam to have fun.

He started with one of the exes. He went out of his way to ignore her dyed red hair and pale purple eyes as he talked with her. It wasn’t her fault that Vlad had a complex, he reminded himself as the woman talked. Fault couldn’t be pinned on her for the parallels he could search between his mother and her. She was nice in a weird way, again really like his mom. It was unnerving. He kept trying to ignore her beady eyed gremlin of a child as she talked to him about the will.

Whatever Vlad had done for all the people in his life to only care about the will and the will alone Danny wanted to do the express opposite. It was almost painful in a way to watch all of these people act like they weren’t only here for the money. Served the man right, it was still depressing, the man had everything on paper but not a damn thing in reality.

“Do you think his daughter will show?” he tactfully added into the conversation after the woman had made some condolences about his family and Vlad.

“Daughter?” the woman asked, her large eyes blinking slowly,” I'm sure you're mistaken, Vlad told me he doesn’t have kids.”

“Oh,” he said, feigning apology, inside he was loving this, sure Vlad couldn’t admit the truth about the clones but clearly the man had seriously left out some details to his ex lovers. “Are you sure? ‘Elle is nineteen now,” he said, it was technically true if you counted right. She was also only seven if you counted right. It was all about semantics.

“Ninete-” the woman stammered something hard settling in her eyes,” he told me he didn’t want to have children,” she looked down at her angry eyed child (he hoped the little dude didn’t kick him in the shin) who had a hand fisted in the end of her dress. “If you’ll excuse me, Daniel, this was an- enlightening conversation.” he watched her walk away to a woman with a big chunky bracelet.

Also a redhead. Of course.

A sharp pain seared in the top of his ear he prevented himself from yowling out as the fingers attached dragged him over to a corner.

"ow ow ow," he whined out quietly trying heard not to draw attention to himself. It didn't really work.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jazz hissed at him when they were hidden away from the rest of the group.

“First of all: ow!” He rubbed his ear delicately between his finger pads,” I’m not a child anymore, maybe borderline sibling abuse was funny in 80’s sitcoms but it's not anymore.”

Jazz rolled her eyes,” second of all?” she pressed, she was still slightly buzzed and yet she was still holding herself with so much composure. Kind of impressive, if she hadn’t just physically threatened to rip his ear off.

“Secondly I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Not do-” Jazz floundered,” Daniel!” she hissed out again struggling to keep her tone low. Damn she was mad, she only pulled out the full name when really fucked up,” I know your relationship with Vlad was- complicated.”

He snorted,” he tried to kill me multiple times, Jazz.”

“Yes bu-”

“Dark Dan,’’ he pressed further.

“I get it!” she snapped in a whisper-shout,” but a funeral isn-”

“He isn’t dead Jazz. Or really fully dead I guess I should say,” he laughed

Jazz rolled her eyes,” This is concerning behaviour Danny.”

“W-what?” he asked.

She tapped her chin pensively, she was psychoanalyzing him again, gag, “You must be transferring your complicated feeling about him into-”

“Jazz,” he groaned. It was best to stop her before she got on a roll, “Ghost senses remember? He’s still not fully dead, I can tell. He faked his death.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh," I'm not saying I believe you, but say he did fake his death-”

“He did.”

She shot him a look, “Why? Why would he fake his death? He’s a rich ceo multi-billionaire with more money than most of us can conceive of, nonetheless actually obtain, what does he get out of faking his death?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, this was easier when Jazz was talking to one of Vlad’s cousins ignoring him stirring the pot.

He explained what he’d pieced together so far, with the suits and hunters lurking around the edges of the room it was easy to point out how out of place they look. Slowly a realization fell on her face, an acceptance of what he was saying.

“When I was talking to the stepford exes they were all talking about who would get the estate.”

“Do they know who?” he asked.

Jazz shook her head,” no the will was kept really secretive from all of them. There was even a bit of an altercation from two of the younger ex girlfriends over it.”

He winced at that, he couldn’t blame them for being mad he just wished Vlad wasn’t faking death for them to take it out on. “The bottle red and the one with the big bracelet?” he prompted, remembering the end of his conversation with the former.

“No that’s Maddison and Maggie, the two that fought were Morgan and Melenie.”

“Maddison? Maggie? Morgan? Melenie?” he repeated with a grimace voice getting higher with each name.

“Yeah I know,” she said with a sigh,” a textbook case of projecting an ex, or in this case crush, on future partners leading to a string of failed relationships,” she frowned looking over at the group of clustered red heads. Danny followed and examined them, they were all looking at something their eyes occasionally darted over to-

Oh of course, mom, they ‘d probably done the math already. He winced at the thought. He’d half thought about it before finding the notion funny. Now in his sparkling sobriety of the evening he couldn’t find the humour.

“At least they all mostly get along,” Jazz offered, trying to look away from how the dozen or so women were looking at the one woman they were all stacked against.

“Really?” he blinked at her,” I’d have thought that they’d all be fighting cause of the- well you know,” he gestured to the, everything, of the situation.

She shook her head,” no, they seem to all understand that it was all on Vlad, two of them, Mackenzie and Melody,” she clarified to even more of his confusion,” even found out that they were seeing him at the same time. How they didn’t know with all of the press that followed him I’ll never know, but they decided to team up on the legal front if there are any issues with the will.”

“Really.”

Jazz nodded,” yeah I was surprised too, but good for them, Vlad went around causing too many issues in their lives.”

He nodded in agreement as he looked at at the sea of redheads, some of them had grown out their hair revealing dark roots, some had hair styled in poufy curls reminiscent of his mothers old style and one of them had completely cut her hair into a half shaved look, it was actually similar to the look that Sam had now.

“Want to cause some problems for him?” he asked.

“Danny, legally and socially he’s dead, what could we do?”

“Legally yeah,” he agreed,” but technically he’s still half alive in there, and can hear everything that people say-”

“Are you suggesting that we ruin his reputation?” Jazz asked with a poorly hidden smile. He loved that in the years she’d loosened up. It was a good look on her, relaxation.

“Ruin?” He said, in mock scandal, ”I'm merely suggesting we bring it down to where it belongs.”

“Oh ‘merely’ what is that a fifth grade word? I'm impressed!” Jazz teased.

He shoved her lightly with a laugh,” oh fuck off I’m in college now you know.”

“Really? Accredited and everything?”

He stifled his laugh,” shut up, you know dealing with ghost shit messed with my grades.”

Truthfully he’d expected her to joke further about it, to razz him about doing so much, or maybe analyze him, diagnosis him with trauma. Instead she hugged him.

“I’m sorry so much was put on your shoulders so young,” her voice was raw. Too raw.

He patted her back, stomach squirming. Because what was he to do with that? The tender care held for him in the cracks of her fingers. The sorrow that settled in her pores all for him?

“Hey stop that,” he eventually said, pulling back,” or I'll make clockwork take me back in time so you never find out.” He didn’t mean it, he never did.

Jazz laughed a little wetly, he didn’t comment on it. Why would he? Also didn’t get a chance as she ruffled his hair, despite the fact that he was now much taller than her. “People are allowed to care about you, asshole.”

He scrunched his nose up at that,” ew what? I detest affection.”

“Oh detest another good one, really racking up those vocab words huh?” she sniffled her hands on her hips, a little lean in her back as she smirked.

Snorting, he stepped back and fixed his hair,” how about we make this a competition?”

“Huh?”

“First one to make Vlad burst out of his casket and rage in ghost mode wins.”

“Really? What would the winner get?”

He tapped his chin making a humming noise,” how about this, loser has to reveal their secret.”

Jazz laughed nervously,” I don’t have a secret Danny.”

Danny gave her a look,” Jazz, I’ve met your girlfriend.”

She bit her lip looking down at his outstretched hand, a debate playing in her eyes.

“Hey you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he said softly,” this is just meant for fun after all.” he knew better than most what forcing this stuff did.

”No, it’s fine,” she took his hand and shook, if a little clumsily,” that doesn’t mean they have to meet her though.”

“Oh don’t worry,” he said,” it won’t be my fault if they do that’ll be entirely on them.”

“Danny!” she exclaimed at him as he fled to the other side of the church. Finally this funeral was going to be interesting!

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked the swaying uncle of Vlad. The man smelled of beer and hors d'oeuvres. Not that Danny could judge if it wasn’t for the thick layer of spray on deodorant that his mom smothered him in right before he got in the uber then he’d probably smell just as rank. Then there was the fact that he’d pregamed to.

The older man narrowed his eyes at Danny, he was shocked to see the man he looked to hardly be much older than Vlad yet he was his uncle? He’d gone to ask about it but thought better about it, the less lore he knew about Vlad’s family the better, he really didn’t want to know about how many kids and when and how the Masters ‘clan’ had. Conversation with the older man was… stilted, to say the least. But he was certain that if he told him something then it wouldn’t get back to him. And that was half the game wasn’t it? Finding a way to spread the most rumours without people finding out it was him or Jazz. All without powers of course, that almost went without saying.

The man didn’t seem too broken up about Vlad, they probably weren’t that close and Danny had always gotten the impression from the billionaire that he was a smidge too snobbish to fully have developed relationships with people. As often as he teased Jazz for being snobby, she at least was nowhere near as bad as Vlad. Man damn near invented snobbishness and assholery. He’d have to ask clockwork if Vlad’s ancestors were just as bad. Judging by some of his family, probably not.

“Well before he passed,” Danny prompted, pausing in a way to snag the older man's attention.

“Yes?” the older man asked when he didn’t continue.

“Well,” Danny fidgeted with his nail,” you know his signed Packers jersey?”

The older man nodded eagerly.

Danny looked to the side,” it’s a fake,” he whispered to the man.

“Really?”

He nodded,” yeah, but please don’t tell anyone,” he added,” it’s bad enough that they know he was banned from buying the team-”

“He was what?”

Danny fought to hide a smirk. He knew it’d be easier to sell this lie if he started smaller.

“I thought everyone knew!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, most of the town knows, it’s just, no one talked about it to be polite.” okay that might have been overselling it a bit but the distant relative seemed to really be drinking it in.

“What did he do?”

Danny looked side to side like he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

“Well a few years ago when he was closing the deal to buy the team he got caught stalking some of the members!”

“Really?” the uncle asked,” wha- why?”

Danny shrugged,” they never really found the reason he was following them, he was even trying to seduce some of the wives.”

The man gasped,” I- really?”

Danny nodded. “But you can’t tell anyone you have to promise me.”

He watched as the man smiled in what he thought was slyness,” of course! I just, with all of those wives he had!”

Within the next five minutes Danny heard the rumour circulate across the room and it had grown legs. How glorious those rumours legs were.

“I heard he’d tried to break up a marriage on the team!” an ex wife (Maggie maybe?) hissed.

The other ex (Mary? The other woman might have called her) laughed,” would it really be any surprise? With what he did to Morgan and Melenie?”

The first woman nodded sagely,” fair I can’t believe I even fell for his tricks.”

All things considered the rumour was spreading well, and there was not even a gasp of a suggestion that he was the source. He couldn’t wait to hear what Jazz had invented, with the rumbles he’d already started to hear, it was probably great. Jazz always did have a way of getting into people’s heads. Find what interests them the most.

“So this daughter of Vlad's?” the woman he was talking to prompted, he vaguely remembered Jazz saying her name was Maddison. She’d found him again some time later; her child now safely deposited over by the other kids with their group babysitter. They were in the middle of the church now, the other two still whispering about the packers' spouses.

“ ‘Elle?” he asked as if he’d forgotten.

The woman nodded her curls bouncing as she did.

“Can I see a picture of her?”

He pulled up an older photo of them hanging out, the picture was grainy and they were both sticking their tongues out at the camera. Shit he’d really forgotten how alike they looked.

“You both-” the woman said before stopping. She glanced at his parents.

Shit he had to go into damage control,” well she’s also my cousin,” he fibbed.

“Cousin?”

“Yes! Technically once removed? Or something like that, I didn’t meet her until a few years ago, we were really blown away with the family resemblance!” he laughed. "Really it's uncanny!" He continued.

Too far! Too far! He was leaning into it too much! It wasn’t like he could just tell her the truth, that Dani was Vlad's only successful half dead clone of him! Then he’d also have to out two things about himself to her.

“She travels a lot,” he added. He really needed to learn when to shut his big mouth,” she was in Paris a few years ago actually.”

“Really?”

He couldn’t even blame the alcohol! He was just this stupid naturally huh? They’d been saying it for years Sam and Tucker, if only he’d taken them seriously before this. His idiocy might really be terminal.

“Yup, I haven’t seen her in awhile though, hopefully she visits again!”

Scrutinizing eyes scanned him up and down, darting from each corner of his face hunting out the ruse. He really needed to learn to shut his big mouth.

“Do you have her number?”

Crashing noises filled his brain. Her number? The last thing that he had expected was interest in ‘Elle. he’d just thought that they’d get upset at Vlad and leave it at that.

“ ‘E-elle's?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry if this is prying but me and the other ladies,” she gestured to a few of them,” we’re talking and we want to support her!”

“I-” he hesitated, he hadn’t really planned for this,” what?”

The older woman nodded,” we all talked it out and if we get the estate we’re going to support one another and the kids, and it seems like ‘Elle just got stuck in the middle of this like the rest of us.”

“Yeah uh, let me just text her first?”

“Of course honey!”

Danny walked away from that conversation feeling distinctly weirder than before. Regardless he pulled up his phone and slid out the keyboard.

He opened up the “With an I” contact.

Hey i accidentally got you adopted by like fifteen random women that used to date vlad

5:43 p.m.

You what? Lul

5:45 p.m.

He looked up around him before typing out the next message

Yeah long story short he faked his death. Its weird

5:46 p.m.

I’m at the funeral and the exes wanna like support you?

5:46 p.m.

Well Vlad wasn’t good for much but at least i now have a multitude of mothers

5:47 p.m.

So i can give them your number?

5:47 p.m.

Yeah have at it! If this causes chaos for vlad im all for it !

5:48 p.m.

“So her phone number is.”

By the time he’d separated himself from that conversation a few more rumours were floating.

“I heard that the reason he died in a car crash is because he was on the run from the law!” one of vlad's relatives whispered.

“Really!” another responded.

Elsewhere some of the attending staff were murmuring too. “I heard that he got caught smuggling maple syrup cans from canada!”

“Cans?”

“Yes apparently the good stuff is canned there.”

He walked to a new group this time with the suits.

“I hear that the money in the accounts is dirty.”

“According to my source his invested stocks were backed with illegal funds.”

“If there’s drugs really attached to it like I was told then I don't want anything to do with it.”

“I agree it's hard enough to get money from wills with spouses involved. It's even harder if the feds sniff any drugs.”

“It might not even be worth it to try with all of the ladies,” a different suit complained,” I overheard them talking about lawyering up together if anything goes wrong.”

Another much older suit scoffed,” this business was much easier before the exes started working together.”

Finally he heard his own new rumour starting to gain some traction.

“Wasn’t it found out that he was stealing science equipment from the nearby college?”

“Oh whatever for?”

“I heard it was for making a specialty shampoo.”

“I’ve always wondered how he kept his hair so nice and shiny.”

Jazz was good, too good, considering that neither of them had really clicked into any social cliques in highschool. Now she was gossiping better than even any of the A-listers.

“It’s just such a shame that they can’t come,” Jazz was even fake sobbing, damn he was going to have to up his game.

“Who couldn’t come?” One of Vlad's older cousins asked, Danny wondered if Jazz was screaming inside at the hand she had around one of the older exes' waists, it was casual and tender. If one of Vlad's exes was getting together with his cousin because of the funeral , Danny would shriek from laughter, hell if he accidentally used his ghostly wail it’d be well worth it. Vlad of all people deserved to have a partner snatching occur to him.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Jazz said,” I thought that everyone knew,” she looked from side to side,” please don’t tell the other ex wives Monroe I’d hate for their feelings to get hurt over this.”

Damn she was good. The wife- Monroe who was leaning comfortably on the cousin nodded.

“Of course Jazzie,” she said in a deep comforting New York accent,” this can be brought up to them later more delicately later. Though I must admit,” she said after a pause where Jazz thanked her for her discretion.” I myself am curious who wasn’t able to come.”

“Well you know how he used to do ghost research with mom and dad?”

Where was she going with this? She was selling it well, Danny had to admit but for the life of him he couldn’t guess where this was going.

“Yes of course,” the cousin nodded as Monroe spoke.

“I can’t name the amount of times he used to write home in our youth about his little ghost adventures,” the cousin added.

Jazz nodded ,” well at the school there was the Lunch Lady Ghost and the Box Ghost, he was seeing them romantically in between their stays in the ghost zone.”

Danny held back a snort box ghost! If he laughed too hard in that moment he’d drop the ghost form and would fall on top of the group that’d gathered around her. As much control as he’d mastered over his abilities over the past couple years there was nothing that would be able to save him from Jazz’s wit.

“I’m sure box ghost is very helpful for moves,” one of the crowd commented amicably. The others though had nothing to say. Clearly they’d all actually met Box Ghost.

The gossip might have even stayed in that circle if it weren’t for another one of the cousins being right there and then deciding to tell his wife, who then told one of the ex-wives, who then told another, who then told a suit. So on and so forth.

By the time that Danny was back in human form and settled on the opposite side of Jazz’s conversation he was hearing the children that some of the wives had brought talking about Vlad ‘holding hands’ with the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady. Why couldn’t he have thought about that? It was so good, it was perfect, literally no one could prove it wrong. And embarrassing, seriously Box Ghost!

All the stuff he knew to be true about Vlad sounded so far-fetched.

Half ghost?

Well most people didn’t know about them.

The time he infected his two closest and longest friends with ghost pimples?

Needed the half ghost context.

If only there was some-

“I hate Vlad!” one of the kids near him cried out stomping down his foot.

Unsurprisingly all of the kids agreed, okay he was a little surprised, usually Vlad had the wool pulled over on most people. So the fact that all of these kids hated him really meant something.

“He stole my cotton candy at the fair!”

“Well he told me that I didn’t need to see daddy anymore cause he was gonna replace him!”

Eager ears pointed at them he drank in their every complaint. He’d known that Vlad was cartoonish levels of evil for awhile (see the infecting teens with ghost acne for personal gain as proof, or kidnapping him and his mom) but never had he truly expected for him to be so stupid as to do it all in the open in front of all of these kids. Then again some of this might be his obsession making him act out. Smallest sliver of him almost felt bad about that, the fact that Vlad was in a way forced to be this way, but it wasn’t really anything he wasn’t before. Obsessions just highlighted what was already there. Made it more severe.

“Uhm excuse me,” he tapped the shoulder of one of the shorter women,” Mallory?” He'd asked the babysitter for her name but for the life of him he was struggling to keep all of the exes straight in his head. There were just too many of them and they all looked too similar to his mom.

“Yes,” her eyes flickered with recognition,” Danny?”

He laughed,” yeah that’s me!”

“Some of the others were mentioning you!” she said with a bright smile taking his hand,” thank you for telling us about ‘Elle! I can’t believe he kept her a secret from all of us for so long.”

He nodded in agreement,” well about Vlad-”

“Oh no, what else was he hiding?” she asked, there was a laugh ringing from her but Danny didn’t need ghost senses to know it was dead on arrival,” I’ve learned so much more here at his funeral than I ever did when we’d been together.”

He laughed a little at that, a stilted awkward laugh that only filled his chest halfway. He almost felt bad telling her about this, but she deserved to know the truth. “Well I overheard some of the kids complaining about Vlad.”

He filled her in on what he’d overheard about the kids, the petty little actions of Vlad. The cotton candy he’d stolen (which was weird he’s rich), the fathers he threatened to replace, it was all so bizarre. Danny was about halfway through when the casket began to shake.

Vlad masters was not an impulsive man. He was calculated, smart and forward thinking. At least he certainly liked to think so. No impulsive man goes out of his way to plan his nemesis’ death and demise for twenty years. No reckless person would spend his time building an empire carefully crafting his abilities and connections for taking down his enemy. Vlad however to his greatest distaste was in fact still half human and not infallible. While he was meticulous and in his personal opinion exceedingly intelligent he had no way to properly plan for wrenches in his schemes.

The fenton boy, Daniel was his biggest hurdle but it was only a matter of time before he found the right way to tackle the issue. He was just a particularly big roadblock. If only his emotional attachment to his dunderheaded father wasn’t so strong. These issues were all small potatoes compared to the one he was in now. The details can be spared and smoothed over all that was truly important was that he was at his own funeral.

He’d always wondered what people's reaction to his death would be. Contact with his extended family had been… loose, for the lack of a better term since his ‘accident’. Deep down however he knew that when or if his time came, truly came, that they’d have a reaction. Probably sadness, he had been close to a few of them before his accident, hell he’d been close to them before his company had taken off. At the end of the day he simply had better things to do. Plans to make, revenge to ruminate on. It wasn’t his fault that they’d fallen to the wayside. They simply weren’t as important as Maddie.

He’d toyed with the idea that maybe his dear Maddie would sob over him, that she’d denounce Jack when she saw that he was no longer an option. How deeply poetic it’d be for that to happen. He never liked the idea of her only realizing their potential then but he couldn’t ignore the artful symmetry of it all. Some of the books that Maddie used to read in college had those even beginning and ends, those swooping through lines that tied it all nicely in a pretty bow. His first death had ripped her away from him. It’d gifted her to Jack on a silver platter, and his second oh how glorious it’d be if it drew her to him. Making her denounce her imbecile of a husband. Leaving the stocky man discarded. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and even with its harsh edges his death bringing her close to him was something to behold. If only that was what he was watching happen.

Unfortunately for Vlad Masters Owner, Ceo, and founder of Vladco. Life was not an art piece nor a well orchestrated game of football. No instead he got to lay still (half) alive in his exceedingly expensive casket and listen to the dolt sob.

It started like all of the worst things while heading to the Fenton's for another plan to be set in motion. The restraining order was still being held up in the courts so there was technically nothing legally stopping him from seeing them, or especially her. Besides he was a billionaire, those things were more fine machines than anything for him. Once it was enacted all he’d have to do was pay a fine.

Unfortunately it was during the drive that issues started. Again finer details notwithstanding for he’d run them all in his head a thousand times now while laying in this blastedly comfortable casket. While on the drive it became clear to him he was being followed. No matter , he’d smugley told himself. He’d been followed by techbro fans before they were easy to deter. Easy to remove from his time and life. However in a deeply detestable turn of events the car following him did not belong to a fan.

He knew from the offset of seeing the make and model that it wasn't his average follower, those types usually had older beaters or worse highly expensive care that they had no business owning. No, instead this car was perfectly down the middle of class and price. How he detested those cars, they had no class. It was effectively similar to the many unmarked police cars that he used to have follow him during his brief stint as mayor.

Regardless the car was tailing his limo, it was simple at first to attempt to outmaneuver them. Eventually his limo was pinned.

Blah blah blah mindless details later some pointless shooting at him with guns and he’d jacked their car. In the end it was simply easier to fake a fatal car crash. then there were all of those witnesses that had to see his death. Walking it back was impossible all circumstances considered. At least when they attacked him they only knocked his driver out, the legal case of that would have been a logistical nightmare and he still had some hopes of getting access to his funds later.

It was almost funny in a karmic way. Almost as poetic as he had wanted pretending to be dead to be. Only problem was it was poetic in exactly the opposite way. The person that he hated most there sobbing the loudest. It’d be so much easier if it was Madeline sobbing. If she was sobbing, a faked death could be almost satisfying. If she melted down it could almost be worth it. Instead it was Jack Fucking Fenton.

Numerous things were to be expected from his funeral, Daniel's arrival, yes, Maddie’s, undoubtedly. Even Jazz’s and Jack’s all expected arrivals. Some of them were more annoying than others but they were the requisite arrivals. Even his gaggle of ex flings was to be expected (they had to try and get their hands on the estate and money somehow. Well jokes on them he’d left it all to Maddie). No, what he hadn’t been prepared for was Jack’s incessant wailing and sobbing.

The man was besides himself absolutely losing his mind right next to his goddamn open casket. It was getting hard to keep a straight face when he wanted nothing more than to leap from the plush silk sheets and throttle the man. His hands might not quite reach around the other mans thick neck but he could give it a good try he was sure. To put it simply and without intense amounts of rage he had mentally calculated for a lot of variables, not one of them being Jack of all people struggling to breath, choked out sobs instead of breaths coming from him as he hovered nearby. Not a single variable included being cried on by the most loathsome man in all of Amity Park. Every tear that fell on Vlad’s extremely expensive make up was another tally against the man’s. Had he no clue how hard it was to not flinch every time a drop of water splattered on his face? It was much harder than it looked he’d have him know.

Didn’t the idiot realize that he hated him? That he’d never cared for him? At least not since his death.

Worse was when Maddie and the Fenton children staggered in, he could smell the alcohol on them from a mile away. It was tasteless! The smell alone nearly made him leap from his casket and throttle them where they stood (Maddie with exception of course). Have they no respect for the dearly departed? Have they no care for social decorum? Those Fenton spawn would never survive in high class society. Not like himself and Maddie. Oh how he wished he’d never gone for those pale imitations. They hardly kept up with all that he needed.

All he had to do now was ignore everyone and get through the funeral and he could be Plasmius full time. Pursue Maddie 24/7 with no worries of the law (though with some worries of Phantom). If only those blasted Fenton's would stop spreading rumours about him! And he knew it was them! Who else would say such outrageous things?

Okay certainly if one wanted to be technical Danielle was his daughter, but he hadn’t raised her. She was not his blood, she was not his in the most important ways.

Then there was that rumour about the-

“He-hey Vlad.”

Oh, oh no.

“I uh, I’m gonna miss you.”

No no no no no! He couldn’t do this! He wouldn’t do this! He would not stand for this! He did not go out of his way to fake his death for this.

Jack blew his big blubbering nose into a handkerchief so hard it honked. Honked! He was going to throttle this man at his earliest convenience. Getting cried on he could deal with, revolting as it was. What he couldn’t and wouldn’t deal with getting yammered at. That was not in the details. He did not plan for this.

“I- uhm- I know we weren’t really close these last few years.”

That was putting it lightly.

“Or really at all since college,” there was a wet laugh from Jack.

If that oaf ended up coughing slobber on him- Maybe if he tried hard enough he could die for real, that’d be nice. He’d never really craved death before, not like in this moment. It’d be so much easier if he just didn’t have to hear this.

“I-I know you didn’t really like me in the end.”

Wait what? Had he finally gotten a clue? That was a first. Maybe his overt plotting had finally gotten through to the oaf. If Jack attacked him now that’d almost make this all worth it. He might even consider revealing he’s Plasmius if he did.

“I know I messed up, I-I must have hurt you, I don’t really know how, but- but uh, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Yes ye- He was what?

There was another laugh sob from his ex friend,” It’s probably too late since you’re uh- dead, but whatever it is I did to hurt you, I'm sorry. I hope,” he trailed off into a high pitched keening whine.

Stop stop stop! This is not what he wanted!

“I hope you rest well Vlad.”

Footsteps receded away from him at that.

Well what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? What in the world was he supposed to do with that knowledge? Internalize it? Grow and change as a person? He was (half) dead! He was well past the point of growth! He was beyond growth.

For all Jack knew he wasn’t coming back! For him and basically all of them he wasn’t coming back! The only person that would know was Daniel and maybe his sister if he told her. Maybe his brat friends if he messaged them.

What did Jack get out of telling him all of that?

Certainly not money, the will had left everything to sweet Maddie, not him. Some sort of moral upper hand? A sense of feeling like he got one over Vlad?

No the dolt wasn’t that complex, his intelligence lay somewhere between absentminded and incompetant on a good day, there was no moral forethought. Yet why did the words settle so deeply in a corner of himself? Carving out a crevice in him that ached and burned?

“Did you hear about why Vlad couldn’t buy the green bay packers?”

