#the merrill sessions

[vaguely-concerned]

merrill dragon age really reverse engineered an eluvian from first principles in a cave with a box of scraps and one single blighted shard. and STILL she gets no respect for it from anyone but potentially hawke, at least in a confused yet well-meaning 'are ya winning son' sort of way on the friendship path. dark days for women in STEM

(really though it seems the equivalent of a person in the middle ages putting together a nokia phone from rocks and sticks (and one coaching session from a spirit, fair enough) and then just not being able to figure out how to turn it on even though it is fully functioning. magically at least merrill is inarguably a genius. the tony stark of kirkwall. well not really that comparison falls apart pretty quickly but you see what I'm saying here lmao)

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3

Six months earlier:

“JUMP!” Azriel called, his voice echoing over the screaming wind. Gwyn didn’t think, didn’t let herself do a damn thing other than follow his instructions. Leaping in the air and wishing she had wings, Gwyn cleared the gap in the obstacle course he’d laid out for her, Nesta, and Emerie. She wanted to clear it first, too competitive for her own good. What else was new? Azriel had agreed to help her maneuver it privately outside of her regular training, which meant they were often out late, just as the sun began to settle.

Gwyn had other responsibilities, too. Responsibilities to the females in the library, to Merril, to her friends. And maybe it was nice, for once, to be so exhausted she didn’t have to think about anything but life moment to moment. Here, all Gwyn had to think about was her pumping legs, her swinging dagger, and not getting her ass kicked by a five hundred year old Illyrian warrior. 

Gwyn landed hard enough to make her knees scream in protest. 

“GET UP!” Azriel roared, his location hidden to her. Bastard, she thought privately. Cassian had warned Nesta, who in turn had warned Gwyn that Azriel was a hard bastard but she hadn’t believed them. Sure, he was demanding but she expected that. They’d worked privately before with daggers and he’d been reasonable enough.

But out here in the mountains, shielded from the other Illyrian warriors and his friends, Azriel was brutal. Miserable, too, not that she’d admit that. She could have walked away after her first failed attempt with him but part of her thought maybe she deserved this.

He ran her harder than anyone else. Even Cassian looked at her—and the other priestesses—with a mixture of pity and admiration. Sometimes Gwyn resented that. Everyone knew by virtue of where she chose to live, made worse by the fact that it had been the High Lords inner circle who’d found her that day. They all knew the very intimate details Gwyn would have preferred stayed locked away.

But if Azriel ever thought of them, he didn’t show it. And he never looked at her with anything but grim determination…and maybe a little disappointment. That was better than pity, though.

Anything was better than pity. 

So Gwyn got up, just as Azriel demanded, and made her way toward the spelled dummies that would try and wound her. She bore bruises from the last session, though no gashes. She was ready this time, prepared to take on these enchanted warriors that had no wants other than to see her dead.

They could just get in line, she thought grimly. Reaching for the dagger strapped at her thigh, Gwyn ducked, narrowly avoiding a brutal slice along the cheek. It was muscle memory to jab just between the ribs, forcing her wrist up without twisting so hard she broke it.

“Good,” Azriel murmured from the shadows. High praise from him. “Again.”

Gwyn did, disabling the second, and then the third. It was the fourth that always stopped her. When Cassian had told them of the obstacle course, grinning proudly at his own ingenuity, he told them Rhys had spelled the phantom warriors to seem life-like. And though she knew the High Lord couldn’t possibly know and would have rearranged his enchantment if she’d ever told him so, that last warrior had the same eyes as the Hybernian soldier. The same shade of dark, depthless blue that Gwyn still saw when she closed her eyes. This was where she always failed and where she was going to fail again.

“KILL HIM!” Azriel yelled, clearly frustrated when she slowed. Gwyn couldn’t, though. She hesitated, lowering her weapon and like always, received a punishing blow to the gut.

This is what I deserve, she thought as that sword raised over her. Gwyn closed her eyes, prepared for the death blow that she knew wasn’t coming. Heavy boots landed just in front of her, and with a wave of his gloved hand, the enchanted warrior fell to the ground like a lifeless puppet.

Azriel turned, hazel eyes sharp. “What happened?” he demanded. 

Wiping the sweat at her forehead, Gwyn ignored him when he tried to help her to her feet. “I’m not cut out for this,” she said defensively. 

Azriel’s wings tightened against his back, blue siphons flashing a warning. He was irritated with her.

“You were making record time and then you stopped. Why?”

“Take me back,” she replied, refusing to look at him.

“Why, Gwyn?”

Resentment bloomed in her gut. Because I should have died that day—not Catrin. Because I’m here but I feel stuck, because my life was stolen and— “Take me back.” He sighed loudly, though whatever he wanted to say remained leashed behind his teeth. Shadow enveloped them both—cool and reassuring, like lapping waves rising to meet the shore. Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut tight, grateful when she heard Azriel’s boots clipping over the roof.

“Get your shit together, Berdara,” Azriel grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it, talk to someone else or you’re never going to finish.”

“I’m a Carynthian, aren’t I?” she dared to say, safe beneath a dusky violet sky. “Maybe that’s enough.”

He turned, those eyes flashing like burning coals. “Luck—not skill,” he replied, his voice colder than the mountains they’d just come from. “Luck won’t always save you.”

Gwyn’s nostrils flared. She knew he was right, knew she, Nesta, and Emerie had survived because they’d had each other. Just as she knew there would come a time when they didn’t. And Gwyn knew all too well what it was like to be alone.

To be defenseless. 

Azriel swallowed, throat bobbing ever so slightly. There—right there, she saw it. His hesitation, his concern. Something pulled in her chest, some muscle she was unfamiliar with. “Don’t,” she snapped, furious that of all the people she knew, he would dare. “You know it's hard.”

“Not for you,” he replied flatly. “You could get to the ropes if you wanted to.”

The pity was gone in his eyes, though the feeling in her chest was not. Gwyn wanted to rub at her chest to ease whatever was building though she kept her hands tightly coiled at her side. “I’ll get it.”

Azriel cocked his head for a moment, wind blowing against the blue black of his hair. “We’ll see.”

He turned, leaving her standing on the roof alone in favor of unfurling his mighty wings and taking off toward the Sidra. Gwyn didn’t watch him go, though she did wait to scream softly from behind her teeth, a wordless sound that didn’t help anything at all.

Gwyn didn’t know how to forget those eyes, and if she couldn’t forget, what did that mean for her? What did that say about the centuries of life stretched before her? Why couldn’t she kill him? Gwyn had thought of nothing else for so long, and now, confronted with the memory in a visceral way, Gwyn merely stood there waiting to die.

Just like before.

She turned for the door, intending to make her way to the library where she’d read until she was too exhausted to think. Her bones screamed in protest, aching from training that afternoon and obstacle course Azriel had spent the last hour running her through. Up the hilly mountainside, coatless in the cold, as she navigated a treacherous plank walk, moving targets, and steep drops that could kill her if she wasn’t careful. 

And then lines and lines of warriors. Gwyn had never managed to get past the first line. Carythian meant nothing if she couldn’t fight. Azriel was right about that. Luck had saved her twice, but it wouldn’t save her again. She knew that like she knew herself.

Yanking open the door, Gwyn took a step, still uneasy from the building pressure in her chest. She took a breath, inhaling  that feeling until it settled into something soft. She swallowed it whole, refusing to acknowledge it entirely.

She had other things to think about.

Present day:

“Berdara!” Cassian’s voice echoed over the rooftop, pulling Gwyn from her thoughts. She’d been half asleep in the middle of a cooldown. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

No. “Yes,” she lied, hating the way her cheeks burned from embarrassment. Beside her, Nesta glanced over curiously while Emerie mouthed, you okay? 

“C’mon,” Cassian said, hands crossed over his chest. “Finish your leg.”

Yeah, yeah. Gwyn leaned forward, pressing her cheek to her knee to stretch out her aching, sore muscles. She’d been withdrawn lately and everyone had noticed. Across the training ring, she felt Azriel’s curious gaze puncturing her leathers though she didn’t look at him at all. Gone were the days when he gave her private lessons.

She’d walled herself off to him—to everyone, really. Even then, as Cassian dismissed them, Gwyn was quick to her feet in an effort to avoid Nesta and Emerie. That was easy enough when Cassian immediately intercepted his mate with a lopsided grin on his face. She could slip toward the door, quick as a shadow, and began the trek to the library. 

“Gwyn!”

That was Emerie, though Gwyn could pretend she didn’t hear it when the door slammed shut. Again. This was easier, she lied, though in truth it took an immense amount of effort to smile at her friends only to dodge them later on.

Why keep going at all? Why not bow out and return to Merril full time? The priestess certainly would have appreciated Gwyn undivided attention and Gwyn could have slowly faded from her friend’s minds.

It was too painful to imagine not having Nesta and Emerie, and worse to admit that despite everything, she was still locked in the past. Trapped in a hell not of her own making, sealed in tight all the same. Nesta and Emerie were doing better, but Gwyn felt worse somehow in ways she couldn’t explain, not even to herself.

It was easier to just avoid it entirely, which meant avoiding her friends, too. 

Gwyn made it back to the library in record time, ignoring the same curious looks she always got when she came in wearing the Illyrian leathers the High Lady had gifted her. An entire set, along with knives far nicer than anything Gwyn could have ever imagined.

For saving my sister, she’d written in looping, elegant script. Gwyn had them locked in a chest at the end of her bed, too pretty and priceless to use. Azriel had given her some cast-off, dinged up and battered that Gwyn still favored.

Like me, she thought as she closed herself behind the round, wooden door of her bedchamber. She took just one breath, back pressed to the wall, and then began pulling at the clasps of her clothes. For now, she left them in a heap on the obsidian floor, marching herself toward a standing mirror so she could survey the damage.

She wasn’t eating well again, evidenced by the lines from her ribcage visible just beneath her skin. Bruises dotted her flesh—some fading green while others were a fresh, vibrant violet. She took pleasure at the sight of them against her shoulder blades and spine. 

