#the story continues but is wrapping up :3c

[monstersofsilence]

Catalyst: Give up...?

It has been a couple days since Cilrus has left the home of a troll by the name of Merlee who found her, retrieving her body, who she was presumed dead but was then revived by unknown means, and was taken care of until she had the energy to go back home. The goth troll appreciated the care she was given despite Merlee insisting for her to stay a bit longer and possibly help with her current situation. Cilrus refused the offer, however though thanked her for wanting to help. Though Cilrus doesn’t know if her predicament is worth helping.

She sits on the edge of her bed, staring off into a mirror that showed off her own reflection, accepting of the inevitable doom of herself and the entire universe. The Singularity has won. Her friend, who is her ex, is killed and she was brought back to life due to it. The goth troll felt like it was unfair for her to be brought back instead of Yevine. Yet, life has a sick sense of humor and continues to mock her in every turn. What can she do? Her ancestor is a powerful being and has two powerful allies by her side. “It’s no use...” She whispered to herself. “There’s no winning this. Might as well just... continue on with my fresh life... until the end eventually comes... but... at least I know it wil happen. And... it will be okay.”

“Will it be okay?”

A voice is heard, startling Cilrus as she looked around her room, trying to spot the source of where it came from. “Wh-who’s there?!” Cilrus called out.

A figure slowly fades in. Ethereal in appearance and glowing, wearing an elegant dress and seems to have a tail with lots of string around it, looking messy. Her eyes were the most catching. Black sclera with grey iris color. “Do not be afraid, my child.”

Cilrus’ expression of worry soon transitions to being calm. “What do you want...?”

“I wish to aid you. To stop The Singularity once and for all.”

“Oh? Well... I don’t think that’s something worth stopping... I’m sorry.” Cilrus merely says

“Cilrus dear...”

“First off... how do you know my name? Secondly... j-just look at me!” She stands up from the bed, walking in front of the ethereal figure. “You think I can face my ancestor? A-A-And how do you even know her?! Why would you want to help me?! Planning to use me until I am unable to be useful... like her?!”

The figure stayed silent, unsure of what else to say considering she has just met the troll. She knew this girl has been through a lot but she is determined to change their mind.

“Answer me!”

The figure took a deep breath. Slowly exhaling and began to explain. “I am known as The Demoness. My name is Kelena Cytone, the ancestor of my descendant Cylion Cytone. I believe you two have met... under... worse circumstances. As for how I know your ancestor... well... it’s a long story... Though I can give a shortened version if that would suffice.”

Cilrus thought for a moment, then finally responded. “Tell me everything.”

“I... lost my lusus at quite a young age. I had no caretaker at the time. I was vulnerable to the world until... a pair of demons took me in. They raised me. I learned many of their ways but also learned of the world I was hatched in, eventually. Soon after, I decided to live off on Alternia but... I grew... sad. Just... the world around me is dangerous. Every day you would see violence around every corner. Made me wish I could change the world. Make Alternia a peaceful world. That’s until I met your ancestor. The Singularity had a speech out in the middle of the city one day and I stopped to listen. Her words sounded genuine. Wanting to make Alternia peaceful. Stop the violence. Stop the over usage of power from the wealthy. Anything she said... it sounded too good to be true.”

“It seemed innocent at first. She had a following that grew and grew... then... it suddenly changed. I... do not know when it happened but I eventually see through her true intentions. I then received visions of multiple futures... Futures that I knew I had to stop. Or else... we wouldn’t be having this conversation. One of the futures was the annihilation of our universe. The other... sacrificing my life... and... yours... to ensure she never achieved her goal.” Kelena stopped, being ready to what’s going to happen.

“Wh-what?!” Cilrus was shocked from what she heard. “What do you mean by that?”