Why? Why did it dig in his flesh? why when he’d thought he’d burned all of that away.

I'm Sorry.

“No, why?”

Life was easier when he was fully alive. College life was simpler. At least then he could fool himself that Maddie thought of him equally as she did Jack.

“Well I heard that he was stalking the team!”

What?

Why would he stalk them? He’d never stalked someone once in his entire life! (death maybe but he’d never admit that) he could buy all the tickets to their games he had no reason to stalk them!

There was no practicality in stalking them. Just like Jack had no reason to apologize to him! The idiot didn’t even know what he’d done to hurt him. He hadn’t ripped the apology from Jack. He wasn't on his knees begging from him. Hell he didn’t even know that he’d killed Vlad. Jack Fenton was as oblivious to the fact that he’d died back in college as he was to the fact that his own son was dead and playing hero as Phantom.

The density of the man was rivaled by no other.

But then why did he apologize?

“Did you hear?”

He got nothing out of it.

Why did it ache?

Burn? He wanted for years nothing more than to make the man sob and beg for forgiveness.

Why did having it fulfill nothing?

“About him and the Box Ghost?”

Would it burn just as painfully if he finally got sweet Madeline’s confession? Would it ring just as hollow?

“I thought it was the lunch lady ghost?”

No. There was something about Jack that made it wrong. Something about that blathering moron that lashed the words to him like a blade.

“I think it was both.”

And what the hell were they all blathering on about? What was all of this nonsense about Box Ghosts and smuggling and stalking? What were any of their empty little words?

Did any of that really matter? Their blathering human rumours and petty squabbles when he, the very guest of honour in all ways but one was laying here before their very eyes on the precipice of something? He was teetering at some edge, he didn’t know what it was but he could just make out the shape of the hole he was almost toppling in, he just had to know what it was. He just-

“Well I heard-”

They heard- they heard! What did it matter what they’d all heard! Nothing that they heard could matter in the slightest not when he was dealing with this! Not when he was reeling with whatever this was! The weight and size of it completely overtaking him and yet none of them aware, he was suffocating being overtaken by the edge of knowledge some realization he’d yet to make and hee still couldn’t read it. All because they wouldn’t stop blathering on and on about what? Lies?

Stupid foolish tales spun by his greatest enemy!

By a child.

If it were not for the show and pageantry of it all, if it were not for the display that he’d set about around him he’d be yanking his hair by the roots, tearing it slowly strand by strand from his scalp. And if there was one thing that Vlad Masters was, it was a showman! He was dramatic and he was going to be so unabashedly it was not his fault that there was no one that yearned for his life to roll onwards like Jack. None of it could be held against him. He was a romantic! Everything he did was for her.

Had it truly all been for nothing?

All these years.

Had she never really cared?

“Dirty money, attached to drugs. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pool.”

All this time.

Did he really-

“Never even mentioned a daughter!

All his schemes!

Jack's tears were so warm when they cut the thick funeral makeup.

“So many secrets for him to keep.”

Dozens of attempts on his life!

Did he really care? The water on his face was still warm.

“Wasn’t the cause of his crash a run from the law?”

“Would you all just shut up already!”

Silence blanketed the church as Vlad’s voice finished ringing out the wooden box still perched on its little stage. The casket was still shaking and the flowers were falling from the box as the hush grew sharper. Energy crackled from the casket shooting out and blowing the bulb above. Glass fell from the light falling gently on the flower petals.

None one spoke, Danny’s father had a hand over his mouth, new large tears welling up. He looked green and pale, unlike most of the stunned guests he looked like he was about to be sick.

Danny shot a glance at Jazz, she nodded and jerked her head to the side. He ducked out. Things were about to get hairy.

There was no response from Vlad for a second as it seemed the outburst was done. Even the children who’d been shrieking with laughter and joy from their play for most of the funeral were silent. The falling glass and shaking box were deafening in the silence. Danny ducked behind a pillar and into the doorway that led to the restrooms. There was no one there. The closest person was his mom but she was standing silent and stunned not an eye tilted away from the casket. He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t everyday your incel stalker had a breakdown after he’d legally died.

He transformed. On the most part there weren’t many people near the casket. It was just a few lingering Exes, most people were near the refreshment table. His first line of action should be to grab the people near the stage and get them to safety. Then?

Well the rest was adlib.

At least he had stored the Fenton thermos in his suit jacket (just in case). If only Sam or Tucker were there. Things were so much easier with their help.

Just as he was about to jump into the situation, the group of exes all swarmed Vlad. Shit he’d have to replan everything. He wouldn’t be able to get in an ecto-blast with out the fret of hitting one of them. He could always try Ice or a little storm cloud?

Just as a new plan was starting to formulate one of them (Maria?) slapped Vlad hard across the face.

Smack.

The noise echoed loudly across the church.

He grimaced.

Oh.

He did not want to get in the middle of whatever that was. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of it at all. Backing back into the bathroom he turned back to normal. Didn’t matter what the situation was, he was not going to get in the middle of a dozen or so angry exes and Vlad. It was his grave (even if Danny had helped him dig it a little) like hell Danny was getting buried with him.

“Vlad Masters!” one of the exes screamed,” you slimy pathetic excuse of a man.”

Yeah Danny was not getting in that, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to watch.

“Ow!” Vlad cried out, his eyes were glowing red, but aside from that he still looked very much the same.

Weird, Danny didn’t expect him to stay in human form. He guessed it made sense if he changed into Plasmius the gig would be up. There’d be a lot of questions too. Knowing Vlad’s tendency to monologue he might even explain the concept of Halfa’s.

“M-Maria!” the older man stammered out,” darling hello-”

The woman smacked him again,” I’m Maggie,” she spat out.

Danny winced, yikes. Makeup covered Vlad's gaunt face but Danny could imagine the smarting red forming on his cheeks.

“Y-yes of course, how could I mistake your beauty, how foolish of me to compare the two of-”

The clearing of a throat interrupted as Maria herself tapped her foot.

“Maria!” Vlad exclaimed this time correct, even if taken by surprise.

“Yes,” the woman agreed,” but don’t mind me, what were you saying? Something about comparison?”

The billionaire awkwardly laughed as he seemed to take in the fact that he was surrounded by all of his exes. Phantom wasn’t even needed. Villain defeated right then and there by the rage and power of his many exes. Again Danny found himself desperate to find out whatever the older man had done to make everyone hate him so just to do the express opposite.

When he actually fully died he hoped his funeral wasn’t this… whatever plan he actually ended up with he just didn’t want this.

“So,” Jazz said as she settled next to him leaning on the pillar with him,” any idea what got him up?”

“Nah,” Danny shrugged looking over to his sister. She looked more sober now, less unstable on her feet.” He didn’t really decree what his gripe was this time.”

Jazz sighed,” so no winner yet.”

“Unfortunately,” he said,'' He also technically didn’t go ghost mode.”

Jazz groaned resting her head on his shoulder,” I wanted to go home, these heels are killing me!”

He stuck a tongue out at her,” shoulda transed your gender like I did,” he teased quietly.

“Ha! Really funny Danny,” she flatly commented with a roll of her eyes at the tired joke.

“Ah meany,” he pouted.

“You walk in these heels at a funeral,” she complained again,” At least if he went full ghost It’d be socially acceptable to ditch them.”

He bit his tongue remembering a rant that Sam had gone on recently about heels and social pressure. How she’d then thrown one of her platform boots at Tuck when he made a remark. Jazz probably wouldn’t appreciate his lovesick ramblings about them.

“Looks like we'll just have to continue to watch this unfold.” he said instead with a sarcastic twinge.

“Oh what a shame!” Jazz said flatly,” sucks to be us.”

Danny snickered as Vlad continued to try to dig himself out of his hole. How he wished Sam and Tucker were here. Unfortunately for him they were both far too busy. Ah well he’d just have to video it all for them.

How unfortunate for Vlad that he was made to sit through his own will reading, and how fortunate for Danny Fenton that he was the one that got to watch it all go down. In the entire time that he and Vlad had been nemesis he never knew just how much he wanted exactly this to happen. Actually if someone ever suggested this happening younger him probably wouldn’t have appreciated just how funny this was. No fourteen-to-fifteen him was far too invested in things like learning his powers and finding out just how observant the rest of town was. Also looking cool. Adult him however? Freshly 21 and college attending him? Oh he could enjoy the fuck out of this situation.

There was some minor debate among some guests over how ethical it was since Vlad's ‘ghost’ was now here to view the reading. Some point could be made that it might be weird...

“Isn’t it rude?” one family member had suggested.

But...

“It might be in bad taste,” another guest had even pipped up.

No one really liked Vlad anyways

“Oh no!” Morgan said,” I want to know what it says, and who better to see how accurate it all is.”

Oh how glad he was that those few were beaten out. How glad he was that the crowd was seeing blood. That the group was too nosey and invested in the drama to really get caught up in such small things as ethics. How grateful he was that the exes were in half a mind to Kill Vlad a second time.

Fortunate he was, that his luck was finally turning up. It might even be the universe trying to pay him back for all of the shit he’d been dealing with since he was fourteen. Return investment on the untimely youth death. Honestly if it was it was a pretty bang up start all things considered. He’d have to find out if there was a ghost involved in the control of karma. They might just end up with an edible arrangement on their lair door. Older adults loved that shit so ghosts should too.

“Hm,” the lawyer said when they entered the room with the walking corpse of Vlad masters. The office was small and hardly held everyone, but snugly, far too snugly for comfort they all fit on the other side of the large desk.

No one said anything to the lawyer. Whether the man had been privy to the rest of the funeral or had just arrived Danny didn’t know but he had to admit this entire situation was bizarre even with full context. Not many of them knew ghost rules and the only ones that did were in either stunned or gleeful silence. There was no objection to the fact that Vlad had dragged his body with him, not a voice descenting on the fact that his form hadn’t shifted. Not a single attendee seemed perturbed by the fact that Vlad was not really a ghost.

Even the paid bounty hunters didn’t know how to discern ghosts from humans judging by their stunned expressions. Though he’d love to watch one of them attack Vlad in the middle of a church. Stabbing a man in the house of god might just be a big sin, though Danny wasn’t sure.

“Well this is unprecedented,” the lawyer commented,” never in my time have I ever seen a dead man rise for the reading of his own will.”

Vlad grumbled but no one could make out the words as the two exes on either side of him glared.

Oh how fortunate Danny was indeed, never before had he ever been so glad for his untimely death. If it all led to watching Vlad squirm like this still trying to keep his alter ego a secret? Pain and strife, the many attacks and attempts on his life were worth it.

“Well if there is no protest,” the lawyer said. For a moment Vlad looked very much like he wanted to protest, but the glares of the exes kept him silent and made him snap his jaw shut. Danny knew what went into keeping a corpse looking fresh. Shame the mortician seemed to have skipped wiring the jaw shut. Then, Vlad didn’t seem to need physical wires to keep him silent and well behaved, his Exes were all doing that job very well.

“In that case,” the lawyer sounded queasy, if Danny wasn’t so invested with the drama unfolding he might have turned to verify. “Then I believe we will begin.”

The man started out by reading the long legal preamble, the paragraphs upon paragraphs of titles and information about Vlad that was included. Danny understood that him being the owner of VladCo was technically important for the will but did he need to include all of his ten titles at the company in the will? It just felt excessive. ‘Ceo, entrepreneur, founder, head of decisions, etc.’ did anyone care? Leaving out the most important title of ‘asshole’ was the biggest mistake of his will.

“Yes I think we get it,” Monroe said, her accent clipping the words in stiff professionalism. Bless her for cutting the pain short. “I do have,” the woman glanced at the cousin who was still holding her hand,” A more important social engagement to attend to with Carmila.”

The lawyer stammered,” yes of course ma’am my apologies.”

“It reads:

‘First, I hereby denounce all previous wills made by myself, Vlad Masters, no matter nature or kind.

Second I Vlad Masters hereby appoint,” the lawyer paused making a face before he continued,” Madeline Fenton love of my life as the executor of my estate, networth, and-” the lawyer paused,” the ownership of my beloved cat ‘Maddie the cat, the third-”

“Huh, I guess you listened to my suggestion after all and got a cat.” Danny muttered as at the same moment his mother reached her breaking point

“You what?” Maddie was standing out of her chair, indignation flaring in her eyes,” Vlad! I don’t want any of this.”

“But but,” Danny tuned the man out as he made the normal declarations of love. Trite at this point his mind was already trying to entertain itself. Fast forwarding this would be nice, if only his core was time based. But no he got Ice, and Weather, and other weird disconnected powers. He was electrocuted to death! Cruel that he didn’t get cool electrocution powers.

They were still arguing when he tuned back in. Loath wasn’t a powerful enough describer for this love diatribe that Vlad spewed every three to five business days. His mom yelled something back, a few of the ex wives even chiming in agreement. Well at least they didn’t hate mom that was a plus.

He shot Jazz a look as he repositioned his phone camera to get a better shot.

‘This again?’ he tried to communicated with his expressions. Tuck usually laughed when he tried and Sam told him he looked to constipated.

She shrugged and nodded as if to say ‘this again.’

“I am happily married! I told you I won't leave Jack for you!”

Tuning out the conversation didn’t seem to leave out many details. Everything was falling exactly into the same patterns as always.

“Maddie please-” the billionaire tried to beg.

This made the woman snap,” no don’t Maddie please me! You have not respected my decision to marry Jack since it happened, well guess what Vlad it’s too late for you! You were never even an option!” she turned to Jack and put a hand on his shoulder. her voice much softer when she spoke,” come on honey we’re leaving. Kids?” She turned to the two Fenton children. The both of them stood with no protest. Like hell they were going to end up on the wrong side of their mother right now. Mission orientated as she was they had no doubt she could commit Vlad's murder and get away with it. legally she might even considering the fact that he was technically a 'ghost' right now.

Just as she was about to step out the door she turned,” oh and ladies, don’t worry about a legal battle I’ll work with our family lawyer to transfer everything to all of you.”

There were some small thanks from the stunned Exes as the office door latched shut behind them.

The air in the car was-

Well the word tense didn’t really sum up the air but it was the best approximation that Danny had. It could have gone worse, he supposed he could have genuinely ended up fighting Vlad again. Chances where that if he fought Vlad while he was Plasmius that the formerly rich business mogul would then use the moment to out Danny as Phantom. Not just his family but all of the church. If he had to rate the evening it was definitely not as bad as he expected. About a six or seven, depending on his critical he was being.

“Uh so who won the bet?” he whispered to Jazz. he wasn’t worried about his parents, Maddie was soothingly rubbing circles on Jack’s back as the man drove. That and they were sat in the back, sometimes the front seats struggled to hear them at a normal level forget a whisper.

Jazz furrowed her brows,” I guess neither of us really won, he didn’t even go ghost.”

Nodding, he thought back to the man’s loud entrance,” He also didn’t say what rumour got him up.”

“So do we both lose?”

“I guess?” he looked over to his parents,” so we both tell them?”

Jazz sighed leaning back in her seat, hair dramatically laying behind her,” yeah I guess.”

“You don’t hav-”

Jazz cut him off with a snort,” no it’s fine, my things not really as big all things considered.”

Fair, she had a point with that. Their parents already knew that she was interested in men and women but still revealing partners to them was always weird and nerve wracking. The first time he’d introduced Sam and Tuck as partners and not friends he’d expected a lot more questions. Turns out if you hunt ghosts for a living nothing is really weird after that. They just bought him new sex ed books. Sentiment appreciated but still weird considering he could google that sort of thing now.

“So Danny,” his mom said, her fingers tightened on her phone. They were lucky she got old brick Nokias instead of those new Smart phones. She’d break them in a week. Jack wasn’t paying them much attention as he drove, he seemed to still be shell shocked. Hopefully he didn't crash, okay so maybe he didn't always like car rides. Sometimes the looming threat of a car crash really messed with his obsession.

“Yeah mom?” he asked.

“I was talking to some of the ladies.”

“Uh huh?” wherever she was going with this he didn’t like the tone.

“And imagine my surprise when one of them tells me Vlad has a daughter.”

“Weird right,” he said. Please stop, please stop! He begged, wherever this was going it was nowhere good. It would have been better if he’d just died in that accident. Screw whatever he thought back when he thought his luck was turning up. He was still the most unlucky bastard in all of amity park.

She hummed in agreement,” and imagine my surprise when they said she was your cousin.”

Danny didn’t have a response to that, Jazz was stifling a laugh next to him.

“And then,” she said,” she showed me a picture of her.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, Danny," there was a pause as she seemed to collect her words," why does she look like you pre transition?”

“Does she?” sweating wasn’t really something he did so much anymore, not since his core started cooling his mortal flesh, it was nice sometimes. But it didn’t stop nervous sweating. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hadn’t- Danny,” his mother sighed,” sweetie if you want to start presenting as a girl again you can. We won’t judge you.”

Wait what, “ what?!”

Shrieking loud bursts of laughter came out of Jazz.

“Jazz!”

That set him off, it was just so ridiculous.

“Honey I’m serious,” his mom sounded so upset her tone lost. She really was trying.

He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t his fault. It was just so out of the realm of what was happening. Man his parents really didn’t have any of the facts.

“Danny?” his father asked the tenseness in his shoulders from the funeral leaving way to confusion.

Him and Jazz made eye contact and the laughing got so much worse. If being part dead didn’t make him need to breathe so much less he’d be choking. He’d die, it was just- they still didn’t know and somehow that was all the funnier. God he was calling Tuck and Sam right after he explained everything they were going to get such a kick out of this. Especially Tucker.

“That’s not-” wheezes high and stringy, cutting him off, he was struggling even with his ghost lungs.

“Danny my boy,” Jack asked quietly,” what’s funny?”

“We’re trying to support you Danny!” his mother exclaimed.

Finally he quelled the laughter enough to speak,” okay okay,” he whipped a tear from his eye. “I’ll explain it all it just probably isn’t something dad needs to be driving for.”

“Danny what do-”

“Just trust me okay?” he grinned at his mom in what he hoped was reassurance.

She sighed and looked at her husband, Jack furrowed his brows and the pair silently communicated before the man hit his turning signal.

The small side road was perfectly out of the way enough that no one would be able to peer in. It was some half abandoned picnic area but none of them reached for their seatbelts to leave the car. It was just the closest spot they could stop.

“Okay,” he started giving Jazz a look, she nodded comfortingly,” Remember how the portal didn’t work at first?”

It took them a moment but they nodded in remembrance.

“Right well I died.” it was best to just rip the Band-Aid off.

“What?”

“Danny- honey you’re not dead.”

He thought so at least, he sighed pinching his nose,” I need you guys to wait for questions till the end okay?”

“But honey you’re not dead!” she didn’t sound so sure as she looked him over.

“What your mother said my boy! You’re sitting right there!”

Danny groaned,” guys please?” there was a pause as they looked at each other and finally finally agreed to wait till the end. “Sam said I should check it out, see if I could fix it. I put on my suit, and,” he made a buzzing noise with his tongue,” the button shocked me to death when I hit it. It was dark so I didn't see,” he looked to the side. The trees outside were swaying peacefully in the wind. Jazz put a hand on his shoulder, he took a steading breath and clenched the hand with the thin invisible scars. “It was an accident but,” he turned back to them resolution in his eyes,” I died that day, When I woke up, well, brace yourselves okay,” he let the tugging cold of hic core shift and change his appearance.

There was silence. He’d expected something but, no, even Jazz wasn’t saying anything.

He cracked an eye open, his parents were staring at him dumbfounded. Yeah that was about par for the course.

“Well this happened and now, I’m half Ghost,” he admitted,” everyone in the ghost zone knows that’s why there were always so many attacks at the school.”

“Half?” his mom asked despite herself.

Danny nodded,” yeah I still age, and need to eat and breath... mostly on that last one. It’s kind of cool I can go invisible,” he demonstrated before changing back,” and phase through things and float,” he demonstrated both in succession allowing the belt to glide through him as he hovered up an inch. “Shoot Ecto-blasts… probably best if I don’t do that one in the car though,” he laughed.

“Okay,” his mom said.

“Okay?” he asked.

His father nodded,” sure Son, we love you. It’s weird but, well we hunt ghosts for a living.”

He laughed,” yeah fair enough.”

"I-" his mom looked over at Jack," We're proud of you sweetie, that's a lot to undertake at so young."

he chuckled," it wasn't so bad, I had a lot of help," he grinned at Jazz," Between her Sam and Tuck I don't know if I would have lasted half the battles I did."

"You knew Jazz?" Their father asked his tone soft and slightly hurt.

She smiled softly," yeah, I walked in on him transforming. Thought it was best if I let him tell you guys."

"Part of the apprehension might have been the dissection thing," Danny addmited.

"I- honey-" his mom put a hand over her mouth in shock.

"I'm sorry son," His dad said," it was closed minded of us to assume stuff about ghosts we didn't know."

"Well you weren't always wrong. Just usually."

“So ‘Elle?” his mom prompted before Jack could pepper in questions about what the got right.

He sighed,” yeah her full name is Danielle, technically she’s the only living clone of me Vlad made.”

“Only living Clone?”

“Vlad made?”

Man he had a lot to explain. Years of events just gone unsaid. Some small part of the divide between them was shifting, growing smaller.

“Is now a good time to tell you guys I have a girlfriend?”

Danny choked on a laugh. Not to long after his parents followed after the tension disrupted, Well at least he had Jazz to help explain. Sam and Tucker too when they weren’t busy. It'd be a mess and weird to finally clear the air between them, but at least he knew they were proud of him.

#My writing #danny phantom #trans danny fenton #trans danny phantom #everlasting trio #thats their ship name right? its not like super there its minor but ye #danny phantom exists in my brain in vague memories and nothing else #only the smallest amounts of cannon may be contained in this fic #idk i dont have enough brain to know tho #danphanwritingprompts

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choicesarehard · 4 years

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I keep my streams about Wolf Bride light-hearted. It’s been a hell of a year, and I think we all need a space where we can laugh together. But part of responsibly consuming problematic media is being aware of where it fails. And that’s why I think it’s important to talk about Morgan, and Wolf Bride’s troubling depiction of blindness.

Morgan is one of the first Love Interests in Choices to have a canon disability. She is representation many players with disabilities, like myself, are eager for. But like any form of representation, writing a blind character requires research. A quick google search will lead you to numerous visually impaired voices who outline the tropes and stereotypes that harm their community. Wolf Bride has included nearly all of them.

signal boosts are appreciated

Not All Blind People Wear Sunglasses

Morgan is shown wearing dark sunglasses from the moment she appears on screen. And there are certainly blind people who wear sunglasses — particularly those who (unlike Morgan) can still perceive some degree of light and dark, and experience painful light sensitivity. But no context is ever giving for Morgan’s use of sunglasses. In fact, they aren’t even addressed for four chapters.

[ID: Two screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box over a forest background, and reads “You glance at Morgan, and are surprised to see the dark glasses still covering her eyes.” The second features a labeled image of her sunglasses, placed over a black background, with a selectable button that reads “What does Morgan look like without these?”] What follows is a scene Pixelberry could have used to provide insight into an assistive device the sighted community may not be entirely familiar with. They could have touched on degrees of visual impairment, or why some blind individuals need dark lenses while others don’t. They could even have explained that for some individuals with visual impairments, dark lenses make tasks like reading or navigating dimly lit spaces harder. Instead, and far more troublingly, MC is given the option to ask Morgan not to wear them anymore. And depending on your choice, the book is coded to remove the sunglasses from her sprite in future scenes. This reduces an assistive device to a fashion choice, something our MC can wish away if they don’t find it attractive. And that isn’t okay.

Unusual Eyes

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a forest background that reads “With a start, you realize her pale eyes aren’t looking at you, aren’t seeing you, aren’t seeing anything.” The second features Morgan’s sad sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “...I’ve been blind since birth.”] Morgan has a customizable sprite. But regardless of the ethnicity you select for her, she is depicted with pale blue eyes. And that troubles me. Because the stereotype that all blind individuals have cloudy, distorted, or unusual eyes is pervasive and harmful.

Even when it isn’t tied to another harmful trope — the blind character as mystical seer or psychic — this stereotype create an expectation that blindness is something that always manifests in a visible way. And for millions of blind individuals, that isn’t the case.

And while cataracts, trauma to the eye, and corneal infections can all cause the clouded effect most of us recognize from media, none turn your brown eyes into blue. Heightened Senses

Another common stereotype in media is the blind character who’s remaining senses have become heightened as a compensatory mechanism, often to a supernatural degree.

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features Morgan’s surprised sprite in a forest setting and a text box that reads “I guess I sort of...feel things. Like the place on my cheek where the branch blocked the wind.” The second features Morgan’s neutral sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “I can smell the dew on the leaves, and the moss on the bark. Can’t you?] Individuals with visual impairment may learn to rely on their other senses to navigate the world around them. But they do not suddenly gain the ability to sense the location of a branch based on wind patterns, or to accurately throw a dart at a carnival game ballon based on its smell.

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a carnival background that reads “Pop! Pop! Pop! Three darts fly through the air, striking their targets.” The second features the white MC with straight blonde hair. Her sprite is surprised, and beneath it is a text box that reads “So you did that by smell, too?]

This trope may seem harmless — after all, it gave us Daredevil, a beloved blind superhero — but it contributes to the unachievable expectations we often place on real-world individuals with visually impairments. And that isn’t fair.

Of course, we all suspected Morgan’s abilities were due to something other than heightened senses. And that in and of itself is a problem.

Magical / Supernatural Abilities

To the surprise of no one, Morgan exhibits these unusual abilities because she is a werewolf. But choosing to give a blind character magical abilities should only be done after asking yourself some challenging questions. As visually-impaired Tumblr user @mimzy-writing-online explains:

Your blind characters don’t need a magical ability that negates their blindness. [Ask yourself why it’s so important to you to give them one]. If it’s because they can’t do all the things you want them to do without it, then should you really have written them as blind in the first place?

And that’s the thing. Morgan isn’t actually written as a blind character, not when it counts. Morgan shoots bullets with accuracy, runs through unfamiliar terrain, and navigates moving objects with ease. She doesn’t use common assistive devices like canes or screen readers. Her sunglasses are discarded at MC’s request. The scientific papers that fill her research facility are not digitized for accessibility or written in braille.

Even her dreams, which should be reflections of how she perceives reality, look identical to Bastien's — which makes no sense for someone who has been canonically blind since birth.

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapters Five and Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a scene from Morgan’s lucid dream. Set in a glamorous hotel, it includes visual details like twinkling lights, and patterned carpets. The color is tinted a grey-blue and the exposure on the image has been increased to an unnatural level. The second features a scene from Bastien’s lucid dream. Set in a forest, it shares the same tinted and over-exposed qualities as the first.]

Her blindness isn’t an integral part of her character. Instead, it’s a narrative device, paraded in front of the reader when it can further a central — and deeply disturbing — plot point. [content warning: discussion of discrimination and child abuse / abandonment ahead] Morgan Was Left to Die Because She Was Blind

And Jesus, what a plot point it is. In Chapter 11, we learn that Morgan was left to die in the woods because she was born “wrong, sickly, blind.” But the only canonical disability or illness she is ever shown to have is her blindness.

[ID: Three side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first two feature the white MC with straight blonde hair’s shocked sprite in front of a forest background. The first text box reads “I don’t understand...” followed by two dialogue options “Why was Morgan abandoned?” and “Is that what you do to full moon babies? Kill them?” The second panel’s read box reads “Just because she was blind?” The third panel features the old woman Noemi’s sad sprite, placed over a forest background. Her text box reads “If we know an infant will not survive, it is best to let it die quickly.”]

I...am frankly having a hard time thinking through the screenshot-induced fury to make a coherent argument here. To imply that blindness is an impairment so limiting that death is the only foreseeable outcome? That being born blind somehow makes a child “wrong”? The ignorance and prejudice shown in this scene is staggering.