Another breath took her to the blue robes she wore in the library. They fit, hanging just looser than she would have liked, but well enough. Gwyn ignored the evoking stone crumpled on her vanity, taunting her on a beam of buttery sunlight. 

She made her way back to the door, thinking only of Merril and her research.

“Em,” she said when she pulled open the door to reveal the Illyrian female on the other side. “Hi.”

“You’re avoiding me. Us,” she added, though Nesta was nowhere to be seen. That was the only positive. If Nesta realized Gwyn was dodging them, she’d follow Gwyn around with that stubborn, single-minded determination of hers. 

“I’m not—”

“Don’t,” Emerie replied, tucking her wings in tight. Not like Cassian and Azriel did in an effort to make themselves seem smaller and less threatening, but to help her fit through the rather low door without banging her already broken wings against the frame. 

Gwyn stepped back, dress swishing around her legs as she went. 

“What’s going on?” Emerie asked, the door clicking softly behind her. “You don’t come out to the mountains anymore. Nesta cleared it yesterday.”

Of course she did. Once, they’d wanted to revive the Valkyrie. Gwyn was supposed to be researching the ancient legion lost to Hybern but found the whole thing too personal, too close to home. 

“Merril is running me ragged,” she said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Emerie took a seat on the edge of Gwyn’s bed, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m too distracted to focus.”

And Azriel doesn’t like you anymore. 

She shook that thought off, well aware it wasn’t true. And even if it was, Cassian still did. He would have taken her to the obstacle course if she’d asked him to, even without Nesta or Emerie. He’d have done so gladly, would have walked her through the entire thing.

“Come with me,” Emerie pleaded, leaning forward to grab Gwyn’s hand. “Please, Gwyn. None of this means anything if you go back to the library.”

“Of course it does,” she replied blithely, slapping what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face. 

There was no lying to Emerie, though. She was too shrewd, too used to people looking her in the eye and telling her half-truths. Narrowing her pretty brown eyes, Emerie said, “I’ll send Nesta down.”

And Nesta would pick and pick and pick until Gwyn was nothing but open wounds and bleeding scars. Nesta knew how to get to the heart of someone with only a look, and needed no magic to see straight into Gwyn’s soul. She’d know…and Gwyn couldn’t stand to see any more pity.

“Okay,” she said, unable to hide how tired she was. “Is Cassian taking you?”

“Morrigan,” Emerie said, a curious blush staining her cheeks. “The High Lord has called Azriel and Cassian Velaris tonight and before you ask, no I don’t know why. Nesta didn’t either…you’d know that if you weren’t dodging us.”

“I—”

The look on Emerie’s face stilled the bubbling lie. 

“Tonight, just before sunset,” Emerie said, rising from her place on Gwyn’s bed. “And…I know you don’t want to hear this, but you could tell us, you know. 

Shame rose in Gwyn’s throat, a familiar sensation as of late. Disappointing her friends was new, though. Pushing them away would be a different sort of hell—a miserable hole she’d never dig herself out of. 

“There is nothing to tell,” Gwyn whispered, unable to meet Emerie’s gaze. She heard her friend sigh, heard the whispering of her wings as she walked back to the door.

“I used to say the same thing, once.”

She was gone when Gwyn looked up, the door wide open. In the hall, all Gwyn saw were shadows blotting out the sunlight from the peaked windows at the very end. As she left, Gwyn was careful to avoid them entirely, fingers skimming the wood walls as she went. 

Pieced together, step by step, Gwyn didn’t dare allow herself to turn and look behind her. Even when she felt those every present, curious eyes on her. 

Keep moving. 

AZRIEL:

Drumming his fingers against the wood, Azriel forced himself not to stand though he very much wanted to. All eyes on him, even when he would have preferred to be little more than shadow. That wasn’t possible with his brothers, both of whom were discussing the return of Morrigan. She was with Nesta up at the House of Wind, taking her and Emerie to the obstacle course rather than Cassian.

Azriel wanted to be anywhere but here. Rhys droned on, talking of this problem and that, all cloaking what he truly wished to say.

Are you well, brother? 

Cassian, too, kept cutting sly glances his way. Azriel didn’t want to think about Morrigan, let alone speak about her. It was too complicated and Azriel didn’t do complicated. Too messy, too much still unsaid. Having her away had almost been a relief. Azriel could pretend, as he too often did, that there was nothing there at all.

Because there wasn’t. Mor had been making that abundantly clear for years. Centuries, even. And still Azriel couldn’t resist the pull toward her, certain it must be an unsnapped mating bond. He’d told himself a million times that she felt it too and it scared her enough to stay away, but somewhere around the time Feyre arrived, and then Nesta, and finally Elain, Azriel had begun to suspect it wasn’t a bond at all.

And if it wasn’t a bond, it meant there had never been anything between them at all. Only his own hopes, all pinned on one female who didn’t want him. 

“Az?” 

Rhys’s voice cut through his thoughts. Azriel glanced up at his brother, his friend, heart thudding in his throat, silently waiting for Rhys to repeat what he’d said.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes,” he lied. Rhys clocked him immediately, violet eyes pulling at the corners. Cassian rose from his seat in the study, striding toward the fireplace mantle just behind Azriel. Only his brothers could move around him like that, though it still made Azriel jumpy. 

“So you’ll go, then?”

“Of course,” he replied evenly. That was his job—spying, gathering information, torturing when he needed to, stealing when he didn’t. 

“If Mor can’t charm them, we’ll let Azriel do things his way,” Rhys said with a sharp toothed grin. “Though, I would like to have someone at court, if I could. Nesta, perhaps—”

“Not Nes,” Cassian interjected, his voice tight. “She’s training new priestesses.”

And Cassian couldn’t stand the thought of his new mate running off to Montessere with Azriel for the Cauldron knew how long. A pang of longing slammed against his ribs, burning colder than any hatred he’d ever felt. Azriel wanted what Cassian and Rhys had and was beginning to suspect he didn’t because he was wholly unworthy. The mother had looked around, taken stock of him, and decided he was the kind of creature that deserved to be alone. 

“What about Elain?” Cassian continued, unaware of how stiff both Rhys and Azriel got. Azriel’s eyes flicked toward Rhys, hands braced against his neatly organized desk. Behind him, Feyre watched them all with imperious blue eyes, warning them not to give Rhys too much grief. 

“No,” Azriel said, careful to keep his voice measured. Better to not let Cassian realize that was still a sore spot between he and Rhys. “She’s too…”

Rhys watched him, drumming his fingers along the desk just as Azriel had been doing only moments before. Azriel sighed. “She’s a distraction.”

That wasn’t a lie, at least. Elain wasn’t the spying type and was likely to shrink away when she realized what it would take to extract the information Rhys wanted. There was wisdom in installing someone at court, though—it gave him access to the palace itself, allowed him to move through the halls freely without skulking when everyone was asleep, and would legitimize him. Otherwise he’d be in trees and up in the clouds, constantly slipping about, hiding and stuffing himself into too-small nooks and crannies. 

“Gwyn, then,” Cassian interrupted, his voice assured. Azriel twisted on the cream sofa, brows furrowed. Gwyn was all but checked out at training and last he’d heard, refusing to go back to the obstacle course. He gave her another month before she returned to the library full time, abandoning her quest to embody her Carynthian title. 

She certainly had stopped seeking him out for help, and Azriel knew better than to offer it. Whatever was going on with her was none of his business which she’d made abundantly clear the last time they’d spoken. 

“The priestess?” Rhys questioned, straightening his spine. 

“She’s stealthy,” Cassian began, eyes bright. “A good fighter and unassuming. Sending Az to protect a priestess wouldn’t be unusual, either.”

“Mor was just there,” Rhys reminded them, though it was clear he was considering this absurd plan. “They’ll know we’ve changed tactics.”

“Mor was there as emissary. They said they wanted an exchange of knowledge. Who better to send than a priestess working in the High Lord’s library? She can say it’s a show of good faith, and since she’s not trained as a courtier, she’ll come off earnest rather than practiced like Nesta or Elain would.”

Rhys looked to Azriel, who shook his head. “She’s too unpracticed and I don’t have time to babysit her.”

Cassian scoffed, walking away from the crackling fire toward the set of chairs on the opposite end of the coffee table. “Then call Lucien.”

Azriel’s lip curled over his teeth. Looking up at Rhys, he waited for the High Lord to tell Cassian that was an awful plan. Lucien was their emissary to the humans and if anyone was a court trained bastard, it was Vanserra. 

“Not everything needs to be a suicide mission, Az,” Rhys began, sensing Azriel’s rising temper. “And I want someone at court. So you can take the priestess or I suppose we could call Vanserra and send him with you.”

“Are those my only options?” Azriel demanded, flaring his nostrils as he attempted to leash his anger. 

Rhys ran his tongue over his teeth. “For now.”

Fuck. 

“Gwyn, then,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. She was tolerable, at least. Better than tolerable when she wanted to be and more importantly, unrelated to a Vanserra. “If you don’t trust me to do this on my own.”

“Of course I do,” Rhys replied evenly, refusing to take the bait. “The situation is delicate—if we’re caught, they’ll turn their backs to us completely. I want to know everything. If Beron has made them promises, if they’re thinking of aligning with Koschei…if they even know of Koschei.”

“It’ll be good for her,” Cassian added softly, letting his concern show over his features. “All Nesta talks about is how withdrawn Gwyn has become.”

“Assuming she even agrees,” Azriel replied indifferently. Rhys’s plan hinged on one of his traumatized priestesses agreeing to fly across the continent with a male she just barely trusted. Gwyn would say no, Azriel would return to Rhys and—

“If she doesn’t agree, Vanserra will go,” Rhys interrupted, reading Azriel’s thoughts plainly. “And the two of you will have to work together.”

“We’ll kill each other,” Azriel replied, rising to his feet. “If I don’t kill him first.”

“Why do you hate him?” Cassian asked.

Azriel didn’t dare reveal the real reason. Didn’t dare admit he hated Lucien not because he was part of Beron’s brood, or for what he’d allowed to happen to Feyre or even how he’d supported Tamlin all those years—but because a Vanserra was somehow worthier than Azriel. Lucien had a mate.

