#my poor betas

[asteria7fics]

Waiting for my betas to read my next fic like

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 4

The living room and kitchen were deserted, neither Danny nor Jazz expected anyone as it was normal for their parents to essentially live in the basement only coming up for meals once or twice a month to ‘eat as a family’, these would consist mostly of fast food as no one trusted anything cooked in their kitchen.

They shared a glance as they opened the basement door and headed down. The dimly lit basement held the giant hole in the wall, the so-called portal, a massive metal spectacle with wires and interconnected circuitry met together to create an unholy abomination of science. Or at least that’s what Jazz called it once when they were in her room venting about the situation. 

“JAZZ!! DANNY!!” their overzealous father yelled as he bounded over.

Their mom walked over too, seeming to be happy for their return, “your father and I could barely contain our excitement all day!! Go on put on your hazmat suits.” their mom gestured over to the lockers that held the suits. Both of their parents' lockers tended to be quite empty since they practically lived in them, to the point where they had several copies of the same suits that they’d wash and reuse. Danny and Jazz only had the ones, Jazz had a nice dark violet color with black gloves and boots. Danny had black gloves and boots too but his was white to make it look like he was an astronaut, something that he had mixed feelings on. Both of these used to have a giant picture of Jack’s head on it but it was quickly removed by both siblings. 

They quickly put the suits on over their uniforms and joined their parents behind some glass near the portal. It wasn’t closed off or anything and Danny didn’t think it would be able to prevent something like an explosion from charing all of them but it’s hard to have faith in parents who've missed so much because of the stupid portal, or at least that’s how Danny felt. 

Jazz and Danny huddled together behind their parents as their mom did some final checks on a clipboard, “alrighty we should be all good, Hun you ready to throw the switch?” their mom asked their dad. “As ready as I’ll ever be!” Jack yelled as he threw down the switch.

…

A few sparks erupted from the portal but other than that nothing happened. 

Their dad, frustrated at this angrily tried turning it off and on again but nothing but another smaller spark and then truly nothing. 

Another low frustrated growl left their dad as he and mom walked back up the steps, “alright I’m taking a break.” Jack said, almost defeated, sounding, “I’m sorry but I really thought we had it this time.”

“Oh come on, Jack, let’s go out, I’m sure the kids were probably going over to the Wayne’s again anyways. Let’s go out and have a fun night then sleep on it.” their mom said, patting dad on the shoulder. They shared a fond look and then went upstairs probably to get ready. 

Danny and Jazz stood at the bottom of the stairs and shared a look.

“They gave up too fast again…” Jazz noted.

“I guess, what do we do now?” Danny asked.

“I’m still a little curious about the portal but I don’t want to keep Damian, Tim or Alfred waiting,” Jazz said with a hand on her cheek.

“We could invite them in, I know we haven’t before but maybe Tim would know how to get it working, he is pretty good with technology.” Danny reasoned. Neither of them really wanted to involve the Wayne’s in their family’s shenanigans but at this point they were all friends and Damian and Tim were bound to find out how weird their family was at some point anyways.

Jazz stood there seeming to think things over before she nodded, “alright I trust your judgment but we’ll have to be careful okay?” 

Danny smiled at her, “of course, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

This is what led to the four of them standing at the bottom of the stairs. Their parents had left about an hour ago. Danny and Jazz were still in their suits with Tim without one and made to sit with Jazz behind the glass and Damian and Danny planning to explore the actual tube.

“I don’t want to chance you getting hurt,” he said to her as he made her stand next to Tim.

Damian and Danny shared a look and nodded before heading into the tube. 

They looked around for a while but didn’t see much besides the interconnected wires on the floor of the lab. Damian took the right side while Danny took the left. They worked their way up and down the tube. Damian was a little ahead of Danny on their way out. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

When they were almost out Danny lost his footing, his hand flying out in front of him. A soft click was heard and time seemed to crawl to a stand still.

Danny couldn’t stand the thought of his friend getting hurt because of him and he felt a rush of adrenaline. He ran as he felt a swirl of energy and electricity surround his body. 

“DANNY!! DAMIAN!!” he heard both Tim and Jazz shout as he reached Damian who was at the mouth of the portal.

A quick shove was all it took to get Damian, who had turned towards him at the sound of the shout, out of the portal. 

“DANIEL!!” he heard Damian shout as the portal activated on top of him, surrounding his body with swirling green.

Blinding pain shot through Danny, feeling as if he was being torn apart and put back together again and again.

He figured he was dying but at least he could protect those he cared about. He was able to shove Damian out of the portal in time, and Tim and Jazz were safely behind the blast glass.

He wouldn’t ever be able to fly among the stars as an astronaut but he was able to protect. His family and friends were safe and that’s all that mattered. 

He could allow himself to succumb to the darkness as the electricity and pain consumed him whole.

[petite-madame]

The Science of Seduction - (2023)

“Am I going to keep the tattoos ? Of course not, don't be silly John, it's for a case. A "three", unfortunately. I'll be back in two hours top, don't wait for me for dinner. John, are you alright ? You look sick. I'm concerned. John ? John...? Why are you looking at me like this ?”

[cuips-not-cute]

i hope that everyone realizes that the typos in my fics are not from lack of effort but rather the result of me being dumb as hell

[pencilgutz]

[Please click for better quality]

Sooooo I discovered some AUs after being inactive for a while

First up for Twin,

The Monster Lab AU by @etanow !!!!!

More info under the cut!!!

Lore IG

Tw1n (aka Twin) is made from a variety of metal Jax stole from around the Lab. Tw1n is unable to speak due to a incident with Jax and his voice box, and can now only play music to portray his mood and what he's feeling. For example if he's happy he may play some cheery happy song, but if he's angry or just overwhelmed he may just go static, or play some screamo, though static is more common. He does attempt to write though he doesn't have paper on him often. He doesn't have great balance due to the different types of metal and is prone to falling. He has several indents on his back because of this.

His right eye used to be cyan, though due to some... Unforseen events, he lost his eye, along with the ability to move his right arm at all. Yes it hurts, but he can't do anything about it because he knows little about himself because Jax refused to show him the blueprints. Jax is the only one who can fix him. And he refuses to go back.

RELATIONSHIPS!!!!!

Pomni- Tw1n tends to have sympathy and is often kinder towards Jax's experiments (or any kind for that matter) and Pomni was quite nice to him from the little interaction they have had despite her clearly being somewhat on edge because of his appearance, and his somewhat inability to respond.

Caine- Though back when he was under full control of Jax, he viewed Caine in a neutral light, he thought what Jax though. If Jax didn't like Caine, he didn't like Caine. But now that Tw1n is on his own, He doesn't like Caine very much, due to him humoring Jax and letting him experiment in innocent souls. Though its not pure unfiltered hatred like towards Jax.