But equally troubling is the response of the main characters to this revelation. Yes, in fiction, bad people sometimes do bad things. But Noemi isn’t shown to be a bad person. Neither is Bastien, who knew what his pack had been guilty of in the past, and even seeks to justify it to a limited degree.

Most shockingly, Morgan herself, who in the second screenshot below has just overheard that she was left to die as an infant because she is blind, isn’t angry or upset. She’s almost apologetic, still seeking a place within the pack.

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first features Hispanic Bastien’s sad sprite in front of a forest background. The text box beneath him reads “It doesn’t happen often, Clara, but...” The second features white Morgan’s sad sprite in front of the same forest background. The text box beneath her reads “I didn’t mean any harm. Especially after...what I just overheard.”]

By introducing the idea that a child born blind cannot survive, let alone thrive, without superhuman abilities, and then failing to soundly and thoroughly refute that idea through the characters we identify with, Pixelberry is unintentionally perpetuating the same false beliefs that have led to real-world instances of infanticide for centuries. And that isn’t okay.

I don’t know where Pixelberry will go with the story from here. Perhaps in today’s chapter some of these concerns have been addressed...but I doubt it. In the meantime, I’ve also written to their support staff to express my deep concern and disappointment in the treatment of Morgan’s character. And I’d encourage you to do the same.

Will I continue to keep streaming Wolf Bride? For now, yes. My VIP subscription is already paid for, and frankly, I want to see Morgan’s arc through. I guess the small part of me that was excited for the representation is still hopeful the narrative can be corrected.

But I’ll be adding a content warning at the start of each stream for ablism, and that’s something I never thought I’d have to do. Screenshots courtesy of CrimsonFeatherGames on Youtube

#playchoices #pixelberry #choices vip #wolf bride #choices wolf bride #cw: child abuse #cw: ableism #anti-wolf bride

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elvish-sky · 4 years

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All You Had Ever Dreamed {Fili x Reader}

A.N: So this could have gone in several directions but my brain went this way, so I hope that’s alright! Also, I think I got all the pregnancy stuff right but I’m 15 so I’m sorry if it’s inaccurate. And yes, this was supposed to be short. My bad. But I actually honestly love this fic it may be one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, thank you so much for requesting it!

Requested by @lonikje on Tumblr as part of my 450 Sleepover:

Word Count: 2,019

Pairings: Fili x Reader, mentioned Bilbo x Thorin

Summary: You faint during a training session with Kili and Dwalin.

Warnings: Fluff, mention of Menstruation, Pregnancy

**** All You Had Ever Dreamed

Whirling around, you ducked Kíli’s sword and jumped out of the way of Dwalin’s ax. You struck at Kili, feeling the block he delivered reverberate down your arm, and with one of your daggers locked together with Kili’s sword used the other to deflect another blow from Dwalin. Struggling with both of them, you disengaged and backed up, watching them regroup as you did the same. It was one of the rare days where instead of going too easy on you, Dwalin had decided that you were up for a challenge.

Eight months after the Battle of the Five Armies, Erebor was thriving. Thorin had been gravely wounded but pulled through, and although Fíli and Kíli’s injuries were less gruesome they were still worrying, but now everyone was back on their feet and healthier than ever. Bilbo had stayed in Erebor, much to the delight of both the company and the men and elves who thought, correctly, that the hobbit would be much easier to negotiate with than the dwarves. You had also noticed some romantic tension between the hobbit and the king but had decided not to bring it up. You stuck to speculating with your husband and his brother.

That was right. Fíli was your husband, having done a spectacularly over-the-top proposal the second he was back on his feet. You had laughed your head off to see the throne room covered in flowers when you walked in and then started sobbing with joy when you saw your dwarf bent on one knee. And then you were laughing through the tears as, after you accepted, the company appeared from the shadows to give you congratulations and Thorin had had a fancy flower crown entwined in his hair. You suspected Bilbo, and his wink confirmed it.

You had gotten married three months later, at a ceremony attended by not only almost every dwarf in Erebor but also Kings Bard and Thranduil. It wasn’t every day that the Heir of Erebor got married, after all, and Thorin had spared no expense to make it the best celebration possible. And after the disaster that was Thorin and Bilbo’s wedding, at which Fili and Kili had gotten drunk to liven things up and almost destroyed the cake Bilbo had spent hours working on for his husband, Thorin had taken every precaution to ensure your day went off without a hitch. And somehow it had, the ceremony had taken place outside, in one of Erebor’s few outdoor courtyards. The sun had shone down on the whole gathering, the moon coming out in the night, and you thought there had never been, or ever could be such a perfect day.

Anyway, you were currently trying not to get eviscerated by the two dwarven warriors (which wasn’t technically possible, given the fact that you were using blunt weapons, but you wouldn’t put it past Dwalin. That dwarf was strong). Twin daggers clutched, you slashed at Kíli before running up the wall and flipping over his head, unsteadily landing behind him with a dagger at his throat.

You let out a breath of satisfaction, but your dagger was suddenly knocked from your hand, Dwalin barreling towards you with his hand still extended from the throw. Leaping out of the way, your breathing grew heavier as you were driven back by the two dwarves, their efforts renewed. Your head started to feel light, sort of fuzzy, and you kept backing up, blocks growing weaker. As everything faded to black and you collapsed, the last thing you heard was Kíli.

“Fíli’s going to kill me.”

You opened your eyes, everything hazy until you blinked it into focus. You were in a large room, sunlight streaming in through the windows to highlight- was that Kíli standing above you?

“Y/N!” Kíli brushed your hair back from your forehead, looking concerned. “You fainted, are you alright?”

“What are you doing here?”

He pouted. “That’s not exactly the wake-up greeting I was expecting. And didn’t you hear what I said? You fainted in the middle of training. I carried you up to Oin, you’re in the healers’ rooms right now.”

Ahh. Well, that explained why the room was so much bigger than yours, and why there were chairs arranged around the bed you were in.

“Thank you, Kíli. Do you know where Fíli is?”

“I think they sent for him a few minutes ago, you’ve only been out for about ten. He should be here-”

Kíli was cut off by Fíli shoving him away from your bed.

“Y/N!” The golden-haired dwarf exclaimed. “What happened? Are you alright? Why is Kíli here, and why is he touching your face?”

The dark-haired dwarf stood with a smirk. “I’ll just leave you two alone now,” he said and slipped out the door with a smirk.

“Fíli! Don’t be rude! Kíli was taking care of me!” Then realization dawned.

“Is somebody jealous?” You asked with a teasing smile.

Fíli blushed.

“Fíli! You shouldn’t be jealous of Kíli! First of all, it’s Kíli. If I fall in love with him, please make sure I haven’t hit my head, he’s basically my little brother. And secondly, I’ll never love anyone but you, you don’t have to worry about that.”

He smiled at you sheepishly. “I know. I was just worried, and-”

“I know,” you cut him off, grinning.

“Ah, look! It’s Oin!” You waved to the healer as he bustled in, arms full of herbs and vials.

“Ah, Oin. What is wrong with Y/N?” Your husband inquired, the worried look on his face almost comical.

“Well, it could be several things. Have you been eating enough?” The healer inquired about this while mixing up a tincture.

“Yes.”

“Sleeping regularly?”

Fíli nodded to answer this question.

“How about water? Have you been drinking enough?”

“Weelllll…” you trailed off sheepishly. “I’m not the best at remembering to drink water.”

“When did you last have a glass today?” The healer was now looking a little worried.

You cast around in your memory. “I had a glass at breakfast, but I haven’t had any more today.”

“WHAT?! YOU HAVEN’T HAD ANYTHING TO DRINK SINCE BREAKFAST?!!! IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE AFTERNOON!” Fili was furious. Oin was nodding in agreement as well.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed. “I’ve just been so busy lately, and I’ve been aching so it’s more trouble than it’s worth to go all the way down to the kitchens.”

“Aching, you say?”

When you nodded, Oin came to your bedside.

“When was your last monthly bleeding?”

Fili blushed at this, and you swatted him before counting in your head.

OH.

“It’s been almost three months. We’ve been so busy I didn’t even notice!”

“Then that’s it. You fainted not only because of dehydration, which you’ll need to be much better at but also because you’re pregnant.”

“Wait. What?” Fili looked shocked.

Oin smiled at you, leaving the room.

Fili gazed down at you. “Are you really pregnant?”

You nodded. “I am. I hadn’t noticed the signs before but now that I know it’s blindingly obvious. We’re going to have a baby.”

He lifted you from the bed, spinning you around in joy before suddenly stopping.

“That can’t be good for the baby.”

You laughed. “It’s fine, Fili! I’m fine. And we’re going to be parents.”

He smiled, kissing you.

Later that day, you sat with the Company and Thorin’s sister, Dis, now your mother-in-law, in the rooms of the royal family where you all often ate. Sitting at the table, which had been built specifically for the group of sixteen, Fili kept refilling your water glass every thirty seconds. You made sure to drink enough, now that your body was supporting two. Fili glanced at you, and you realized the table had hushed, you hadn’t noticed the sound of Fili’s spoon against his glass gathering everyone’s attention.

He stood, taking your hand and pulling you up to stand next to him. “We have an announcement.”

Everyone was staring at you both expectantly, and Fili nodded at you to continue.

Smiling, you spoke. “I’m pregnant.”

“We’re going to have a baby!” Fili exclaimed.

The table erupted in cheers and well-wishes.

“So that’s why you fainted earlier!”

You silently cursed Kili, knowing that now the overprotective side of the dwarves would emerge full force. And it did, Thorin started listing everything he needed to be done for you before Dis shushed him. The king then walked up to you, arms open, and hugged you.

“Congratulations, Y/N.”

He then moved on, slapping Fili on the back before stepping back to allow the rest of the company to give their congratulations as well.

Oin winked at you as he hugged you, and said, “I would never spoil your surprise.” The rest of the group gave out hugs and congratulations to you and Fili, and you glowed with happiness, knowing there were few people better than these for your child to grow up with. Finally, Kili stepped forward.

“I’m going to have a niece or a nephew! Congratulations, Y/N, you’re going to be a great mother.” He then mock-whispered, “but I’d watch out around Fili. I’m not sure he’ll do as well.”

Fili punched his brother before grabbing him in another hug, their words whispered too softly for anyone else to hear.

Lastly, Dis came forward, wrapping you in a warm, motherly embrace. “My son is right, Y/N. You will be a wonderful mother. And, if you need any help, don’t hesitate to come to me. Mahal knows I have the experience.”

You thanked her, smiling before she ushered you and Fili out the door. “Now go to bed. It’s late, and you need your rest.” She closed the door behind you, your last glimpse a room of smiling faces.

Back in the rooms that you shared with your husband, you crawled into bed, hair loose, in your favorite nightgown. Fili motioned for you to move closer, so you did, resting your head on his chest as his arm snaked around your shoulders, hand coming to rest on top of yours, where you were unconsciously cradling your belly. He began to sing, a tune that you recognized from the beginning of your quest, so long ago.

“Far over, the Misty Mountains cold,

To dungeons deep, and caverns old.” Fili’s voice wove the song masterfully, and you were taken back to the first time you had met him, almost two years before.

You had stepped into a hobbit-hole of calm, and hearing the sound of voices walked through, careful not to hit your head until you came upon a room of singing dwarves.

You paused in the doorway, letting their song wash over you.

“The fire was red, it flaming spread.

The trees like torches blazed with light.”

They finished, and you stepped into the room. All the heads immediately turned towards you.

“Who are you?” A golden-haired dwarf looked suspicious.

You drew breath to answer, but before you could Gandalf stepped into the room.

“This is Y/N. She will be joining us on our quest.”

The dark-haired dwarf by the fire that looked rather grumpy made as if to protest, but a glare from Gandalf stopped him. The other dwarves quickly introduced themselves, and the golden-haired one stepped up last.

“Y/N, huh?”

You nodded.

“I’m Fili.”

Now, almost two years later, you were in the reclaimed mountain they had sung of, lying in bed with the golden-haired dwarf who had originally been so suspicious of you.

“We’re going to have a baby,” Fili said with a look of wonder, and you smiled at the tears of joy starting to roll down his face.

“We are.”

You kissed him, so alight with the happiness you thought you could burst, before breaking away and laying your head back on his chest. Laying there, you could hear his heartbeat, beating almost in time with your own. You couldn’t wait until the third would join them. With your husband next to you, and a baby growing inside, you finally had all you had ever dreamed of. And it was perfect.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16

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thegreatlibraryfangirl · 2 years

Text

Paper & Fire Readthrough - Chapter 12

Holy FUCK it’s been A YEAR AND A HALF since I did one of these. Wow. Ouch. Ok. The things that slip when your life goes through changes, omfg.

For the doubtless many of you who’ve never seen one of these before, this is me re-reading the series and recording feelings and theories and impressions, with a focus on my OTP Khalila/Dario.

In theory the #paper and fire readthrough tag should take you to all the preceding ones in this book, but since tumblr is tumblr, I’ll probably reblog this later with links.

I’m going to be antisocial and see how many of us have turned on Tumblr’s “shorten long posts” feature. Mainly because I get so sad when tumblrs delete and their ReadMores become impenetrable. I have no intention of disappearing lol but this is the internet and you never know.

And with all that bullshit out of the way, let’s go.

So, while Jess, Thomas Morgan and Glain have been struggling with converting an automaton (and Thomas’ trauma), Khalila, Dario, Santi and Wolfe have been having a nice lunch of cold meats and cheeses. LOL.

Dario is, as per usual, the person to pessimistically and pragmatically point out that Morgan’s escape plan of Translating them all out of Rome is flawed because it’s really fucking obvious. He asks Jess if his cousins could help, but that’s not an option.

“Our code is: Get caught, count yourself dead.”

Please remember that Callum Brightwell drilled that so firmly into Jess’ head that he took him to watch his own brother be executed. And then join me in wishing Wolfe had done worse to Callum than publicly shame and punch him.

Khalila asks all the good questions next, which boil down to: Where can we go? and What chance do we have of the Library not catching us?

“None,” Dario said. “Not unless we find allies, quickly. Jess isn’t willing to put his neck on the block, so someone has to.”

Pausing to SCREAM at this choice of words from Dario. Again, Jess has literally watched his brother die, though I doubt Dario knows this. Jess is the one who genuinely understands what’s at stake here, whereas Dario has just seen his chance to provide something that Jess couldn’t. Which is all he wants, really, at this point in the series.

“Dario!” Khalila grabbed for him, but he was quick, the arrogant Spaniard. He grabbed her hand instead, raised it to his lips and then pressed the back of it to his forehand as he bowed. “Don’t go!”

Adorable, help.

Dario’s only response to her is to talk about Jess. Child. Boy. Please stop being SO homoerotic and desperate about this.

Then he doesn’t come back. The group give him the full hour, where he only asked for half, and Glain, of all people, suggests stunning their captives again, but no. They’ve got to go.

On a quick side note, it’s nice to see Santi just being absolutely undeniably in charge here.

Now the good stuff. I’m not going to quote it because dear god I’d have to type out about four pages. But let’s look at some bits.

“No, I’m not going to leave Dario behind. Jess-” She tried to get him to look at her, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. “Jess!”

Going directly against my above point - Khalila doesn’t appeal to Santi, who’s just announced the decision, and to whom both Jess and Glain are deferring. She goes straight for Jess. That’s interesting. I think it might be because she’s already tried to appeal to Santi and Wolfe; she tried to get them to stop Dario leaving or to chase after him, and they didn’t. So she thinks it’s Dario-and-Santi’s plan, and so she looks to the person who she knows breaks rules and devises plans all the time instead. But he doesn’t help her either.

Jess points out that Dario didn’t say where he was going. He refused to, in fact. Bearing in mind what’s coming up in the Iron Tower, it’s a nice little question mark. Is that because he didn’t want them to waste time chasing after him, or risk capture by the embassy security ... or was it because he didn’t want them to find him? Mwahahaha. Very nice.

Then Jess makes the mistake of physically restraining Khalila from running, and, oh dear Jess, why are you so constantly surprised by any time Khalila shows she’s stronger than you think?

And here we get Khalila just POURING out Dario’s inner demons here lol. The two of them must have talked about this a lot, which makes it all the more fascinating at the times elsewhere when Khalila compares them directly.

“He’s not like you! He wants to show you that he can be just as clever, just as fast, just as ...” She hit him again, this time a knee square to his family jewels, and he did let go. “Just as ruthless! And if you ever lay hands on me again, I will kill you, Jess Brightwell!”

Ok, so what’s interesting here, distracting me from talking about Jess/Khalila/Dario viibes AGAIN (the first 3 books all have hints that make me convinced that at some point in the history of her planning this was intended as a love triangle) is that Khalila is letting herself be held, here. I doubt she truly believed she would be able to get away. Outrun Jess? No.

She’s not even fighting to make him let go. Jess thinks she is, look:

He wrapped her in his arms and she fought surprisingly hard, with sharp precise blows that almost made him let go. Almost.

He looks at Glain for help and she just folds her arms. Why? She doesn’t want Khalila to put herself in danger either. If there was any real danger of Khalila breaking free, Glain would help, yes, but why is Glain just watching this too?

When Khalila WANTS to be freed, as we’ve just seen, she just knees him in the balls. And on the word “ruthless”, at that. And then she threatens to kill him if he does it again.

She doesn’t attack Wolfe, and she doesn’t attack Santi. So what’s going on here? This is essentially Khalila losing her temper. No-one will help her save Dario, which she takes as a moral failing, and then Jess tries to physically stop her. Jess, who is a postulant not a teacher so less intimidating, Jess who she surely knows has a soft spot for her a mile wide and yet still won’t help her, Jess, the very reason that Dario ran off like that. So she hits him and she shouts that it’s all HIS fault, and then once she’s finished with that she shrugs him off with one well-placed knee. And a death threat.

She doesn’t lose her temper much, but oh when she does it explodes!

And the Glain thing? GLAIN AGREES. Poor, poor Jess. he’s not superhuman and it’s not actually his fault that Dario imprinted on him as a role model in Ink and Bone. But his friends think he can make a difference, or at least that he should try.

And here we see Khalila’s rage, verbalised at last:

“Her face was set and terrible, her eyes like dark pits, and she met no-one else’s gaze as she nodded. “Then let us run,” she said, in a voice drained of anything but anger. “Run and hide, like frightened rabbits.”

Jess is already wondering whether Dario just ran off to save his own skin. Whether he’s actually selling them out to the Library. Nice seeds laid for the betrayal later.

Ah, forgive me an off-topic moment:

Morgan walked next to Wolfe, like a favoured student or a fond daughter.

I live for Dad Wolfe& daughter Morgan vibes okay????

Obviously there is no Dario for the rest of this chapter lol, while they fight their way into the Basilica to try and Translate away to London.

Worldbuilding note: Jess notices that the Translation Chamber and the torture room in the prison underneath are the same shape.

Second worldbuilding note: Jess and Glain Translated into Rome from a Serapeum in Darnah. In our world, that’s in Libya. We see Libya mentioned once more in the series, in Sword and Pen, so I think we can assume Libya is allied to Alexandria.

And oh! The heartbreaking moment when Morgan realises Keria has utterly outplayed her, and that the only place they have left to go is the Iron Tower.

Okay, those sure are some words! Maybe I’ll get to the end of this book eventually??

#long post #paper and fire readthrough #the great library

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kingkatsuki · 4 years

Text

I’ve been thinking about whether to even bother replying to this or not for the longest time. Mostly because the people calling me out have been blocked since January. Since I found out that they were both under 16.

I’ve said it multiple times I don’t get involved in drama on here. I’m here to write fanfiction and have fun doing it. I joined a discord full of smut writers that I assumed were all 18+, but they weren’t.

All of the messages that you post in your server saying that you’re going to send me hate or that you’re resentful or my follow count or my note count... why? I haven’t called you out, posted publicly about you anywhere or even spread around that you’re 15 year olds writing nsfw fanfiction because I literally haven’t thought about you since I found out. The one time I mentioned your name was when someone posted a link to your smut in our discord server in the 18+ section and I said I don’t think it’s a good idea to be promoting minors in an 18+ section...

You’re quite literally talking about sending me hate and negativity... for no longer wanting to support you and your shitty behaviour... and then also finding out that you were underage? Since I’ve had you blocked I’ve had to find out from other people that you are indirecting me constantly and for what? I’m sorry that I get more notes than you, that I have more followers than you. I’m sorry that you’re so obsessed with not having as much traction that you felt the need to call me out for it. Also giving us shit for aging up characters and wanting to write for them? I thought you said to people to “write what you want”.

Saying that you hate that people get “thousands of notes without having to @ people.” Like I wasn’t once a blog with 0 followers. I didn’t ask for shoutouts, I didn’t ask other blogs to reblog or read my work because I was too much of a scardy cat to try and talk to anyone in the fandom. For you to shit on people’s success shows how bitter you are over everything. I reblog a lot of writing, by a lot of different people. I’ve been used by people for clout a lot. Instead of seeing me as a friend I’ve been seen as a number, pinging me in servers just to ask for a shoutout and not to ask “how are you” or even “hi” and then accusing me of manipulation when I ask them for an apology, but you don’t see me calling out any of those people? Because it’s tumblr.

You’ve mentioned “big blogs discouraging smaller blogs”, so lead by example. Reblog your favourite fics, show love to your favourite authors. Some people that have just come into the fandom have some of the best writing I’ve ever seen in my life. Like, I aspire to be good as them one day. I’m sorry if it feels like I’ve discouraged authors from writing or posting. I post a new fanfic once every 2+ weeks? And even when I write my thirst posts I tag them as “thirst posts” not “x reader” so you’d have to come onto my blog to find them because I don’t want to spam the “x reader” tags... because it’s unfair to all the other authors.

I’m sorry that I prefer reading Bakugou fics because he’s my favourite character. I used to only check the Bakugou x reader and Kirishima x reader tags because they were my favourite fics to read. I’m sorry if I’ve never reblogged or read your work before. I’ve had a lot of shit going on in real life the last 2 months so I’ve been even worse at reading and reblogging fics but I’ve been trying my best. Because I get it, I understand how difficult Tumblr is. Look back at my archive or my masterlist and see how many headcanon posts I had to put out to try and get noticed. Anyone that’s come to me for a shoutout or reblog I’ve done it.

I’m not sure where you’re getting your information from that I’ve fallen out with my “two besties”, because I haven’t. We haven’t. And I guess you’ll get your wish because the “clout chasing bitch” will just leave the fandom if it makes you feel better. It’s literally just tumblr. Soon, when you’re older, you’ll realise there is way more to life. I’ll continue to write smutty fanfiction, because as you said “write what you want” but when I can’t even do that without people just seeing me as a “big blog” and not a person, what’s the point in posting it?

I hope you get the million followers and the thousands of notes that you crave so desperately.

#discourse #tw:discourse #trigger:discourse #none of these screenshots are from harem btw

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fangirl-ramblings · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest - Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream.

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

"Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

"Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day.

"Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

"I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus - single-handedly - to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

"Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

"Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…"

'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck.

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients."

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

"Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

"No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent.

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

"Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

"Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

"What? What's got into you?"

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were.

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

"Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

"Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

"I saw her kiss you."

"You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

"Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

"No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

"So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

"Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

"Get to the point please, Arthur."

"You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him - to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

"So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you,

"You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

"Prove it." You pleaded.

"Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

"I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

"I'm all yours...are you mine?"

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #merry christmas #(i hope this copied over correctly 🙈🤣)#rdr secret santa 2020 #secret santa gift

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cognitiveinequality · 3 years

Text

Finally did something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now — go through and count how many tumblrs i have blocked over the years. I knew it was a lot, but I didn’t realize i’d passed the 1000 mark... just crossed over today, I think.

I probably block more than most, but I just... can’t even be bothered with getting sucked into any kind of discourse or drama with some people, YKWIM? and blocking is the best way I know of to make sure they can never interact with me...

[as an aside, I’ve grown to like how tumblr does blocking, though I know it’s unpopular with some — unlike other platforms, when I block someone here, instead of limiting what I can see, tumblr just throws an invisibility cloak over me when it comes to those specific accounts. They don’t see my shit on their dash, they can’t message me or reply to me. I’ve found that doing that enough kind of... gradually influences you from seeing stuff from accounts that lean in negative directions who you otherwise might see more of on your dashboard, and sort of... prunes your tumblr ecosystem in a positive way, I think.]

all that said, I still wish tumblr had a “block notes” feature, where I could leave myself hints every time I blocked an account about WHY — I know I had a good reason every time, but I’ll be damned if I can specifically remember every one.

#tumblr #blocking #blocks #blocked accounts

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smutty-ki113r · 3 years

Note

I woke up to my alarm tellin me to get out of bed and so naturally I checked your tumblr and I'm,,, concerned

There's a small anon war over what hoodie smells like and I have no sense of smell whatsoever so I'm not contributin, but, leafs.

Petition to change the plural of leaf to leafs instead of leaves. Leaves is an ugly ass word. Leafs just rolls of the tongue, its nicer, its what the people want

Also the same with sheep like what, why is the plural the same, I refer to them as sheeps cuz it makes me happy

Also I don't like the y/n either because "y/n" is usually a whole ass person all in itself. And they're usually a girl in most fanfic, along with the fact that they are the Mariest Sue That Ever Mary Sue'd.

I've been considerin why LJ is my favourite and I think it's purely because if any of the more sane (Masky, Toby, Slenderman, etc) took one fuckin GLANCE they would run away. I have hope that clown boy is too far gone to care about my mental state too much.

If you squint real hard my braincell count looks like a normal amount

I'm so exhausted I'm gonna talk to you, my favourite online human, because the blue light from my phone keeps me awake.

But I think my favourite dynamic ever is Rivals to Lovers™. Not enemies to lovers, cuz enemies have two different goals in mind; whereas rivals compete for the same thing.

I'm a sucker for medieval shit so,, a scene that's been annoying me all day is~

you're invited to a Royal Ball (because isn't that how all romances start these days, just roll with it brother) and you go, finding out it's a masquerade ball. You get there, you dance, being passed from person to person in a never ending loop of jewel-embeded skirts that were swept across the marble floor of the (obscenely) bedazzled castle, and suits that seemed more expensive than you were.

Regret never came because the wine chased it away; it flowed in waterfalls into your glass, the scent of it filling the room but not enough to drown out the everlasting smell of expensive perfume. Sometimes the odor of it clung to the women of the ball tighter than their corsets. The massive drapes were pulled back, latching to the wall in attempt to keep them from falling and blocking the view–of which captured your gaze immediately. The doors were swung open to let the air in, and ensuring that no glass got in the way of what lay beyond; the moon, full and impossibly heavy hung, stranded in the crisp night air. The moon was the only one that didn't judge the events that took place in the ballroom that night, the only thing watching the crowd of people with a pure, impassive gaze.

Because later that night, after multiple drinks had been passed around and a cacophony of laughter, dancing, and food had been consumed–after many glasses of wine had passed your lips and your body– of which was feeling tingly and impishly confident–had wandered to a far corner, darkened by the domed ceiling, seemingly on its own accord. In that moment you would give everything to stay in the Palace, to twirl until your feet blistered and you withered away into old gnarled bones and ashes that could still dance with the wind.

"I do hope that you know well what you wish for; not for clarity of the concept, my dear, but for clarity of consequence." The voice that spoke in your ear was deep, low, and held even darker undertones. It siezed your attention and captured it in both hands, strangling the curiosity out of you. It had come from your right, even further into the pitch-black corner, but as soon as you moved all the thoughts in your head sloshed about, banging against the interior of your head. It was either equivelant to that or a sledge hammer, one of the two. The wine was probably just twisting the voice's around you, making them appear. You tried to convince yourself but alas, even you deemed it vastly unlikely.