“In order to stop The Singularity... I only had several options... and it was to ensure that it wouldn’t happen in the future... and... to stop my descendant from straying herself to dark magic...” Kelena explained. “I had to stop her myself. Destroying a very powerful object that’s keeping her alive. The Rooted Heart. If that plan failed... I... tipped off the Fleet of her intentions and I knew... they would be afraid of this ever to surface again and therefore... you would have to die for it... to prevent her ultimate goal from ever coming to fruition.”

At that moment, it all began make sense to Cilrus. “You... You sabotaged my life... just... j-just so you can stop my ancestor...?!”

“I don’t expect you to be happy with what I said. I merely-”

“And why should I! Y-You ruined me... You fucking ruined my whole life! And during this whole time, I have been trying to figure out as to why I died, trying to figure out who I really am, and only to found out that it was all YOUR damn fault! I went out searching for answers for fucking nothing! I got my ex, Yevine, killed for fucking nothing!” Cilrus yelled. Anger is not a word she could use to describe her current feelings. She clenched her hands into fists, wanting to punch something but a part of her is holding back. Soon, sadness now overcame her as tears began to flow down her face. “I lost... the one person who I cared for... because of you... and you expect me to let you help me fight my ancestor...”

Kelena didn’t know what else to say. She is right. What the half demon did spiraled their life into what it is now and she can’t change that. What happened is in the past that is now jeopardizing the future. “I don’t expect you to accept the decisions I have made... even I can’t accept them... What I’ve done... I would have never predicted for what you have gone through... I was merely worried for the future of my descendant, the future of Alternia, and the entire universe as a whole. It was selfish of me to make those calls... and I still failed... Now I have to live with that mistake in the after life... but... I want to rewrite those wrongs somehow...”

The goth troll sobbed silently, turning away to not look at The Demoness. Both anger and sadness still overwhelming her.

“I want to fix my mistakes. I know I cannot change them. I wish I could but offering my power to you... you would have a fighting chance to finally stop The Singularity... and... possibly talk some sense to my descendant...” She paused for a moment, thinking of what else to say to convince them until one important piece came to mind. “Do you... know how you were brought back to life?”

The mention of this brought Cilrus’ attention, slowly looking back at The Demoness to fully listen. “N-No... Not really...” It was a mystery she couldn’t figure out. She knew she died. After her ancestor unlinked her soul from Cilrus’, the goth troll died as if it was the day she met her demise but then she came back to life out of nowhere. Why and how? She doesn’t know still.

“I have kept a close eye on you, hidden from view so your ancestor couldn’t detect me. And the day you and Yevine died... I... seen something I didn’t expect to happen. When you died... I thought all hope was lost but... Yevine... had a wonderful gift. Two gifts, to be exact. Her clairvoyance. Able to see the dead but also detect trouble, emotions of others. A very unique gift. The other gift... was giving up her soul to bring you back.”

At that moment, Cilrus’ eyes widened. “... What... she... sh-she...”

“You two were close, correct? Even if you didn’t have the memories from your previous life to fully understand the relationship you two had... she care greatly about you. Even enough to give up her own life... for you continue yours.”

“No... please tell me your lying... p-p-please tell me...”

“I... cannot lie about the truth.”

“She... sh-she gave up her life... F-F-For me...?” Her knees felt weak. Slowly going to her knees, she cried, audibly sobbing while hiding her face behind the palm of her hands. “Y-Yevine...I-I-I’m sorry... I’m sorry I couldn’t save you...!”

Kelena knew the truth wouldn’t be easy to fully accept but she had to bring it up. Cilrus needed to know. She possibly would have the same reaction if she told the same thing, too. The Demoness took a step in front and knelt down to the floor to their level. “Cilrus... she needs to be stopped. Not just for me... or for universe as a whole... but for you. To finally have a fresh life. It’s what your friend Yevine would have wanted, correct? Don’t... don’t let your friends sacrifice be all for not. Please... let me help you stop her once and for all. You can despise me for what I have done to you. I can accept that... but we both know that The Singularity is a major threat. What will it be...?”