Ragatha- Similar to Pomni, he is kinder and finds her to be lovely to be around. He often looks up to Ragatha despite them not being close. He admires her ability to maintain a positive outlook despite it being somewhat in vain. He finds her goal to escape quite ambitious..but he finds it interesting as well...he would love to escape and get away from both what he helped with and his...creator

Jax- Despite having created him, Tw1n has a extreme hatred towards him, and the fact he was blindly told these experiments were "humane" and "completely safe" despite them being the furthest from that. He was under complete control of Jax, like a mindless...object until he was harmed gravely himself by Jax. Before the incident and realization he looked up to Jax, wanting to do experiments like him, often following him around like a puppy. He never wants to see his creator's stupid smug face again, but its difficult considering he sees that stupid purple rabbits handiwork in the mirror each morning. He wants nothing more than to watch Jax crash and burn at his feet, however he refuses to stoop down to Jax's level again. Never again. He's a curious soul, and it's coded into him. That's not the case anymore. He's still highly curious yes, but ashamed of what he has done and has sworn off experiments all together because of Jax.

Gangle- One of the only ones Tw1n views as an actual close friend. Despite him not being able to talk, him and Gangle get along quite well, due to their shared love of Fanfiction and written works (As well as writing said fanfiction). How they first met is a mystery. Gangle is able to tell what he's trying to say or what is mood is easier than the others due to them being close friends.

Kinger- He hasn't talked to Kinger often, usually due to the clay golem freaking out because of his (often silent) appearances. Though Gangle talks fondly of him, Tw1n has decided to not form a opinion on him yet. Though it is leaning toward the positive side.

Bubble- It's bubble. What else can he say? Its...its just Bubble.

Zooble- Tw1n finds them to be somewhat of a friend. Key word Somewhat. He finds Zooble to be somewhat cold to him, but he admires their protection over Gangle, and their snake leg is quite interesting to him. He's highly curious about them and their powers, however he won't ask, due to him being intimidated.

Himself- It's complicated. He loves the fact he's alive, he loves the fact he is his own person now, but he's haunted and ashamed of the fact he helped Jax for the longest time. It's that stupid rabbit's fault he is even ALIVE. And it both infuriates him and hurts him beyond what his hard drive can comprehend. He takes drastic measures to never see Jax, including letting his injuries to neglected to avoid that stupid yellow smile. He wants nothing more than to be able to open up his chest cavity and move his components into a new body he made for himself, but due to not having the key Jax holds onto, he can't. He is his own person and he KNOWS that, however this body that was created for him isn't.

Tw1n views himself as both his own worst enemy and his very best friend.

[marclef]

i am bored and working on some stuff rn so, as a treat i am sharing with you all:

The ORIGINAL Pizza Tower Eyhm Designs

because i don't think i've shared these on tumblr. please enjoy this beautiful misshapen child 😊

these are from mid-February 2023... so they're almost a year old already!!! maybe i'll post something the same day this year as a comparison hehehe

and.... a Fakey and Eyhm drawing from March as well because, goddamn do i draw Fake Peppino different now.

though honestly..... he does look a little closer to canon here..... but ah well 😂

[onebizarrekai]

beta minecraft part 2, descending into madness

[fishbrain-glubglub]

She's Not Here

If anyone were to ask the BAU who the epitome of masculinity was, they would all immediately point towards their Unit Chief: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

The man effortlessly oozed masculinity. His solid 6’2” stature framed perfectly in his tailored suits made many mouths water at the sight, daydreaming about the body that lay in waiting underneath. Not a day went by where at least one person hadn't drooled over his stubble-peppered jawline, claiming it was sharp enough to effortlessly cut glass. His signature stoic aura only emphasized his classic alpha male status to any passersby familiar or not to the man. There was no doubt to anyone's mind that Aaron Hotchner was what every man dreamed to be.

But standing in only his boxer briefs in front of his bedroom mirror, all Aaron could see was everything he deemed wasn't manly. His hips were too wide despite being surrounded by well-toned muscle after decades of running and UnSub chasing. His jawline, while covered in stubble not yet shaven, wasn't as sharp as many of his admirers claimed it was. His shoulders, while looking wide and commanding in a sharp suit, felt narrow and small bared for his room to see. His chest bulged in all the wrong ways despite the faint twin scars bordering the bottom of each toned pectoral. Despite the decades of time Aaron had worked to achieve his current form, he could still see her poking through every insecurity he kept hidden, taunting him with the same dark chocolate eyes that sent even the most hardened UnSubs cowering.

A scowl glared back at him in the mirror as he crossed his arms defensively across his chest. The phantom ache of utter wrongness seeping from every inch of his skin began to rapidly bubble to the surface. No matter how hard he tried to quell her from resurfacing, she always managed to seep through the cracks, blasting a neon sign to reveal all of his obvious flaws to the world and to himself. He couldn't seem to shake the ghost of her presence no matter how hard he tried. It was days like this that he wondered why he even tried so hard to be himself, to be comfortable in his own skin.

A tiny flash of silver caught his eye in the mirror before two familiar lanky arms enveloped him from behind, pulling Aaron out from his mental spiral. A calming warmth spread against his backside before the caress of soft lips peppered his shoulders.

“Keep glaring at the mirror like that and it might just confess.”

A soft huff of laughter escaped from Aaron's lips as his gaze left his own and settled on bright amber hues eyeing him lovingly from behind. His arms never left their tight embrace over his chest, but his stance softened significantly. He let his shoulders sag and gently leaned back into the comforting embrace of his husband.

Spencer gave Aaron's torso a soft squeeze, beginning a gentle sway of their body's to a tune unheard by Aaron but calming nonetheless.

They stayed tangled in front of the mirror until Aaron's arm finally fell from their tense state across his chest, turning his back to the mirror and nuzzling his face into the crook of his partner's neck. His hands settled on Spencer's hips as Spencer snaked his hands up his husband's torso before settling around Aaron's neck. They continued to sway to an unknown tune in the comfort of their room hidden safely away from the rest of the world. Aaron was so lost in Spencer's embrace that he hadn't realized he had begun to tremble until he heard his husband begin to gently soothe him.

“Shh, sweetheart. It's okay. I'm right here.” Aaron felt one of Spencer's hands begin to caress the hairs on his neck, causing his already shaky resolve to fracture further. His arms tightened around his husband briefly, desperately trying to cling to any semblance of his hardened stoic mask as he could.

“Aaron.” Spencer's hand left his hair to cup his face, pulling Aaron from the safety of his partner's neck. He kept his gaze down and away from the growing concern in his husband's eyes and tried desperately to reign in his emotions.

Spencer was having none of it. “Aaron,” he repeated, rubbing gentle circles on his husband's trembling cheek. “Honey, please. Talk to me.”

Aaron instinctively shook his head, not wanting to voice his thoughts. If he said them out loud, it meant admitting they were true. He desperately clung to the silence, wanting to cling to his masculinity as long as he could.

Aaron felt his husband sigh. He closed his eyes, mentally preparing for the worst: Spencer telling him he couldn't be with someone so unmanly as Aaron. Spencer withdrawing and leaving him to deal with his internal turmoil on his own. Spencer telling him to suck it up and deal with it like a real man. 