Turning around was more difficult then you planned. Just when you thought you would see the owner of the voice, nobody was there. Yep, probably just the abundance of alcohol making you dizzy.

Shifting back to dancing wasn't hard; it was as if you were floating down along a stream, merely following wherever the river took you. Voices pressed against you on all sides, soon becoming a background noise too, a faint buzzing sound. It rose and fell like the waves, ever-changing in volume.

You started to lose a grip on reality; eyes fluttering closed as you danced, just taking a breath of air, letting the delicate night wash away your worries, who you wer–

What the fuck!?

You did a double take, eyes now wide fucking open, because outside you spied someone that had to be atleast a foot taller than anyone else in the ball. The darkness seemed to congregate behind it, flourishing, and the only thing you could see was a wide smile and a pair of eyes.

It seemed that you couldn't get enough air into your lungs, couldn't focus; the voice's that used to be hazy surround sound was now piercingly loud the people were just too much, everywhere at once. Your breathing only picked up even more as you gripped your chest.

The.. Demon had disappeared by the time you glanced upward, you you scurried outside, barely making it before you collapsed on a golden railing. There were fine drops of rain scattered about, eluding to the fact it had rained earlier. Your masquerade costume was getting wet, leaning against the railing, but you were so dizzy you didn't care.

It was the wine, it had to be. Nobody could be that tall, it–it was humanly impossible. Moving was now akin to attempting to romp through thick syrup; a stagnant pace, uncoordinated, unsteady. Then it stopped. There was a hand on your shoulder.

You skimmed the person; they had a dark blue suit that sparkled with the occasional gold highlights, with a blue mask covering their face–it seemed that it covered all of their face, and didn't quite match what a masquarade mask should look like, but you didn't care. The support was welcomed.

"You seemed as if you required help, my Lady," He said, his voice deep and low, so much so that you questioned if you would even be able to hear him over the music blaring in the ballroom if the two of you were to venture back inside.

You looked back to where you saw the tall being, with its eyes and smile that seemed wrong, and wrong in a terrible, dangerous way.

"Care to dance with me?" You asked, relieved when he slipped his arm with yours and led you inside. The music had slowed to a waltz, nothing like the big parade of dancers that came in flurries of colour and left just as fast. His arms were solid and a comfort, welcome as the breeze on a sunny day. It felt like he protected you from everything that might have caught you off guard, in a way. Plus, he kept you from falling flat on my face, which is always a good thing.

The song changed and you were about to ask him for something else; his name, maybe, but fate had other plans. Both of you were bumped and somebody else had picked you up in their arms, hands landing on your waist as the dance consumed you. Your mystery man in blue was gone, it seemed, and you sighed. Being safe was a hard thing to ask. Instead, above you now was a man dressed in dark browns and yellows– he had a rather strange mask that curled around his mouth and eyes, leaving the centre free. His brown locks looked ruffled and messy and he jerked every once in a while, moving sporadically. It didn't stop and he didn't seem to be able to control it so you didn't mind. The slight jolts emitting from him caused you to wake up more, which was always welcome.

"Are you okay?" You asked, after his gaze had wandered elsewhere. It came back to you in a heartbeat, and you sensed be was smiling under the mask.

He twirled you, spinning you gracefully. "Of course I am," he said, coming in close again. "For now, I'm winning."

The night surged on quickly and you found yourself caught between multiple strangle figures; a woman with silky black hair and a mask that made her eyes appear the same colour, that offered you a drink that wasn't wine. A man that had offered you wine, that stood next to the big buffet table with a full glass and a white mask. He had stood with a black-masked man, but he weaved through the crowd until he was another string in a pile of wool. Your blue mystery man made another appearance, but not with you–he was talking in low tones with another man (you didn't mind that they were mostly men; seemingly just because it never occurred to you that they might be connected) who had black hair, like the other woman, and pale white skin. The palest you'd seen in a long time. However, at that moment, he had looked up and seen you staring, only for you to catch scars at the ends of his mouth. You crossed it down to makeup or a deformity of some kind. Through all this, you were atleast grateful you didn't see the tall being again.

And everything carried on. Until it didn't. Blood stained the carpet black and the screams were too loud to ever fade away, seeming to shake the walls. You had tried to run from it, from them, but you tripled in a hallway and couldn't even get up because of your many glasses of alcohol. Struggling was futile and someone easily pulled you back.

With horror you realised it was one of the men from before; you recognised the scruffy brown hair and occasional movements. He held you there, between life and death a moment more, a moment where all the men you'd seen that night, and the woman, came around the corner. Their voices were distorted to your damaged ears but your eyes focused on the tall being; he was real, and black and white, with hands that weren't normal and a nose that was even less so. They're all abnormal, your consciousness whispered to you, and you believed it. The man on top of you grinned, happy that he had caught you. Your stomach turned.

"Bring them to the Mansion," a voice ring out in your head. Your 'companions' seemed to hear it too. "And bring them alive."

As you can see I've never written anythin in my life so this is shit lmfao but I don't care an im just here to brainstorm anyways

Have my little scene, take it, because it was fun to do. It's not spellchecked, I've not read through it, because I can't be bothered, so if anythin is wrong laugh and move on brother. Also tryin to write without cuttin off the g from my words and shortenin them was so hard so halfway through I didn't bother lmao

I think this is my longest message yet so, sorry about that Red

Cheers if you actually made it this far.

–Kieran.

I agree. Leafs is better. SHEEPS- thats the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I love it.

Y/n is a stereotype in itself so I agree, it’s usually ya know, the whole “im different” kind of chick who can do everything and anything (basically bella from twilight), when in reality the reader is human and humans have imperfections. Lots of ‘m …LJ is my fav for a lot of reasons, at this point he’s a comfort to me. Plus, I (oml) relate to him so much, and I can do a post about this- if someone cares or asks. And I have similar traumaaa

Oh geez, I’m your favorite online human, AGH my heart, again, its burning. I agree, RIVALS TO LOVERS SOUNDS SO SOSOSOOSO GOOD I LOVE IT. (I would say my fav trope is “lovers who ache to be together but due to circumstance one starts to lose feeling for the other and it’s an agonizing pain to the other” or maybe that’s just me because I find completion in sadness, which is horrific. But I really itch to angst.)

Here’s me reading your scene and also talking about it at the same time. ‘Regret never came because the wine chased it away’…that’s a good line, thats a good line. The way you just take one thing and mash it with another aspect like wow. Like as each idea were droplets of water on a leafs and you happen to tilt it, connecting them so effortlessly. I’m jealous. The descriptions are amazing, and how you make it the reader’s thought process-damn. I WANNA WRITE THIS GOOD, YALL OUTSHINE ME. And then you say this was shit. *slaps you* DONT YOU DARE UNDESESTIMATE YOURSELF MISTER

Also the way you just subconsciously cut off the g’s is spectacular. I try to, but it’s hard for me. SORRY? SORRY?! Nononono thank you, because the longer the message the better. Apart from the fact that long messages make me happy, especially from you, it means you put time into talking to me! Which makes me super happy too. Heheheh. Thank you love! This made my morning, along with that drawing submission from cam anon, you should check it out! It’s really good.

#creepypasta #🔊#slenderman #masky #masky creepypasta #creepypasta masky #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer creepypasta #Jeff the killer #📩#toby cp #toby creepypasta #ticci toby #ticcy toby #Jane the killer #jane the killer creepypasta #eyeless jack cp #eyeless jack headcanon

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plazmafields · 3 years

Text

Cullrian Mulan AU

Word Count: 27,573

Summery: After escaping the Venatori and his family in Tevinter, Dorian finds refuge with a kindly older woman on a farm in Ferelden. When the Inquisition comes knocking looking for volunteers, Dorian can't help but overhear that they are looking to defeat the Venatori once and for all. He could join, but he can't have them thinking he might be a Venatori himself, especially not the Commander.

Forward: Holy jesus mercy, this literally took me years to get to. Between wanting to build out the universe to make it all fit together, then getting some serious writer's block (because nothing I love can come easy), then actually writing the damn thing! This has been a journey, and I really hope you all enjoy. I know it's a pain to read long fics on tumblr, so just let me know if you'd prefer it on AO3 or something. All my love, please enjoy my longest fic ever!!

__________

Just as the sun began to rise over the hills surrounding the farm, songbirds began to chirp, stirring Dorian from his sleep. Though he hated the insistent noise, he had to admit it was a softer wakeup call than Halward pushing ten tired slaves into his room to make him “presentable” before another noble’s daughter arrived. When Dorian had rejected the woman betrothed to him since birth, his mother offered that perhaps they should find an equally suitable candidate that Dorian could see himself getting along with. Poor mother, just trying to help; but she would never understand the true reason for Dorian’s rejection. Or perhaps they knew, and just couldn’t bear to face it as truth.

It took Dorian a moment to fully wake before he was hurriedly getting dressed and cleaned up, hoping to make it downstairs in time to make breakfast. As he descended the stairs, however, the scent of eggs and baking bread filled his nose. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. While it smelled wonderful, he still felt a bit guilty for making his kind host cook for them both.

At the bottom of the stairs, he smiled and gently bowed his head at the middle aged woman at the stove. “Good morning, Miss Ella,” he said as he entered the kitchen just off the stairwell.

“Good morning, dear. How do you like your eggs?” The woman turned to greet him with two plates of food in hand, each set prepared differently.

Dorian didn’t look at the meal before responding, “I’ll take whichever you don’t prefer.”

The older woman frowned, distinctly upset with the answer. “Ser Dorian, I insist you choose. You’re my guest, after all. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

The two stood both with expectant stares for a short while until Dorian sighed, taking one of the plates. “And I want to make sure I’m as nonintrusive as possible.” He turned quickly, taking a seat at the quaint kitchen table.

The woman smiled gently as she joined him. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you are not intruding. I took you in, and that’s the end of it. You should feel as though we share this house, just as we share this food and the land where it grows.”

Dorian couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as he began to eat. “Thank you, Miss Ella. You’ve been far too kind to an undeserving stranger.”

Miss Ella scoffed as she swatted at Dorian’s arm with her handkerchief, “Oh, don’t say such nonsense! Everyone is deserving of kindness, especially when they show such courtesy in return.”

Dorian said a quiet thank you as he continued to eat, trying to avoid another kind hearted argument with the woman. They stayed silent for a long moment until the woman shook her head and laughed.

“The only doubt I have about you is where you’re from. Not that I mind your secrecy; I understand the need. I only wish I knew so I could know who to thank for your wonderful manners.” She teased, wholeheartedly.

Dorian smiled despite the remembrance of home life, and answered gently, “I hardly think my parents had much to do with my manners. They’re not the kindest of people, unless they’re trying to impress someone.” His smile slipped slightly, enough for Miss Ella to notice.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she frowned and reached across the table, patting the back of Dorian’s hand, “I didn’t mean to strike a nerve. I wasn’t meaning to imply life was perfect, only that you seem acclimated to the finery in life. However, I know that comes with its own stresses and consequences.”

“You’re certainly right about that,” Dorian sighed, finishing the food on his plate.

As he stood, he took Miss Ella's empty plate as well, taking the dishes and cutlery to the wash basin to clean. As Dorian began scrubbing away, there came a rather harsh knock at the door. The two glanced curiously at one another before Miss Ella went to answer.

Dorian slowly set the dishes in the water, listening closely to who was at the door, waiting to see if it was a voice he recognized, come to take him back to Tevinter.

Instead, he heard a voice clearly announce: “Hello, serah, we’re here on behalf of the Inquisition. We’re requesting that every household contribute at least one able bodied person, or sign for a draft, if necessary.”

“Oh yes, the Inquisition. You’re the ones who patched up the sky, yes? While I would love to be of service, I’m afraid I am unable to enlist—”

“How old are you, ma’am?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Dorian heard the soldier clear his throat. “I asked your age, ma’am.”

Miss Ella, seemingly a bit taken aback by the direct nature of the question, gingerly answered, “Well, I’ll be turning fifty at the end of next month…”

The sound of confirmation and flipping paper piqued Dorian’s curiosity, as he slowly peeked into the foyer to watch the interaction.

The soldiers all nodded, one pulling out a form. “You’re within the age range to sign for the draft. If you would please—”

“I’m sorry?” Miss Ella stared in awe at the men before her. “I am the sole owner of this farm; all the land you see within several acres is my land! I cannot simply leave my property; who would be here to care for the animals? I would be more than willing to donate crops to the cause, but I am not going to leave my animals and harvest to suffer.”

Dorian watched on, ready to stand up for his gracious host, when the soldier tucked the form back into his satchel. “Ma’am, I understand your concerns, but I’m afraid, as valid as they may be, they cannot stand in the way of the fact that we need soldiers. As the Venatori threat strengthens—”

“I would be willing to volunteer,” Dorian stepped into view of the doorway, “on behalf of the household.”

Miss Ella turned with surprise, giving Dorian a worried look. He simply smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Very good, Ser. And thank you.” The soldier pulled out a list of volunteers’ names and began to assign Dorian an ID. “What is your relation to this woman?”

“My son.” Miss Ella spoke up, “Dorian Rider.”

Dorian gave a gentle, thankful look, trying not to make it too obvious to the soldiers.

“I assume, then, you were born in Ferelden?” The soldier studied Dorian’s dark complexion suspiciously.

“Orlais,” Dorian lied, “but I’ve lived here much of my life…”

The soldier seemed to find that more believable as he nodded, noting the answer on the form.

“And what is your role in the household? Just a simple description of what you do around the house will suffice.” The soldier asked, poised to write.

“I help maintain the farm.”

The soldier nodded, “Very good. And do you have any experience with fighting or combat?”

“Spell—” Dorian quickly closed his mouth, remembering mages were not supposed to live or practice magic outside of the Circles in Ferelden. He worriedly glanced at Miss Ella, before he noticed the soldier give him a friendly grin.

“Don’t worry,” The soldier said, lowering his writing board, “the Inquisition is not here to discriminate. We take anyone willing to risk their lives for the cause.” His eyes went soft, as he seemed to sympathize with Dorian. “I was a thief in Denerim before I joined. I’m not one to judge. Thank you for volunteering, Ser. Serah.”

The soldiers each gave a respectful bow before starting off to the next house. The one with the writing board called over his shoulder, “We’ll knock again when we’re ready to head off to Skyhold. Please be ready. You need only to bring your personal effects; we will have weapons and armor for you there.”

Miss Ella quickly closed the door and grabbed Dorian by the shoulders. “What are you doing? I thought you were hiding out! This is a sure way to bring attention to yourself, boy!”

Though she shook him lightly, she was not angry as Dorian looked in her eyes. The only thing he saw there was fear and worry. For him; for his safety.

Dorian took her hands in his and smiled reassuringly, “I’ll be ok. I can handle myself in a fight. Besides, what was I supposed to do, let them take you away from your livelihood? That hardly seems right.”

Miss Ella continued to look him in the eye for a time, all the while tears starting to well, before they eventually fell and she wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Thank you so much, dear. I just hope they keep you safe from whatever you were running from. Maybe one day you’ll be free of fear, and you can tell me everything.”

__________

Finally at Skyhold, the entire cart full of recruits gazed upon the glory of their new home for the foreseeable future, everyone taken aback by the size of the castle. Once through the gates, Dorian found himself being shuffled through a group of anxious troops, somehow ending up near the front of the crowd. Just as he began to wonder what all the fuss was about, the entire mass fell silent, standing mostly at attention.

A pale skinned man with thick blond hair strode up to the group of recruits, his presence alone demanding full attention. As he scanned the crowd, seemingly impressed with the number of volunteers, he momentarily locked eyes with Dorian.

The mage immediately froze, holding his breath as the blond’s eyes studied him. It seemed like minutes before their eyes met again, the blond saying kindly, “Welcome to the Inquisition.”

Dorian didn’t realize the blond was addressing the whole group, and not just him, until the entire mass said in unison, “Ser, yes, Ser.”

Dorian jumped at the roar, averting his gaze to his feet. The rest of the blond’s speech went by as a mumble, Dorian only picking out a few things. “I am your commander,” “thank you for your service,” “we are all fighting for the same cause,” etcetera.

“Those of you who are weary from the journey may feel free to retire to the barracks and claim a bunk. Make certain your items are secure and accounted for. As for those anxious to begin your service, please follow my associate Seeker Cassandra; she will give a brief tour of the grounds.” The blond gestured to a broad and powerful woman, who already appeared annoyed. “As she will be assisting me in your training, I expect you all to treat her with the same respect and authoritative recognition as you would me.”

The blond Commander took a final look over the troops before dismissing them to follow Cassandra or head to the beds. But just as Dorian followed after the retiring group, he heard a gentle summons.

“You there, mage.”

Dorian turned to see the Commander watching him with a careful eye. “Dorian, Ser.” He answered.

“Ser Dorian,” The Commander let the name roll on his tongue for a moment before continuing, causing Dorian’s breath to hitch in his throat. “I understand you’re an apostate.”

Dorian let out his held breath in a deep sigh, nearly rolling his eyes. “Yes, I am. Ser. I don’t suppose you’re going to turn me in to your recent allies?” He crossed his arms and lifted a brow, challenging the blond standing several feet from him.

The Commander narrowed his eyes, “I certainly wasn’t planning on it.” He slowly closed the distance between the two of them in several long strides, saying in a low tone, “Unless you’re going to have a problem with my authority, Ser Dorian.”

With the blond so close, Dorian felt his heart speed up. Something about his presence made Dorian feel held in place. Not as if he was trapped, simply that he couldn’t make himself step away.

Dorian scanned his eyes over the Commander’s form, noticing the Chantry insignia on his bracers. Ah, Dorian thought, he plans on taking care of me himself.

“Not unless you’re going to play those little Templar tricks to dispel my magic when I’m simply trying to warm my tea.” Dorian could have sworn he saw the corner of the Commander’s lips curl up at his accurate observation.

“That would just be rude. No, I wanted to inform you that, despite my past, I have very little patience for discrimination.” The Commander's eyes scanned over Dorian's body once more, “If anyone says anything, does anything, or even looks at you in a way that makes you suspect ill intent, do let me know. They’ll be dealt with discreetly.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to feel; between the Commander’s word choice and his eyes wondering Dorian’s physique, he felt maybe the blond knew his preferences just by looking at him. Did he have to be more worried about that than being an apostate? Though Dorian knew little about the south, he knew even less about their feelings on…sexual endeavors. More specifically, who you ventured those endeavors with.

Dorian hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at the Commander without answering until the blond tilted his brow up. “That is an order, Ser Dorian.”

He was shaken from his trance by the mention of his name in a soothingly gentle voice; surprising for a man in his militant position. “Yes, Ser.” Dorian responded quickly, eager to have the Commander’s caressing gaze off him.

The blond smiled, seemingly content with the response. “Good. And don’t be afraid to approach me.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice even more to an impossibly comforting near-purr, “I don’t bite.” He grinned reassuringly.

Perhaps I’d rather you did, Dorian thought, admiring the Commander’s gait as he strode off, heading for his office.

In the barracks Dorian chose a bed, near to the wall to prop his staff and hang his pack, filled only with a few herbs for mixing potions and a book or two.

Though his sleep was fitful, he woke more or less prepared for training the next morning, those blasted birds even louder in the mountains than Miss Ella's valley farmland. Their loud singing mixed with the shuffle of new troops preparing for training woke Dorian far earlier than he would have liked. But he hurried along, seeing he was one of the last troops to rise, and made it to the training grounds just as the sun rose above the horizon.

He had eyes on him the moment he walked onto the grounds, scared young men and women glaring at him and eyeing the ornament on the end of his staff, watching cautiously as magic flowed through the crystal gem, all originating from Dorian’s fingertips. All the looks, the suspicion, made him feel as though he was not exactly blending in like he had hoped. He scanned his fellow soldiers, finding most were pale. Those with dark skin like his seemed no less acclimated to his presence. Their undertones were all cold blues and greys, making Dorian’s red-brown skin stand out in an unnatural, if stunning, manner against the natives.

As Dorian felt more and more uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time in years, a voice echoed off the fortress walls from behind him.

“You’re late.” Dorian turned to find the Commander stalking toward him, free of his armor and only covered by simple leather trousers. His chest was dusted in scars of all sizes; some reaching from collar bone to hip, one leading Dorian’s eye down a mischievous path to the Commander’s laces.

“Did the bells not wake you? Perhaps I should make that your responsibility; to wake and ring the bells for everyone else to hear? Since they seem not to faze you.”

Dorian scoffed, “I suppose you would like all your men to be late as well, then? If I were in charge of the bells, we’d all be waking half past tea.”

The Commander seemed equally confused and annoyed with Dorian’s flippant nature, seemingly having no respect, no regard for his position.

As he closed the distance in a quick stride, Dorian simply crossing his arms and sighing, almost bored by the interaction, he said lowly, “Fall in line before I make an example out of you.”

Dorian, sifting his words through his head, began carefully evaluating his next move. While he didn’t enjoy being told what to do, and very much enjoyed testing people’s patience, he decided against saying anything at all, taking several steps back and lining up with the other troops.

The Commander relaxed his shoulders, turning slowly to take his place in front of the herd. As he glanced back to face his troops again, and saw Dorian at the front line of their formations, he quickly changed his mind.

“Alright Ser Dorian, since you seem to enjoy being the center of attention, perhaps you would like to help me demonstrate some defensive maneuvers.”

Dorian tensed. While he was proud of his magical knowledge and ability, he knew things the average Ferelden mage most certainly would not. He had to be careful of what spells he used, as not to let on too much or attract attention.

But he relaxed as he saw the Commander reach for an extra sword and shield, gesturing for Dorian to step forward. He stabbed his staff into the ground and sauntered up to take the weapons. As he did, the Commander asked quietly, “You do know which end to hold it by, don’t you?”

Before Dorian could think, he grinned and responded in a flirtatious tone, “I’ve had plenty of experience handling swords, Commander.”

The Commander stared at him blankly as a slight rosy color filled his cheeks, then cleared his throat as he handed the sword off to Dorian.

“How much experience do you have with shield work?” The Commander asked, getting into a proper fighting stance.

Dorian mimicked his movements, obviously less confident with a sword and shield. “Certainly less than with staff blades and staff defense,” he muttered.

The Commander nodded once. “Let us spar—so that I can evaluate what you know—then, we’ll try it again with your staff. All I want you to do is defend.” The troops drew closer, forming a circle like a fighting ring around the two. “Don’t let me into your personal space.”

Dorian wanted to make a suggestive remark about his personal space, but the time was lost as the blond charged at him with speed and an unfair amount of force. Dorian dodged and defended as best he could with what little knowledge he had while the Commander showed no mercy, but ultimately, in only a matter of seconds, the blond had managed to disarm him and enter his space.

They were nearly chest to chest, Dorian breathing somewhat heavily while the Commander hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Your movements are arrogant,” he announced, loudly for the rest of the troops to hear, “despite having no idea what you are doing, clearly. While half of defense is confidence, not showing your enemy weakness, it is not the whole fight.”

He stepped away from Dorian, acquiring his stance once more. “Again,” the Commander proclaimed, “with your staff this time.”

Dorian smirked as he pulled his staff blade out of the soil, poising himself for a good fight. He knew this was about physical defense, no magic involved, but by the Maker if he wouldn’t fight back.

The Commander once again charged at him, but this time Dorian knew what to do. He twirled his staff, directing the sword’s momentum away and back to the Commander, using his own power against him. Aside from a huff of disapproval, the blond went unfazed, using the off-railed momentum to carry his shield arm forward, bashing Dorian’s staff in an attempt to throw him off balance. But Dorian stabbed his staff blade into the ground, stopping the blond’s shield dead in its tracks. The Commander pressed forward, waiting for Dorian to inevitably lift his staff and take the force.

Rather than lift his staff, Dorian used it as leverage to swing his body around and kick the unsuspecting Commander’s sword from his hand. Unfortunately for Dorian, his opponent was ambidextrous, catching the sword in his left hand and switching the shield to his right. At this point, the Commander was visibly annoyed, putting more force into his blows, testing the mage’s strength. Dorian held his position for as long as he could, motivated by the troops’ shocked mumbling to one another.

Finally, after several minutes, the Commander’s sword came down on the blade of Dorian’s staff, throwing off the momentum and leaving Dorian open for the Commander to once again step into his space.

After this round, however, they were both panting, a sheen of sweat lightly reflecting on the blond’s chest. Dorian kept his eyes up, staring intently into the Commander’s.

“Much better,” He said flatly. “You use your staff as an extension of yourself. You know not only the magical maneuvers, but the physical ones as well. You still need to work on paying more attention to your opponent, and less to your own actions. They should come as second nature, as I’m sure your magic does.” The Commander backed away once again, relaxing his grip on his weapons. “Well done, overall. I’ve worked with and against many mages and, routinely, close combat was their weakness.” He scanned Dorian from head to toe, shrugging slightly. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m impressed, but…” extending his hand out to Dorian, “I respect your ability.”

A nearly collective gasp came from the audience of troops around them, all surprised at Dorian’s redemption. From problem recruit, to Commander-respected mage. Perhaps Dorian had nothing to worry about after all.

He took the blond’s outstretched hand and shook it lightly, bowing his head with thanks and returned respect.

“Now then,” the Commander signaled for the troops to regroup into previous formation, “While we have mages among our ranks, many of you would not find the maneuvers performed by Ser Dorian particularly useful, unless you plan on fighting nonlethally.” A quiet chuckle simmered through the troops.

“For the majority of your sakes, I will have my associate Cassandra help me with your training. I warn you, she is a stickler for form. And rightfully so, as it could mean your life…”

The rest of training went by with little incident, other than the occasional calling out and embarrassing of inept recruits. And by the end of the session, nearing lunch, everyone was exhausted.

As the mass headed off for the dining hall, dismissed reluctantly by the Lady Seeker, Dorian saw from the corner of his eye the Commander and Seeker talking in hushed voices, glancing occasionally in his direction.

I’ll speak with him, he made out from the Commander’s lip movements. After nodding and donning a linen shirt, Dorian watched from his peripheral vision as the blond closed in on him.

“Ser Dorian,” he placed a light hand on the mage’s shoulder, “Could I speak with you a moment?”

Dorian acted surprised, even going so far as to ask, “Am I in some sort of trouble?”

The Commander chuckled, “Not at all. Performing well in front of your peers in nothing to be punished for. However, on the topic of your performance, I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Dorian’s breath hitched. Kaffas, they’re getting suspicious, he thought to himself, trying not to appear alarmed.

The Commander led him away from the hungry glob of languid recruits and in the direction of a more private location, beginning to ask several questions along the way.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking, where did you learn to fight with a staff?” he asked nonchalantly, hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.

“I went to a very prestigious academy; one where our days were filled with nothing but magical and alchemical training. More general teachings—reading, writing, arithmetic—were expected to be taught in the household between school hours.” Dorian explained, leaving out any details that could be traced to Tevinter.

The Commander nodded, humming in understanding before asking, “In Orlais? I read in your recruitment form you were born and raised there.”

“Indeed,” Dorian knew quite a bit about Orlais, and spoke a bit of Orlesian, so he supposed he could continue this lie rather well. “I was lucky to be born to a noble family.”

“I’ve never heard of the Rider family.” The Commander stated bluntly, making Dorian’s heart jump a little.

“Well,” he began, spinning a believable story in his head, “we were unfortunately, when I was rather young, stripped of our finances by a business partner who ran off with my parents’ money. The rest appears to be history.”

The Commander narrowed his eyes, taking Dorian up and down once again. “I prefer my history well documented.”

Before Dorian could comment, a runner jogged toward them, handing off a stack of papers.

“Commander! New reports for you, Ser. Spymaster says they’re not urgent, but could be useful.”

The blond sighed and skimmed several of the papers, a lock of frazzled hair falling in front of his face. He rolled his eyes, handing the papers back to the runner, “Useful seems an over statement. Jim, take these to my office and tell Leliana, respectfully, this matter is a waste of my time.”