Lucien. 

And if Vanserra’s could be granted mates but not Azriel, it meant everything his father had ever said about him was true. Everything Rhys’s father had believed about him—true.

And every private insecurity he held was true, too. 

Rhys knew it. Without peering into his mind, Rhys somehow still knew. And Azriel resented his friend for knowing this thing, even if Rhys had never once used it against him, or even mentioned it at all. 

“What reason do I need to hate a Vanserra?” Azriel replied, turning his back on them both. Cassian sucked in a breath while Rhys chuckled—the sentiment was well-echoed. Lucien was allowed because Feyre loved him and Elain hadn’t broken their bond. He was useful, a tool and little else and Azriel was looking forward to the day Elain did break the bond, if only to see him suffer as Azriel did. 

“You’ll have this conversation with Gwyn?” he asked, halting at the door. It would be better coming from Rhys or Cassian than Azriel, who didn’t know how to approach her without making it seem like he was trying to kidnap her. 

“I will,” Rhys murmured, his eyes flickering with what looked like pity. Gwyn would hate that. Azriel hated it on her behalf, too. He nearly told his friend to wipe that look off his face, to keep the guilt from sounding in his voice. Rhys would figure it out, though, and Azriel truly didn’t have the capacity for that conversation.

Not when Elain Archeron breezed down the hall in a loose, lilac dress. Scenting of lavender and honey and something that made his insides slick with shame—the mating bond, the same he could scent whenever Nesta or Feyre were around.

Not that it mattered. Elain refused to acknowledge him at all, pathetically petty even if it was deserved. He disliked her cold shoulder, how she kept her eyes firmly ahead, arms filled with pretty pink hydrangeas she’d arrange for Feyre’s dining table. 

He stood there, ignoring Cassian and Rhys’s chatter behind him, waiting for her to pass. Even though she refused to look, he still inclined his head as a show of respect. Whatever might have happened between them had always been doomed from the start. Azriel had known it and hadn’t cared—he knew he was just as much a distraction to her and she was to him. 

Pink bloomed over her cheeks, though whether that was embarrassment or shame, Azriel didn’t know. Didn’t care to figure out, either. He waited until she vanished around a corner, a door slamming just a little too loudly, before he made his way behind her. 

Azriel slipped into the darkness, careful not to make a sound. He could still hear Cassian and Rhys talking softly, their voices a low hum in the back of his skull. In front of him, the city was a symphony of sound, illuminated by the twinkling stars overhead and floating fae lights. Velaris was alive, waking with the setting sun but Azriel was still a phantom, hidden in the dark.

Just as he’d always been.

Flaring his wings, he made his way toward the House of Wind where he’d try–and fail—to sleep. Maybe he’d run the obstacle course himself, venting his frustrations until he was too exhausted to stand. Azriel landed on the roof just as the thought occurred to him that he might drink himself into oblivion. It wasn’t his favorite, though it got the job done.

Maybe vent his frustrations into a willing, warm body. He twisted, looking back at the dotted lights of Velaris when— “Az?” Fuck fuck fuck.

Azriel turned, heart racing at the sight of Morrigan. He hadn’t spotted her—had been too distracted. He could scent sweat, and the smells of Nesta and Gwyn still lingering in the air. Mor must have just brought them back. 

He dipped his chin, unsure what to say. That had sent Elain scurrying away—perhaps Mor would leave, too. She certainly seemed like she wanted to, brown eyes apprehensive as she watched him. She wore a nice pair of dark pants, her white shirt tucked in neatly, and though there was a blade strapped against her back and her blonde hair was half falling from a braid, she was still stunning. 

And not his. Never his. 

“Do you live up here now?” she asked when the silence stretched thinly between them.

“Yes,” he admitted. 

“Silence finally got to you, huh?” she teased, offering him a half smile. Azriel couldn’t return it because that would make him too hopeful. He shrugged, turning back to Velaris though he knew now he couldn’t leave. Not until she did, at any rate. And then…and then. 

She took a cautious step toward him. “Az, I—”

“You don’t—” he swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as he worked to compose himself. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She came closer, still. “Will you take me back?” she asked him and Azriel, stupid and foolish, couldn’t tell her no. Mor came within touching distance for the first time in years, the sweet, soft scent of her washing over him. 

He kept himself rigid as she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing himself to wrap one arm around her waist before he kicked off into the sky. There was nothing but cool air here, and the warmth of Mor’s body pressed against his own.

“We were friends, once,” she murmured as Azriel soared overhead, taking a roundabout way so she could say whatever it was she so clearly needed to say. “What happened to us?”

I’m in love with you and I can’t let it go. You don’t love me and you never will.  

He didn’t respond, choosing to just hold her for what he knew would be the last time. When he set her back to the ground, it would all be over and Azriel would have to move on somehow. To continue would be a betrayal of their family, would destroy them all. In a way, Azriel was suddenly grateful for some space to untangle his messy emotions.

“Is there someone else?” he finally forced himself to say. To just admit that he wanted her, even if it went against every instinct in his body. 

“Yes,” she replied, fingers brushing beneath his chin so he had to look at her. “And if I ever could have loved a male, it would have been you.”

Azriel blinked. “What…?” She’d had male lovers before—many, by his recollection. Helion, Cassian, several Summer courtiers, that male from Dawn…

Mor swallowed. “You know how my father is,” she forced herself to say, eyes jewel bright. “I think, even now, I’m scared to disappoint him. To admit what I really want. Who I want. And even though Rhys would shield me, that fear is potent and pretending is easier, even if it costs me you. I want you to be happy, Az. And I could never make you happy, just like you couldn’t make me happy. You like females…and so do I.”

“Oh,” he breathed, the air leaving him in a rush. Five centuries of questions were suddenly answered. Mor’s lips ghosted over his jaw, feather soft and sweet, just like he’d always imagined. It didn’t lessen the pain, nor did it erase the love he felt for her. But it did explain her avoidance, her caution, her unwillingness to get close. 

“You ah…” Fuck, he didn’t know what to say. “You never needed to hide that from me. From us,” he added hastily. 

Mor turned to look out at the city they were fast approaching. “We all have our secrets. Right, Az?”

He began to descend, the muscles in his back flexing from the effort to keep himself slow. He wanted to drag this moment out, to stretch the intimacy between them for another moment. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised her, boots touching the cobblestone streets before her own did. Mor slipped from his grip, shaking out her hands nervously until he reached for her face. She didn’t shy away this time, nor did she flinch as she’d done so often in the past. There was a new understanding between them, a different sort of thread. It wasn’t, he supposed, that he was unworthy of her.

Just that she couldn’t love him the way he’d loved her. The thought eased the ache in chest, though only marginally. She’d never be his mate. He could move on if he wanted. Find someone else.

If he wanted.

Brushing his thumb over her cheek, Azriel lowered his face like he’d so often dreamed of, and gave her the same soft kiss against her cheek. “You deserve to be happy,” he whispered so softly only she could hear. “I want that for you.”

Her eyes seemed to burn like the stars above them. Lovely, lively Mor. His Mor, though not how he’d imagined. But his friend, all the same—and the only person she’d entrusted with this secret. 

“Thank you, Az. You deserve that, too. I know you’re going to find it.”

He forced a strained smile, dipping his head in agreement. She stepped out of his embrace, turning for the city.

“Join me at Rita’s?” she asked hopefully.

Azriel didn’t look behind him. He still had one night of freedom. He could still drink himself into oblivion.

“Let’s go.”

[haze-phobia]

my dnd character

Merrill

i love her so much. She is a Tengu bount hunter Swashbuckler and her bird features are based on the Bataleur Eagle. The campaign is based on pathfinder 2E and so fare we have done our session 0 and tbh it was so fun.

pls no yoink

[anthrologies]

In Safe Hands

summary: Azriel teaches Gwyn how to throw a knife, and notices that he isn't the only one with flaws.

Read it on AO3

word count: 1,099

notes: just a quick thing based on an idea I had that Az is insecure about his hands until he sees that Gwyn's hands aren't perfect either.

Silver moonlight illuminated the training ring at the top of the House of Wind. Azriel sat, polishing a knife while he waited for the priestess to arrive for their private training session. 

They’d be practicing with the knives this evening. She’d asked for the private session after having some trouble with her aim during a recent group exercise. Her throws were forceful, but inconsistent.

Azriel looked down at the blade as he ran the polishing cloth over it. Watched his scarred hands as they moved back and forth, back and forth. He twisted the blade, just slightly, to work it at a new angle, and caught his reflection in the metal. He found his own hazel eyes staring back at him. His face was serious. Hard. 

Another swipe of the cloth, and his face disappeared.

Azriel felt a tug at his shoulders and looked up from the blade. His shadows were pulling towards a door – towards the stairs that led to the House and the Library beneath it. Seconds later, it opened. A copper-haired female, dressed in Illyrian training leathers, emerged from the dark. Her teal eyes twinkled.

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said. “Merrill had me digging through stacks for hours looking for some obscure title.”

Azriel stood as she approached him. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said.

Gwyn set down her skin of water and began to swing her arms, warming her muscles. “Is that the knife I’m going to practice with?” she asked, jutting her chin towards the blade he held.

“It’s one of them,” he purred, one corner of his lips pulling upward.

Gwyn’s eyes flashed mischievously. “Can’t wait to see the others,” she said.

They moved through their warm up exercises – fewer than they might normally do in a morning training session, and with more focus on shoulder mobility for throwing. 

“Ready to begin?” Azriel asked. Gwyn nodded. “Alright, let’s start with you showing me how you normally throw a blade,” he said. Gwyn lifted a knife from the small table beside them where a selection of sharpened blades lay. She turned the handle over in her hand, studying it, and then settled her fingers in a firm grip. She took a few steps forward and turned her gaze toward a target that Azriel had set at the far end of the ring. She steadied her eyes, pulled her arm back, and then –

The knife flew from her hand and shot through the air, a bolt of silver steel glistening in the starlight.