Deep down, Aaron knew these scenarios would never happen. Spencer had seen Aaron at his lowest many times over, had known his deepest secret longer than the rest of the team - save for Rossi who had known since Aaron had originally joined the FBI. They wouldn't have gotten married if Spencer hadn't been confident in their commitment to each other for the rest of their lives.

That still didn't stop Aaron's mind from jumping to the worst at every moment it could.

A gentle hand under his chin snapped Aaron's gaze to his husband's, finding nothing but concern and worry in the comforting amber eyes. Spencer's frown pulled his brow down in a way Aaron wanted to kiss away, instantly hating himself for putting that look on his face.

“Why don't you finish getting ready, okay?” Spencer's hand returned to his cheek, rubbing soothing patterns against the peaking stubble. “I'll be right here when you're ready.”

With a small nod, they untangled themselves from each other before Aaron walked over to his dresser, ignoring the mirror as much as he could. It only took a moment for him to slip on the thin shirt before turning back to their bed.

Spencer had already settled on his side of the bed, watching his partner with caring eyes. Aaron crossed the room quickly, turning off his bedside lamp before slipping under the covers and settling against his husband, holding him as close as he could without suffocating the man.

Aaron was grateful for the few moments Spencer allowed them to stay tightly embraced. He knew he would have to talk about it soon, but for a moment, he could lose himself in the embrace of the man he trusted everything to. He siphoned as much love and comfort he could before Spencer shifted, squirming his way out of Aaron's close embrace and forced their eyes to meet.

No words were spoken at first. Spencer had resumed the comforting patterns on Aaron’s cheek, providing a grounding presence to his inner turmoil. After a few more silent moments, Aaron closed his eyes and braced himself.

“She won’t leave me alone.”

Arms immediately wrapped around his shoulders, pulling Aaron close to the warmth of his husband’s chest. Tears he wasn’t previously aware of began to stream down his face as he took in a ragged breath, all of his pent up emotions flooding to the surface. It was as if the dam holding back all of his frustration broke at the contact. Silent sobs wracked his body as he felt the soothing hum of Spencer’s voice against the man’s chest.

“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Spencer resumed carding gentle fingers through Aaron’s short locks. “She’s not here anymore, remember? She hasn’t been here in a long time. All I see is my amazing, strong, handsome, sexy husband.” A weak wet laugh cut through the quiet sobs. “I’m serious!” Spencer added with a smile in his voice. “Do you know how many men and women I catch eyeing you at the office? Hell, the amount of times I’ve caught Morgan eyeing you out of jealousy in the past two weeks and three days alone should be enough proof. That’s not even mentioning how many whispered conversations I overhear in the bullpen from JJ and Emily on what you look like underneath your suit on a weekly basis. JJ, who is perfectly happy in her marriage to Will, and Emily, who hungrily stares at every woman in a short skirt who walks past her desk. Rossi might seem like a neutral party, but anyone can see the smirk he hides in his morning cup of coffee when you open the door for a poor intern as they practically trip over themselves to follow. Garcia doesn’t even need an explanation. And don’t even get me started on the amount of LEOs I’ve caught eyeing you in your vest. It should be downright sinful to look as rugged as you do with your sleeves rolled up, gun in hand, commanding the scene with only a glare.” Spencer chuckled softly, scratching Aaron’s scalp. “That’s not even touching the amount of glazed over faces I spot when you talk. I’m sure you could get almost an entire room of highly decorated officers to do whatever you wanted with a single command. Any deity knows I would comply to your sultry voice in an instant.”

Laughter had rapidly replaced the sobs shaking Aaron’s body. He hid himself against his husband’s chest, covering his blushing cheeks from Spencer’s generous observations. “Spence,” he whined.

“I swear, Aaron, it’s a good thing you're married. Otherwise, you’d have people throwing themselves left and right at you. You’re the perfect male specimen. Hell, even I’m jealous of you, and I’m the one that married you!”

Aaron couldn’t hold back the eyeroll as he peaked out from his hiding spot. He felt his face split into a wide grin before replaying Spencer’s words in his head, his smile faltering. He glanced away, muttering softly under his breath, feeling himself tense all over again.

“Hey, hey. Don’t do that.” Spencer cupped his face with one hand and forced their eyes to meet. “What’s wrong, love?”

A sigh escaped Aaron’s lips before he whispered, “I’m not the perfect male specimen.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Aaron let out a dejected huff. “I’m not the perfect male specimen,” he repeated a little louder. “I can’t even-” His voice cracked. “I don’t have… I couldn’t…” Tears blurred his vision. “Haley had to… Jack isn't even-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Aaron.” Spencer propped himself up on one elbow, still cradling Aaron’s tear-stricken face with the other. “Whatever you’re thinking about stops right now. You, Aaron Thomas Hotchner-Reid, are that boy’s father. No amount of DNA tests or medical insemination procedures with sperm donors can tell you otherwise. You have raised Jack from the very beginning, and you have done it wonderfully. He is growing into such a bright and confident young man because you are showing him how. You are an amazing father, and I know for a fact that Jack wants to grow up to be just like you.”

Whatever argument Aaron had to counter died on his tongue as Spencer leaned down for a soft kiss. There was no heat or alternative motive behind the gesture. It stayed soft and gentle, soothing Aaron’s inner turmoil. Reaching up, he wrapped Spencer in his arms and pulled the man down to his chest, soaking in the love and care from the contact. They laid together, wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing gentle kisses until the last bit of tension left Aaron’s body. After one more press of their lips, Spencer scooted down his body, snuggling into his chest and resting his ear right over Aaron’s now calm heart.

“Now sleep,” Spencer muttered, already half asleep. “You need your energy to ward off all your admirers at the office and to take your husband on an extra long lunch break tomorrow.”

Aaron frowned. “What are we doing that requires a long lunch break?”

He felt Spencer’s sleepy mischievous smile against his chest “You’re going to prove to me just how manly you are.”

“Oh really?” Aaron couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “And how am I going to do that?”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with a few ideas.”

As Aaron kissed the top of his husband’s head and settled in for the night, he couldn’t help but think of all the ways he would prove Spencer right.

[doctahchang]

missed the chance to post this on the father's day but yeah. sometimes i think about the differences between these two communications

[coleopteran-tantalus]

how transmasc they are, from 'ubiquitous perception that is impossible to ignore' to 'way funnier to imagine as cis'

[sharky857]

"Why yall like Hassian so much?"

The title is a half-quote of a question dropped on Palia Discord, and of course my hands started itching.

Not because the question ticked me off.

It's because that simple question alone set my brain on "I will be brief" mode. And the "will be brief" mode is always, without fail, this one:

WIthout further ado, here's my widdle essay, copy-pasted from the notepad file as it was intended to be shared on that server at some point (so if there's any weird self-censoring like "strong dislike", you already know why).

This is gonna be very much spoiler-y in a lot of points, so if you haven't reached max friendship + romance and/or don't like spoilers in general, pls skip this ramble.