The runner nervously nodded, jogging off from whence he came. The Commander sighed and pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose as he thought aloud quietly, “I am not the negotiator, that is Josephine’s job and it should remain her job if we are all to stay sane…”

He dropped his hand after a moment with a deep sigh before turning to Dorian. “I apologize, Ser Dorian, but I’ve work to do before the next bout of training. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly, Commander…?” Dorian waited for a reply.

“Cullen. Always Commander Cullen, of course.”

“Of course,” Dorian agreed. “Until this afternoon, Commander Cullen.” He gave a graceful bow, the Commander simply ducking his head slightly in acknowledgement before they parted ways.

__________

Dorian tossed and turned that night, nerves and nightmares drilling deep into his conscience. He woke with a start, finding his fellow troops all still asleep, gentle blue moonlight shining through the slit of a window. Determined to clear his mind and be able to go back to sleep before training that morning, Dorian set off for the battlements.

After climbing the steps, passing the few troops on night watch, Dorian found a good spot to clear his head, out of the path of patrolling guards. He leaned against the stone wall and hung his head over, propping himself up on his elbows. He sighed, hoping his nerves would leave with his breath and leave him his confident self once again. But the worry continued; worry about being found out, about being dragged back home, about dying a face in the crowd, no one knowing him for what he wanted to stand for. A man against the fear mongering of his homeland, a man against the all-ruling wants of the Imperium, the good Tevinter.

But above all else, he worried about dying before he could prove to himself that he deserved all that recognition.

Just as the feeling of existentialism began to consume him, he heard a sudden voice from behind him, gentle and light. Soft, in a way.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest? You trained hard yesterday, you deserve it.”

Dorian jumped and turned to see the person speaking to him. He found the Commander, once again in linens, leaning in the doorway to what Dorian assumed was his office.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your brooding,” Cullen said apologetically, coming to lean against the battlement walls as well. “I heard walking around out here, and the guards don’t patrol this close to my office. I thought maybe there was trouble. Was I correct?”

Dorian smiled gently, looking out over the mountains again, “If I’m deserving of a rest, you are far beyond deserving. Letting recruits wail on you for hours? You must be tired.”

Cullen took a deep breath, letting it out as he spoke, “They don’t know nearly enough to have actually done any damage. I’ve certainly taken worse.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Cullen spoke again, “But you didn’t answer me.”

Dorian looked at him curiously.

“Is there trouble?”

Dorian chuckled, letting out a breathy laugh and ducking his head. “No, I’m just a bit sleepless. It’s nothing new, nothing I can’t cope with.”

Cullen nodded, quiet for a moment, before saying, “With all due respect, Ser Dorian, I don’t believe you.”

Those were not words Dorian needed to hear. They only added to his nervousness over being found out. He wanted to get out of there, quickly. “I suppose I should head off then, back to bed. Don’t want to be late for morning training again.”

“There’s no curfew, you know. Well, the tavern closes an hour after sunset, but there’s no rule saying you can’t wander the grounds.”

Dorian wasn’t sure how to continue, still poised to walk away.

“Would you mind if we talked a moment?” Cullen asked innocently, gesturing to his office.

Dorian reluctantly entered the Commander’s office and took a seat.

“Our ambassador looked into your ‘noble family’, by the way.” Cullen uttered as he closed the door, sauntering over to his desk and pulling Dorian’s recruitment form out to place in front of the mage.

He was fucked, he knew it. They found out who he really was and they were going to assume he was a Venatori spy, interrogate him for information, maybe even kill him.

“Only noble Rider family in Orlais was over two hundred years ago and they died out from inherited illness. So…” Cullen lowered himself into his seat, propping his elbows on the desk and placing his head on his wound hands, “Why did you lie?”

Dorian looked through the papers in front of him; his recruitment form, his payment contract, the information dug up on the Riders, but found nothing about his true identity. Did they not figure out who he really was? Was Cullen keeping the information from him to catch him in another lie? Dorian took a deep breath before testing his luck.

“I was staying with an old friend of mine in the Hinterlands when your recruiters came knocking. My friend manages her land all on her own—it isn’t much, but she’s not as spry as younger folk—and I came to help her. The recruiters were insistent that she ‘volunteer’ or that she sign for a draft. Obviously, she can’t leave her crops and animals to parish, so I offered to go in her place, on behalf of her household.”

Dorian held his breath, waiting for Cullen to react.

The blond took a breath before restating, “Your friend is older and you wanted to make sure she wouldn’t lose her land by being drafted?”

Dorian nodded, still barely breathing.

Cullen pursed his lips and slowly bobbed his head, glancing back down to Dorian’s papers.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, “My recruiters were trying to force her to volunteer? Or sign for the draft? That goes against their orders, which are, simply, to spread the word of our cause and take those who volunteer for a draft, if necessary, or to join the ranks.”

Dorian let out his breath, slowly as to not let on how truly relieved he was. Cullen had not only accepted his story, but truly seemed to believe it. Not all of it was a lie, in fact most of it was true, if not laid in truth.

“Let me ask next, did you give us her name when volunteering? Or some other alias?” Cullen raised his brows like a disappointed parent catching their child in a lie.

Dorian knew giving his real name would give him away and possibly get him killed, so he instead continued the lie. “No, my name is Dorian Rider, however I don’t believe there’s any relation to the Orlesian family. As far as I know, my roots are in Antiva. However, I do not know much about my heritage. My family…” He cringed at the little truth he was about to slip in, “My family disowned me for not following their life plans for me. I only know where my parents were born.”

Cullen’s eyes went soft, emotion slipping through his interrogation mask. “I…I am truly sorry. That’s something I’ve been lucky enough to never have experienced. I won’t press the matter.”

Dorian nodded in thanks, his heart finally settling.

“While your intent was in good standing,” Cullen said, running his hands through his natural curls, “I must still report this as misconduct. You could have worse; I’m going rather easy on you for this sort of misdemeanor. I expect I will not regret my decision, Ser Dorian?”

Dorian nodded, just relieved the whole confrontation was over.

“Good, then I believe everything is settled,” Cullen stated, leading Dorian to the door.

As Dorian began to hurry off, Cullen called after him, “And Ser Dorian!”

Dorian turned to listen.

“I said while sparring I would not go so far as to say I was impressed with your performance. It seems I told a bit of a lie myself.”

Cullen gave a knowing look before closing the door to his office.

__________

After several days of following a simple routine—getting up at the arse-crack of dawn, training for the morning, eating lunch, then training until sundown—Dorian began to feel comfortable with his new surroundings. Since his impressive display sparring with the Commander, people had begun to respect him, addressing him politely as he passed, even if Dorian was hardly their acquaintance. He felt good, confident in himself once again, and sure his secret was completely safe.

As he wandered the courtyard, clearing his mind after a lackluster lunch with the other recruits, Dorian noticed an elf with a powerful stance, Dalish markings on his skin, approaching him with purpose in his step.

“Dorian Rider, yes? I’ve heard much about you from your fellow troops; and our Commander himself.”

“Inquisitor!” Dorian suddenly realized, only having seen the man from a distance before now, “It’s an honor. And I’m happy to have good things said about me.” He bowed, low and respectful.

The elf scoffed, “Please, enough with the formalities. I was hoping to speak with you, if I could.” He gestured forward, in the direction of the main hall.

“Of course,” Dorian answered as he followed, only a slight nervousness rising in his chest.

When they arrived in the hall, few people occupying the echoing space, the Inquisitor began to ask, “From all I’ve seen and heard, you have quite a talent for magic and fighting. While all mages are technically apostates now, I understand you were an apostate before all the in-fighting broke out. Is that correct?”

Dorian nodded, thinking he knew where this was going. “I was indeed. While I won’t claim to be better than a Circle mage, I do believe I had the opportunity to learn many magic forms the Chantry might frown on. Excluding blood magic, of course. A disgusting use of power.” Dorian shuddered slightly, remembering its uses in Tevinter politics.

“Absolutely. You seem an upstanding man, one who would not abuse the privilege of living outside the Circle.” The Inquisitor sauntered slowly toward a door at the side of the hall, pushing it open and beckoning Dorian through. Dorian obliged, waiting in the short corridor before holding the second door open for the elf.

“Among my people blood magic is considered savage and unnatural, as many others feel, Circle mage or no. While I believe the Circle has a place, I do not believe it is to control or constrict mages, but to teach them and help them learn to control themselves and their own power. From what Commander Cullen has told me about Kirkwall, I think the Circle has driven more mages to consider dark magicks as a means to escape. Horrifying things they may never have even conceived of if given more freedom.”

The elf seemed oddly adamant for a non-mage, making Dorian slightly suspicious as to where the conversation was headed. But as the Inquisitor led them to a massive room with a massive map table, Dorian felt there would be no trouble today.

Several men stood behind the map table, some Dorian recognized as the Inquisitor’s associates, and others he’d seen around Skyhold with no context as to who they were.

“I’d like to introduce you to some of my most trusted members and friends of the Inquisition.” The elf gestured forward with a sweeping motion, triggering everyone to bow their heads and smile.

“Firstly, Solas, who has been with us from the beginning, helping me cope with the Anchor and studying its power.”

The tall slender elf smiled softly, “It is a pleasure, Ser Dorian.”

“Secondly—of course you know him—our Commander, Cullen, leader of our forces, ex-Templar, currently slowly dying from lyrium withdrawal he never told me about.” The Inquisitor eyed him angrily as the Commander gave a sheepish smile, muttering some sort of apology.

“And of course, the roguish duo of Varric and his little shadow Cole.”

The Dwarf waved as he continued to tune up his crossbow, saying casually, “Good to meet you, pretty boy.”

The young man behind him, on the other hand, looked Dorian curiously in the eyes before uttering, “You’re different inside your head: lacking, loathing, lonely; soft words never enough, but harsh words too harsh to heal.”

Dorian gave the Inquisitor a side glance, eyes wide with surprise. “Um, yeah. He does…that.” The Inquisitor apologized.

Dorian nodded tentatively to each of them before saying quietly to the Inquisitor, “While it’s lovely to meet everyone, I’m not quite sure I understand what this is about.”

The elf chuckled as he approached the war table and walked around to join his colleagues on the other side. “I, Eridan Levellan, would like to personally induct you into my inner circle, to join me and my allies—and closest friends—in the monumental task of keeping the Inquisition afloat and keeping our allies, and prospective allies, satisfied and compliant.”

Dorian’s jaw fell open in shock, meaning to say something, but at a loss for words.

The Inquisitor laughed again, “Allow me to explain my reasoning: Cullen and Cassandra told me about your skill with fighting and magic after your first display, and have kept me up to date on your progress and ability as it’s been relieved to us through your training. While I am incredibly glad to have you among our forces, I think your skill could be better put to use in the field, when it’s just me and a small group out and about.”

He pulled Cole and Varric into his side, arms around their shoulders and a hand on Solas’s arm as he stated, “While I have other members in my inner circle, these three are the ones who most often join me on my personal missions. Providing immediate aid, closing rifts, dealing with people’s weird family problems in exchange for supplies and alliance—we see it all, and it’s all dangerous. I think I could use someone with your talent out with me, watching my back!”

The short, and surprisingly stocky elf seemed incredibly excited about the concept, raising his eyebrows to question Dorian, imploring him to accept the offer.

When Dorian hesitated, Solas spoke up, voice soft and reassuring, “If I am to have an opinion in the matter, I would be delighted to work with another mage interested in the magicks not taught within any Circle. As an apostate myself, I chose to study spirits and ancient magicks, finding lost pieces of history in the fade as I dreamt. Many mages from the Circle believe this means I have made pacts with demons, and explaining my innocent intentions becomes tiresome. I, for one, would welcome the addition of a like minded apostate into our ranks.”

“The only apostate I ever met escaped from the Circle and it’s all he ever talked about. ‘Templars this, rebellion that.’ Had an insane spirit living in him, too. I’d like to spend time with less crazy mages,” Varric chimed in.

“You think about acceptance, but have never come to expect it. I’ve seen the dangers, lived with them. If that’s acceptance, I would have to change for it. Would I be myself after that?...” Cole was suddenly next to him, despite being under the Inquisitor’s arm only a second ago.

“Sweet Andra—! Can you not do that?” Dorian exclaimed, almost jumping away.

“Don’t mind him. He’s some kind of ‘good’ spirit. He doesn’t really understand boundaries.” The Inquisitor said, coming around the war table to pull Cole away by the wrist.

Cullen’s voice, the softest of everyone’s, gained Dorian’s attention immediately, “As the one who recommended this to begin with, I of course think you should accept. You have a wonderful talent that I can’t use among my troops. It seems a pity to waste it under my command.” He gave an encouraging smile, making Dorian’s mind up instantly.

“Inquisitor, it would be an honor to be part of your inner circle. I accept.”

The Inquisitor practically cheered, ushering everyone out so he could explain what would be expected of Dorian. Dorian listened intently, making sure to joke with the elf to gain his trust and form a feeling of comradery.

After stepping out of the war room, Dorian found Cullen waiting for him, leaning against the ambassador’s empty desk, standing upright when Dorian entered the room.

“I’m happy to hear you’ll be traveling with the Inquisitor from now on. As I said before, I truly think your skills will be better suited in the field.” Cullen extended his hand to offer congratulations.

Dorian took it in a confident grasp, giving a single solid shake. “I appreciate the referral. I’m certain it will surprise you to hear, but not many people appreciate my efforts.”

Cullen chuckled, “I can certainly relate; there have been times in my life where I felt the same. Looking back…” the Commander trailed off slightly, “Well, I’m not so certain anymore that my efforts deserved to be appreciated.”

“I assume you mean your time as a Templar?”

The blond sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “Yes. I followed faithfully, but I realize now I was not following the right path.”

Dorian smiled, understanding completely, “Believe me, Commander, I know the feeling.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Cullen asked, shyly, “Would you mind if I asked…?”

“My family. What my family had planned for me, for the rest of my life. I followed as faithfully as I could until…” Dorian looked at his feet, eyes full of pain, trying to avoid Cullen noticing. “Until I was older and understood what they expected of me. After I dared to defy them one too many times…”

Dorian stopped. He couldn’t say anymore. Yes, it might give him away, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t speak. He knew, he remembered what his father was willing to do to change his preferences, and it hurt too much to say out loud. The man he thought had his best interests at heart turned out to only care about himself. Saying it out loud was like admitting a truth Dorian didn’t want to accept.

Cullen tried to look him in the eyes, touching his hand ever so gently to gain his attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, I’m learning to accept it. It just…isn’t fun to talk about.” Dorian gave a pained smile.

Cullen sighed, dropping his hand from Dorian’s in favor of rubbing at his neck again, “I know. One’s past shapes who they are and who they become. Sometimes it’s difficult to accept who you were…”

Dorian saw the familiarity in Cullen’s gaze—distant and unsure—and heard the regret in his tone, but decided not to push the matter.

“Or, uh, who your parents were, I mean. I-I’m sure you’ve always been this wonderful. A wonderful person, that is! Good, uh, good moral standing, and all that.” Cullen’s face was very quickly getting red as he tried to avoid eye contact and stutter through his explanation.

Dorian chuckled, taking pity on the blond. “I understood what you meant, Commander, no worries.”

“Cullen.”

“Pardon?”

The Commander looked up suddenly, looking directly into Dorian’s eyes. He hadn’t noticed before that they were nearly gold. “Call me Cullen. You’re no longer under my command, so please: just Cullen.” He smiled so genuinely that Dorian almost forgot to respond.

“Oh, yes, well…” he laughed a little more to fill the silence as he thought. “I suppose I like the title. It suits you.”

Cullen smiled sheepishly, the blush coming back, less strong this time. “As you wish, Ser Dorian.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to a more casual stance, finally feeling comfortable, “Now you’re just teasing me.”

Cullen poorly faked a look of offence, “Tease? Never!”

“Mm, you should work on your poker face, Commander.” Dorian couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Cullen laughed with him before the two fell silent again, neither wanting to leave, but neither knowing what to say.

“I…I wanted to ask a while ago, but I didn’t want the other recruits to think I was giving you special treatment: would you care to continue sparring when neither of us is busy? As odd as it may sound, I enjoyed the challenge.” Cullen seemed to be looking anywhere but ahead, avoiding Dorian’s eyes.

Dorian grinned, also avoiding eye contact, feeling like a childish school boy dodging around outright flirting with one another. “I would like that, actually.”

The two agreed on a time and place, and parted ways for the rest of the day. Dorian wandered a while until he saw the Inquisitor again, casually asking about continuing to sleep in the barracks.

“Oh! We can find you more private quarters if you like. I certainly wouldn’t want to live with a bunch of other people if I didn’t have to. Talk to Josephine, our Ambassador; she’ll find an open room for you.”

And so Dorian did, and by the end of the day, he had moved his belongings to a small—but comfortable—room with a view of the tavern and gardens. Right off the side of the main hall, and up a few flights of stairs, Dorian’s door opened to a balcony where he could see everything. While he knew these rooms were meant for visiting guests, and it may not be a permanent living situation, he had to admit it felt good to have his own space again. He did what had to be done to survive—slept in inns, travelers’ camps, worked odd jobs before finding Miss Ella’s farm— but it certainly wasn’t the lifestyle he was used to.

But that lifestyle was far out of reach now. As he sat on the edge of his new bed, mindlessly sorting his collection of magical trinkets, he wondered if life would have been better if he went along with his family’s plan to begin with. Marry the girl, have another mage son, continue living a lie for the rest of his life. He often told himself it would have been easier, but that wasn’t true. How could it be easy to deny your true self for your entire life? How could it be easy to force yourself to have sex with someone you could never be attracted to until you finally had a child?

How could it be easier than leaving everything you’ve ever known behind? That was difficult enough on its own.

“I don’t know;” he thought aloud, “how could it be harder?”

“Harder?”

Dorian jumped, conjuring a small flame in his palm on instinct, letting it fizzle as he saw the Commander in the doorway, leaning casually on the doorframe.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Cullen said, extending his hand out as he carefully approached, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just thought I would come see how you were adjusting. All this, it must be a bit of a transition.”

Dorian’s palm quickly cooled as he let out a long breath, slowly calming down from the scare. “It certainly is. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it seems so sudden. Too sudden.”

Cullen chuckled, “I’d say you’ve earned it. But of course I would, I made the suggestion. How do you feel about it all?” he cocked his head on a slight angle, like a curious dog.

Dorian gestured for the Commander to sit next to him, the blond taking a tentative seat. “It’s odd. Coming here the way I did. Knowing what I came from—money, power, having to exceed expectations if you wanted to get anywhere in life…it was so stressful, and running away from it all was so stressful. And now…”

Dorian turned his head to see Cullen’s innocent golden eyes filled with understanding, knowing just as well what it was like to run from the only life you’d ever known. He found himself entranced, forgetting everything as he lost himself in wisdom-filled, pained eyes that reminded him of his own, a tired glaze darkening the once bright shine of hope they held years ago.

“And now?” Cullen repeated, hardly voicing the words.

The moment felt so intimate; the bed was somewhat small, so they were seated close, leaning toward each other. Cullen’s hand was pressed to the bed to support him as he leaned, placed right behind Dorian. It almost felt like they were embraced without touching each other. He felt comfortable, so comfortable he couldn’t even bring himself to question what was happening. So he simply let the moment linger. It didn’t feel awkward, it didn’t feel drawn out. It just felt…comfortable.

It seemed like an eternity before Cullen’s leg gently bumped his, the blond letting the tips of his fingers rest on Dorian’s thigh. He wasn’t sure what the intent of the action was, but it only made Dorian lose himself more. At first he was just lost in the ex-Templar’s eyes. Now he could see the entirety of him, inside and out. And after scanning over his body, Dorian’s eyes locked on to the blond’s lips. The room froze, time froze. Dorian saw Cullen’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed harshly, obviously wanting more than just Dorian’s eyes on his lips.

Dorian let himself move closer, just a bit, and Cullen did the same.

“And now,” Dorian’s voice was somewhere below a whisper, “things almost feel easy.”

“They could be,” Cullen’s voice was even, giving nothing away. Dorian wished there was some sort of hoarseness, wobbliness, something in his voice that made it clear what was happening here.

But Dorian wasn’t sure. He needed to be certain before he outed himself here. In Ferelden, in the Inquisition, in this moment with Cullen. He needed to be certain.

So he backed off, leaning away again and closing his eyes. He heard the Commander sigh next to him and clear his throat, shifting away.

“You sound like you have a lot on your mind,” Cullen sounded disappointed, but by this point Dorian had already convinced himself not taking a chance was the better course of action.

“I can leave you with your thoughts, if you like?”

“For now,” Dorian sighed, “That might be best.”

Cullen nodded, standing and heading for the door. “Until tomorrow?” he asked, audibly confused about their situation.

Dorian smiled gently, “Until tomorrow, Commander.”

__________

Dorian slept only a few hours that night, anxious and almost excited for Cullen and his appointment. He wore something more or less appropriate for sparring, forgoing his Inquisition sanctioned armor in favor of his own. It fit his form in a much more flattering way, and the magical embellishments made it more practical as well. He had a bounce to his step as he exited his room, using his staff halfheartedly like a walking stick as he went.

Before he reached the training grounds, Dorian took the time to admire how empty Skyhold felt. There were a few soldiers on the battlement, tired runners getting back from late errands, even two recruits who thought they were being stealthy while stealing a bottle of ale from the closed tavern. They noticed him, swearing as they sprinted off into the bushes to enjoy their find, and Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle at their youthful behavior.

He felt content. Things were going well. He knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, but Dorian couldn’t force himself to be paranoid in this peaceful moment an hour before dawn. He looked to the sky to see the scar and the moon almost perfectly aligned, about halfway set. He had time.

Just as he took a deep breath, a gentle voice barely rocked him.

“Fancy meeting you here. Any reason you’re up so early?”

Dorian turned to see Cullen with a smirk on his lips and still in full armor, despite normally dressing down to train and spar.

“I believe we had a date, Commander. It appears you may have forgotten, from your dress.” Dorian let Cullen notice as he purposefully drug his gaze over the blond’s physic, deciding against licking his lips. What about the wee hours of the morning made Dorian so openly flirtatious, he would never know. Even when it came to men who otherwise wouldn’t be his first choice, Dorian was always more open minded at the early hours.

Cullen raised a brow under the sensual scrutiny, “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. And I could say the same for you, in your…intricate attire.” He dropped his sword and shield next to him on the ground as he began to remove his upper armor, leaving his boots and trousers alone.

“Oh, do you like it? I would have brought it out sooner if we weren’t made to wear uniforms under your command. Boring, ugly uniforms.” Dorian shuddered dramatically.

Cullen shook his head and smirked as he loosely held his weapons, now shirtless and prepared to spar. “I didn’t assign those uniforms, you can take that up with the Inquisitor. However, I doubt your armor would be very practical when rushing into battle. Too many belts.” He eyed Dorian’s armor, trying to figure out how it worked.

Dorian adopted a pose to show quite a bit of his body, showing himself and the armor off at once. “It’s not nearly as complicated as it looks.” Stated matter-of-factly, before dipping his voice to a more sultry tone, “I could show you if you like. With practice, you could become quite proficient. It doesn’t take me much time to strip out of it all.”

His eyes were lidded as he watched Cullen. The Commander’s expression hardly changed as he said, oh so quietly as usual, “Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind.”

He hadn’t hesitated with his response, and Dorian found himself caught off guard at Cullen’s boldness. Maybe the morning hours had an effect on him as well.

“Well then,” he said, squaring up to Dorian, “How shall we start?”

Dorian followed his lead, “Magic or no magic?”

“None yet. I haven’t had to defend against magic without my—what did you call them? ‘Little Templar tricks’?—in quite some time. I don’t want either of us to get hurt. Perhaps when we have some supervision.”

Dorian sighed and said in an overly exasperated tone, “Shame; I was rather hoping these would be…private sessions.” He winked.

Cullen’s face heated, but it didn’t stop him from responding, “Out in the courtyard? This is hardly private. Now, if you ever show me how to work that ‘armor’ of yours; that I’d consider a private session.”

The morning was chilly, dew freezing on to the grass, but it was warm enough that Dorian should not have visibly shivered. He couldn’t pull any excuse when Cullen noticed. It was obvious what was happening. The blond smirked at him, Dorian trying not to think about the effect Cullen’s flirtations had on him. Not here, and certainly not now. Dorian had designed his armor himself, and liked that it fit in a way that left few things to the imagination, but if this sparring session got a little too handsy, Dorian may be wishing he had worn the Inquisition’s armor instead.

Thankfully, Cullen didn’t mention Dorian’s reaction, and simply started their training, leading with the initial blow as always. Dorian could dodge and throw up wards like there was no tomorrow, but he wanted to train his defense, not just evasion. So he used his staff to block and parry Cullen’s attacks, focusing his mind on observing his opponent, just as Cullen had been telling him to.

Before long, Dorian was focusing less and less on Cullen’s form, attack patterns, or eye line, and more on his body, movement, and gaze.

His eyes seemed sharp, knowing exactly where he wanted to land a blow. His body was under full control, every muscle accounted for and flowing to where his gaze wanted them. He moved with such grace for a warrior; surprisingly loose and agile for all his heavy armor and muscle build.

Dorian had continued to successfully dodge and defend while in his trance, but he hadn’t been holding his ground very well, slowly backing up and losing awareness of where his feet were.

Inevitably, his foot landed on uneven ground and he slipped. But long before he would have hit the ground, Cullen wrapped his arm around the mage’s waist and pulled him back up, their chests flush.

Dorian was tense, not even having realized he’d been falling until Cullen pulled him back. He returned from his thoughts when he heard Cullen’s voice say with an incredible tenderness, “I’ve got you.”

“You certainly have…”

Cullen cocked a brow, gentle smile still donned, as he waited for Dorian to make a move. He wasn’t letting go until Dorian told him to, and Dorian finally had the confirmation he needed to take the risk of making said move. His body relaxed against the Commander’s as he let his arms slide between them, nimble fingers tracing up Cullen’s marred chest. Dorian let his hands rest on either side of the blond’s neck, slowly pulling him forward to let their lips meet.

But just as their lips brushed together, they heard footsteps skid to a halt in front of them.

Cullen sighed and turned his head, growling with frustration, “What!?”

The troop looked stunned, having only just realized what she walked up on. When she failed to answer, the Commander let go of Dorian’s waist and marched slowly, intimidatingly toward the recruit, nostrils flared and steps heavy. The young woman backed away with her hands close to her face as if Cullen might actually hurt her. Dorian couldn’t blame her for thinking he might; the blond certainly wasn’t calm.

“I-I’m so sorry Ser, I just w-wanted to be e-early—”

“What do you think the bells are for? So you can wake up before them? If you showed up to battle early, do you know what would happen?”

“I don’t—”

“It would be you against an army, with your fellow soldiers miles behind you. You would be dead before you even had time to scream.”

The poor girl was shaking by this point, trying to stutter an apology through wobbly breath.

Cullen closed his eyes tightly, grumbling as he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “While I appreciate your incentive,” he began after he calmed down, “I expect you all here exactly when I say. Not a second later, nor a second sooner. Don’t be early, be on time.”

He looked apologetically to the girl as she continued to quiver. Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, gently prodding her back toward the barracks. She walked off slowly, still in shock.

Dorian smiled and shook his head, arms crossed, as Cullen sauntered back over to him with an embarrassed blush, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That poor young woman is going to have nightmares” Dorian looked at Cullen accusingly, but he couldn’t help smiling at how ridiculous the whole situation was.

“I’m going to have to apologize to her later. I think I ruined the moment more than her seeing us did.” Cullen’s blush reached from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck and to the bottom of his collarbone.