It connected with the target, lodged firmly in the canvas and wood. In the second ring from the edge, left of the bullseye. Gwyn huffed in frustration.

“It always goes left but I swear I’m throwing straight,” she said, her teeth gritted. Azriel nodded.

“I want to take a closer look at your grip,” he said. “Pick up another and just hold it, however you normally do.” Gwyn followed his direction, selecting another knife and curling her fingers around its handle.

Azriel took a step towards the priestess, so close now that his chest grazed her back. He could feel the heat radiating from her body as he gently touched her hand, raising it so he could take a closer look.

Azriel slowly wrapped his fingers over hers, finding a grip on the handle of the blade that she held. He waited for her to flinch, to pull away – to have some reaction to his touch. But she didn’t move. Didn’t so much as flex a muscle. She only looked at him expectantly, waiting for his instruction.

He paused for a second to survey her hand, to see how it looked beneath his own gnarled skin. 

For training purposes, he told himself.

Gwyn’s skin was pale, and soft to the touch. Her palms were small and calloused, he knew, from wielding a sword during their training sessions. His gaze moved towards her fingers, his eyes gliding over the first knuckle, the second. But where Azriel expected to see her fingers taper to soft points, he instead found short, blunt fingernails, their edges jagged. The skin around the nails was red and raw, marked with small pin pricks of dried blood. He felt his eyebrows pull together.

“Your hands are bloody,” he said without thinking.

Gwyn yanked her hand from beneath his grip. “No, they’re not,” she retorted. She sheathed the blade in her belt and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

Azriel laughed. “Yes, they are,” he said.

Gwyn scowled at him. “I thought we were here so I could learn how to throw knives better, not to criticize my personal grooming habits.”

“I’m sorry,” Azriel stifled another chuckle, trying not to make her feel insecure. “Really.” He took a deep breath, schooled his face into neutrality. “I didn’t mean to criticize, I was just surprised to see it.”

Gwyn held his gaze, her eyes stern, but she sighed. “I bite my nails.” She said it like she was confessing a sin. “I don’t realize I’m doing it, most times. Just while I’m reading in the library. Sometimes if I’m nervous about something. It’s a bad habit.”

Azriel nodded. An absent-minded, anxious tic. He tried not to imagine what may have made her nervous today.

Gwyn cocked her head to the side, her brows raising in challenge. “Do you have any more questions about my shameful secrets, Spymaster, or are you ready to teach me how to throw a knife?”

Azriel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “Show me your grip again.”

She pulled her hands from her pocket and wrapped one around the handle of the blade once more. And, just as he had before, Azriel wrapped his own hand over hers.

He let himself enjoy it, just for a split second. The image of their imperfect hands intertwined on the handle.

“This is good,” he said. “But you’ll have an easier time if you move your thumb like this.”

He demonstrated the adjustment, and she followed.

A short time later, their lesson was finished. Gwyn had nearly mastered the new techniques Azriel showed her, consistently throwing shots that would be deadly on a battlefield. She’d returned to the Library, and Azriel worked to finish tidying the training ring. 

She’s a fast learner, he thought as he racked the knives they’d used. Emotion flashed through him – pride, and then… regret. Azriel paused as his mind trailed, chasing that errant thought.

He wished that she wasn’t so quick to learn, he realized.

So that they might be able to spend more time together.

[beardedmrbean]

A creeper confesses to his bishop. He’s raping his 5-year-old daughter.

For seven years, the bishop tells no one outside his church – remaining silent, as a church lawyer advises him to do – and the abuse continues. Then the creeper starts raping another daughter, just six weeks old.

Last week, a Cochise County judge dismissed a lawsuit brought by several of the creeper's children against The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

It’s galling, though not surprising, that a judge would decline to hold the church responsible. While Arizona has a mandatory reporting law for teachers and doctors and such, members of the clergy are not required to report a confession that a child is being abused.

What is shocking – stunning, really – is that a key state legislator won’t even consider changing the law to carve out an exemption that might have protected that 5-year-old girl, her sister and God only knows how many other children.

Rapist's rights trump those of his victim

“The seal of confession is a sacred, sacred part of the Catholic church,’’ Rep. Quang Nguyen, who is Catholic, recently told Capitol Media Services' Howard Fischer.

Put another way, a rapist’s sacred religious rights trump a child’s sacred right to be protected from a sexual predator? Really, sir?

This horror story was brought to light last year, the result of an Associated Press investigation into the Mormon church’s handling of child sexual abuse cases.

Paul Adams, of Bisbee, a father of six, admitted during a counseling session with his bishop that he was raping his then-5-year-old daughter.

According to court records, Bishop John Herrod called the church’s help line, which is used by bishops to report child sex abuse to church officials in Salt Lake City, and was advised by attorney not to call the police or alert anyone outside the church. According to the AP, which based its report on court records, attorney Merrill Nelson advised Herrod and his eventual replacement, Bishop Robert "Kim" Mauzy, for more than two years not to report Adams.

So they didn’t – instead trying to persuade Adams to seek help – and the rest, as they say, is horrifying history.

Church's silence let abuse go on for years

The abuse went on until finally in 2017, Adams was arrested. It seems he videoed his perverted attacks of his children and posted them on the internet. Authorities in New Zealand and the United States traced one of the videos to Adams, who later died by suicide in jail while awaiting trial.

Three of Adams’ six children sued the church, the bishops and other church officials in 2021, accusing them of negligence and conspiring to cover up child sex abuse to avoid “costly lawsuits” and protect the church's reputation.

In a Nov. 3 ruling, Cochise County Superior Court Judge Timothy Dickerson threw out the lawsuit, saying the church had no legal duty to report that a child was being raped.

"Church defendants were not required under the Mandatory Reporting Statute to report the abuse of Jane Doe 1 by her father because their knowledge of the abuse came from confidential communications which fall within the clergy-penitent exception," Dickerson wrote.

Arizona legislator thwarts bill for clergy to report abuse

Church officials, who apparently sleep quite well at night, pronounced themselves “pleased” with the decision.

“Contrary to some news reports and exaggerated allegations, the court found that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and its clergy handled this matter consistent with Arizona law,” the Mormon church said in a prepared statement.

Which bring us back to Arizona law and the people who make it at the state Capitol.

Rep. Stacey Travers, D-Phoenix, introduced a bill this year to require a member of the clergy to report abuse learned about during a confession or confidential communication if “there is a reasonable suspicion to believe that the abuse is ongoing, will continue or may be a threat to other minors.”

It didn’t even rate a hearing. Didn’t even get assigned to a committee.

His rationale: Victims can turn to others for help

And, apparently, it won’t go anywhere next year either, as Rep. Quang Nguyen, the Prescott Republican who chairs the House Judiciary Committee, says he won’t give the bill a hearing. (He did say he would at least speak to Travers, so I guess there's that.)

Nguyen, in his interview with Capitol Media Services, said he believes that the bill "is an attack on the church," and he questioned why members of the clergy would need to call the police or state Department of Child Safety.

"The victim has the parents, the victim has the teachers, the victim has friends, the victim has relatives that he or she is close to," Nguyen said. "So, it doesn’t need a priest to be able to go to court and testify."

Tell that to the 5-year-old Bisbee girl who would endure seven years of assaults while devout daddy’s bishops stayed silent.

“They just let it keep happening,” the girl told the AP last year. “They just said, ‘Hey, let’s excommunicate her father.’ It didn’t stop. ‘Let’s have them do therapy.’ It didn’t stop. ‘Hey, let’s forgive and forget and all this will go away.’ It didn’t go away.”

For her, it likely never will.

Perhaps Rep. Nguyen can explain to her that her father’s rights were sacred.

“The seal of confession is never to be broken,’’ he said. “And priests will go to jail for it.’’

And children will live in hell because of it.

For shame, Rep. Nguyen.

[imsointobooks]

Theories I love (Part 1):

Gwyn:

Being shadow mommy. Coming into her role of priestess and co-leading the valkyries. Late night training sessions with Az and flirting with him and making him blush. Kissing him first. Being besties/ siblings with Rhys. Being close friends with Cass, Lucien and Feyre and of course her girl gang/ soul sisters Nesta and Emerie. Getting to know more about her Autumn Court heritage. Going out into Velaris to explore on her own. Visiting her sister's grave for closure and meeting some of the kids she saved that day. Helping with her immense knowledge and research in finding the 4th Dead Trove and being Az's spy buddy. Getting to explore her nymph heritage. I think Merril is sus but even if she isn't standing up to her. Honestly a maternal, fond relationship with her and Clotho. Nerding it out with Rhys. Getting to know about the mating bond first. Nyx loving her. Awesome kinky bookish idea sex scenes with Az and shadow play and bondage with ribbons. Casual cuddles between her and Az.

Azriel

Finding his self - worth and self - love. Bat bois bond and fun. Kinky bedroom scenes. Getting touched when he realises others love for him and acceptance of him (because it is there). Getting exasperated with his shadows for being obsessed with Gwyn. Closure with Mor. Babysitting Nyx moments. Him singing. Him crying once in front of people and letting out his emotions. Being the sweetiest and hottest in bed with Gwyn. Late night sparring sessions. Jealousy from Balthazar over Gwyn. Being a protective ass and getting his ass handed to him for trying to be a white knight. Accepting his illyrian heritage and doing his best to make it better. Spy missions for the dead trove. Late night research sessions and stargazing with Gwyn. Beinga mused by her and in awe of how she slays in her Court of Nightmares look. Honestly some funny thoughts about Amren in his head. Being more open with the IC. Craving touch from bis favourite Valkyrie. Shirtless scene. Truthteller scene. Dad style trying to scold his shadows for sneaking of to Gwyn and then Gwyn scolds him for being rude to the adorable minions. A strategy point where he comes up with a really smart solution to a problem. A separate moment with all of the IC members. Becoming friends with Lucien and apologising to him.