That being said…

Having reached max friendship and also romance with Hassian, I see his being overall "cold" (or "sour", as someone else in game would define it) as some kind of psychological defense/self-preservation mechanism.

When you reach enough friendship with him, he will openly confess/admit that it's not like he doesn't like humans, but he is wary of them. He admits to be like that towards anything new/unknown, and humans are, in fact new/unknown to him. He even has a random dialogue where he actually thank you for giving him a chance to know humans better through your (friendship) bonding.

According to other dialogues, Hassian is also seen playing cards with Auni at the inn, and quite often too, apparently. This is met with mixed reactions from a few of the other locals: Reth makes jokes about it, saying that he always thought that Hassian would come at the inn only to see how other people could disappoint him (or something on that line), Nai'o is straight up worried that Hassian could be a bad influence or something on his little brother, and Sifuu has a more indirect line about it, saying that Hassian has a liking/soft spot for animals and children (which gives her a glimmer of hope that her sone, one day, might settle down and start a family). This is a first clue that Hassian is actually a gentle soul.

In regard of Reth's aforementioned remark, I have this feeling that this might have something to do with the way Chapaa are generally viewed by the locals. Everyone sees them as cute & cuddly & fluffy animals (you even have Tish straight up cooing about them, in one of the Maji market-related dialogues), despite how Chapaa have come to be in the valley and the consequences. Hassian will tell you that the Chapaa are not a natice species, but have been introduced at some point by Kenli, with the intentions of breeding them as pets. But the Chapaa at some other point escaped into the wild, where their population started to grow uncontrollably; the fact that they lacked (and still lack, apparently) natural predators means that Chapaa are now an invasive species that need some sort of "pest control" system. But apparently Kenli has been refusing to take any action of sort in this sense because "but Chapaa cute :(" reasons, while every other villager seems to have a similar line of thought about those critters, leading Hassian to take matters into his hunter-hands. This would explain why Hassian seems to look at everyone in disappointment when he drops by the inn.

Another clue that Hassian is more than meets the eye lies in a random dialogue of Auni, when you reach enough friendship with either that child and/or Hassian; our mail boy will kind of break confidentiality with you and tell you that Hassian always gets romance novels delivered from the library all the times. He also says that they are "very mushy stuff", which confirms that Hassian may be actually quite a sensitive person. This trait of Hassian is also confirmed by other things/dialogues. For starters, he writes poetry (or at least he has tried to, at some point), and you can even see some of those writing by yourself in his grove, upon finding a book with torn pages (he didn't rip them btw, it was some Chapaa's fault). At the beginning of that side quest, Hassian will try to deny the book is his, despite... ye know... his name is right there. And at the end of the quest he will asks you not to mention that book to anyone, because he has "a reputation to uphold".

You can also get some more clues upon finding an abandoned letter in one of the camps in Bahari (somewhere in the northern half, more precisely). That letter will also reveal that Hassian and Tamala had a short-lived affair (that letter is also the ultimate reason why I "strongly dislike" Tamala's guts with a passion, for the records).

Tamala and Hassian's story could be also the reason why Hassian is now even more prone to not let his feelings on. According to what I could grasp about this ordeal, one day Tamala spotted Hassian "snooping around" her house (he was just minding his own business, hunting and also selling some stuff). It is unclear which one aprroached the other first, all we know is that Tamala bought a Sernuk rug from him, then asked him to enter her boudoir (aka: her bedroom), unofficially to ask for his opinion on where it could've been placed. Officially… completely unrelated things happened. Tamala never says what, exactly, but the way she tells that bit leaves very little to one's (naughty-naughty) imagination. And apparently, Hassian instantly fell head over heel for Tamala, but it looks like Tamala never made her intentions clear from the very beginning; the whole time, Hassian probably thought that her intentions were serious, while Tamala was in only for "some fun". It is also implied that Tamala herself may ahve pretty much treated him like her personal "toy boy", while Hassian kept on misinterpreting all that as her way of courting a suitor back, to the point that he presented her his own pin; if you romanced anyone in this game, you know what a big and important step this is considered. This is apparently when Tamala finally decided to dump Hassian; her random dialogues say that she broke with him when he tried to talk about a marriage, while Hassian's dialogue (at the end of his max romance quest) seems to add some more details to that, saying something like "I thought you would've come back to throw my pin in my face". Now: think about what a pin signifies, keep in mind what big deal these pins are, now imagine someone straight up throwing said pin back to the sender's face while telling them to pretty much F off and never come back. That ought to cause some damage on an emotional level. Even Sifuu herself, at some point, confesses with you that she was worried that you would "pull a Tamala" on Hassian (not to mention: Sifuu is still also all set on wanting to kick Tamala's rear, after all these years), but she is also glad that, with you, she had been wrong.

As cherry on top, Hassian might have unprocessed childhood trauma, which might lead him to constantly keep his feelings in check (and being awkward when trying to disclose them) as well. At some point we get to know that he had two moms: Sifuu and Taylin. Hassian was clearly more attached to Taylin than Sifuu, and even after all this time the loss of "momma" still stings real bad to him. When Sifuu made him proof-read her own autobiography, Hassian simply flipped because of what he sees as complete lies on how "mother" and "momma" first met, considering that altered story as an insult to Taylin's memory (whereas Sifuu was only trying to spice things up for artistic reasons). Some time after that thing with the book, when Sifuu asks for his help to clear Taylin's belongings, Hassian do agree that they both needed to finally move on and and also tried to help his mother, but soon he found out he couldn't bring himself to do it.

The loss of Taylin could mean that Hassian is now subconsciously "afraid" to love someone as much as he loved "momma", probably fearing to suffer that same pain all over again. And the ordeal with Tamala might have left him extra wary of disclosing his feelings as well, which would all bring us to his aloof and seemingly cold demeanour in game.

[coldresolve]

Hi, I really love your writing and you inspired me to try! I’d like to have someone who would review it for me and I wanted to ask how does one get a beta reader?

if you wanna get technical, ppl posting their stories chapter by chapter online don't have beta readers, they have alpha readers. alpha readers are the ones who give feedback while a story's first draft is still being written, beta readers give feedback after 2nd or 3rd drafts, or immediately prior to sth like publishing

you can ask people you know irl or online if theyd be up for it, thats honestly the easiest route. you can also put out a roll call and see if youve got a few followers who would be up for it. if nobody bites, you can hire beta readers on sites like fiverr. if you have no friends, no followers and no money, try putting up chapters without beta readers, and then put up a roll call once youve gotten a few regular readers. might take some time but hey

for the logistical side of things i'm pretty sure most people just use google docs, but theres a site called betareader.io specifically made for beta reading, which im personally thinkin of using once ive finished the 2nd draft of mm. they've got options for both alpha and beta readers, most features available for free, etc

good luck man :>

[flowerprose]

all respect to anyone who prefers to do it this way; but i will damn myself to a life of front-facing customer service before i ever apply to beta-read or read an arc or be added to a tag list on writeblr or tumblr.com again

[damallarky]

So nothing gets me out of a ten year writer's slump like Dragon Age, apparently. I was going to write a quick character study for my Rook, but then it took a life of its own and turned into a 5000+ word monstrosity.