Cilrus takes a moment to finally relax, controlling her breathing and to wipe away the tears. Everything that happened to her was all Kelena’s fault but she sounds sincere in wanting to correct her mistakes. Perhaps she has a chance. With The Demoness aiding her, she might have a fighting chance. She let out a shaky sigh, looking up at Kelena and nodded to her. “Okay... but I’m doing this to not let my friend’s sacrifice go to waste.”

The Demoness soon smiled, placing a hand on their shoulder. “Good. First, we’ll need to quickly search some artifacts to protect you from her magics.”

[startouched--blog]

hello there >:3c

if it is not too much to ask, nsfw brat!reader x ichiro? a little kinky freak, if you may…

reader and ichiro work a lot and needs to let off some steam. maybe dabble in a bit of what you think ichiro would be into? all up to you!! i hope you have fun with this request, if you do it— you’re a blessing <3

I can't tell if this is the same person from last time but kudos to you either way /pos. I have also learned how to write better so I might go in and edit all my other stories!!

SCENARIO - Ichiro and you need to let off some steam,, but you're a brat!

PAIRINGS - Ichiro x gn!reader

GENRE - NSFW, oneshot,

You are a hard working person, sure, but sometimes, you really do need a break. .

You work at a convenient store down the block from where you currently lived at, being the same place your boyfriend, Ichiro, lived at. You were happy to have moved in with him, and it was nice to be able to see his face after a long day of work.

Although, a lot of the time he wouldn't be there. Ichiro also worked a job, and was a well known rapper in Ikebukuro. A lot of the time he would be busy working with other people, delivering orders to people around town, or saving another person from another incident. You loved him dearly and loved everything he did, but sometimes you just wanted to be with him and just him.

You waved and smiled to another customer as you let them go, leaning against the check out counter that you were stationed at. It was basically time for your shift to be over and you were honestly excited to be able to sit down after multiple hours of standing and working.

The last few minutes went by quicker than you thought as your boss waved you off your station and told you to get ready to leave. You gave out a sigh of relief before turning everything in and clocking out. You were happy to finally have a break from your night shift for even a second. You really were considering looking for a different job but that was a thought for another night when you weren't sleep deprived and over your head.

You walked your way all the way back to your boyfriends small house, quietly opening the door to not awake the other ones that lived in the house. To your surprise, you were greeted with a tired smile and arms wrapped around your waist as soon as you entered the living room.

"I missed you. ."

"that much huh? you could have slept and waiting for me in bed~?"

Ichiro chuckled and hugged onto you tighter, bringing you down with him onto the couch, a small oomf coming from the both of you.

"come on, I have one night off, what's better than waiting for my lovely partner to come home and greet me" you giggled.

You could only smile as you poked him in his cheek, gaining an even bigger smile from the male. You mumbled lightly under your breath.

"still, you look tired as hell"

He could only laugh "oh come on be nice to poor ol me" He did a fake pout and sat the both of you up, setting you down in his lap, legs straddled over his as you faced him.

"Are you too tired to pay attention to me~?" you pouted back at him, wrapping your arms loosely over his shoulders and neck, gaining a blush to appear on his face.

"well. . no. . but you know how work is" Ichiro chuckled and leaned his forehead against yours. You pout again as you traced a finger down his collarbone, making him shiver and hold onto your hips tighter

"come on Y/N.." he seemed to only whine out, but you weren't listening to him. You continued to trace your fingers down his body until he eventually had to grab onto your wrist and stop you himself. He gave you a semi-stern look, but it was rather playful as well. "not tonight okay.. we can do this- another night" You frowned to what he said, making pouting noises again until he finally let go of your wrist. You ignored all he said beforehand and forced him onto his back, sitting down by his waist, hands pinning down his wrists. He gave you a stern look, trying to tell you that you probably shouldn't be doing it in the living room of a share house with his younger siblings, but you didn't seem to care all that much. It was night after all, what harm could it do. You giggled as you slid down his jacket, putting it to the side, not like you'll need it. You kissed at his neck and shoulders, small groans escaping his lips. He tried to shift under your touch but it didn't seem to work. "seeee~ I think this is just what we needed" A small giggle escaped your lips as your hands wandered all around his chest, right until they met the bottom of the shirt. You looked over at him for clearance to take it off. He only nodded towards you, so you delightfully took off his sweater shirt, and also threw it to the side.