Rhysand

Being besties and nerding it out with Gwyn. Azzie and Rhysie moments. Proud and loving dad moments. Competing with Feyre for their child's first word. Providing the chafing with a smirk when Gwynriel's bond clicks. Amren and Rhys friendship. Nesta and Rhys friendship and random gift giving. Teasing Az about Gwyn.

Feyre

Tough but loving mom moments. Girls night out with her, Gwyn and Nesta. Observing how good Az and Gwyn are together. Her and Nesta being sisters. Her and Mor friendship and helping her out with Emerie. Lucien and her being besties again pleaseeee.

Elain

Going to the day court and becoming a courtier. Observing how people behave and using her natural charm to be a diplomat and come into her own. Going to the spring court and seeing it bloom. Possibly becoming its consort with Lucien (because i don't find her much of a High Lady material) and helping others out in it and gardening. Maintaing her friendship and having a closer bond with Nuala and Cerridwen (idk if i spelled that right). Being distant but amicable with her sisters because honestly she's a self-centered sister and idk want their to be some rlly close bond with her and Nesta and Feyre as a resolution. As a person Elain can be cool but family wise she's a Taryn. Not being coddled by the NC and going out to explore likes she wanted to with Lucien. Being friends with the BoE but initially they don't like her she has to earn their friendship and protection. Donning Day Court fashion. Rejecting the mating bond but being with Lucien. Getting jealous of Lucien with someone else. Being a goddamn courtier and helping out and being seen as something more than a pretty face and using her charm and observance. Helping defeat Koschei.

Lucien

Becoming High Lord of the Spring Court (hell no is Helion dying idc). Getting an apology/ redemption arc from Tamlin for his abuse. Becoming besties with Feyre again. BoE friendship and sass and die for each other style moments. Being a courtier and ambassador. BEING HAPPY AND LOVED. Realising he will not be used by others abd will fight for himself and put himself first. I love his approach towards Elain in every aspect nothing change. I don't want a head over heels love thing more the finding her worthy that is there rn. Closure regarding Jesminda. Dad Helion and baby Lucien moments. Mommy LA and Eris bro moments too. Figuring out his day court powers. Gagging over his dad and mom being lovey-dovey. Being the sassy sarcastic awesome we know he is. Reviving the Spring Court. Helping defeat Koschei. Hanging out with his brother in laws.

[aldbooks]

“I thought you left” for gwynriel? :)

Angsty Prompts

I've got to be honest, I struggled with this one and the other prompt in my box because both seemed much better suited to Elucien than Gwynriel so I might end up writing another version for them...

---

"Oh."

The soft exclamation behind him made him pause for a moment, but he did not glance back before resuming his task, methodically wrapping his hands with the long length of black cloth, between his fingers and around his palm.

"I didn't realize anyone was up here. I thought you'd all gone down to the Day Court for the Solstice."

He did not need to look to know who stood in the doorway. There was only one person his shadows never bothered to warn him of. At first, it had been disconcerting. They had never been so at ease with anyone, even his family. For a brief time, he had considered the possibility she had charmed or bespelled them somehow - she claimed river nymph heritage but what if that had been a cover for something more sinister? She did not know her own parentage afterall.

After a time though, he dismissed the theory.

He'd tested Gwyn, several times, giving her seemingly important information and waiting to see what she would do with it, following her and even having the twins tail her on occasion when his shadows refused. She never revealed a word of what he said. Never met with anyone suspicious, or did anything outside the ordinary from her relatively mundane routine.

No, Gwyneth Berdara was perfectly innocent. She spent her mornings in the training ring, encouraging her fellow priestesses and building her own skills and strength alongside her chosen sisters. The rest of her days she spent running around the library, fetching books for the indomitable Merrill, often finding herself berated by the miserable female no matter how well she did her job. And in the evenings, she either joined the other priestesses for sunset service (where, the twins had been delighted to tell him, she sang with the voice of an angel) or holed up in one of the head priestesses offices, for therapeutic sessions. Occasionally, she joined Nesta and/or Emerie in the House for dinner or a sleepover.

There was nothing exciting about Gwyneth Berdara's life, and yet, every time he was around her, he almost felt himself pulled to her by some magnetic force. Even when, on nights like tonight, he would rather be left alone. It was unsettling.

"The others are still there," he said quietly. He finished wrapping his left hand and moved on to his right. He heard Gwyn's tentative footsteps whisper over the soft clay of the training room floor behind him.

"But you did not stay?"

"My shadows do not care for the sunlight," he said ignoring the way his shadows hissed at him for using them as his excuse rather than tell her the truth.

His shadows had been content to hide in the shade of a nearby tree while he and his friends enjoyed the celebrations. It had not been them that had driven him to flee, hiding himself away somewhere familiar and safe, like a wounded animal.

"Hmm." The hum sounded a few feet from his right shoulder, and he could tell she was studying said shadows, while they regarded her in return. "I suppose I have never seen them during the day..."

Her words trailed off into a giggle and he glanced back to see a few of his shadows racing around her in circles the way an overexcited hound might greet its master. He tightened his jaw, calling them back. "They don't like the sun," he said again. Then added, "Or water."

"Then I imagine the Day and Summer Courts are not their favorite places."

"Indeed." The word was tight and clipped and he finished his wrappings with a sharp tug, securing the ends, he stalked from the supply table he'd been standing over to a dummy on the far end of the ring. Behind him, he could hear Gwyn hesitate for a moment before following him. She stopped at the weapons rack, studying the blades hanging there as though she did not see them every day.

The ring filled with the pounding of his fists against the wood and straw padding as he began warming up with a series of punches in sequence. Jab, jab, uppercut, right hook, left hook, jab, jab, uppercut. 1-2-3, 1-2, 1-2-3, breathe.

From the corner of his eye, he say Gwyn pull a short sword from the rack and examine it, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked after a moment.

His arm stuttered slightly, missing his target by an inch. He ignored her and continued on, allowing his body to fall into the rhythm of the motions until he did not have to think about what he was doing.

"I can tell something's wrong," she continued, still studying her the sword before setting it aside and picking up another. "You don't have to talk about it, of course. And I won't blame you if you tell me to shove off and leave you alone but... I thought you might like some company, at least. I know I usually do. Prefer not to be alone when I'm upset, that is..."

She was rambling, and he could hear in her voice that she did not want him to send her away, but she would go if he asked. Something had driven her up here as well in the middle of the night after all. He paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. She was not looking at him, still studying the new weapon in her hand, though he knew she did not see it. Her shoulders were tense and she was biting her lip, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

With a sigh, he stepped back from the dummy and waved a hand at the rack of weapons she stood before. "Pick your poison, Berdara. Daggers or swords?"

He watched her lips twitch as she studied the rows of blades before her. After a moment, she replaced the sword in her hand and grabbed a pair of matching knives. "Daggers."

He felt his own lips twitch as he reached for another matching pair. "As you wish."

[blarrghe]

fanfic writer asks

tagged in this by @plisuu and @dreadfutures , thanks guys! Tagging @rosella-writes @melisusthewee @sulky-valkyrie

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 37

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 803,377

3. What fandoms do you write for? Just Dragon Age.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Matchsies, All Hail West Thedas, Strange Feelings in the Party Camp, A Complicated Match, Twelve Nights

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! I tend to give long answers to longer comments, but I try to make sure I get to everyone with at least a thank you <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Um. The Purge Of Wycome I guess, though it's ok in the end. And then there's...currently... one in progress.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of my fics have at least mostly-happy endings, but I think Twelve Nights is the most syrupy.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Haven't yet!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, sometimes. Usually buried in the plot of longfic and very character-driven, very few just-smut oneshot things. Most of it also gay and at least a little Bondagey.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I haven't, but I might one day if the right mood and media strike my fancy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? Pavellan. Isabella x Merrill is also very good.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Maybe The Merrill Sessions. I kinda abandoned it but I had ideas.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and grounded character writing, silly jokes and bits of lightness, AU worldbuilding.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I can get pretty longwinded and have been really honing my editing.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I use bits of "elvhen" by basically mashing stuff together from the canon words, but mostly I try to imply things are in other languages through the narration rather than writing in it, like through the "translation convention" .

19. First fandom you wrote for? Dragon Age!

20. Favorite fic you've written? The currently ongoing The Hunter, the Snake, and the Fox, by far!

blank form below:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

[jokerislandgirl32]

This Is Too Easy: A Wild Violet One Shot

Summary: Zach Varmitech wants to have an animal collection party for himself, but with his assistant Violet tagging along, this proves to be problematic. She will not shut up! She just keeps harping about how the Wild Ratts will foil his plan. Well, he can’t have that. He’ll have to find some way to silence her so he can enact his evil scheme: Even if it results in him using his lips for more than talking.

So last year, I decided to take a wack at the 2023 Year of the OTP Event here on Tumblr and A03.

The link to the event with the prompts can be found here: @yearoftheotpevent!

I only wrote/completed a couple works for the event, and this was for the month of February to fulfill the prompt: “If I kiss you, will you shut up?” I’ve previously posted it to A03 and Fanfiction.net, but now I am posting it to Wattpad and making the “master post” here. The links for the story can be found below as well as a list of potential warnings!

I hope you all enjoy this little story if you have not read it yet. Feel free to let me know what you think! I may post more stories with Zach and Violet or my other f/os and s/is (Arthur x Amelia or Merrill x Emmaline) that fill these prompts! If you have any suggestions or requests, I’d be happy to hear them!

Warnings: This is one of, if not the mildest, works I have completed. The only warnings which apply to this piece are bickering, plotting and scheming, manipulating, implied animal abuse (because Zach uses the animals as robots as we know), and kissing/a makeout session.

[fandomn00blr]

“a rough, but sparkling thing” for merrill and Isabela?

Ahhhhh! Thank you!!! It's been too long since I've written any merribela, and this prompt is so nice for them! Mostly, because I think Merrill would be really into rocks and stuff. Lol. IDK...anyway, Fenris snuck in here, too!

"What…is it?" Isabela asks, suspiciously eyeing the large boulder sitting in the middle of Merrill’s tiny apartment that she’s been summoned to see.

"It's a geode!” Merrill exclaims.