You can also read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57135346

Anyway, my first fic in ten years. Enjoy!

-

At the Black Swan tavern in Minrathous, an elven man with bright red hair sat on a massive barrel, tuning a lute. At first glance, it would appear that he was entirely engrossed in the instrument. If they paid close attention, however, they would notice his green eyes dart imperceptibly from guest to guest as if taking stock of each person who entered the tavern. 

To be fair, this was exactly what Renan was doing. The Shadow Dragons had been given a tip that the Venatori were having a meeting here tonight. He had been given instructions to keep an eye on them, make a note of how many attended, and if there was anyone there he recognized. 

Ren was good at that, using his talent at the lute, voice, and good looks to get him information, and he used his particular skill set often. Sometimes, he played in chamber halls and ballrooms of the Minrathous elite, and they were goldmines, to be sure. But if he was honest, he preferred the establishments of the working class. One would be surprised at how much information could be gained at the taverns and brothels of the world. 

Even better, Ren was familiar with this particular tavern, having played here countless times before. 

‘See anything good yet, Hope?’ He thought through the bond to his spirit companion, currently flitting between the rafters somewhere. He thought he had caught a glimpse of black feathers once or twice, but he couldn’t be sure. 

‘No. Not yet.’ He heard her say. 

Suddenly, in his mind’s eye, he saw the vision of a mouse cleaning itself on one of the rafters, not noticing the great, winged beast lurking in the shadows a mere foot away.

‘Hope…’, Ren moaned internally, ‘I just fed you.’

‘Well, yes… But I am still hungry.’

‘Well, I don’t want to find puked-up mouse bones on my pillow tonight. Again.'

‘Ugh. Fine.’ Hope grumbled.

Ren could practically feel the eye roll from his companion, and he struggled to keep his face neutral. He was halfway through tuning a string to A when his own stomach began to grumble. He hadn’t had much to eat today, or at all, what little he did have going to fill his daughter Esana’s belly. 

‘Maybe I should catch a mouse for you to eat.’ He heard Hope say. 

‘Thanks, but no…’

‘When was the last time you ate?’

‘In the morning.’

‘Which morning?’

‘…’

‘Renan…’

‘…Yesterday.’

‘RENAN.’

Ren winced against the shrill voice echoing in his head. A man sitting at a table nearby gave him an odd look, to which Ren responded with a sheepish wave.

“Lute strings!” He said in way of explanation. “They don’t make them like they used to.”

The man merely grunted and went back to his tankard. 

‘Look, Hope.’ He said. ‘I promise I will get something to eat tonight after we’re through.’

‘I will hold you to that, Renan.’

The tavern began to fill in earnest as more workers ended their day shift. Amongst the crowd, Ren noticed a group of shifty-eyed men gathering at a nondescript table closer to the back of the bar. It had probably the worst lighting in the entire tavern, but the darkness made it particularly well suited for those who maybe didn’t want to be watched too closely, such as lovers…. Or secretive organizations.

Interesting…

‘Is Esana still in our room?’ Ren asked as he tuned a string to E flat. 

‘Yes,’ came Hope’s reply, ‘She was asleep when I left. Why?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t want a repeat of last time, where she snuck out for an entire hour without anyone noticing after I explicitly told her not to?’

‘Ah, yes. Wherever does your daughter get her complete and utter disregard for authority? It is truly a mystery for the ages.’

Ren couldn’t help but laugh at that. Hope had become quite adept at using sarcasm over the years. 

‘Fair.’ He said. ‘I suppose she does come by it naturally.’

‘What is that mortal saying about apples and trees?’

‘Har har. Alright you made your point.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Ren saw a man walk in that he recognized. The thin, balding man was a Magister, albeit a low-ranking one. Ren couldn’t remember what the man actually did in the Magisterium, exactly, only that it was something asinine.

Asinine or note, that didn’t explain what he was doing here, of all places. The Black Swan was a little too plebeian for most Magisters.

‘Well, well.’ He thought ‘Look who’s slummin’ it up with the rest of us. Interesting.’

‘That is the man in charge of grain tax collection!’ He heard Hope say.

‘He is?’ Ren asked. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I pay attention, Renan.’

‘Oh… Well, I’m glad one of us does…’

Ren’s interest peaked even further as he watched as the magister walk to the back, taking a seat at the table with the group Ren had noticed earlier.

Very interesting…

‘Alright, it looks like the Venatori dinner party has started. Table in the back.’ He said. ‘Let’s get to work, shall we?’           

‘We shall. Good luck, Ren.’

‘You as well, Hope.’

Ren walked up the stairs to the small stage at the front of the bar. With a bright grin, he played the first few notes of the song on his lute and began to sing.

“Oh, come along with me, love.

Come along with me.

Come for one night and be my wife.

And come along with me.”

While still playing the notes to the chorus on the lute, Ren stopped singing to address the crowd.

“Grata! Bienviedo! Welcome good people of Minrathous.” He said. “My name is Rook, and I am here to add a little song to your evening. But enough with the pleasantries! The night is young, and I don’t know about you lot, but I am far, far too sober!”

His grin broadened as the crowd began to laugh and cheer. Ren heard a few of them shout, “Here, here!” and his playing grew stronger as he egged the crowd on further. 

“So, let’s raise a glass,” Ren crowed, “and let the night of drinking and debauchery begin!”

And, with that, he began to sing once more, his voice strong and clear.

“Well it is of a jolly butcher, as you might plainly see,

As he roved out one morning in search of company.

He went into a tavern and a fair girl he did see

And said ‘Come for one night and be my wife,

Oh come along with me!’”

Ren jumped off of the stage and began to weave in and around the tables as he continued his song. 

“He called for liquor of the best

And he made such fortune play

‘Come have a drink, it'll make us think

That it is our wedding day’”

‘I cannot hear them, Renan.’ He heard Hope’s voice say in his head as he played. ‘Distract them so I can fly down and slip underneath their table.’

Ren began to maneuver himself to the back of the bar, stopping every so often to play at another table to make it look less conspicuous. He danced around a waitress as she was carrying mugs of ale, giving her a bright smile that made her blush prettily. Finally, he stopped at the Venatori’s table, placing his foot on the edge of the table top with a thunk. Balancing his lute on his knee while he played, he leaned forward and winked at the Magister, who fumed. So focused were they all at the elf and his sheer audacity, that they didn’t notice the small black figure silently fly down from the rafters, dodge the various foot traffic, and tiptoe underneath the table.

‘I made it, Ren!’ Hope crowed, triumphantly.

Ren beamed at the crowd and continued his song.

“Well, he called for a candle to light their way to bed

And when he had her in the room these words to her he said

‘A sovereign I will give to you for to embrace your charms.’

And all that night, that fair young maid lied in the butcher's arms.

Oh, come along with me, love

Come along with me!

Come for one night and be my wife

And come along with me.