Dorian chuckled and stepped closer to Cullen again, placing a hand on his cheek only to be greeted with the heat of his blush. “Perhaps we can bring it back before the bells. Unless you’d like to frighten a few more of your troops this morning? Show them who’s boss, etcetera?”

Cullen scoffed a little, but he was smiling. How could he not be, when Dorian was gently caressing his face and coaxing him into a kiss? He replaced his hand on Dorian’s waist and pressed against him, the mage pulling Cullen in tighter by the biceps.

And, finally, their lips met. Dorian meant for it to be rather chaste, leaving Cullen wanting more, but he couldn’t pull himself away. It wasn’t the same kiss he had gotten a hundred times in Tevinter. It wasn’t a formality during a loveless night together. This kiss was warm and soft, tender and compassionate, much like the man giving it.

Dorian’s hands slid up Cullen’s arms to hold his neck firmly, for fear the blond might pull away before Dorian had gotten the chance to relish the kiss. Cullen let his shield clatter to the ground, wrapping both arms tightly around the mage, hands splayed across his back, trying to feel through the armor. For a moment, Dorian considered removing the upper portion of his armor, so the two could be skin to skin, and he could feel Cullen’s callused hands up and down his back. By the Maker, that’s all he wanted in the moment, but he forced himself to save the stripping for somewhere other than the training grounds.

It almost felt like it lasted for hours by the intensity and the way the sun had risen over the fortress walls in the meantime. What finally broke the kiss was the striking ringing of the morning bells sounding Skyhold to wake up. Both men jumped at the sound, completely forgetting their surroundings while locked in each other’s embrace.

Dorian’s surprised eyes locked with Cullen’s with a matching expression, and both couldn’t help but laugh at their reaction. Cullen’s arms were still around Dorian’s waist, and Dorian’s draped over the Commander’s shoulders comfortably. It wasn’t until the men caught a glimpse of approaching grounds keepers that their embrace fell away, standing back awkwardly from one another before they were discovered.

“I…”

Cullen raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dorian to say something, because he was too stunned to do it himself.

“Thank you. For the sparring, that is. I…enjoyed it.” Dorian didn’t want to believe he was blushing, but he knew blood was rushing to his face.

Cullen smiled, only extending his hand in response. Dorian took Cullen’s hand in a firm grasp, giving a single solid shake. They stared at one another for a moment before Cullen stepped forward, his hold becoming gentle and soft. Eyes still locked with Dorian’s, he pressed a lasting kiss to the back of the man’s hand, the gesture holding more emotion than Dorian knew how to respond to. So, instead, he just smiled and ducked his head.

“So did I.” Cullen said lightly bringing their entwined hands away from his lips.

__________

His mind was in shambles, there was no way he could focus with his heart and head racing like this. Adrenaline had his hands shaking and his legs restless, so he paced. And paced and paced, around the room like it was a stage and all his anxiety and fears were the actors in a play.

But all these were real. Far too real for comfort.

Dorian exasperatedly threw open his door, rushing to the tavern to drown his panic attack away. As he walked—it was more of a jog, if he was honest—he wondered if there was really any reason to be anxious. Had anyone even seen him snogging the Commander? Would it be as scandalous in Ferelden as in Tevinter? While he doubted it, his anxious mind was having none of his logic.

When he entered the Herald’s Rest, it was fairly loud, the Inquisitor and Bull getting rowdy with the Chargers and a few stray recruits. Good, plenty of noise to drown out his thoughts.

Dorian grabbed a seat and a drink and proceeded to drink his feelings.

He hadn’t been counting, but it must have been an hour after he started drinking—and seven drinks in; he had been counting those—before a large and gruff hand smacked him playfully on the shoulder. Dorian jumped, turning quickly and narrowing his eyes. As he looked up, he saw a massive rack of Qunari horns and muscle looming over him, tankard in hand and bare chested.

“How’s it going? You’re that mage who kicked Cullen’s ass, yeah?” he lowered into a chair across the table.

“Is that how the story’s been spun?” Dorian’s words were melding together as he swirled his drink around in its mug.

“Might as well go with it,” the Oxman shrugged. “Better than being known as the undercover Vint, right?”

Dorian immediately sobered, back straightening and voice dropping low. “Who are you? What do you know and what do you want?”

Bull raised his brow, “Not even denying it? I’m guessing you aren’t normally this careless when you’re sober. Don’t think you would have made it this far.”

“Answer me,” Dorian growled through clenched teeth.

Smiling, Bull leaned his beefy arms on the table, dropping his tone as well. “I’m Ben Hassrath. Don’t worry, it’s no secret, actually I think that’s the first thing I said to the Inquisitor,” Bull cleared his throat and adjusted to lean even farther across the table, “It’s my job to read people, know things they would never admit by just looking at them. Besides, you really don’t think a Qunari would recognize a Vint when he sees one?”

Dorian couldn’t think straight; the way Bull talked quietly felt as if he didn’t want to out anything, but why would he bring this up in the first place if he was going to keep it a secret?

“I can pay whatever you want, I come from a very wealthy family. Just name your price and I’ll—”

Bull held up a hand to stop him, “Yeah, your family might be rich, but you’re not, are you? You ran off with the clothes on your back and something expensive to sell, just in case. Isn’t that right?”

Dorian’s mouth hung open as he tried to process the information, the fact that Bull was hitting every nail on the head with no more information than what he could see on Dorian’s face.

“That’s what I thought. And don’t worry, I don’t need you to pay me. I know you’re not Venatori, just a regular cocky mage boy. You won’t hurt anyone, not on purpose anyway.” He leaned back, crossing his arms in triumph, watching as realization washed over Dorian’s face.

“You’re not going to tell the Inquisitor? Or the Inquisition as a whole?”

Bull shrugged, downing the last of his ale, “No point. You’re keeping this a secret for a reason, and it’s a pretty good one. It’s probably what I would do in your shoes.”

Dorian took a moment, then shook his head, “But…you were in my situation. And you told them who you really are.”

Laughter echoed around the tavern as Bull belted out, “Oh, I guess I did, didn’t I?” He let the last of the laughter trickle out in several smaller huffs. “Well, at least the whole world isn’t at war with the Qunari.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “For once,” he muttered.

Bull sneered at him, “Watch it, Vint boy.”

Dorian sighed a breath of relief, hanging his head in his hands. He had no reason to trust Bull would keep his word, but for now it was enough.

After a moment of relative silence—as silent as it can get in a tavern after dark—Dorian heard the chair across from him creak as Bull leaned forward again.

“So, uh…I can see you have a lot on your mind. Think I could help clear your head a bit?”

Dorian looked up in near disgust. He wasn’t sure it was genuine, more just to keep up the Qunari-Tevinter feud. “I think not.”

Bull shrugged and stood, sauntering back to his Chargers. “Suit yourself. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

While Dorian had to admit he was curious, he was far too enamored with the Commander, thinking back over and over on their moment in the courtyard that morning.

__________

Paranoia had filled his bones for days, taking over his thoughts and actions. He wanted nothing more than to be alone, do as little as possible that could draw suspicion. He separated himself from the troops, the inner circle, the Inquisitor. Bull, especially.

And he tried to separate himself from Cullen, a major source of his anxiety. But every time he saw the blond walking toward him, with a sweet crooked smile that acknowledged their mutual feelings without bringing them to the forefront of conversation, Dorian could feel his shoulders relax and his mind declutter.

And, of course, it happened again. As Dorian trained in the courtyard, he could see the Commander’s infamous armor out of the corner of his eye. He just stood, watched as Dorian put his magic on display, not necessarily trying to impress anyone, but being impressive nonetheless.

At that point, Dorian was finding it hard to tell if Cullen was watching him out of adoration or suspicion. In an attempt to hide his nerves, Dorian ceased his casting and gave Cullen an exaggerated side glance.

“Enjoying the show, Commander?” He shifted his weight to one hip as he poked his staff into the ground.

Cullen raised his brows innocently, “Show? I was just admiring your form. A natural gift, I’m sure.”

Dorian strode up to where Cullen was leaning against a wall, “My form, he says.” He was tempted to run a hand down the blond’s chest, but chose not to out of fear of passersby noticing.

“I was simply studying how you move for the next time we spar, that’s all.” Cullen’s cheeks were ever so slightly pink.

Dorian grinned, “Is that all you were ‘studying’?” his voice was low and rumbly.

A few seconds passed before Cullen had to look away, his face turning bright red, unable to control a smile. Dorian had to give him props for how long the Commander managed to flirt back.

“I was actually here to ask if you had a bit of spare time,” Cullen’s blush slowly left his cheeks as he spoke, “but I figured I would wait until you were done.”

Dorian tilted his head a bit, “I might, depending on what for.”

“Chess.”

Was the conversation still flirtatious? Was “chess” a euphemism used in the south that Dorian wasn’t aware of?

“Chess?”

Cullen chuckled, “Yes, it’s something I like to do to clear my head, and you’ve seemed…full-headed, let’s say, as of late.”

Dorian huffed a laugh, “That would be one way to put it, yes.”

Cullen smiled and gestured to the garden, “Shall we, then?”

They didn’t say much as they walked to the garden, but Cullen began to explain as he pulled out Dorian’s chair for him, “My sister and I used to play chess against each other in hopes of beating our father one day.” He walked around to take his seat once Dorian was settled. “Eventually, she became even better at the game than Dad, so the new goal was for me to beat her. My brother and I practiced for months, hoping one of us would be able to beat her at least once. The look on her face when I finally won…”

The memory of triumph put the sweetest, most juvenile smile on Cullen’s scarred lips. Dorian couldn’t help but inquire, “A girl and two boys? Sounds like you parents had their work cut out for them.”

“Two girls and two boys, actually. Mia is the eldest, Rosalie is the youngest. I’m the older of us boys, however. Branson is a few years younger than me.”

Dorian scoffed with shock, “Quite a large family, isn’t it? And to think, I have no entertaining sibling stories to share.”

“Only child? You must have been spoiled, getting all the attention.” Cullen moved a piece on the board to start off the match.

Dorian gave a single harsh laugh. “Hardly; if my parents spent money on me, it was for my schooling. Only the most prestigious academies for their little heir.” Dorian rolled his eyes as he made his move, sitting back and crossing his arms after.

Cullen’s expression was so gentle and sympathetic. Dorian didn’t enjoy being pitied, but he knew Cullen wasn’t the type.

“Children should be free to have fun. It wasn’t fair of them to make you work so hard.”

Dorian felt a deep compressed anger bubble up before he said, “Children should be free to have fun, teenagers should be free to have fun, and I believe adults should be free to have fun. We should all just have fun with whomever we want and no one should have the right to judge us for it.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Dorian took a moment to calm down before looking back up to meet Cullen’s gaze. He seemed shocked and a little worried. Dorian looked at him expectantly with eyebrows raised.

“Uh, yes, I agree!” Cullen rushed to assure him, “I’m just not sure where that came from. Is that what’s been bothering you these past few days?”

Dorian sighed, “I suppose it’s part of it. That has been bothering me for most of my life, truthfully.”

The rest of the match was played in silence, Cullen only interjecting once to call Dorian out for cheating. They both laughed as Dorian replaced the affected piece, but they fell quiet again to finish the game.

“I believe that’s Checkmate.”

Dorian shook his head playfully, “You’re in the right line of work, it seems. Strategy is your forte. Good game, Commander.”

“And to you, Dorian. Care to play another round?”

As much as he was enjoying Cullen’s company, Dorian’s mind was tired from all his worrying—though this had been a good distraction—and he just needed to rest.

“I’m afraid not. I’ve things I wanted to get done today, I’m sorry.”

Cullen rose from his seat, “It’s no problem at all.”

Dorian rose as well, but neither went anywhere. They both just stood, looking softly at the other.

“Um…” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. “Could I walk you back to your quarters, then? Or wherever it is you’re headed.”

Dorian felt a flattered smile tease the corner of his lips. “I would like that, yes.”

On the steps up to the loft of the main hall, Dorian cleared his throat before speaking, “I apologize for my outburst earlier. I’ve just been thinking about my life back home recently.”

Cullen shook his head and placed a gentle hand on the mage’s back, “You have nothing to apologize for. I was hoping a game of chess would help clear your mind, so I was expecting you to vent a bit.”

At Dorian’s door Cullen added, “You know, you should feel free to talk to me. About anything. I said that when we first met, and it hasn’t changed just because you’re no longer under my command.”

As he stood in the doorway, Dorian glanced from Cullen to inside his room, wondering if he should act on their mutual attraction, or continue avoiding Cullen forever. How would Cullen be hurt if Dorian’s lies came to light? Not nearly as badly if they were just friends.

Dorian took a deep breath, “Maybe talking would help.”

Cullen smiled loosely.

“Or…” I’m really going through with this, aren’t I? “maybe not talking would help…”

Cullen’s smile fell away as he caught Dorian’s meaning. He didn’t make any move toward or away from Dorian, just like the first time he had been in his room. He simply said, in the quietest voice just above a whisper, “Whatever you’d like, I’m here.”

That was Dorian’s last chance to not do something stupid, but he ignored his racing heart. “I’d like you to come in.”

Cullen took a single stride into the room, closing the door and locking it behind them. He slowly closed the distance between them, placing caring hands on Dorian’s hips, waiting for more invitation.

Dorian let his hands glide up the armor on Cullen’s chest, watching his fingers draw closer to Cullen’s neck, the blond’s eyes studying his unsure expression all the while.

Just as skin met skin, Cullen whispered, “We don’t have to do this. No one’s making us. If you’re not certain—”

“I’m certain about you,” Dorian met his gaze, “I’m only uncertain about letting myself do this. I’ve fucked this up before, I don’t want to fuck it up with you.”

Cullen let out a pained sigh, gently taking Dorian's face in his hands and kissing him. How could something so soft be so intense all at once? Dorian dug his fingers into the fur mantle of Cullen’s armor, walking them backward toward the bed. With each step, a new article of clothing fell away, until they finally fell onto the bed in only their trousers. Cullen’s attention turned to the mage’s neck, Dorian biting his lip at the sensation.

Cullen’s kisses moved up and down and back up slowly and methodically, making Dorian arch off the bed ever so slightly with each touch, subtle noises escaping his lips. Cullen wrapped his tongue around the shell of Dorian’s ear, breathing heavy but quiet, “I can’t begin to tell you how you make me feel. I adore everything about you. I admire your confidence and how unabashedly ‘you’ you are. I can hardly stand to be away from you the more I get to know you.”

Dorian was nearly breathless as Cullen kissed his way down the mage’s chest. It wasn’t until those callused fingers started to loosen his laces that he felt he couldn’t breathe at all.

As Cullen made tantalizing work of Dorian’s last remaining garment, he whispered with raw emotion, “Nothing could change the way I feel about you, Dorian Rider.”

With that, Dorian sat up and grabbed Cullen’s hands to pause their work.

“Stop.”

Cullen’s head shot up to look Dorian in the eye, worry flooding his mind. “Are you ok?” he lifted himself to sit on the edge of the bed next to the mage, caressing his cheek with one hand, stroking his hair with the other.

“You don’t know me, Cullen. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Confusion washed over Cullen’s features, “I…I don’t understand. I want to know you. I feel like I do, but if I don’t, then I want—”

Dorian shook his head vigorously, “Cullen, you don’t get it! You wouldn’t want me if you knew me.”

Cullen’s eyes went stern, “Dorian, I just told you nothing could change my feelings for you. Nothing. I meant that.”

Dorian removed Cullen’s hand from his face, gently stroking the Commander’s knuckles with his thumb, “Please go, Cullen. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You could never hurt—”

“Please,” Tears threatened the rims of his eyes as he tried to hold his ground. He wanted nothing more than Cullen’s body against his, but he knew Cullen would only be let down, falling for a fake man Dorian created.

Cullen took a moment to lean his head against Dorian’s, a wordless goodbye, before he rose and began throwing on his armor, scattered from the door to the foot of the bed. Dorian watched his hands as Cullen silently dressed, glancing back periodically to gauge the mage’s feelings.

As he opened the door to leave, Cullen’s weak voice called back, “You can tell me anything, Dorian. I meant that, too.”

“Not anything.”

The room turned cold when Cullen left, and the breeze from the door closing behind his one chance at love shook the tears from Dorian’s eyes, falling onto his shaking hands.

He could have been sitting there for hours—he wouldn’t know—just trying to…well, he wasn’t sure of that either. He felt so numb despite the tears he could feel on his cheeks. He couldn’t decide if he needed a drink, a good sob, or some self-pleasuring. None of them would make him feel better, but they would make him feel something.

He��s gone. Dorian kept repeating in his head. He’s gone, and I sent him away. He confessed his feelings to me, feelings I share, and I told him to go. I can never get him back, I sent him away…

__________

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when the bells rang out, his eyes opened. They were dry and sore from crying; probably still red, too. Dorian reluctantly dragged his body out from under the fur blankets and sulked over to his mirror. Yes, definitely still red. He didn’t want to go out like that. He didn’t want to go out at all, for fear he might have to face his lost lover.

No, I didn’t lose him. Dorian stared himself down in the mirror, I pushed him away.

Dorian managed to make himself presentable, but he felt like a fraud in his own skin. He had settled into the identity of Dorian Rider, but somehow Cullen had undone all his hard work. Dorian was once again faced with himself, nothing to cover the shame he felt lying to a man who cared for him so deeply. And yet, he made no effort to tell Cullen the truth.

He would only be hurt that I lied to him, things are better this way. Interesting, the way Dorian continued attempting to convince himself he was in the right, when every part of him knew better.

Before he could psychoanalyze any further, Dorian pushed his chair back from the vanity and marched out the door, leaving his doubt at the threshold.

On the walk to the library, he felt like people were looking at him differently. They weren’t, when he looked closer, but nothing felt comfortable anymore. And things only became more uncomfortable when in the main hall Dorian’s eyes locked with golden ones on the other side of the room.

Cullen was entering the hall to the war room, papers tucked under his arm, when he glanced up, double taking before locking his gaze with Dorian’s. He wanted to run to the Commander, throw himself into the blond’s arms and apologize for everything. But melting on the other side of the hall would have to do. Cullen’s stare went soft as he saw the pain in Dorian’s eyes. They both knew the other was aching for their love, but both were too scared.

Cullen finally shook his head and looked down at his boots, disappearing into the ambassador’s office without a word.

Dorian tried to brush it off, tried to focus on his research, but to no avail. His mind was flooding with his mistakes. Though his eyes trekked the page in front of him, though his fingers turned the pages, he processed nothing. His mind was too full.

If there’s any perfect place to brood, it would be a library. Everyone passed Dorian without suspicion, assuming him to be lost in his work, all the while his crisis played out in silence. By the time the sun was setting, Dorian had read several works, but only had a page of notes. He tried to be productive, at least.

Now he had a choice to make: go back to his room and sleep his problems away, or go to the tavern and drink his problems away. Decisions, decisions.

Drowning his sorrows did sound tempting, but Dorian had pretended to be okay around enough people today. Besides, he didn’t need Bull to dive into his subconscious.

Dorian reached his quarters and, just as he prepared to shed his clothes and fall into a fitful sleep, a frantic knock rattled his door. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. He waited a moment, but nothing more happened. Dorian slowly approached the door and unfastened the latch. Right as he did, the door flew open, nearly knocking him back.

Cullen charged into the room with a wrinkled piece of parchment strangled in his fist. He slammed the door behind him, and somehow quietly screamed, “What, by Andraste, is this?!”

He held up the letter just long enough for Dorian to see a familiar signature at the bottom of the page. “Halward Pavus.” Oh, Maker, no.

Dorian’s jaw dropped, eyes wide, hands turning clammy. He had no words, not that Cullen was interested in listening.

Cullen threw the note behind him, roughly grabbing Dorian’s shoulders and pushing him into the vanity behind them. Dorian tried to babble a “this isn’t what it looks like” before the backs of his thighs collided with the table and a pair of harsh, sweet, warm lips crashed against his.

Before he could return the kiss, or even close his eyes, Cullen pulled away and stared him down. “You really had me falling for you. Was that your plan? Get close to the Commander of the Inquisition so you could leach information from me to send back to your Venatori parents?!”

“No, Cullen, I would never—”

“You made me fall in love with you.”

That word took all Dorian’s breath. His previously pounding heart stopped. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized what he had done, the pain he caused, the trust he’d broken. This is all he wanted to prevent.

“I-I’m so sorry, I never wanted this—”

“You aren’t even going to deny it?!” Cullen stood back from him, disgust in his eyes. That look alone could ruin Dorian.

“Cullen, please! I’m not Venatori! I tried to hide because I knew you’d think a Tevinter mage was Venatori, I knew you would think I was a spy, or a thief, or—”

“Lying only makes you look guiltier, Dorian! Bull told us exactly what he was going to do if he joined the Inquisition and we took him on his word because we were desperate. If you had told us, told me the truth—”

“Would you believe a mage walking through your gates saying, ‘Yes, I am a very powerful necromancer from Tevinter, but I swear I’m not Venatori’?”

Cullen’s face contorted again, backing up further, “You’re a necromancer?”

Dorian should have held his tongue. If he had stayed quiet, would they have given him a trial? But he supposed staying quiet is what led to this mess in the first place.

“Cullen I—please, give me a moment to explain! I never wanted you to get hurt, I didn’t mean to fool you into falling for me. I promise you, I never wanted any of this!”

Cullen’s voice dropped, “You didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you?”

Dorian’s shoulders relaxed, “No—well, yes. I—I hoped you were falling too because, Cullen, I lo—”

Cullen’s jaw clenched and he nearly gripped Dorian again, taking all the strength he had to hold back. “Don’t…say it.”

“But, Cullen, I really do—”

Cullen was on him in an instant, hands digging into his hair, lips locked in a heated kiss. Passion mixed with anger and confusion as the two men lost themselves in physical sensation.

Dorian gasped for air as the kiss finally broke, Cullen asking through panting breath, “Make me believe you. Prove you’re the same man I loved.”

Dorian searched the blond’s face for something that could help him, but he found only hurt and betrayal. “I…I can’t.” he didn’t know how he could fix this, he didn’t think he could.

Tears finally fell from Cullen’s eyes as he looked to the floor, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away, not wanting Dorian to see just how much he’d hurt him.

“Get out. Take your things, food, lyrium potions. I don’t care, take whatever you want, just…”

Dorian held his breath, devastated to hear what came next, “I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

He was crushed, he felt like his legs would give out from under him. But Dorian moved as he was told, gathering his things, tears staining each item he touched.

Cullen refused to look at him, keeping his back to Dorian as the mage packed all he could.

Dorian approached the door slowly, hoping Cullen would stop him to say something more, something that could bring Dorian hope for seeing each other again. But he got no such reply.

“Don’t let anyone see you leave. I’m going to tell them you vanished into the night before I could confront you. They won’t come looking for you. Neither will I.” Cullen’s glazed eyes rose to look into Dorian’s, puffy and bloodshot. “Goodbye, Dorian.”

His heart sank. He felt like he might vomit, if he had any strength. He felt so weak and lost.

“Goodbye, Cullen.”

With those final words, Dorian was gone. He did as Cullen told him, making sure no one witnessed him leave into the dark. With nowhere else to go, he headed toward Miss Ella’s farm. Dorian didn’t know how he would tell her, but he was done lying. He’d hurt the most important person to him already, nothing could be worse.

__________

Cullen stood in the empty room with his eyes closed, hands over his face, wiping away his tears so he could pretend he wasn’t hurt. After taking a moment to compose himself, Cullen began searching the room halfheartedly. He threw open drawers without really looking, making the place look ransacked in a rush. Once he’d scattered things in a believable way, he turned his attention to the lock on the door. He took the hilt of his sword and knocked the latch loose, making it look like he had broken in. That should be enough to convince his fellow advisors.

Cullen quickly returned to the war room where many members of the inner circle, along with the Inquisitor and his advisors, waited in anticipation for the Commander’s return. As the door swung open, all heads turned toward him, each with equally expectant and worried looks. Cullen’s face was blank, but his feeling of defeat was still obvious.

“Well?” Cassandra stepped forward, worry in her eyes but anger on her face, “Where is that Venatori bastard?”

Cullen sighed deeply, the rest of the room raising their brows in unison.

“Gone. I didn’t find him in the ‘Rest or his room.”

Cassandra scoffed, “Then we send a search party. Check all corners of Skyhold, then we—”

“We can send all the search parties you want, Lady Seeker, but there’s nothing left of him here. I broke into his quarters and looked for any information as to where he could be or what he hoped to gain by joining our ranks, but I found nothing. He either took everything important with him, or destroyed it.”

Everyone’s heads fell, shoulders slouching in defeat.

The Inquisitor looked to Cullen with sadness strewn across his features. “And to think, we had all become so close…and it meant nothing to him.”

Tears threatened Cullen’s eyes again as he remembered how desperately Dorian had clung to him, tied to convince him he was innocent. But innocent men don’t hide, innocent men don’t lie.

“I know. But that must have been what he wanted. For us all to get comfortable, slowly leaking him the information he needed.” He closed his eyes tightly, shaking and dropping his head, “I should have never let him join the inner circle. I’m sorry, Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor looked back to his party, nodding toward the door. All but the advisors exited the war room, leaving the room silent and cold. Once the space was empty of onlookers, the Inquisitor shuffled over to Cullen with wet eyes. They looked at one another for a long moment before the Inquisitor wrapped his arms around Cullen’s waist. Cullen’s eyes widened in shock, looking down at the elf hanging onto him for dear life, before he gave in and squeezed the Dalish’s shoulders in return.

They stood like that for a moment, Leliana and Josephine watching on solemnly, wrapped in their own somber embrace. The elf pulled back but stayed close, saying in a quiet voice, “He was my friend, Cullen. Our friend,” he gestured to the women behind him, “I know he was yours, too.”

Cullen felt his heart stop, then fall into the empty pit in his chest. “Yes,” he said gently, “the closest I’ve had since…in a while.”

The elf made certain the door closed quietly behind him as he left, Josephine following closely behind. Before Leliana made her move to leave as well, she handed Cullen a short stack of papers.

With a soft voice, she said, “I’m sure this isn’t the best time to tell you, but I started digging right after we intercepted the letter. I found the names of a few close friends and accomplices of the Pavus family. One of which has been heavily involved with the Venatori since before the term was coined, before they worshipped Corypheus.”

Cullen flipped through the pages, sloppily skimming the words on each one.

“Name?” Cullen asked, no nonsense.

“Gereon Alexius, a former mentor and family friend, from what I found. If Dorian had anything to do with the magicks Alexius had been developing…”

“I’ll go over it in the morning. Thank you, Leliana.” Cullen’s voice was flat and flavorless.

The spymaster sighed, placing a sympathetic hand on Cullen’s cheek, palm surprisingly warm. “I know what you felt for him. When I first joined the Hero of Ferelden on her journey…”

Cullen looked at her with understanding.

Leliana cleared her throat, never having gotten this personal with the Commander before. “Well, people have feelings that sometimes contradict with their goals. And they choose which to follow. Often, I think, they choose the wrong path.”

Cullen nodded, eyes squeezing shut with hurt.

“What I’m trying to say is this: I wonder if he didn’t lie to you about the way he felt, but knew it wouldn’t align with his plans.”

“I can’t have feelings for someone who supports the Venatori’s agenda. He fooled me, Leliana. I fell for a man that doesn’t exist.”

Leliana’s hand fell from his cheek. “Have you considered his personality may have been real?”

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, his brow simply furrowed.

She gave a slight smile, “Please rest, Commander. The war can wait a night.”

__________

Cullen didn’t sleep that night, his dreams plagued by images of Dorian and echoes of their final goodbyes. He could still feel the mage’s thin fingers in his hair, the passion and meaning in each kiss they shared. Cullen would wake frequently throughout the night, sweating and conflicted, his emotions at war with reality.