You began to trail your kisses all over his chest and stomach, making sure every inch of skin was covered in your harsh kissing fits. Your boyfriend only made sudden movements or noises under you, trying not to show he was enjoying it too much. He was mad at you wasn't he? You could change that. After leaving many marks on the males chest and stomach, you tugged your hands under his belt, trying to move it down. Ichiro sat up and held onto your waist. "hold on-"

He looked away from you in a flustered panic as you tilt your head, but soon enough turned back and began to undress you. everything up top first, then everything below. You sat there and only chuckled at how her goggled at your body "like what you see? is that why you dug right in?" "maybe-" You laughed quietly so you didn't wake the others in the vicinity, scooting closer to him and again, tugging at the belt he was wearing. "come on~ I'm already naked, just take it off already~" He let a sigh fall through his lips again before nodding, undoing his belt and removing it with his pants, leaving him alone with his boxers. You giggled to him, getting off the couch and sitting down in front of him, in between his legs. You poked at the tent in his boxers, kissing it as well, just to show your affection. He mumbled and grabbed at your hair, startling you, but it wasn't surprising at the slightest. You knew exactly what got him going, so why not do it. you kissed him from the outside, lathering his member with kisses and gentle bites, although covered with fabric still. "you could take it off y'know..?" "I'd rather not"

He huffed at you as you continued to spread the kisses all around, one hand poking down on the tip and the other fondling. You could laugh internally as you watched his body tense up from all the attention it was getting, so needy for your touch and physical praise. The tight tugs at your hair that you were getting were enough to tell you he was enjoying it.

You eventually did feel bad though, kissing his boxers was so evil of you. You took a moment but completely stripped him of the rest of his clothing, kissing the tip gently. You were nothing but smug as your trailed harsh kissed and sucks all over his member, making sure every part wasn't left unscaled. A hand went up then down quickly as the kisses didn't stop. You wanted to cover more ground in shorter time. You heard mumbles from your boyfriend that he was close. good. This means your plan could spin into action. As he bucked his hips into your hand, you used your thumb to cover the tip, letting nothing leak out from inside of him. "what- hey- you can't do that--" "yes I can, I want you to say you enjoyed tonight. Say you deserved it and I'll let you cum" There was a pause, not awkward, but it was a pause nonetheless. He whined at you, he didn't want to say anything but he wanted to released. You only sat there and leaned again your free hand, tapping another finger on the side of his member. "come on, you're a big boy you can do it" "fine.. I deserved this.." He muttered out quietly, but that was all you needed for you to let go of him, allowing him to release on himself and some on you. Holding it in must have taken a toll on him, because after that he was breathing pretty heavily. "There you go~ I'm glad you think so"

Hope you enjoyed~!

[vostokovasmelina]

— 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟑𝐂. (𝐬.𝐰.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢  |  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐢  |  𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

characters: fem!reader; sam wilson; archibald the tabby cat; sarah wilson (mentioned)

word count: 2.1k+

warning: none (no tfatws spoilers yet)

series summary: after the blip, sam wilson gets home to an unpleasant surprise - his key doesn’t fit the lock anymore and his apartment is now inhabited by a stranger and a grumpy feline. however, the unusual encounter is only just the beginning of their post-blip lives and the reader soon learns that what life takes away, it can give back in the most particular ways.

a/n: if this flops, i’m quitting.