Well, about one year later he went roving out once more,

And he went into the tavern where he'd often been before.

He wasn't in there very long when his fair maid he did see,

And she brought forth a baby three months old and placed it on his knee.”

Some of the crowd began to chuckle as they realized where the song was going. Ren’s playing picked up in volume as he reached the punch line. 

“And when he saw the baby, he began to curse and swear

And he said unto that fair young maid, ‘Why did you bring him here?!’

‘Well, he is your own, kind sir’, she said, ‘Do not think me strange

Well, that sovereign that you gave to me, well I gives you back your change!’”

The crowd burst into raucous laughter, and Ren couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he finished the song.

“Oh, come along with me, love

Come along with me!

Come for one night and be my wife

And come along with me!”

With a flourish he played the last few chords as the crowd’s laughter turned into applause. He gave a bow, and as he stood back up he saw a flash of red dart through the crowd.

“Dammit.” He muttered. 

‘What happened?’ He heard Hope ask. He turned to the crowd.

“Thank you! You have been a wonderful audience!” Ren exclaimed. “Don’t forget to tip your waitresses! If you need me, I’ll be by the bar.”

The crowd quickly went back to their food and drink, and Ren made a beeline for the bar. 

‘I thought you said Esana was sleeping.’ He demanded through the bond. 

‘She was!’ The spirit replied. ‘I thought she was. Oh! But she might have been faking, now that I think about it. The snoring was a bit too loud.’

To which Ren could only groan.

The Maker had to have it out for him. That was the only explanation. 

‘Don’t move, Hope.’ He said. ‘Keep listening in on the Venatori. I want to have something to report back to the Dragons before the night is over.’

“Only one song tonight, Rook?” Asked one of the waitresses, Rosa, as she carried a tray full of food and drink.

“Can’t be helped, Rosa.” He said as he approached the bar. The barkeeper, a jovial older man with a wiry frame and bright eyes named Julius, poured him a glass of water with a knowing grin.

“Loose something?” He asked.

“Ugh.” Was Ren’s articulate response. Julius only laughed as Ren downed the water in one gulp before setting the glass back down on the counter with a thunk.

“You didn’t happen to see which way she went, did you?” Ren asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Aye. She snuck out the back door.” 

“Thank you, Julius.”

“Best of luck, Rook!” 

-

Ren stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air to center himself. He needed to remain calm. Esana couldn’t have gotten far.

In the distance he heard the sound of cheering. Children cheering. He relaxed slightly; he had a feeling whatever was going on, Esana was probably around, if not directly involved.

He followed the sound of cheering until he turned a corner and found himself staring at a veritable horde of children all gathered around a circle. In the middle, playing what looked like a game of bones against an older human boy, was Esana.

“That looks like another game for me!” She exclaimed as she grabbed the copper pieces and put it in her already fairly substantial pile of winnings.

The boy didn’t seem too pleased. 

“That’s not fair!” He cried. “You cheated!”

“How do you cheat at bones, Dax?” One of the other children asked. Dax’s face only grew more red as the other children began to laugh. 

“Yeah, Dax.” Esana taunted as she began to count her winnings. “Don’t be a sore looser.”

“Why you-“

Whatever Dax was about to say was cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the alley. Out of the darkness, a behemoth of a man emerged. He had lank, dark hair that clung to his face and a scar that ran from one side of his neck to the other. He approached the children, most of whom had already scurried away, and sneered at them with yellowing teeth. 

“What do we have here?” The large man asked as he loomed over the children eyeing the pile of money. “You brats got some money for me?”

“No!” Esana cried. “That’s mine!” She stood up, putting herself between the man and the coin. 

Ren could have sworn his heart had stopped beating then, as he watched the giant man loom over his daughter. His daughter, who looked so very small standing in that man’s shadow. Thinking quickly, Ren grabbed a bottle from a nearby drunkard and flicked a coin his way before the man could complain too much.  

“What did you say, little knife ear?” The man sneered as he pulled an out a wicked looking dagger. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson of what happens when pests like you talk back to your betters.”

Esana’s eyes widened as the knife was held merely inches from her face. The man made to grab her, but before he could do anything, Ren staggered out of the darkness as if drunk, practically barreling into the man. He made a show of spilling the contents of his bottle all over the man’s clothes. 

“M’so sorry, serah.” He said, slurring his words together. “It seems I-“ and he hiccuped here for effect “-I can’t seem to hold me liquor! Can’t seem to carry it neither.”

Ren gave his best drunken laugh as he pointed to the almost empty bottle of booze. Predictably, the man took the bait, grabbing Ren by the collar and shoving him hard against the wall. 

“Stupid elf! I should gut you here and now!” 

Too busy threatening him, the man didn’t notice Ren pull on the Fade, summoning flames in his left hand. 

“Gut me?” Ren asked, feigning innocence. “While you’re on fire?”

The man stared at Ren in confusion before bursting into laughter.

“On fire? You must be drunker than I-“

Suddenly, the man let out an inhuman screech as Ren held the flame against the man’s alcohol drenched clothes, quickly setting them ablaze with a satisfying woosh. The man dropped Ren as he tried to quickly strip off his burning clothes.

Ren, for his part, didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing his daughter, he took off running down the narrow alley. 

They had made it almost halfway back to the Black Swan when he stopped to catch his breath. He looked down at his daughter and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Getting down on one knee he began to look her over.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine.” 

Ren nodded. That would have to do. For now, at least.

Together, father and daughter ran the rest of the way back to the Black Swan. When finally they arrived at the back entrance, the adrenaline seemed to leave Ren all at once, leaving him drained. He sank onto one of the large crates nearby, placing his head in his hands as the reality of what almost happened hit him like a druffalo. 

Esana stood there nervously, sensing, perhaps, that she had crossed a line somewhere. 

“Papa, I’m-“

Ren cut her off. 

“Esana,” he began, frustration filling the void where fear and adrenaline once were, “How many times have I told you that you cannot go out at night on your own?”

“I was just-“

“And yet, you continue to deliberately disobey me. And for what? A handful of coin?”

“It wasn’t just a handful…” she muttered. 

Something inside Ren snapped.

“HE COULD HAVE TAKEN YOU!” Ren shouted as he gripped his daughter’s shoulders desperately. “PAWNED YOU OFF AT THE SLAVE MARKET! OR WORSE, HE COULD HAVE KILLED YOU! DUMPED YOUR BODY SOMEWHERE AND I WOULD HAVE BEEN NONE THE WISER. WOULD THE COIN HAVE BEEN WORTH IT THEN? WELL?”

Hot, angry tears streamed down Esana’s face as she pulled herself out of her father’s grip and ran into the tavern. Ren tried to grab her but she was too quick.

“Esana!” He yelled. “Esana get back here!”

Instead, he heard the sound of a door slamming from upstairs, where the guest rooms were. He looked around the tavern and noticed that it was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers who seemed too deep into their cups to notice the elven family drama going on around them. He also noticed a distinct lack of Venatori. They must have left earlier as well. 

Shit.