It was futile after a while, and only served to drain his energy more each time he woke, so he stopped trying to rest, instead making his way down to his office to mull over Leliana’s research. The blond felt hopeless as he read, not recognizing any of the names of the influential families mentioned, despite them all being connected to someone he thought he knew.

As he skimmed the next few pages—mostly filled with descriptions of how money was passed amongst the families for favors, something Josephine could use later—Cullen’s eyes paused on a description of Dorian. The quote seemed to be a letter sent from a man called Felix, to Dorian’s father:

“Lord Pavus,

My father has been rather busy with his project, so he asked me to write you in his place. Dorian has been of exponential help with his academic knowledge, but also with his experience. My father truly appreciates you continuing to allow Dorian to remain with us. As promised, he is kept an eye on, allowed only to leave the grounds with the accompaniment of myself or a guard. Speaking personally, your son is a great man. He has been nothing but honest with us, and I consider him a friend. I am starting to suspect he does not know my father’s intent with their project, and I am beginning to worry he may cease work if he discovers its purpose. Know that, should that happen, I will not stop him. Our task was to keep him from trouble, and if he deems the project as such, I will trust his judgement. My father and I have different views on these types of magicks; Dorian seems to enjoy thinking about the hypothetical, but he agrees that these things are better left to imagination. While the project is important to my father—and of course to myself, if it can work to cure me—I feel a need to allow Dorian to do what is best for himself. These are my intentions, not my father’s. He has all intentions to hold up his end of your bargain. I have made no such promises to you. Be aware of that.

Yours Truly,

Felix Alexius

P.S. Dorian asks that you do not attempt to contact him directly. He has nothing to say to you.”

Cullen could deduce two things from the letter: Felix Alexius is Gereon Alexius’s son, and whatever they were working on was magic most people have an aversion to. Could it be blood magic? What would blood magic have to do with curing someone of an ailment? Even if this Felix was possessed, blood magic could only transfer the demon to another living being, not banish it. Blood magic is a demon’s domain.

As much as he tried to focus on what information he could draw about their “project”, Cullen couldn’t help but see how devoted Felix was to Dorian. While he claimed in the letter to consider Dorian a friend, could they have been more? Another detail about Tevinter Dorian had hidden.

“Nothing but honest?” Cullen thought aloud, “If only. Would have saved me a few headaches.”

Cullen drug a hand over his face, wiping away a tear he hadn’t noticed pooling in the corner of his eye. This was harder than he thought it would be, to consider his paramour could be capable of aiding the Venatori, or even worse, being one of them.

He took a moment to collect himself before dressing in his usual armor and setting off for the war room where he would wait for the morning to fully rise and his fellow advisors to arrive.

Entering the hall leading to the war room, Cullen was greeted by Josephine at her desk looking exhausted, mulling over paper work of her own. She looked up upon hearing the door creak open and gave him a weak smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, fixing her frazzled hair.

Cullen nodded, “I see you couldn’t either. Manage to dig up anything else?”

Josephine sighed, bringing a tall stack of parchment up from the floor by her feet. “There are many noble families associated with the Venatori. Most are from Tevinter, of course, but there are a surprising handful from Antiva.”

Cullen plopped into the seat in front of Josephine’s desk, about to start sorting through the things she’d dug up, when the door creaked again, Leliana leaning her head in.

“I thought I heard you up, Josie. Commander.” She nodded to Cullen in greeting.

He nodded back, handing her his notes from the morning, “I found a letter in what you gave me, from a young man named Felix. It looks like he’s Alexius’s son, and he knows what they were working on. Something big, something dangerous, something even Dorian seemed hesitant about.”

“Blood magic?” Josephine asked, walking around her desk to peer over Leliana’s shoulder.

“That was my first thought, but the people of Tevinter have a long history with blood magic; I wouldn’t think a Tevinter would have any qualms about using it. No, this must be something people don’t play with.”

The women shook their heads in unison. “Corypheus is driving his followers to play with the laws of nature.” Leliana said under her breath.

“Possibly. We need to find Alexius before he completes his project, if he hasn’t already.”

The women nodded, Josephine rushing off to wake the Inquisitor.

As the door swung closed, Leliana turned to face the Commander, kneeling on the ground before him. “Are you feeling any better? I take it you didn’t sleep well.”

Cullen shook his head, leaning forward in defeat. “I understand you have eyes everywhere around Skyhold, but how is it you knew about me and Dorian, but didn’t know Dorian was pretending to be someone else?”

Leliana sighed, crossing her legs under her, “I don’t know. I feel like I failed us, I let such a huge threat pass through our defenses. He must have been extremely careful. It…it makes me wonder if he has other correspondents in our ranks.”

Cullen nearly choked on his bitter laugh, “One thing at a time, Leliana. If there were any other Tevinters in the Inquisition, they would have fled with Dorian. They’d know they had been found out. We can look into it after we find this mentor of Dorian’s and find out what that secret project is all about.”

It didn’t seem to make the spymaster any less nervous, picking at her fingernails and staring into her lap. Cullen sighed, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You haven’t failed anyone. I’m the only fool here.”

Before she could reassure him, the door flew open again, the Inquisitor and Josephine holding yet more research. Cullen stood, bowing his head respectfully.

“What’s this about a secret project?” The elf asked, almost panting.

“I found a letter from Dorian’s mentor’s son describing a project using magicks none of them felt comfortable messing around with. We’ve ruled out blood magic; we think it could be something even more threatening.”

“Are we certain? Dorian seemed very against blood magic when we spoke about it. He almost looked sick talking about it.” The Inquisitor nearly snatched the letter from Cullen’s hand when offered.

“Even if those were his true feelings on the matter, blood magic is not a rarity in Tevinter, and even this mentor and his son seemed hesitant.” Cullen explained, pointing to his notes in the margins.

The elf sighed, sitting in Cullen’s now vacant seat. “This is bad. So bad.”

“Yes…” Cullen sat as well.

After a long silence where the room seemed as tired as the people in it, Josephine spoke up.

“Should we start work on a plan of attack?”

“I’ll see if I can hunt Alexius down. Maybe find his son, if I can’t find the man himself.” Leliana was already heading back to her nook to send out spies.

The Inquisitor absentmindedly nodded, approving but reluctant. “I’ll see who wants to come along to fight an insane Venatori with some mystical secret magic. Wish me luck.” He stood and shuffled toward the door.

“Cullen, form a small band of troops. Some of the more talented Templars, if you could. I have a feeling we’ll require their abilities.”

“Yes, Ser.” Cullen said bluntly, watching the Inquisitor as he exited.

Josephine and Cullen turned to one another. “I’ll see if anyone is willing to trade their honor for a bribe. I suppose we’ll regroup after we’ve all finished. Stay strong, Commander.”

“Thank you, Josephine. I will certainly do my best.” Cullen gave a respectful bow before leaving the ambassador to her work.

As he walked down the main hall, ready to turn left through Solas’s quarters toward his office, Cullen noticed the light breeze coming from a door to his right. He glanced over and saw the garden mostly empty before the door swung shut again. He could use to clear his head.

So he turned right instead, stepping out into the garden. Cullen breathed in and held it, letting the silence wash over him. He let the breath out and began slowly pacing the garden. He brushed his gloved fingertips across the leaves in the herb planters, watched on as a bird drank from the well, and stepped over the line of ants making their way to their hill. But when he reached the gazebo, he stopped.

Cullen looked on solemnly at the chess board, pieces still set as they were when he and Dorian had played, a few knocked over from wind. Cullen sat in his seat and stared across to where Dorian should have been. He’d looked so beautiful that day, the sun backlighting and outlining his face. He had still had a sheen of sweat from sparring, glistening off his toned arms and neck. Cullen heaved a long sigh before moving one of Dorian’s pieces forward.

“Check mate,” He whispered, “You got me, Dorian.”

After a moment Cullen stood, making his way into the small Chantry set up in one of the rooms off the garden. Andraste’s likeness watched him as he entered, false golden eyes seeming to follow him. Cullen gently lowered himself onto a knee, clasping his hands in front of his face before the shrine.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this properly.” He admitted.

Cullen proceeded to recite the Chant of Light and several prayers for the men and women he would be taking with him to battle. One for the Inquisitor, one for himself, one for his friends, and one for his family.

Before he stood, Cullen closed his eyes tightly. “He may not deserve it,” he said softly, quietly, “but Maker please, keep Dorian safe. I doubt more and more the decision I made sending him away. I should have let him say his piece. I didn’t know Dorian Pavus, but I knew my Dorian. There has to be something of the man I loved in there. It couldn’t have all been a lie. He cried for me, he told me he didn’t want to hurt me. I can’t bear the thought of it all having been manipulation. Please, wherever he is, keep him safe.”

__________

Cullen would have preferred it hadn’t taken as long as it did, but here they were two days later with plans sprawled out on the war table. Each advisor had done their work quickly but surely, getting as close to the truth as they could in such a short time frame. Cullen had his Templar volunteers and a solid fighting strategy, Leliana had her eye witnesses, and Josephine had her bribed sources.

As the Inquisitor wrapped up the meeting, all attendees on board with the plan, he asked, “Any final questions?” Hesitant to move forward with their search.

The room had a sad sort of silence, none of them sure they would return safely, or return at all. They had been lucky since Haven to avoid any true life or death battles, but they were all well aware this would be like no fight they had fought before.

With the lack of any remaining questions to help him stall, Lavellan turned to Cullen with soft eyes. “Are you ready, Commander?”

After a deep, deep breath, He nodded. They were all on their horses and off in an instant, Skyhold’s gates behind them reminding them there was no turning back.

Hours later, after following the directions Leliana’s spies could write out with any certainty, the party found themselves passing through Redcliffe Farms, past the stables and the druffalo, to a fork splitting the trotted path in two.

“This way, I think.” The Inquisitor said, checking the written description again.

“Are you sure?” Cullen chimed in quickly, riding up to align their horses so he could glance over the elf’s shoulder. “The only thing up the hill is the watchtower. A stream beyond that. I expect if the Venatori were holed up there, the stable master and his wife would have noticed. Certainly our guards in the tower would have seen them come and go.”

Lavellan chewed the inside of his lip as he became less convinced they weren’t out on a wild goose chance. “The reports just say ‘Venatori activity traced back to Redcliffe Farms. Suspected to be in Dead Ram Grove.”

Increasingly frustrated by the vague intel they had managed to scrounge up practically overnight, Cullen let out a scoff. “Dead Ram Grove is the start of the stream, where the water flows down from the mountains. The only thing there is water and sheep. Obviously Leliana’s helpers need their heads examined. It’s pointless to even look.”

As Cullen turned his horse around, ready to head back to the farm and ask around, the Templars all perked up in unison.

“Commander,” Barris pulled his horse to block Cullen’s path. “There is magic here. It’s faint, not like a mage is present, but a spell they left behind. Whether they remain here, or have since left the area, I still believe it’s worth investigating.”

Cullen looked over his shoulder for conformation, the Inquisitor already leading the group ahead. While he trusted Barris’s sense for magic, Cullen also felt dread, part of him hoping they wouldn’t find anything Venatori related. Or at least nothing that would confirm Dorian’s connection to them. But he followed dutifully, returning to his position right next to the Inquisitor.

As they passed the watch tower overlooking the farm, and led their horses to wade through the water as they followed upstream, Cullen’s heart raced. The Templars continued to sense lingering magic, perhaps even an active enchantment; a ward meant to hide things in plain sight.

“Dispell,” Cullen commanded, Barris and his soldiers taking deep swigs of lyrium. Cullen averted his eyes as they did.

Moving as one, the Templars gave two hardy hits each to their shields, and a shock wave erupted out from their group. It made no noise, but bounced off the walls of Dead Ram Grove like an echo. The party stayed silent in waiting.

Distant voices could be heard speaking Tavene.

Cullen and Lavellan whipped their heads around to look at each other with wide eyes. “Venatori!”

Hurried but quiet, the party leapt off their horses, loosely draping their reins over branches to keep the steeds in place. They followed the voices to a low cliff overlooking the grove. There was little foot traffic, with overgrown grass and weeds, dead trees leaning to make a morbid arch. As they inched closer, a small sconce lit on its own, causing the Inquisitor to jump.

He took a hesitant step forward, narrowing his eyes at the greenish blue flame. “Veil fire.” He whispered behind him. “That means mages.”

Part of Cullen’s heart sank. While he knew this would lead them to gaining an edge against Corypheus, a selfish part of him wanted them to find nothing, so he would never learn more about just how much Dorian had lied to him.

Entering the ruins of what must have been an old exit from the deep roads, massive stone pillars loomed, along with menacing statues of cloaked skeletons driving their swords into the ground. The group felt uneasy, each member fidgeting and glancing to every corner of the room. It was dark, but the light from outside showed them a staircase leading even further into the earth, and further into darkness.

Cullen blocked the Inquisitor from continuing, rather taking the lead himself to protect the elf from a possible ambush. Making their way forward only led them to darker and darker rooms, no torches in sight, only dim Veil fires that continued to flare up ominously as they approached each sconce.

Just as they entered the final room of the cave ruin, Cullen starting to think there may be nothing here after all, the room came to life, sconces bursting into multicolored flames, illuminating the space to reveal that they were surrounded.

“Inquisitor,” a dark figure in Tevinter robes grinned smugly from a ruined throne at the far end of the room. “Welcome.”

“Sheath your weapons,” the surrounding mages demanded, drawing ever closer with staves outstretched.

The party looked to Lavellan for instruction, and he nodded, returning his sword to his back. The group followed suit.

“We were beginning to wonder if you might realize how close we had drawn. Corypheus sends his regards.” The mage stood from his seat, tossing back his hood and crossing his arms behind him.

“Oh, we found you out quickly,” Lavellan snarled, “Your little spy wasn’t as stealthy as he thought. Maybe you should handle your correspondents’ communications more carefully.”

The Tevinter’s brow raised, looking surprised, but always taunting. “My ‘spy’?” he inquired with a lilted voice, “Do tell, Inquisitor.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “No need to play coy, Alexius. We intercepted Magister Pavus’s attempts to contact his son, whom you so clumsily slipped into our ranks.” Cullen’s bitterness and blame had all lifted off of Dorian in that moment as he directed his hurt onto Alexius, the man responsible for all this heartbreak in the first place, as far as Cullen was concerned.

“Magister Pavus’s son?” Alexius’s grin dropped, “You speak of Dorian, Commander?”

Cullen flinched at the mention of the mage’s name.

Alexius looked to the throne behind him, tracing a finger along the arm. “My poor Dorian; if only he could have seen the good he could achieve. Not only for Tevinter, for the world.”

Cullen was in shock at what he was hearing. If Alexius hadn’t sent Dorian to the Inquisition, then who did? Could all that Dorian said, that fateful night on which he was banished from Cullen’s sight, be true after all? From where he stood, all Cullen could see was a backlit outline, but the mage before them began to make an obvious, sinister movement toward his pocket.

“What Dorian never realized, what I tried to teach him through our research, is that Thedas…Thedas needs direction,” his voice was low as he turned, eyes glistening with intent, knowing he had won.

“Thedas needs control.”

Blue light began sparking in the mage’s palm, lighting his crazed expression from below, broken sounds of laughter escaping his lips as he raised his hand higher.

The Inquisitor and Cullen watched on with masked fear as a small talisman on a leather cord began to rise on its own from the palm of Alexius’s hand, crackling in an unstable, uncontrolled manner. Just as dread and the weight of their own mortality began washing over the party, a voice called out from a shadowy corner:

“No! I won’t let you do this.”

The blue cast vanished at once, the talisman dropping from its ominous floating and back into the mage’s hand. Alexius whipped his neck around, eyes worried and shocked at once, obviously recognizing the voice. The young man had dark, tired eyes as he revealed himself from the dark. His skin lacked color, and his hair was thin. He looked as if he had lived a man’s full life in only a few years, and he was exhausted.

“Felix!” Alexius ran to the young man’s side. “My son, you should be resting, you’re too weak; you look so pale!”

Cullen’s shoulders relaxed as he heard the familiar name. “Felix?” he said quietly, then directing his question to the man himself, “You were friends with Dorian, weren’t you?”

Felix pushed past his father, standing before the party with confidence. “I am. I know him well, and I know he would never have helped with your project if he knew what you planned to use it for.” He turned to face Alexius, pointing an accusing finger. “You lied to him! You lied to me! You said this was for my health, that you thought this could save me! You betrayed his trust, my trust!”

His eyes went somber as he quietly asked, “What would mother think?”

That sent Alexius into a rage, shouting furiously, “This could bring her back! Both of you would be safe, healthy, happy! I did this all for you both!”

Tears began to well in his eyes as Felix retorted, voice meek and sad, “No. She would have never wanted this.”

Alexius became irate, nostrils flaring and fists clenching, “How dare you!!” he screamed. “You have the opportunity to have your mother back, to have never lost her at all, and you tell me she would never want this? You stand before me, your own father, who has loved and raised you single handedly since she passed, telling me this isn’t all for you?!”

“Raised me? Single handedly?! What about all the days, even weeks, I went without seeing you because you were too hung up on your project? Too lost in the past to spend time with your own son? After my mother died in front of my eyes!”

Alexius’s hands began to burn with fire, the talisman feeding off of his rage and sparking once again. “You would be in the grave with her if it weren’t for me! All that research, just to keep you alive for all these years! You would have died within days of her if it weren’t for all my time spent in that damned laboratory, slaving over revolutionary medicines I now learn you weren’t even grateful for!”

“I wish I had died with her!” Felix’s cry echoed through the stone of the ruin walls. “I’ve been suffering for years! I feel the Blight eating away at me from the inside every moment I continue to breathe! You have no idea the pain you’ve put me through!”

The room fell silent, Alexius thinking on his son’s hurtful words.

“Well,” he said after a long while, voice raspy with emotion, “If my magic can’t serve to help you,” he clenched the talisman with ferocity, “It will serve Corypheus just fine!”

The room lit with blue lightening, the talisman flying into the center of the space and igniting with quick bursts of magical energy, barely controlled. Alexius howled with mad laughter, arms outstretched to feed the talisman with all his mana, fueling the chaotic reaction.

“Father, No!” Felix screamed, throwing himself at Alexius, tackling him to the ground.

While the Venatori were distracted, all watching in awe at the display of power destabilizing in the center of the room, the Inquisitor sprinted forward, drawing his sword and charging to take Alexius out for good. But, from the corner of his eye as he wrestled with his own son, Alexius spotted the elf’s attack. He managed to get a hand free from Felix, commanding the talisman to explode with a magical fury of light spiritual wisps, imploding inward on itself, sucking the Inquisitor in as he screamed in agony, his every essence torn across time and space. Cullen and the Templars watched on in abject horror, Lavellan’s blood curdling cries echoing in their minds.

Though the Inquisitor was gone, his blade continued his momentum, flying across the room and driving directly into Alexius’s shoulder, causing him to tumble off Felix and crash onto the stone floor.

“Venatori! Attack the Inquisitor’s reinforcements!!” Alexius hollered as he stumbled off to his escape.

“Retreat!” Cullen commanded, tailing Barris and the rest of the Templars as they fled, defending them against attacks from behind as they fought through the Venatori hoard before them.

Once there was a hole in the opposition’s defense, Cullen called out, “To the watchtower! Tell them to fire on the river! Shoot anything that moves!”

The Commander fought off those trying to prevent their escape, helping his team push to the ruin entrance. When they reached the threshold, each member jumped back onto their horses, galloping off to the watchtower and the camp just beyond Redcliffe Farms for backup.

“Open fire! Venatori!” Barris yelled to the watchtower guards. A shower of arrows came down almost instantly, flying just behind their horses, taking out many of the Venatori swordsmen. But the mages hadn’t left the mouth of the ruin, and Cullen was right there waiting for them. Dodging the hail of arrows and trying not to fall off the short cliff, Cullen fought back as many of the mages as he could while he waited for backup from the camp. Barris came riding back in just in time to save Cullen’s back from an attack he didn’t see coming.

As their numbers dwindled, it became easier for the Templars to dispel almost all the defensive magicks the Venatori were using, causing the remaining few mages to panic and retreat back into the ruin, following Alexius’s escape route.

Exhausted, but still on edge, Cullen and Barris’s Templars made their way back to the farm to regroup and process what had just happened. What had happened to the Inquisitor?

As they rounded the corner to check on the guards at the watchtower, Cullen heard footsteps running up behind them.

“There’s a straggler!” He called out, pulling out his sword and shield again, ready to strike.

“No, don’t shoot! I want to help you!”

Cullen stayed poised as he watched the man come into view. It was Felix, panting and running toward them, unarmed.

“What did you do with the Inquisitor?!” Cullen inched closer to Felix, still not convinced he could let his guard down.

Felix stopped several feet away, leaving enough room so Cullen felt unthreatened. He raised his hands above his head to show he meant no harm. “He’s not dead, I can promise that much, but I don’t know where he is.” His hands lowered as he scratched his chin in contemplation. “Well, that’s not quite what I mean. I know where he is; he’s here.”

Cullen’s sword and shield lowered and he looked at Felix with confusion.

“What I should say is: I don’t know when he is.”

Frustrated, Cullen ground his teeth, “Enough being cryptic! Just tell us where Alexius took him!”

Felix shook his head. “This is going to take a lot of explaining, and it will sound outlandish, but you have to believe me. I was there when my father and Dorian developed this, I know how it—”

“Spit it out!” Barris barked, now standing next to Cullen, also ready to fight.

Felix sighed, “He sent the Inquisitor through time.”

The Templars looked around at each other, none having heard of such magic before.

“Don’t lie to us, boy! We have you surrounded.” Barris raised his shield in preparation before his arm was pushed down.

“He isn’t,” Cullen held Barris back, then sheathing his own weapon and shield. “When we first suspected Dorian was Tevinter, Leliana found the letter we all read in the mission briefing. The letter was written by Felix, and he said the magic they were experimenting with was magic no one had ever considered manipulating before. Because it’s dangerous; one doesn’t just mess with the laws of nature.”

“You saw my letter? To Dorian’s father? So that’s how you knew of me, and that I know Dorian.” Felix approached slowly as he connected the dots. “So you must see now: Dorian knew he was developing a way to manipulate time, but he thought it was for me. He ran away, here to Ferelden, the moment my father started to speak of joining the Venatori. And he would never have helped in the first place if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”

Cullen looked Felix up and down, taking in his thin frame, eaten away at by something inside of him. “You said in there that you’re sick. Is it really the Blight? I’ve never seen anyone survive past a day, let alone a year.”

Felix nodded sadly, eyes going even darker, “Yes. While my father is no healer, he is an excellent alchemist, and created many medicines to try and help me while he worked on a more permanent solution to curing me. That’s when he…recruited Dorian to help. It was more like blackmail, but Dorian just wanted to help me.” He looked down at his hands, wringing them nervously. “He was like a brother to me. He never knew this would happen.”

Barris lowered his weapons completely, but would not sheath them. “Then…did you send Dorian to the Inquisition?”

Felix’s eyes went wide, “No, I never even knew he joined. I haven’t been able to contact him for months. It was too risky, I couldn’t have my father knowing I planned to stop him. Dorian always said he would be by my side on that day, But after we lost touch…”

Cullen felt his shoulders relax; Dorian wasn’t Venatori! What a relief. But he felt no relief, as just as the revelation swept over him, another realization came to tighten his chest. He drove Dorian away for nothing. He broke the mage’s heart, and his own, based on assumptions.

“I never let him say his piece…” Cullen thought aloud.

“What?” Barris turned to him, finally putting his weapons away. “You spoke to Dorian? When?”

Cullen wiped a hand over his face before glancing over to Felix. “It looks like the two of us have a lot of explaining to do.”

__________

As they rode their horses back to Skyhold, Barris in the lead and Cullen protecting the rear of the group, Felix tapped Cullen’s shoulder from behind.

“Cullen, is it? Could I ask you something?” Felix said as he shifted uncomfortably on the back of Cullen’s saddle.

“You’ll call me Commander until we know we can trust you.”

“I didn’t mean any disrespect, Commander, I assure you.”

Cullen had to stop himself from groaning. He would have liked to say he was angry, but the only thing jumping around in his mind was confusion. The only thing he was angry about was his decision. And frankly, he was tired of thinking about it. He was only making himself feel worse.

“Just ask your question.”

Felix nodded and asked, “I hadn’t heard from Dorian after his initial letter telling me he had arrived in Ferelden. I’m missing a lot of time between then and now. Could you tell me what happened that led to you believing Dorian was Venatori?”

Cullen heaved a deep sigh, “It’s not a short list of events, I’ll warn you.”

Felix chuckled, “We’ve nothing but time at the moment.”

“I suppose,” Cullen half-heartedly agreed.

When he finished catching Felix up to speed, the young man was silent for a long while, mulling over the details.

“It sounds like Dorian trusted you.” He prodded.

Cullen dropped his gaze to the reins in his tightly fisted hands. “I know I trusted him. I thought he had betrayed my trust when we intercepted his father’s letter, but I…” He squeezed his eyes closed, “I said things I wish I hadn’t. Things I didn’t mean. I know now that I betrayed him, just because I wouldn’t listen.”

“I still can’t believe you spoke to him before he vanished.” Barris chimed in from the front of the formation. “You lied to the entire Inquisition! Even your friends. That’s me I’m talking about, by the way. You lied to me.”

“I know.” Cullen sighed, “I’m sorry. I just…wanted to make sure he was safe. I didn’t know what the Inquisitor would do to him. But I guess it couldn’t have been much worse than what I did…” Cullen’s voice fell off as he remembered all the things he said.

I don’t ever want to see your face again…

Entering Skyhold’s gate led them directly into a crowd of people wanting to congratulate the Inquisitor on defeating the hidden Venatori forces. But when Cullen passed under the arch and into the courtyard with the Inquisitor’s empty horse led behind him, all the chattering stopped.

“Where is Lavellen?” Cassandra asked with worry. And as Cullen’s horse turned to reveal the second passenger, “And who is that?” She growled.

Cullen lowered himself off the horse, pointedly not offering Felix any help to get down, which he did ungracefully.

As he handed the reins off to a stable hand, Cullen told the Seeker, “Call a war meeting.”

__________

“You WHAT?” The ladies exclaimed in unison.

Cullen drug a hand over his face, leaning on the war table and sighing before he said, “I know it was stupid of me, but Dorian isn’t Venatori, so there’s no danger in him being out there on his own.”

“But you didn’t know that when you sent him away!” Josephine shouted, as much as the mild-mannered woman could.

“Look,” Cullen closed his eyes tightly, pinching the space between his brows, “I lied. I lied to all of you and put you in danger because I let myself get too close. I considered Dorian a friend. I didn’t want him to be in danger in the hands of the Inquisition. I’m sorry. I know I was reckless, and I’m sorry.”

The room fell quiet as the women looked to one another, silently acknowledging Cullen’s apology.

Cullen continued after recognizing the soft looks in their eyes. “But what we need to do now is find him. He’s the only one who might know how to get Lavellen back.”

“Dorian can reverse engineer a spell better than anyone I’ve ever met,” Felix added, “He’ll be able to undo this. I’m certain.”

“Well, mister ‘best friend’,” Leliana turned to Felix, annoyed that he had cut in, “Where do you propose we start our search?”

Felix took a second to think. “In his initial letter, to tell me he had arrived, Dorian mentioned he was staying with an older woman in the Hinterlands. He simply called her ‘Miss Ella’. She has a small farm, he said. I haven’t heard from him since then, so that would be my only guess.”

Cullen nodded, “Even if he’s not staying with her, he might be hiding out nearby. Runaways tend to return to places they know first.”

“I trust your ability to hunt down a mage, Commander.” Cassandra said, too dry to tell if she was joking.

But before the hunt could begin, all of Skyhold needed rest and time to absorb the news of the Inquisitor’s disappearance. No rest came to Cullen, however; as if he expected it to. His mind and heart were racing. What if they couldn’t find Dorian? Who would be able to bring back the Inquisitor?