Sam was tired. Truly, utterly tired. It felt like he hadn’t felt anything but fatigue for the last few days, the kind that seeps deep into your bones and cozies up in your marrow, the kind that never seems to leave. Like, ever again.

He knew he was probably supposed to call Sarah and tell her he was on his way. They had only talked once since he came back, right before Tony’s funeral, and even that was a rather brief telephone call. His sister had told him there was something he needed to know but Sam had said they would talk once he got to hers. First, he needed some rest. A short nap would do, really. And a cup of strong black coffee. Or maybe two.

He parked his car where he always had; the space furthest to the left, right under his favorite maple tree that looked so pretty in the autumn and kept the inside of Sam’s car relatively cool in the summer. He watched for a while as the light spring breeze played with the fresh green mane of this majestic old lady, and felt a soft wave of calm rush through every tiny particle of him. He was home. The battle was over and he was on his way to his family. He wouldn’t take that nap. He’d just get his stuff out of his car and put Cap’s shield somewhere safe - he would deal with that later.

But he would have that coffee. He did deserve a treat after all.

Sam had no trouble getting inside the building, thanks to a delivery guy leaving right when he was about to enter. He took a deep breath, just a short second before making his way up the stairs to the third floor. He had been told at least a million times that what felt like five seconds to him, had actually been five years for those left behind. And still, the dirty old apartment complex had not changed at all, not even a tiny bit. Everything had stayed the same; the chipped grey paint on the dense walls, the rusty banister, the dusty steps... It felt like a time capsule. It felt safe, it felt like home.

Except it wasn’t anymore.

As soon as he got up to his floor, he knew something was off. He didn’t realise at first but he did approach the door to his apartment more carefully, with a slight shadow of a frown on his face. Sam slowed down his last few steps and looked the door up and down, down and up again, checking every corner for something out of the ordinary, something that was not meant to be there. When he found nothing, he chuckled to himself. So stupid. He had become paranoid. It was only natural given his job but honestly, it had been high time he had calmed down. So he slid his hand into his jacket pocket to grab his keys, and with a small smile lingering in the corners of his lips, he tried to unlock his door.

And that was precisely when his smile fell.

The key just wouldn’t go into the lock. Sam tried to insert every single one of them, even went as far as attempting to force his car key through the tiny hole, which obviously didn’t work. His anxiety was slowly building up in his stomach again and just as he looked down at his key charm, he realised what had made him so suspicious the first time - his doormat was gone. His black scraper had been replaced by a dark green carpet doormat that looked like it was in desperate need for a wash. Or maybe a one-way trip to the dumpsters.

Eyebrows furrowed, Sam looked up at the rusty number 3c on the door and, once sure it was indeed his apartment, he thought he’d try his luck with the doorknob as well. His fingers were already wrapped around the cold metal when the door swung open with such force that Sam froze for a few seconds.

“I’m warning you; I’m armed!”

Sam immediately threw his hands into the air and even took a step back from your doorstep. He was frozen for a few seconds and only relaxed when he saw what you were actually holding in your hands - a tabby cat in one, and a bottle of deodorant in the other. He let out a silent sigh of relief at the sight and slowly brought his arms back to his sides, but he made sure to stay put and not to approach you just yet.

“It’s alright! I mean no harm.”

*  *  *

Several minutes later your heart was still racing, threatening to punch a whole through your chest and making a getaway down the corridor. However, you slowly relaxed your muscles as your breathing started to calm down, too, still staring the stranger dead in the eyes and making sure to hold Archie as steadily as your shaking hand could. Once you had decided you trusted the words of the man standing before you, you dropped your other hand holding the almost empty - and therefore useless - bottle. However, you did keep your distance and wrapped your now free fingers tightly around the doorknob on the inside, ready to smash it into his face the moment it would be necessary.

“Can I help you?” You asked, cradling your uninterested cat closer to your chest and burying your fingers deep in his soft fur. You raised a wary eyebrow at the stranger standing in your doorway who himself seemed just as suspicious as you were. As if he had any right to.