With a sigh, Ren felt all of the previous anger bleed out of him, leaving him bone-tired. With great effort, Ren dragged himself to the bar, rubbing at his eyes before anyone could see the moisture in them. 

“Julius,” he called, “Can I have another glass of water, please?”

The barkeep popped out from the kitchen, a bowl of something heavenly smelling in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other.

“I’ll do you one better.” He said, setting the bowl, some sort of stew, in front of Ren. “Here, eat. You look like you’re about to keel over where you stand.”

“Julius, you are a gentleman and a scholar.”

“Yes, yes. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Ren took a few spoonfuls before his appetite left him entirely as the monster currently gnawing at his stomach felt more akin to guilt than hunger. He stirred the soup in lazy circles with his spoon, occasionally making a half-hearted attempt at taking a bite before giving up entirely. 

“I need to go talk to Esana.” He said with a sigh.

“Rook, wait…”

Ren looked up and was surprised to see the old barkeep looking at him with eyes full of understanding… and a bit of sorrow.

“I don’t usually tell people this for obvious reasons, but… my father was also a freeman.” He said. “And an elf, too.”

Ren’s eyes widened. A lot of things about Julius suddenly made sense. The slight build, the bright eyes…

The easiness in which he accepted Ren and Esana… 

He looked at the man in a whole new light then, silently wondering how he never noticed the way Julius’s ears tapered to a point, a tell-tale sign of the man’s heritage.

“I’ll be.” Ren exclaimed. “I’d had no idea I was in the presence of a fellow knife-ear. I’ll make you a flower crown. Maybe even show you some of my favorite places to frolic naked in the moonlight.”

“I am quite capable of going to a whore house on my own, thank you.”

Both men burst into laughter, loud enough in the almost empty tavern to draw the attention of the last remaining guests. The confused stares sobered both men up fairly quickly, and Julius continued whatever point he was getting at.

“Before I was born,” he said, “my father had somehow managed to buy his and my mother’s freedom. Never did quite figure out how he managed to pull it off...”

Julius’s eyes grew distant as he stared at something only he could see. After a moment, he blinked, and turned his attention back to Ren. In all the years he had known the man, Ren had never seen an expression so solemn on his face as he did now.

“When I was Esana’s age, I also never… appreciated the sacrifices my father had made for my family. For me... And Maker, there were so many…”

“And you do now?” Ren asked.

“Aye.” Said Julius. “I do now. Very much so. And I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but Esana will too.”

Ren considered the older man’s words as he took a few more bites of his stew. He pushed himself off of the counter and dusted himself off. 

“Thank you, Julius.” He said. “For everything.”

“Anytime, Rook.“

Ren made his way up the stairs and down the hall to where he and Esana were staying. As quietly as he could, he crept in, closing the door behind him. 

They were fortunate enough to stay in a room with two cots this time, an upgrade to their usual fair. He noticed that the cot on the left was occupied by a relatively Esana sized lump buried underneath the blankets. On the desk , underneath an open window, was a rook. It sat atop a wooden perch as it cleaned its feathers with its long, grey beak. 

Hearing the door close, it looked up and flew over to where Ren sat on the empty cot, silently landing on his knee.

“Hey, Hope.” He uttered.

“…Why is your doublet singed?” Was the spirit’s response.

“Good to see you too.”

“Renan…”

Ren looked down at his doublet, his favorite one too, and, sure enough, he noticed singe marks all long the bottom hem. 

And lo, did the Maker say “Fuck this Elf in particular.” He thought.

“I suppose it does not matter. I am sure it can be fixed.” Hope said kindly. Then, through the bond, he heard: ‘Esana was very upset, but she would not tell me what happened.’

‘She decided to pick fights with grown men and then I lost my temper and yelled at her.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Hope climbed up Ren’s arm to perch on his shoulder.

“I think I am going to go out.” She announced. “Stretch my wings for a bit.”

“Have fun.”

Hope rubbed up against his cheek affectionately, nuzzling him much like she had when he was a boy, newly arrived in the Tevinter Imperium and being sold off like chattel.

‘You can fix this.’ He heard her say through the bond. 

With that, Hope flew out the open window and into the warm summer’s night, leaving father and daughter alone to talk. After a minute or two of sitting silently in the dark, Ren spoke.

“I know you’re awake, Esana.” He said. “Can we talk? Please?”

A loud sniffle from underneath the covers was the only response he got. With a sigh, Ren pulled off his boots and set them neatly by his bedside table.

“It’s ok, Esana. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He said as he took off his now singed doublet. “I’ll talk then, ok?”

Ren took a moment to gather his thoughts. He stared down at his hands, looking at the small knicks and callouses from years of playing the lute. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, and let the loose sleeves reveal old scar tissue across his wrists from where too-heavy shackles had rubbed his skin raw years ago. They certainly weren’t pretty, which was part of the reason why he always covered them, but they weren’t the worst of his scars. He knew his back was a gnarled web of lash marks, fifty in total. They still ached from time to time, too…

He made a vow, long ago, that the Imperium would never hurt him, or his loved ones, ever again. And he intended to keep that promise.

“I love you, Esana.” He said, finally. “And I am very sorry that I yelled at you like I did. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

In the darkness, Ren saw two bright blue eyes (her mother’s eyes, he thought distantly) peek out from underneath the covers, watching him warily. Taking that as progress, he continued.

“The truth is, I was scared. What you did was incredibly dangerous. I truly thought that man was going to hurt you, and that terrified me.”

Esana crawled out from underneath the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and refusing to look anywhere but her bare feet. Ren noticed that she was already in her nightgown. She must have changed after she stormed upstairs. 

With a small smile, Ren patted the empty space beside him in invitation. Esana quickly crossed the short distance to sit with her father, but still refused to look up at him, even after he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his side. 

“I just wanted to help.” She said miserably, swiping at her eyes as fresh tears  began to fall. “I thought that if I could earn money like you do, then you would let me join you for once.” 

“Esana…”

“I just wanted to be like you. I’m tired of being treated like a baby.”

Ren tucked an errant lock of red hair behind his daughter’s ear. 

“Esana,” he said, “I don’t need you to be like me. In fact, that’s the last thing in the world I want you to be. And while I appreciate the help, I’m your father. It’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around.” 

“But I want to help!” Esana cried, almost desperately. “I want to be out there, with you!”

Ren chewed his bottom lip as he pondered Esana’s words. He certainly did not want to expose her to the drunks of Minrathous, but he also knew that soon she would be turning thirteen. Too old to stay willingly cloistered away. Maybe he could bring her along every now and then, introduce her little by little to his world in a way where he could monitor her and keep her safe, rather than having her go out behind his back…

Still, he couldn’t help but feel he was missing something. Something important. There was a frantic edge to Esana’s pleading that Ren couldn’t understand. Not for the first time, Ren wished his wife were still alive. Leena would have known what to do. She was good at that sort of thing.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ren began, cupping his daughter’s chin gently, “how about I teach you how to play that spare flute I have? Then, you could play with me. Sometimes.”