“Hmm…” Isabela tilts her head. "Looks like a rock."

"Yes! Isn't it exciting?"

"Er…"

"I found it in the mines with Hawke and Fenris and they helped me bring it home so I could show you!”

"You were in the mines with Fenris? And he agreed to drag this ro – er, geode…all the way home for you?"

"And you. He agreed with me when I said that you would love it."

"Oh he did, did he?"

Merrill nods enthusiastically, but Isabela can't help but feel as though Fenris has done this out of spite. Hawke, bless her, can't be blamed for doing whatever Merrill asks of her, but Fenris…well, he did seem a bit put out when she told him he didn't need her 'tutoring' sessions anymore and that he seemed ready to go out into the world and fuck whomever he really fancied (namely, Anders before the two of them ended up murdering each other instead). Perhaps the giant rock placed in the middle of Merrill's apartment was meant as a 'fuck you for perceiving me’ sort of thing. Though it’d be a bit cruel, even for him, to involve Merrill in it.

“I have a spell that ought to do it…” Merrill mutters, like she’s rummaging through a catalog of the blasted things. It never ceases to amaze her how much the little elf can cram into that adorable brain of hers. “...ready?”

Isabela nods, bracing herself, as Merrill raises her staff and makes the cutest little concentration face, which Isabela has come to learn usually precedes a particularly terrifying demonstration of her power. She clenches her jaw as she feels all the energy around them being channeled…somewhere else. There's a flash of light and a sickening crack. Then a boom outside somewhere high overhead and Isabela tries to breathe and relax all the muscles in her body before Merrill can get any inkling of how on edge her magic sometimes makes her feel. She doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. She trusts Merrill. She knows she would never do anything to harm her on purpose, but…

Merrill kicks at the giant rock, and then waits expectantly, but nothing happens. She balls her fists up together and hits it with an inelegant grunt that makes Isabela’s stomach flutter for some reason (probably still just the aftershocks of the magic). When nothing happens again, she turns back to Isabela with a sort of panicked look and asks, “A little help, please?”

So Isabela kicks at the rock, too. Maybe this is the point. Some exercise in futility?

Merrill’s panic turns to laughter, then. "Perhaps if you used your dagger?"

"I’m good, but I don't think I can stab a rock, Kitten."

"Nooo…” She giggles. “I mean…to help pry it apart?"

Isabela looks more closely at the thing and finally notices the delicate crack running right through the middle of it.

"Ohhhh! Like a clam shell?"

Merrill nods excitedly. "Yes!"

"Ok…let’s see, then…" Isabela pulls out the sturdier of her two daggers and slides the tip of it into the crack. She has to brace herself against the wall in order to get enough leverage to pry the two halves of the boulder apart without bending her blade, but when they finally separate, Merrill gasps and Isabela has to blink a few times to adjust to the dazzling thing she's just revealed inside this big stupid rock.

It turns out to be mostly hollow, and lined with beautiful deep purple crystals that catch the warm light from the low, flickering candles and reflect it off every facet, twinkling in every direction and filling Merrill’s apartment with a gorgeous, otherworldly, velvety glow.

"Oh fuck you, Fenris!" she laughs. Because he’s not there to see her feeling suddenly so ‘perceived.’

"Don't be mad at him!” Merrill exclaims. “We’ve been having tea, and we…well I…I know you two are close, but he told me you aren't really like that…and so, I was thinking…”

"Oh, Kitten! Is this — this gorgeous sparkling rock…thingie…”

"I believe it’s an amethyst geode. I wasn’t certain until we opened it up, but…”

"Yes, that — are you trying to seduce me with it? Because it's working!"

"I just thought you'd like it." Merrill shrugs.

"I do. Thank you…I love it!"

“Oh, good!” She is practically vibrating now with relief. "I realize now that the message might come across a bit muddled…but it reminded me of you because, well, you've been through a lot. Like this geode…" She pats the rocky surface of the half closest to her with affection, and Isabela thinks she might also like to be cracked open and patted affectionately like that, too. Some other time, perhaps…

"Rough and boring on the outside, eh?" She chooses more deflective innuendo instead. Not that any of her usual defenses seem to work on Merrill, anyway.

"Oh no! Not at all…I think you're quite interesting and beautiful on the outside, too!" Merrill blushes. "I mean, you are very strong! And I like that about you…" Merrill’s eyes glance over Isabela’s arms and she feels that fluttering sensation in her guts again. Nope. Probably not just the magic. Seriously…fuck you, Fenris!

“...is my point. I think?” Merrill blinks up at her.

"I was kidding, sweet thing…I really do love it."

"And I really like when you let me see your sparkly insides, too!" Merrill blushes even harder, the bright pink flush creeping all the way down her neck now. "Oh, creators…” she groans. “That came out all wrong!"

"Not at all..." Isabela gathers Merrill up in her arms and squeezes her in tight against her.

"Well, and so…that's all, really,” she says directly into Isabela’s chest.

“That’s all, hm?”

“Yeah. Unless…” Merrill pulls away a little to look up at her, smiling. There’s a surprising hint of mischief in her face now.

“Unless what?”

“Were you being serious about the seduction thing?”

[hellogoodbye14]

GWYNRIEL PROMPT:

Gwyn's freaked out about some priestess exam during girl's night so Emerie gets her drunk to shut her up. Cut to the training ring with Azriel training (maybe shirtless?), and Gwyn wanders in all giggling and tispy and is just really really forward and apparently likes to cuddle and Az is just there trying not to die from the cuteness and blushing. She snuggles upto him and he has to carry her to bed like that while she keeps talking with her lips on his neck and flustered Az and "oh god is she trying to kill him"

(She ends up calling him adorable which he is vehemently against but she refuses all his reasons of why he is scary bad shadowsinger)

PWEASE PWEASE PWEASE🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️ ALSO HEY LOVEEEE

HI LOVE!

Tell me why a small scene turned into a whole ass one-shot. Just gwynriel things 🤷🏻‍♀️❤️

Emerie sighed at the sight before her eyes.

Gwyn groaned and banged a rather large book against her head. Papers and scrolls lay haphazardly all around her and there was a stack of files which was taller than Amren sitting besides her.

Bang,bang,bang.

“I’m going to fail it.”

“You won’t fail it. You’ve prepared for it for months and even Clotho said she wasn’t worried about you.”

“If I fail, I’ll have to be Merril’s assistant for a whole year.”

Emerie shook her head, her bestfriend was spiralling and this stress wouldn’t help her for her exam in a few days.

She pulled on Gwyn’s arm, “Okay, that’s enough. We’re going out.”

“No, I can’t. I still have the prythian history, then the ancient runes and the pris- hey ow!”

Emerie dragged Gwyn out the library and made the way towards the exit.

“You are freakishly strong”, muttered Gwyn.

Emerie smirked, “Why, thank you.”

“Where are we going?”, asked Gwyn.

“Rita’s. We’re getting you drunk.”

“Oh the place where you sigh and look at a certain night court second all night?”, said Gwyn teasingly.

“Shut up.”

“Well she stares longingly right back at you. You both really need to do something about all that sexual tension.”

“Gwyn!”, gasped Emerie who was pretty sure she was blushing all the way down to her toes.

————————————————————————

Azriel felt a bit worried. He knew Gwyn was stressed and probably busy with studying.. but she never missed out on what had become a routine for them after solstice. They would always come up here during late hours and train under the moonlight. Afterwards they’d sit together side by side and just talk. Tonight was the first night, she hadn’t come and Azriel had felt a pang of worry and disappointment.

Shortly after, Rhys had flown in to train in the ring and Azriel joined him.

Rhys jumped into a high spinning kick that sent Azriel to the floor, and he rolled away before Rhys could attempt contact again.

“You seem a bit distracted dear Az.”

Rhys used his right forearm to block a crescent kick that Azriel had landed perfectly, the sound of bone on bone ringing across the training ring.

“I’m not distracted.”

Rhys snorted as he backed away.

“Sure thing. Haven’t had a certain priestess slash valkyrie on your mind at all?”

Azriel paused.

Rhys raised an eyebrow.

“You know I used to come up here all the time to train, that was until I stumbled upon the two of you.”

“You saw that?”

Rhys smiled, “Yeap. Also saw you blush a few times. I realised after that it was a common thing so I stopped coming. Well that was until tonight when I saw it empty.”

“I do not blush”, said Azriel knowing he might have been blushing at the moment.

Rhys patted him on the shoulder, “Yes you do, Shadowsinger. It’s kind of adorable.”

Azriel shoved a snickering Rhys away and was about to resume the sparring session when he heard an angelic voice behind him.

“Holy hell. Bless the Cauldron and all it’s miracles”, said Gwyn followed by a hiccup.

Both Rhys and Azriel turned around to find Gwyn, her long and gorgeous hair gleaming under the moonlight and her eyes solely focused on their bare torso’s.

“Gwyn, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was coming in for our nightly routine until I stumbled on this”, she pointed out her hand towards them, “ab-tastic perfection.”

Rhys snickered and Azriel couldn’t help but be amused. Apparently, Gwyn was an honest drunk.

She walked, well more like stumbled closer and Azriel quickly reached forward to stable her and put an arm around her.

She blushed, “Thank you, pretty.”

“I’m pretty?”

“Yeah huh, you’re the prettiest and the handsomest”, followed by a hiccup.

“You alright Gwyn?”, asked a smiling Rhys.

Gwyn nodded super quick after offering Rhys a salute, “Yes might fine and extremely pleasant to look at High lord. I’m sooooooo good. Emerie dragged me out and got me drunk.”

Gwyn wrapped her arms around Azriels arm and settled her head against his bare bicep. Azriel couldn’t help the flutter he felt in his stomach.

“And where is Emerie?”

“Oh, she and Mor got me home and then started making out crazy.”

Azriel and Rhys both looked at one another with smiles on their faces.

“About damn time”, muttered Rhys.

“And then I came here to make my appointment with this stud”, said Gwyn as she poked Azriels cheek with a finger.

He snickered.

“Alright, well I’ll leave you two to it then.”