“Yeah...” 

You watched him look you up and down, your little grey feline jumping to your defence and staring the man dead in the eyes as if daring him to spend one more second eyeing you. And it worked. With a tiny frown he looked you in the eyes again and continued. Good job, Archie.

“Who are you?”

You thought he was joking. So you laughed and then saw the man’s face and then felt bad. He was absolutely not joking. He was genuinely confused and obviously had no idea who you were. And it was not like you were a celebrity around here but you had built quite a decent following of fellow plant-lovers over on Instagram, so you were actually mildly offended.

But it was alright; you decided to let it slide and give this stranger a chance. Who knows, maybe he had been following your updates on your snake plant stories. He did look like a snake plant kind of guy.

And maybe you could also clear up the confusion around why he had been trying to break into your home just a minute ago.

So you told him your name and when he still looked as confused as ever, you looked at him expectantly, shifting Archie’s weight from one arm to the other.

“And... who are you?” You finally decided to help him out and even offered him a tiny smile, which evaporated the second you heard his answer leave his lips.

“Sam Wilson. I-”

“Sam Wilson?” You cut him off and stared at him for a few seconds, trying to process the information. The longer you looked, the more obvious the similarities got and you cursed at yourself silently for not having realised it before. Sarah had warned you about it the moment the news broke out but she had also promised to deal with it and let you know once she had enlightened her brother. You had been expecting a phone call or maybe a text, definitely not the brother himself right on your doorstep.

“Yeah. Why?”

You had already opened your mouth to answer but were interrupted by Archie who had obviously had enough of being cradled like a baby and since the drama seemed to have ended, he was no longer interested. You let him land on the floor gently and nudged him in the direction of your tiny living room before turning back towards Sam and opening the door several inches wider.

“You know, I really think you should come in.”

“No, I have to call my sister and-”

“You haven’t called Sarah yet?!” You exclaimed, stopping in your tracks and shaking your head ever so slightly. “She’s gonna be so pissed, man.”

You watched him furrow his eyebrows and do that thing again where he looked you up and down, down and up again as if you could be an alien in disguise trying to lure him into some intergalactic trap. As if you hadn’t just tried to protect yourself with an empty deodorant bottle and a kitten. Sam Wilson clearly was a poor judge of character.

“Yeah, I know your sister, get over it. Would you please come inside?”

You put on your most friendly smile just for him and stepped aside, gesturing Sam inside the apartment you both knew so well. He gave you one last wary look before stepping over the threshold, and you rolled your eyes at him behind his back before closing the door behind the two of you.

*  *  *

“Tea? Or maybe coffee?” Sam heard from behind him and did a double take before turning towards you, already making your way to the tiny kitchen area  divided from the living room only by a worn wooden table. Sam watched you take out two identical white mugs from one of the cabinets and felt his stomach jump up into his throat and fall back into its place again; that was exactly where he kept his mugs, too. Well, used to keep them.

“Oh, ugh, coffee. Please. Black. One sugar.”

He saw you nod and get to work. Sam did wait for a while for you to start the conversation and finally explain to him what was going on. When that didn’t actually happen, he turned his head to look around, trying to shake off the weird feeling he had seeing you feel so at home in what used to be his home just a few days ago. Or five years ago. Question of perspective.

The first thing Sam noticed once he had actually taken the time to look around was green. What, at first glance, had slipped his attention was now screaming at him from every corner of the apartment. The living room was filled to the brim with houseplants. There were handsome little pots of plants on the windowsills, on the bookshelves, even on the kitchen counter. What hadn’t fit higher, got place on the floor.

You had turned the apartment into a botanical garden.