Esana stared up at her father with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Sometimes!” He reiterated. “Only the jobs that I think are safe, ok?”

“Really?” she asked, excitement and a strange tinge of something akin to relief shining in her eyes.

“Yes.” Ren laughed. “Really.”

Esana launched herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug which he returned without a thought. 

“I love you, papa.” She said.

“I love you, too, Esana.”

Not long after Ren noticed his daughter’s eyelids grow heavy and her shoulders begin to droop. He chuckled as he watched her try to stifle a yawn.

“Alright little Nuglette, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. To bed with you.” 

“Ok, papa.” Esana murmured sleepily as she crawled back into her own cot. Suddenly, that frantic edge that Ren noticed earlier returned.

“Papa…” she said, “Could I stay in your cot? Until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.” Ren said with a small smile.

Esana quickly scurried from her cot to join her father. She snuggled herself up against him, and he felt her relax as if she had been holding in some sort of tension. 

“Esana,” Ren asked as she tucked herself in the crook of his arm, “Is everything alright?”

Esana hastily nodded, not quite looking her father in the eye. Ren sighed.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

Another nod. 

“Ok. Good night, Esana. Sweet dreams.”

Ren didn’t notice Esana wince at the mention of dreams. He didn’t notice his daughter squeeze her eyes shut, desperately trying not to think of the monsters in her dreams that hounded her, begging her to let them in. 

Instead Ren began to sing softly, voice barely above a whisper as he sang an old Elvish lullaby, one that his own mother sang to him when he was little. It didn’t take long for Esana to drift off into the Fade. No nightmares plagued her this time, safe as she was in her father’s arms and a song promising only pleasant things echoing in her ears. 

For Ren, however, sleep evaded him despite his exhaustion. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t mind and was content to watch the rise and fall of Esana’s chest as his daughter slept soundly, snuggled up against him. Truth be told, he cherished moments such as these because he knew that sooner rather than later, his daughter would grow too old to cuddle with her papa. For now, though, he placed a kiss upon his little girl’s brow and held her as tightly as he could without waking her.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, only that it was near dawn when Hope flew in through the window, the first rays of light gently reflecting off of her feathers, giving them a purplish hue. 

“Morning, Hope.” Whispered Ren as he watched her land on the bedside table. 

“Good morning, Renan.” She whispered back. “I am happy to see you two worked it out.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Ren shifted slightly to face his friend. “You were gone an awfully long time. Did something happen?”

“I ran into Neve Gallius. She would like you to meet her later this evening.” 

“Ah… and what did our favorite Ice Queen want? Did she say?”

“Only that she would like to introduce you to an aquantence of hers. Some sort of… novelist?”

“Of course she does…” Ren murmured tiredly, not really paying attention. 

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the silence of the early morning. Ren was just about to finally drift off to sleep when Hope looked up from where she was preening her feathers and stared out of the window with an unusually concerned expression.

“Renan…” she whispered, so quietly Ren barely heard her. 

“Mmm?”

“There is a storm coming.” Was all she said.

-

Little did Ren know, as he later found himself staring up at the terrifying visages of his Dalish mother's myths, how true those words were about to become. 

[kenniko]

😭🫸

*Chunkz is my face everytime someone says it's wrong to ship real people even though no one cares cause who knows I exist? Not the people I ship- no.*

NO BUT CHUNKZ STEALING SHARKY'S FOOD IS SO MEAN BUT WHOLESOME- LIKE CHUNKZ GIVE YO MAN SOME FOOD HE'S STARVING😭

[the-blue-marshmallow]

How a certain scot made Ghost be Simon for once.

Enjoy geography thoughts (cuz who needs to learn about terrorism right?(certainly not me))

Simon Riley, better known to the living world as Ghost, enjoys his personal space very much. it is his, one of the first and only things in life that are safe from anyone else, thst will never be taken away from him. 

Ghost is protective of his personal space.

 The mask, the gloves, the dark clothes that cover every inch of pale, scarred skin protect him from gazes. Because his personal space isn’t just half a meter of air around him. No. it is Simon, it is his insides, the part of personality he closes off and protects even from glances in fear the wrong pair of hands will harm it. Stain it. Make it not his anymore.

Closed doors, chairs leaned against walls and tactical positions near the doorways are the things that protect Ghost physically. Keeping him safe from people behind him, in front of him, next to him, everywhere. Those are the things that keep him from suffocating just because some unsuspecting rookie is making tea next to him in the kitchen, standing just a little too close for comfort.

So you can probably understand, dear reader, the fear and confusion that wiggles straight through his soul and rips out of hus chest with a choked back laugh. A fear of his own reactions.

Because, damnit, he should noit be letting that damn scot so damn close. He shold not be letting the man stamd behind him, bounce around as the younger man explains some new explosive he made with shampoo and damn toothpaste, sneak into Ghost’s room with a warm cup of tea.

He shouldn’t be letting Soap wiggle into his heart, into his damn soul and mind, occupying every free space in his thoughts and then making room to occupy more. He shouldn't be concerned on missions if the damn walking bomb is okay, if he’s even alive. He shouldn’t be thinking in the evenings if maybe Soap is still in the common area, if he could pull the man outside for a smoke just to escape his insomnia and nightmares.

But here he was, chatting with Soap over comms as the man finished up some solo intel mission. An easy one, of course, but Ghost still needed to hear the man, still needed to reassure himself he was okay.

“What has two legs and bleeds?” Ghost says into the mic and twirls a nail Soap had given him on one of their missions together.

“Ay swear Lt, I’m scared to be scared.” Soap’s voice comes over the headphones Ghost was wearing, sounding exasperated and completely okay.

“Half a dog.”

“Welp, I was right. Tell, Lt, you still got that tea with what was it… Blueberries?”

“Raspberries.”

“There it is. Raspberries. it’s pissin’ it doon ‘ere, i swer. I’ll need some tea or I’ll be sick.”

“Heavens help us, sick Johnny? Sounds like hell.”

Johnny’s raspy laugh came through the comms, sounding more like he was choking.

Simon stands up with a fond little smile, the expression hidden behind his balaclava only for his heart to know about. The man walks to the kitchen by the communal area to reach into one of the cupboards and take out his meticulously hoarded tea.

As the tea brewed and Johnny babbled on and on about chemicals while the helicopter brought him back, Ghost let himself feel a little warm. A little tingly, fuzzy feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He didn’t think Ghost was able to love. Not with all the layers and layers of clothes and protections keeping his insides safe.

But Johnny had a talent for wiggling into spaces he shouldn’t wiggle into. He would find a space, find a crack, and if he couldn’t, he’d make his own with loud jokes and little touches. He’d push his way into Ghost’s soul, through his armour, and make a little nook for himself right next to Simon.

He would remind Ghost to let himself be Simon from time to time. Unlike Ghost, Simon still knew how to love. He knew how to love Johnny, because he already did.

It already was as easy as breathing, even with all the armour constricting his lungs. Because Johnny took the restrictions apart and finally let him *breathe*.