Gwyn waved, “Say hi to Feyre for me! She’s so lovely. You’re so lucky.”

Rhys smiled and gave a small bow, “That I am.”

With that he winnowed away.

“So let’s train”, said Gwyn as she tried separating herself from Azriel.

“Oh no, I think we should keep the knives and swords away for now.”

Gwyn pouted up at him and Azriel snickered.

“What? Why?”

“You’re sotted.”

She gasped, “I am not.”

She tried stomping her foot but felt a rush of dizziness almost tipping her over until Azriel steadied her.

“Okay, maybe I am. What do we do?“

“What do you want to do?”

“We should cuddle. I love cuddling.”

Azriel felt his heartbeat get ten times faster. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about her. How couldn’t he? her grace, her strength, her loyalty was one of the best things he had the pleasure to witness. Her friendship was unconditional and her lips, he dreamt of tracing those lips…. those freckles. He shook his head a bit. It was easy, so easy to get lost to those fantasies. And it would be easier to act on them.

He saw her eyes dilate and fixate on his lips. But he wasn’t worthy of her, would never be.

He smiled sadly, “Lets get you to bed for now, Red.”

“And then we cuddle? Come on, I’ll be great. I promise. I give the best cuddles in the universe.”

“Of that, I have no doubt Berdara.”

He leaned down and took her into his arms.

He felt a warmth in his chest when she snuggled into him.

Her pert nose rubbed against his neck and Azriel gulped.

“You smell good, Shadowsinger”, she whispered as her lips moved against his neck.

Azriel looked up towards the sky, was she trying to kill him here?

“As do you do, Berdara. Even when you’re hammered with tequila. You’re exquisite.”

Gwyn giggled, his shadows dancing around her cheeks.

“You’re adorable Az.”

Azriel scoffed as he pushed open the door while maintaining his hold on Gwyn.

“I’m not adorable. I’m the Shadowsinger of the night court.“

“Yes yes, the big bad scary Shadowsinger of the Night court who is still adorable as hell.”

Azriel sighed in resignation, there was no getting through to her.

He leaned down and placed her on her bed. He started to stand upright but she grasped his neck.

“Stay with me.”

“Gwyn, I dont think - “

“Just stay. I can’t sleep without our nightly talking session.”

Her teal eyes implored, and there wasn’t a thing he could ever refuse her.

“Scoot over, Red.”

She did and he removed his shoes before laying next to her. She quickly snuggled in and placed her head on his chest, right above his heart. He tightened his arm around her.

“I’m glad you’re here”, she said sleepily.

He kissed her on her forehead lightly.

“Me too, Red.”

Requested by : @imsointobooks

[ncisfranchise-source]

The inevitable M&A question came toward the end of Paramount Global‘s hourlong conference call with Wall Street analysts on Wednesday — a session that undoubtedly would have been more contentious for Paramount leaders if they hadn’t started out by serving up sacrifices for the greater good of free cash flow and profit.

Paramount Global CEO Bob Bakish waved off the inquiry from Bank of America Merrill Lynch media analyst Jessica Reif Ehrlich about the tidal wave of media speculation about suitors coming (and going) for the company with a breezy “We’re always looking for ways to create shareholder value.” But it was clear from the earlier commentary and business updates from Bakish and chief financial officer Naveen Chopra that they are charting a course for this year and next to take streamer Paramount+ to the promised land of profitability and keeps the company entact as a standalone entity.

Indeed, Bakish nodded in his prepared remarks to the endless chatter on the Street and in media about Paramount’s long-term fate. “Regardless of current market sentiment, we’re convinced that the value of our assets today, combined with the execution of our strategy as we move forward represents a significant value creation opportunity, and we are dedicated to unlocking that value,” Bakish said.

The unlocking process will include a $1 billion write-down to be taken in the current quarter. Bakish and Chopra promised Wall Streeters that the company will spend less to make and market movies and TV shows and they will get more bang for those bucks with more aggressive windowing of streaming content across linear assets and vice versa. Moves forced by necessity during the programming drought of last year’s strike months — “Yellowstone” reruns airing on CBS, for one — are helping to guide its future. Most of the write-down ($700 million to $900 million) will stem from existing TV shows and movies that will be yanked from Paramount’s various digital and linear platforms and development projects that will be scrapped.

After recording a $1.6 billion loss on streaming operations in 2023, Paramount+ will reach profitability in the U.S. in 2025, Bakish vowed. Paramount Global will deliver free cash flow and growth in the second half of ths year, Chopra added.

Bakish emphasized that the company will also significantly cut back its efforts to produce local-language content in overseas markets. Instead the company will focus on generating hot prospects at home that have global resonance.

“Internationally, it’s become unquestionably clear that Hollywood hits are the biggest draw for our audiences and partners around the world,” Bakish said. “Which means there’s a clear opportunity to lean into our CBS slate, Paramount+ originals and Paramount films while slowing spend on local content and associated marketing.”

Chopra said the decision was influenced by analysis of what most non-U.S. subscribers watch on the streamer. “We’ve learned the Paramount+ subscribers outside the United States spend nearly 90% of their time with our global Hollywood hits — meaning we can keep them engaged while right-sizing our investment in content that does not travel around the world,” he said.

However, in the hunt for what the executives called “efficiencies,” Paramount will look to produce more TV programs and films overseas, where the cost of everything from hiring extras to an espresso at Starbucks is lower than in Los Angeles or New York.

“You will see us leaning even further into offshore production for our global franchises, including the upcoming London installment of ‘Billions,’ the new ‘Ray Donovan’ origin story as well as new series like ‘The Department’ from George Clooney,” Bakish said of three series on deck for Paramount+ with Showtime.

On the film side, Bakish pointed to Paramount Pictures’ success so far this year with modestly budgeted theatrical films “Mean Girls” and “Bob Marley: One Love,” the biopic that has lead the U.S. box office for the past two weekends. “We’re improving ROI by lowering the average cost per title,” Bakish said, noting the film studio’s refined focus on “balancing high-budget tentpoles with more modest cost titles.”

Paramount Global spent about $16.5 billion on content in 2023, a number that was lower than 2022’s content bill because of the Writers Guild of America and SAG-AFTRA strikes, Chopra said. He expects that 2024 spending will be higher but not by too much. “We contemplate spending really only about 50% of what we’ll call the strike savings. That’s a critical ingredient in our ability to drive healthy growth in free cash flow,” Chopra said.

Other topics addressed on the call:

The Disney/Warner Bros. Discovery/Fox streaming sports venture announced earlier this month has been a de rigueur question for CEOs during the Q4 earnings reporting cycle. Bakish is not impressed with the offering that is rumored to be priced at $40 to $50 a month. “For a true sports fan, this package only has a subset of sports,” he said. “It’s missing half the NFL, a lot of college [events] and has virtually no soccer or golf. So it’s hard to believe that’s ideal, especially at the price points that have been speculated.”

Speaking of game theory, sports is an important subscriber funnel for Paramount+, which offers CBS’ AFC NFL package as well as acquired rights to soccer and golf tournaments. Prospective subscribers come in for a game or two but stay for the entertainment. “For people that come in [to Paramount+] for sports, 90% of their engagement is with non-sports” content, Bakish said.

CBS has been a bright spot for the company. The network got its strike-delayed season off to a strong start with freshman drama “Tracker,” thanks in part to a big circulation boost from large crowds turning out for the Golden Globe Awards, Grammy Awards and the record-setting Super Bowl telecast. But the Eye is also becoming more budget-conscious when it comes to content spending. “We have an increasingly efficient and targeted development process,” Bakish said. “We prioritize lower cost formats, like unscripted and those shot abroad while maintaining our strength and franchises.” He cited the success of last year of “NCIS: Sydney,” the latest interation of the drama franchise that was shot Down Under “at a much more efficient price point.”

In 2023, Paramount+ nabbed a total of 4.1 million new subscribers. Expectations for 2024 are lower in part because Paramount+ will be detached from bundled packages in some overseas markets “where the economics just weren’t that compelling,” Chopra said. “We do still expect very healthy Paramount+ revenue growth and of course, revenue is the more important metric than subs.”

[whatisurgatepolicy]

I don't think I can accurately express how much i love the horrible little menace that is Rhea thank you so much for unleashing her into the world

ALSO the conversation(s) with gale really fucked me up your ability to write goofy fun and then drop emotionally destructive bombs in the middle is both impressive and terrifying 😭

Thank you!! I really liked playing her and I miss playing her, I'm glad it comes across!

It's very fun to write someone who is smart and charismatic enough to come across as normal, but also according to a session from 2 years ago that I relistened to this evening wears entirely stolen clothes, converted from Sehanine Moonbow to The Raven Queen over the course of a day (during several days of insomnia), and immediately gave herself a tattoo and began making up facts about her New God, and announced to the party that she was Completely Sane and Not Having a Mental Breakdown. I've popped an extract under a cut because it makes me giggle.

Thank you!!! I like to write lots of jokes and I like to write lots of emotional queer platonic friendships and deep conversations on roofs at 3am. Often these things go together. <3

^^^ an extract of the session where she converted to The Raven Queen. I can't do voices unfortunately but in my head Rhea sounds like Eve Myles Being Very Shady All The Time, Like Some Sort of Evil Merrill. The person she asks about dying had died the previous session and she'd received another case of Madness after attempting to steal from his dead body so she was trying very hard to Act Natural.

(I introduce her as 5' there, but was later bullied by her brother's player into making her 4'10. Probably still average height in a party that also had two gnomes, a firbolg, an aasimar, a half-orc, and two half-elves.)

[twitchystitchwitch]

I keep seeing a post going around talking about how fictional characters are objects and how you treat them doesn't say anything about their character. And someone points out very vaguely that some things about how you treat fictional characters speak to your character. That response is taken to mean that you can't do fucked up stuff to fictional characters. I don't knkw the person who responded, or what they necessarily meant by it, but it reminded me of an important point. Yeah, choosing to write stuff that tortures a character, no matter the way, says very little about your morals and how others should view you. But, there are certain aspects of characters that the way you handle/treat them do speak to if you're a safe person to be around.