And what if they did find Dorian? Would he forgive Cullen for what he had said? Would he attack or flee?

Worst of all: what if they found his body? Just another casualty of the war between the Templars and mages. Another victim to Corypheus’s forces.

Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear the image from his mind. He couldn’t bear the thought that his final words to Dorian would be his banishment, never able to redeem himself. Never able to beg for Dorian’s forgiveness.

With his eyes still closed, Cullen heard footsteps drawing casually closer, not trying to sneak, but also cautious.

“Can’t sleep either?” the voice was still slightly distant, not wanting to get too close. Cullen opened his eyes to see Felix, immediately skeptical as to why he was being allowed to walk the castle on his own.

Felix read his expression and chuckled. “Your spymaster has someone tailing me. The Lady Seeker isn’t far behind either. You don’t have to worry, I’m not here to assassinate you or something.”

“Who knows, I might welcome it at this point,” Cullen said under his breath.

Felix’s brow pushed together, “What happened between you and Dorian?”

After a long moment of staring through Felix, the Commander dropped his gaze to his folded fingers leaning on the battlements. “He was incredible to watch. So skilled with magic and combat; it was mesmerizing.” Cullen lifted his head to look up at the stars above. “And intelligent, as well. I enjoyed talking with him about the books he was reading, and the documents I was trudging through. He never looked away while I spoke.”

Felix gave a soft smile, looking to the heavens himself. “I know exactly what you mean. Dorian loves to talk about his research and learn what others have been studying. It made him a great student, one of the reasons he caught my father’s attention as a sponsor.”

A silence fell between the men as they both remembered their friend fondly. Cullen quietly asked, “Can you tell me about the Dorian you knew?”

Felix cocked his head curiously.

“I’d like to know if any of him was the real him.”

A sympathetic smile warmed Felix’s expression. “You described Dorian pretty perfectly just then. Always willing to debate—or argue, whichever he would get the most satisfaction from—and always showing off. He pretends to be self-centered, but he’s the most caring man I’ve ever met. And while I’m not interested in men myself, I don’t think there’s a person in all of Thedas who can deny Dorian’s charm.” Felix chuckled once, “Always the flirt, that one.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. “So he flirted with everyone?” He asked in a whisper, not really meaning it as a question. But Felix still answered.

“He did, but there were always different kinds. It took me long to learn each of them.” Feeling more comfortable with their relations, Felix approached the battlements himself and leaned his hip on the stonework, crossing his arms and looking out over the mountains. “There are four types, so far as I could tell: for showmanship, for de-escalation, for banter, and for real. The showmanship is self-explanatory, Tevinter is built around relationships and marriages. Dorian had to faine interest in his women suitors to keep up appearances. De-escalation, just flirting to calm an argument. Telling people what they want to hear, you know. And of course a little flattery back and forth between friends was his favorite.”

“How could you tell if he ever meant it?” Cullen asked, hopeful.

Felix ran a hand over his hair as he thought. “Dorian is a very honest man, most of what he says he always means, even if he doesn’t say it directly. He might think a noble woman is quite pretty, for example, and rather than tell her flatly, he will go out of his way to make her smile by flirting. ‘By the Black Divine, my lady, have you any common blood to Andraste herself? You have striking eyes, just like hers! And those cheekbones, they could surely cut marble!’ He likes to make people smile.”

“And he’s very good at it,” Cullen couldn’t help the fond grin that spread his lips.

“That he is.” Felix agreed, finding himself with a smile of his own as he reminisced.

__________

Cullen stood silent with his head down, fist poised to knock against the solid wood door before him. He hadn’t had to do something like this since Kirkwall; sharing the tragic news of a Templar’s death with their family. Somehow, this felt similar, having to tell someone Dorian clearly cared about, that he wasn’t who he said. But at least he didn’t have to tell her Dorian was a Venatori spy.

He took a final deep breath before giving a hardy knock. It took only seconds for Miss Ella to answer, like she had been waiting by the door. The door swung open with an audible whoosh, to reveal an older woman with joy in her cheeks, giving way to pleasant confusion when he looked Cullen up and down.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was expecting someone else. Is there something I can do for you, dear?” A sweet smile wrinkled the skin around her eyes.

Cullen couldn’t help but give a small smile back before clearing his throat and beginning to explain, “Commander Cullen, at your service, ma’am. We are looking for a troop previously employed in our…”

Cullen’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and he sighed, “Dorian. He stayed with you for a while, didn’t he?” He dropped his voice to a whisper so the others couldn’t hear his informality.

Miss Ella reared back a little, bringing the door closer to her so she could close it at any time. “I...oh, I rent my spare room to travelers, I suppose a ‘Dorian’ could have passed through--”

“Ma’am, please. You’re not in any trouble. Neither of you are, we just…” He couldn’t look the sweet woman in the eyes as he said, “I made a mistake. It came to our attention that he had been lying about his past, and I handled it very poorly. If he’s been back here...please, we need his help.”

Miss Ella still didn’t seem convinced, opening her lips to give a vague excuse. Cullen decided to show a little urgency.

“Ma’am, the Inquisitor is missing. Kidnapped, or otherwise incapacitated by the Venatori.”

Miss Ella gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. “Did...did he do it?”

“No, while Dorian is from Tevinter, as we found out, he has nothing to do with the Venatori. But he knows about their magic, and we need him to help us get the Inquisitor back.”

She took a moment to process before stepping aside in the doorway and beckoning them all to enter. Cullen, Felix, and Cassandra crammed into the small farmhouse, while Barris and his templars waited outside. Only Felix accepted an offer of tea.

“He did come back, but he didn’t come inside,” Miss Ella recalled as he stirred honey into Felix’s tea. “He made it nearly to the welcome mat, but no further, and said he was sorry. That he couldn’t stay because I wouldn’t be safe, and it was better if he kept the truth to himself, because he didn’t want to involve me. I figured he must have people after him, so I was expecting a visit, but not from the Inquisition.”

Tempted to sit, but ignoring the urge to slump into any nearby furniture, Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, “Yes, well, while I’m not at liberty to say much, I made a rather large mistake that--”

“To which are you referring?” Cassandra asked with her arms crossed, scowl doned.

Cullen glowered back and continued, ��...that put us all in danger. Dorian included.”

Cassandra let her arms drop, brow softening as she recognized Cullen’s regret.

“Well, as I said, he didn’t stay here long. He headed in the direction of Redcliffe, not taking the roads but going through the woods.”

They stayed long enough for Felix to finish his tea, then they were on their way north to Redcliffe, taking as odd a way they could in hopes of coming across Dorian’s trail.

After nearly an hour of trudging, one of Barris’s templars stopped.

“I smell viel fire.”

Cassandra looked at Cullen with a quirked brow. “Are you certain? How can you tell it isn’t just fire?”

Barris nodded, “I smell it too. It’s like fire but without the smoke, just the heat.”

“Any wards?” Cullen asked.

“None. It shouldn’t be hard to find him if we follow our noses.”

Cullen nodded, letting Barris lead the charge. Soon after, the group came across a very small clearing, staying in the trees to keep cover.

There in the center of the brush, surrounded by wildflowers, sat Dorian, playing with the green flames before him, deep in thought.

Cullen stared longingly, wishing he could just run out and hug the mage, hold him and never let go.

“I’ll go. You all wait here.” Cullen began pushing branches aside.

“You don’t think he’ll give you any trouble?” Barris held him back.

“No, but he will panic if he sees a group of templars coming out of the bushes at him.”

Cullen took a deep breath for courage and stepped out into the sun.

It only took a few steps before Dorian shot out of his seat and grabbed his staff, summoning a ball of fire in his hand. Cullen put his hands up, away from his sword and shield. Slowly, Dorian recognized the blond hair, honey eyes, and marble skin. His guard lowered along with his staff, but only slightly.

“C...Cullen?”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief, lowering his hands and taking a step forward.

“Stop!” Dorian yelled, “This is some kind of trick isn’t it? So what type of demon are you, hm? Rage? Envy? Desire?”

Cullen’s eyes went wide before his brow furrowed with worry, “No, Dorian it’s...it’s me. It’s Cullen.”

Dorian scoffed, “No, that’s not possible. He told me he never…” he swallowed hard. “never wanted to see me again.”

Cullen flinched at his words, seeing how much they had hurt. “I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. I was just scared, I didn’t think before I spoke, and I hurt you. I’m...Dorian, I’m so sorry.”

Cullen watched as emotions came and went in rapid succession across Dorian’s face.

“Make me believe you.” The mage whispered. “Prove you're the same man I loved.”

Those words. They struck him like a knife in the chest, tearing his heart out. Those were his words.

“I can’t…” Cullen whispered back.

Dorian’s staff fell abruptly into the grass, the fire in his hand disappearing into embers as he ran to Cullen. He wrapped his arms around the blond’s shoulders, Cullen returning the embrace just as tightly.

They pulled back, only to bring the other closer into a crashing kiss, tears spilling over onto both men’s cheeks.

“Dorian,” Cullen choked, “I’m so sorry, I said so many things I didn’t mean. I should have listened to you. Maker, I’m so--”

Dorian put a finger to the blond’s lips, then brought his to meet them. “I love you.”

Cullen’s eyes only watered more as he leaned their foreheads together and said, with all his heart. “I love you too.”

They both heard the trees opening from behind them, glancing that way to see Cassandra and Barris with his band of templars.

And Felix.

Dorian’s face lit up as he ran to meet his friend. “Felix!”

Their chests collided as each man wrapped an arm over the shoulder and around the waist of the other.

While the two were updating one another on what had happened between seeing each other last, Cassandra approached Cullen with an annoyed huff.

"So that's why you let him go." She crossed her arms.

Cullen sighed, turning to face her. "Yes," he stated, "because I didn't want him thrown in our prisons, because I didn't want him questioned for hours without rest. Because I love him. Is that what you want me to say?"

The corner of the Seeker's lips turned up on one side, barely a smile at all. She placed her hand on Cullen’s shoulder. "Yes. And I'm glad you do."

It took him off guard, but Cullen was grateful for Cassandra's understanding. He knew she read those romance novels--Varric made sure to boast about it to everyone in Skyhold--but he never expected Cassandra of all people to be forgiving.

Suddenly her face went stern. Pulling her hand away and pointing a finger, she whispered through clenched teeth, "Don't tell anyone I said that. As far as Josephine and Leliana need to know, I'm still angry with you."

Cullen tried not to grin as he nodded.

He turned back to Dorian and Felix who laughed together as Dorian placed a kiss to Felix's cheek. Cullen smiled as he watched them reconnect, a warmth filling his chest.

"I hate to interrupt a reunion," Barris cut in, "but we have grave news about the Inquisitor."

"The Inquisitor?" Dorian looked to Felix, "Your father. He didn't…"

Felix cringed as he nodded, head dropping, eyes closed tightly.

Dorian slumped, arm falling off Felix's shoulders. Cullen came behind him to place a comforting hand on his back.

"He's not dead, is he?" Dorian asked with a heaviness in his breath.

"We...we don't know." Cullen brought Dorian in by the waist, hugging him from the side. "Alexius used an amulet to...send him through time, was it?" He looked over to Felix to make sure he had gotten it right.

"So he finished it." Dorian's eyes widened with fear.

"No!" Felix put himself between Cullen and the mage, "He could never perfect it after you left. Something went wrong when he cast the spell; it wasn't like when you did it."

"You've traveled through time?" Cullen pushed Felix aside to ask Dorian.

Dorian grinned, "What? Never been with a man who invented time travel? Oh, no, of course not, how silly. Because I invented it."

"Dorian." Cullen said sternly, looking for a straight answer.

"No, I didn't go through time. Alexius and I sent an apple core a week forward in time and it came back rotten." As he gave the explanation, a wave of realization washed over Dorian, "But what's when the spell didn't work!" He grabbed Cullen but the hands with excitement. "The plan was to wipe the apple from existence, and only those who cast the spell would remember there ever having been an apple there. The fact that you all remember the Inquisitor proves the spell failed!"

"But how do we know where--when he is?" Barris asked, trying to keep up.

Dorian let go of Cullen's hands to twirl his mustache in thought. "Ah! Have you any paper, my love?"

Cullen grabbed some parchment and charcoal from one of the templars' satchels.

Dorian took the supplies eagerly, kneeling down to use his seat as a writing surface. "Look here," Dorian pulled Cullen in close as he drew a diagram, "We don't know when the Inquisitor is in time, yes? But we do know where. He'll be exactly where he was transported from."

Cullen nodded, following so far.

"So we need to go back to where and, somehow, enter the fade because--"

"Because time doesn't exist in the fade." Cullen cut in, "You can feel for his spirit and pull it back through the veil from the other side of time!"

Dorian smiled, excited that Cullen understood, "Well, I can't. While I studied the dead, I don't have any control over the spirits I use to possess the bodies. But I know someone who does."

"Solas." Cullen, Barris, and Cassandra said together.

__________

Back at Skyhold, they explained the plan to Solas, Cullen's fellow advisors still suspiciously eyeing Dorian.

"I'm impressed with your knowledge of the fade, Dorian. Yet you've never entered it, is that right?" Solas sipped at his coffee.

"I still have my sanity, that should be a dead give away."

Solas grinned, "Indeed. And yet you understand its properties well. And this plan of yours is nearly fool proof."

"Nearly?" Cullen leaned in, "We need better than nearly. We need the Inquisitor back."

Solas held up a hand to calm him, "Nearly is the best place to start. I can help you, but the Inquisitor's spirit isn't the only thing on the other side of time. We need to find his body. Both were transported, were they not?"

Dorian nodded, "Yes, that's where I'm uncertain. Can he enter the fade without performing the ritual himself?"

"Do you know the Arl of Redcliffe, Commander?" Solas asked, hands behind his back as he rounded the desk.

"You're talking about the incident with Conor and Bann Tegan. I've heard the story." He watched Solas with suspicious curiosity.

"I am. There is a way to perform the ritual on another, without entering the fade yourself…"

Cullen's eyes went wide, "No! No one is doing any blood magic!"

"Blood magic?" Dorian looked to Solas with anger. "You're suggesting I perform a blood ritual on the Inquisitor? Nonsense!"

Solas shrugged, "That is the only way I know of to return both the Inquisitor's soul and body as one."

Dorian scratched his chin as he tried to think of another way. "If I had the amulet here…"

Felix perked up, "What if I could get it from my father?"

The room looked over to Felix.

"What? Is it safe after what you did to help us?" Cullen asked.

Felix shook his head, "My father may not be in his right mind, but he's always been a father first. If I need him, he will be there with open arms."

Dorian slowly walked to Felix. "You'd steal from your own father for us?"

Felix smiled, "I would steal sweets from his personal stash for you all the time."

Dorian smiled and gave him a hardy thump on the shoulder. "Then we need to head back to Dead Ram Grove."

The day had been long and exhausting, and while time was of the essence, they all needed rest.

But Cullen couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in an attempt to find a comfortable spot, but to no avail. Finally, he decided it wasn't worth fighting and went for a walk to think.

He walked the battlements until he was sick of looking at stone walls. When he got back to his office, no more ready to sleep than before, he thought of Dorian, how he had so much more he wanted to say, and so many more apologies to make.

Heading across the bridge to the library, Cullen tried to be as quiet as possible opening the door to Solas's floor. The door creaked ever so slightly, and Cullen heard a calming voice say, "Dorian is downstairs."

He looked up to see Solas painting a mural of the fade on the atrium wall.

"Oh I was just…" Cullen started, but Solas gave him a knowing look. "Thank you." He said gently as he headed for the main hall's staircase to the basement.

Once down there, he saw a soft red light emitting from a door across the hall, where a small private office was. He smiled as he heard Dorian quietly talking to himself.

Cullen pushed the door open silently, seeing Dorian's back facing him. He snuck up and wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist. Dorian gasped before realizing who it was, then leaning his head back and humming in contentment.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Cullen asked in a breathy whisper.

Dorian sighed, "I have to know what I'm doing when I reverse the amulet's magic, if Felix can get it off his father. If we can find his father. Hopefully they've stayed put."

Cullen hummed, acknowledging Dorian's concerns. "I wish we had more time, then you could perfect this."

Dorian turned in Cullen's arms and wrapped his around the Commander's neck.

"I wish we had more time, too." He looked deeply into Cullen's eyes, leaving the silence between them.

Cullen quickly caught on, walking Dorian into the desk, lifting him by the thighs to sit atop it. "We have a couple of hours, at least."

Dorian smiled, bringing Cullen in for a light kiss. It quickly became something more, with hot hands finding fasteners on the other's armor and unfastening them. Their kiss turned deep and passionate and nearly frantic as the men wasted little precious time.

Dorian leaned back and pulled Cullen over him, holding him close as he whispered between kisses, "I never stopped loving you. I couldn't make myself stop after you told me to go. You had me."

Cullen kissed down Dorian's neck as he whispered back, "I thought it was just me. And I need you to know I only sent you away because I was scared. I didn't know what the Inquisition would do to you. I was only upset you'd lied to me."

"But you know why I had to." Dorian held Cullen by the cheeks to get his attention. "Would you have wanted me if I had told you I was a Tevinter necromancer."

Cullen pulled the mage’s hand back and kissed his palm, "I want you now, don't I?"

Dorian's words were thick with need as he whispered, "Do you?"

"More than anything."

And the love they made in the night, in a private tucked away space, far from the eyes and ears of Skyhold, was more than either man had felt in many years. Possibly all their lives.

__________

Cullen smiled as he rode alongside Dorian's horse, listening to him and Felix reminisce. They had a long history, from what Cullen gathered, and cared for each other like brothers. It felt good to see Dorian as his true self, and not a bundle of half truths peeking out from behind an alias.

The group was much larger this time, with closer to fifteen templars, including Barris, along with the addition of Solas and a handful of other mages. Cullen was grateful for the help, even if it meant spending time with Solas, trying desperately to find something to talk about.

When the team arrived, they tied their horses up at the camp near Master Dennet's stables and took off on foot toward Dead Ram Grove, signaling the watch tower to stay on guard.

At the entrance to the cave, Cullen took Dorian's hand and squeezed tightly while giving him a worried look. Dorian smiled gently, squeezing back. Cullen nodded and signaled the group into formation and forward. It was still dark, but with several mages summoning flames into their palms, they would be able to see any ambushes this time.

The team stepped cautiously into the final room of the cave where the Inquisitor had been torn through time. It was quiet, with the scattered corpses of Venatori from their failed attack on Cullen’s crew. Dorian winced as he saw the familiar clothing of his homeland, not happy to be fighting his countrymen.

Cullen looked to Dorian with concern, wordlessly asking if he was alright. Dorian nodded and continued on, reminding himself these men chose this path.

After glancing around the room, everyone turned to face Cullen with disappointed looks.

"There's no one here. How are we going to bring the Inquisitor back without that amulet?" One of the mages asked.

Dorian bit his lip as he thought.

Before he could come up with anything, Felix spoke up. "No, there must be another way out of here. My father didn't head for the entrance when he retreated, he went further in."

Cullen nodded, "That's right, everyone look around! There must be--"

Dorian placed his hands on the wall at the back of the cave and closed his eyes, reciting a spell quietly.

Before anyone could ask what he was planning, the wall dissolved away, revealing a laboratory and a barely conscious Alexius breathing heavily on the ground, books scattered where he sat.

"Father!" Felix rushed to his side as he pulled bandages from his bag. Alexius’s wounds were deep and unhealed, but not from Lavellan's sword, which laid across his lab table, still coated in blood.

"My son," Alexius’s voice was incredibly weak, sounding more like air than words.

Felix began applying pressure to his father's rotting wound, exposed flesh healed open.

"We have healers here, just hold on," he said even as the healers shook their heads, wounds too old to fix.

Dorian approached with caution, nerves rising at seeing his old mentor again. He stepped into view just as Alexius looked up.

"The Venatori," he wheezed, "they left me, abandoned me. Told...told the Elder One I failed them."

Felix's eyes began to well up with tears, "They were using you, father, just like you used Dorian. They wanted your magic, that was all."

Tears tugged at the edges of Alexius’s eyes as well, as he admitted, "The Elder One...Corypheus...he came to take the amulet, tried to kill me. But...but I…"

He began to cough and sputter, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. He tightly grabbed Felix's hand, holding on with all his strength as he gasped and panted for air.

The air was stagnant, musty and old. Without a draft present, Dorian and Felix could feel as Alexius’s last breath escaped his chest and hit their skin.

Felix sat back on his hunches, eyes glazed, staring down at their entwined hands.

Dorian looked away and closed his eyes tightly.

A long silence hovered in the room, Dorian's hand gripping Felix's shoulder to comfort him. He looked down at his hand, still clasped in his father's, and felt something heavy and cold kiss his palm. He pulled his father's hand away to find the amulet, pulsating and smooth, as if never used.

"Crafty bastard," Dorian said as he lookes at the amulet in pristine condition. "He repaired it, but not perfectly. The way the magic is calibrated, it should work in reverse."

Dorian looked from the Inquisitor's sword to the books scattered on the floor.

"He was going to bring Lavellan back and try again."

"Maker's sake," Felix dropped his head into his hands.

"It's already 'calibrated' to bring him back? That saves us some time, doesn't it?" Cullen looked to Solas for confirmation.

"I am unfamiliar with time magic. I believe everyone to be, except for Dorian." Solas gestured from Dorian to confirm.

He nodded, taking the amulet from Felix and looking it over for imperfections. "Indeed it does. So long as he's done it correctly."

Dorian began work on his spell with the mages silently watching on. Though he had asked them not to, they often asked questions, to which the usual reply was, "This is time altering magic, you know. Let's not forget the danger of this."

When they began to ask too many questions they wouldn't get an answer to, Cullen stepped in and shooed them away. After they scattered, Cullen placed a hand on the small of Dorian's back, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around the man from behind. He wanted nothing more than to rest his head on Dorian’s shoulder and close his eyes. And when he would open them, the Inquisitor would be there unscathed and everything would be normal.

Cullen heaved a deep sigh at the thought, Dorian turning to look at him with concern.

"Something the matter, amatus?"

"Who?" Cullen asked, not really having absorbed the question.

Dorian chuckled, "You, silly. Are you alright?"

Cullen shook his head slightly, eyes closed, "No. I mean, yes, it's nothing, just...who is Amatus?"

Dorian rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Cullen’s neck. "It's Tevene, a term of endearment like 'honey or 'dear'." A smirk came to his lips as Cullen scolded himself for sounding jealous.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous about this whole situation. I didn't mean to…" Cullen trailed off.

Dorian pressed a nimble finger to his lips. "It's alright, I'm nervous too. This is something I've never done, never even considered having to do. But it will turn out. The Inquisitor will be fine, I promise."

Cullen stared with anxious eyes for a long moment, "That's an awfully confident promise."

Dorian's calm smile faltered ever so slightly, but Cullen caught it, placing a warm ungloved palm to the mage's cheek. "I trust you, Dorian, but it's not your fault if he doesn't come back."

Dorian cringed, "This has all been my fault. If I had just been honest from the beginning--"

"Stop." Cullen leaned forward to silence him with a kiss, forgetting the others around them. "Hunting down the Venatori has been our goal this entire time. This may have happened eventually, you couldn't have changed this."

Dorian nodded, lips still so close to Cullen's. "You're right, I know you are, but I would feel much better if I could bring him back."

Dorian grabbed the calibrated amulet and a tome off the lab table, breaking free of Cullen's embrace and moving toward the center of the room to prepare the ritual.

Solas stood from his crouched position, holding out his hands to take Dorian's completed spell.

"The most difficult bit will be leaving the fade at the same time you entered. Make certain you do not interrupt the flow of time." Solas warned as he started casting.

Dorian looked to Cullen one last time before a green and yellow tear opened before him and he stepped through.

Hours passed and still Dorian hadn't returned with the Inquisitor. Cullen paced the room along with the mages, while Solas maintained meditation in the center of the room, waiting for the beckon call.

He couldn't take the suspense any longer. Cullen gingerly walked near and around Solas to see if he could still hear him. Solas coldly spoke, quiet and even, "I am entirely aware of my surroundings outside the fade, Commander."

It made Cullen jump at first. He then asked, "Are you...in there with them? Can you help them?"

Solas stayed completely still with his eyes closed and legs crossed as he responded, "No, I cannot. I am simply suspending my mind in the fade, but I am not there as they are. They went in physically, body and spirit as one. I would have gone in myself and done this more quickly, but alas, there must be someone on the other side to pull the Inquisitor back through. Dorian has an excellent understanding of time, but the fade can disorient even the brightest minds."

None of this made Cullen feel any better, or more confident that they were safe. "But can you see them? Are they alright?"

Solas sighed, annoyed at having to dumb things down, "Dorian and the Inquisitor have made contact. I can sense their spirits near one another, but I cannot see anything. Were I there, I could use my senses. I am not, however, so I must feel for their souls. I know not where they are in time, or how they fair."

Cullen grunted in frustration. Why did he expect a clear answer?

A short while passed and Solas began to rise, grabbing his staff again. "Everyone stay back, the tear could pull you in!"

Everyone scattered to the edges of the room, watching in astonishment as Solas tore the veil open, Dorian and the Inquisitor stumbling through back into the 'real' world, haggard and panting.

Cullen approached slowly as the tear sealed behind them. When Dorian locked eyes with him, he ran into the Commander's arms.

"Cullen," he whispered in his ear, breathy and shaking, "Thank the Maker, it's you"

Cullen returned the embrace but was still confused. "Yes, it's really me. What happened? Are you alright?"

The rest of the room rushed to the Inquisitor's aid, healers starting to mend cuts and bruises and wrap them gently but with urgency.

Dorian pulled back to look Cullen in the eyes, tears nearly falling onto his cheeks. "Time moves differently. I hoped we would be out in a few days, but it's been weeks, maybe months for us. Lavellan said he'd been sent into the future and stuck there for nearly a year. I can't begin to imagine…"

Dorian shuttered and pulled Cullen close again, Cullen shushing him softly, running calloused fingers over his hair.

__________

Back at Skyhold, a crowd waited anxiously at the base of the steps from the main hall, nervous chatter rumbling through them. The Inquisitor was in his chambers, healers and templars looking him over, a scholar begging him to recount his experience.

Cullen and his fellow advisors took deep breaths before opening the doors of the main hall and descending the steps until they reached the middle landing.

"People of the Inquisition!" Cassandra shouted over the chatter, "The Inquisitor is safe and in good health!"

The crowd sighed a collective sigh of relief as they applauded.

Cullen smiled as he added, "All thanks to the brave and valiant efforts of the templars," they raised their swords from within the crowd, people cheering. "Our mages," they raised their staves as well, Solas smiling as he bowed his head.

"And lastly, this man." Cullen held out his hand, inviting Dorian from the front of the crowd to join him. "This man, who joined with you as a troop, rose quickly through our ranks with his impressive display of magical knowledge; who joined the Inquisitor in the field, and contributed to the important research done in our library."

Dorian was already stunned as he stood above all the people of Skyhold, but Cullen took both hands in his, and faced him full on. "This man, who risked his reputation, his place in the Inquisition, and ultimately his own life, to return the Inquisitor to us from beyond time. Dorian Pavus."

Felix, standing at the front, looked up to Dorian from within the crowd and shouted, "To Dorian!" The crowd joined in with thanks, crying out with joy for their Herald’s great return, and the man who saved him. Dorian looked out over the crowd as they said his name, as they recognized him for all his deeds despite his lineage.

The good Tevinter.

He smiled as he turned to Cullen once again. "A tad overdue, if you ask me."

Cullen chuckled, "You're impossible."

Cullen pulled Dorian in for a long and tight hug, the crowd around them cheering for the Inquisitor. Cheering for the

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