People who aggressively mock and belittle the actions of a character that (maybe even in the canon of something itself are mocked for) are based on stereotypes of autistic or ADHD characters are probably not safe for someone autistic or with ADHD (let's be real any neurodivergence really) to be around. I know personally I have foregone trying to befriend people/enjoying people's are because of the way they handle characters like thar (Merrill from Dragon Age 2 and Evan Buckley from 9-1-1 both come to mind)

I can't speak in detail about this one because it isn't an experience I have, but is something I've seen other people talk about. The way characters of color are handled and treated by people that aren't of that particular race. That will tell someone if you are safe to be around, in the end

Basically, yeah, you can fuck around with characters and do fucked up shit all you want (legit the way I wind down from flashbacks and tough therapy sessions is writing really dark horror, I think it is good for people to explore those thoughts with characters), but that doesn't mean that the way you treat characters means nothing. Whether it is a disabled character, a character of color, a character from an ethnic minority, a character from a religious minority, a genderqueer character, an overall queer character, or any other topic that is slipping my mind at the moment, the way you handle those topics will say something about you as a person. I know if I go on that initial post with this point I'll be told I missed the point, so I thought I would make my own to get these thoughts out of my head

[shadowisles-writes]

Side By Side (Part 2) [Gwynriel]

A/N: You can find the series masterlist here and read on AO3 here.

Word count: 1471

.

Azriel didn’t show up in the library the following evening, nor did he show up to train Gwyn before sunrise. She took out her frustration on the targets, alone, but she found no satisfaction in it. Gwyn hated herself for her reaction. Why had she gone from joking with the shadowsinger to running away from him? She had made his shadows dance, gotten him to smile, but yesterday… yesterday his eyes had darkened and she might as well have landed a punch straight in his gut based on his expression.

Azriel wasn’t a male she needed to run away from, but her instincts were always screaming at her to do so. She had come so far during her time in the library, and she was even comfortable around males during training. She was comfortable training alone with Azriel too, but anything more than that… Her annoyance must have been written all over her face because even Merrill didn’t bother adding to her workload that day.

Gwyn was surprised to find him in the library later in the evening. She almost walked past him, invisible behind a swirl of shadows in a corner, but the way they moved when she was close gave him away. His hazel eyes met hers, cleared up of the shadows that curled and retreated to his shoulders while she walked up and stood behind the chair across from his.

“I’d like to apologize,” Gwyn said, focusing on the pen he placed on the table rather than his eyes.

The shadowsinger’s voice was low, smooth as silk as he replied. “What for?”

“My reaction,” Gwyn shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “The other morning, I-”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he cut her off before she could say more. “I should be the one doing that. It was my fault, I overstepped, it won’t happen again. I would have apologized earlier but I preferred giving you space,”

“There’s no need,” Gwyn pulled out the chair and sat down in front of him even though he hadn’t invited her. “You did nothing wrong,”

Just like that, things felt normal again. She reached for a book from his pile and opened it, Azriel sliding a sheet of paper and a pen towards him a second later.

It only took her reading the same paragraph four times for her to know she wasn’t done with their conversation.

She took a deep breath before she opened her mouth again, but even then her words trailed off before she could finish her thought. “I just can’t…”

Azriel gave her a second, waiting to see if she would continue, but Gwyn found herself stuck until he was the one to speak. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Gwyn.”

“Can we be friends?” She managed to ask.

Azriel’s shadows fell from his shoulders and down his arms into swirls. “I was hoping we already were,” a smile appeared on his face.

Their training sessions began again the next morning. They fell back into their routine of training, working, doing research and repeating that again the next day. It would have stayed that way if Cassian and Nesta hadn’t come back at the end of the week. Gwyn didn’t want the obnoxious couple to break their bubble, and she would miss the one on one training sessions (though she would enjoy not having to get up extra early anymore) but she was thankful to have Nesta around again. It also meant that Emerie would return, and the reunited trio was stronger than ever as they fought side by side and against each other under Cassian’s careful eyes. Sometimes, he would get a little too close to Nesta, and Gwyn was able to catch Azriel’s eyes to exchange an exasperated look.

Gwyn liked it. It was loud and messy, but she still had her quiet and private moments in the library with Azriel, which were most important to her. Nesta and Emerie had of course been updated on the situation of the past week, and they didn’t miss an occasion to tease her about it. Cassian seemed to be doing the same, if the way Azriel retreated into his shadows was any indication. Cassian only shut up when he began to teach the priestesses how to use a bow and Gwyn hit every target dead center at a speed he couldn’t have expected.

“Okay, I take it back,” Cassian crossed his arms over his chest as he supervised the lesson from a distance once everyone was set up. “Maybe you did more than look at her like a lost puppy when we weren’t there,”

Gwyn bit back a laugh at what she overheard while Azriel replied with a snarl. She wondered if the general always got what he wanted simply because he was an absolute pain in the ass. Mercifully, Nesta picked a fight with him by the end of the lesson and the two disappeared into the house before everyone else. Gwyn could only hope that they’d make it to their bedroom before anyone else had to walk through the house.

She lingered in the ring while the other priestesses filtered out to regain the safety of the library. Gwyn used that time for extra stretches, and she found herself alone for a few minutes when Azriel winnowed Emerie home.

“Cassian’s face was priceless,” Gwyn grinned when he appeared in the ring again, shadows trailing after him.

They caught up and stretched ahead of him, curling at her feet. “I’ve never been prouder.” Azriel’s chest shook with a chuckle.

“Any other skill I could learn to shut him up again?”

“Apart from flying? I’m unfortunately out of ideas,”

“That’s too bad,” she breathed out, a strand of hair falling into her face.

For a second, Gwyn thought he would step closer and push it back for her. It was almost imperceptible, the way his body moved in hesitation and stilled again, his eyes locked on hers.

“Nyx will be a year old next week.” Azriel broke the silence before it could get uncomfortable. “We’ll be celebrating at the River House, and I’d like it if you could come.”

Gwyn weighed the pros and cons of leaving the House. She had always wanted to, thought about it several times in the past few nights, and Nesta would be there too, along with Cassian.

“I would like that.” Gwyn gave him a smile before she turned to leave. “I’ll see you this afternoon, shadowsinger.” She pretended she couldn’t feel his stare as he trailed her every step until she had disappeared into the House.

.

“Well then I guess he just beat me to it,” Nesta announced when Gwyn told her that Azriel had invited her to Nyx’s birthday celebration. “I was going to invite you and Em today. Mor can winnow you,” she added the last part for Emerie.

The valkyries were having one of their weekly sleepovers in the house library. There had been no more bubble baths since that first night, but they still indulged in all the chocolate and cake they could eat while the mini pegasus lounged by the window.

“I’d love to be there,” Emerie nodded before she continued, “and I would love to know what exactly is going on with Azriel.”

Gwyn felt blood rush to her cheeks as they looked at her with expectant looks. “We’re friends,” was all she could get out.

“Mmh, is that really all you have to say?” Emerie teased when she noticed Gwyn blush harder.

“Pretty suspicious,” Nesta agreed, and the Pegasus neighed, as if in agreement.

Gwyn sighed, her expression turning sad before she looked down to avoid Nesta and Emerie’s eyes. “I can’t give him what he wants.”

“Can’t, or can’t yet ?” Nesta pointed out softly.

“It took me over a year to even step  out of that library, do you really think he has that much patience?”

“Yes.” It was Emerie’s turn to butt in. “A lot more patience than you’re giving him credit for.”

“Either way, it doesn’t matter. I asked him to be friends, so that’s what we are,” Gwyn insisted.

Neither female really knew what to say to that, so the House intervened instead. A pile of books was dumped beside her, waiting to change her mind.

“If we can’t convince you, I think a few romance novels might do the trick,” Nesta chuckled.

Gwyn was glad her cheeks were still flushed so that her friends wouldn’t notice the reaction she had to those books being piled next to her. She was sure some—if not all of them—contained smut and she wasn’t ready to reveal that Azriel was the one on her mind every time she stumbled upon one of those scenes. No one was ever going to find out—especially not the shadowsinger himself.

.

Tags ( Add yourself to my taglist here ):  @dealfea​ @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​  @em---r​ @sv0430​ @silverflameataraxia​ @gingertaylorswift22​ @shisingh​ @trashforazriel​ @gwynethhberdara​ @ruthieluvsbooks​ @a_little_disguised @earthofemily @halaberdara​ @sydney-fae25​ @meher_sumedha

[atlanticcanada]

Cape Breton officials keep close eye on growing Maritime wildfires

With fires out of control across the Maritimes, emergency officials in Cape Breton are preparing in case wildfires start in the region.

“We are having conversations right now about bringing in provincial training for the firefighters, so that we’re able to help them in the event that something does occur and start deploying appropriately,” said Michael Seth, fire chief and director of fire and emergency services for the Cape Breton Regional Municipality.

To help communities prepare, the municipality is currently holding information sessions about wildfire risk reduction.

“For the past three months the CBRM has experienced a lower level of rainfall and snowfall than we would normally expect, so we're entering our spring and summer seasons dryer than we normally would,” said Bruce MacDonald, manager of Cape Breton’s emergency management organization.

Dry conditions and trees downed due to post-tropical storm Fiona make for ideal wildfire conditions. 

A burn ban has been called province-wide and will remain in place until at least June 25.

Cape Breton’s mayor said she is hoping for the best and preparing for the worst after watching how quickly things can change just four hours down the highway.

“It can happen. It's happening right now. It’s not a case of if, but when,” said Amanda McDougall-Merrill, Mayor of CBRM.

McDougall-Merrill said the recent experience with Fiona has given officials a leg up when dealing with disaster.

“Every member of our council is talking to their MLAs on a daily basis about what's next and what's happening, and since Fiona we've been talking with ACOA about creating a fund to be better prepared for the next weather event or disaster,” McDougall-Merrill said.  

For more New Brunswick news visit our dedicated provincial page.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/2wPzBC1