“Hey, plant lady? Is this even legal? It feels illegal.” He gestured all around the room and you followed his movement with your eyes, a tiny grin creeping its way onto your face but disappearing the very next second. Sam tried his best to play along and act like he hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh would you look at that, you can actually form full sentences,” you teased, giving him a side-eyed look before handing him your mug filled with hot black coffee, which Sam took gladly, ignoring the drop of sarcasm in your voice.

“Those are actually fine,” you continued after the first sip of your tea and pointing at the cat yawning on the dirty old couch in the middle of the living room. “Archie is the only problem here. But hush, he’s a secret.”

“How can you keep a cat here in secret?”

“I bribed the superintendent,” you whispered, leaning a little closer to Sam and flashing him a perfect albeit forced smile.

“Old Charlie? No way!” Sam scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“O-ho, yes way! Everyone has a weakness and I’ve found our old Charlie’s.”

“Which is...?”

“... a secret I’ve vowed to take to the grave with me,” you replied and gave emphasis to your words with a tiny nod of your head, leaving Sam slightly disappointed but smirking nonetheless.

In the short silence that followed, he took another sip of his hot coffee, enjoying every millisecond of the burning, bittersweet sensation before finally addressing the elephant in the room. Because even though his suspicions had somewhat settled, Sam was still completely confused about how on Earth you could possibly know his sister and talk about her so casually. And you must have been thinking of the same thing because as he looked at you above his now half empty mug and your gazes met, you closed your eyes and let out a sigh, gesturing towards the small kitchen table.

“Let’s talk, I guess.”

*  *  *

mini-series taglist - let me know if you’d like to be added

@softieyn

@mahvericks

@amirahiddleston

@fireghost-x

@samuelthomaswillson

mcu taglist - join here

@babymango-writes

@softieyn

@spencereidisabicon

@whutisthus

@bravelittlesunflower

@katethecrazy

@swanimagines​

@amirahiddleston​

@remusflirts​

@musicallisto​

[eredins-a-king-aint-he]

Hi! For the Drabble prompts: 15. “So, I found this waterfall…” with Geraskier? Thank you 💖

This was very fun, I’ve never written these two before now! :3c

(using Dandelion instead with permission from the ask-ee)

Prompt: “So, I found this waterfall…”

~~~~~

      “Geralt, where are we going?” 

      “I’ve already told you, Dandelion, it’s a surprise. Stick close.”

      Geralt listens as the bard hurries to catch up to him, his feet crunching loudly over the forest floor. 

       “How did you find this surprise anyway?” Dandelion asks, panting slightly. “I thought you already knew these woods front to back.”

      “I thought so too,” Geralt replies. He grips Dandelion’s shoulder as the man teeters over a patch of uneven ground, steadying him. “Come on, grab hold—” 

      Geralt can’t even finish the sentence before the bard’s hand is in his.

     “As I was saying,” Geralt continues, feeling warmth rise into his cheeks, “I thought I did too, but I was out here on a contract a day or two ago and— yes I cleared the area,” he says, responding to an anxious tightening of Dandelion’s fingers, “and I’m gonna double check it before you get too close, don’t worry. It was only drowners anyway.”

      “So, it has something to do with water, then,” Dandelion says quickly.

      Geralt snorts with impatience and keeps walking.

      “Stop interrupting me, or I’ll never finish my story,” he grumbles.

      “Oh, very well, grumpy pants. Please continue.”

      Geralt lightly squeezes the hand in his grip, saying,

      “Well, to keep a long story short for his eminence, the viscount, I discovered something new that I didn’t know about. It does happen sometimes. Keep up, it’s only a few minutes away.”

      Dandelion lets out a huff of breath, but the callused hand in his grip is warm and comforting, and more importantly, it’s Geralt’s. They walk for a little while longer, then the witcher stops abruptly, causing his companion to nearly run into his back.

      “Is something wrong?” Dandelion asks worriedly.

      “No, but better safe than sorry,” Geralt replies. He slips his hand out of the bard’s hold and turns to him.

      “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

      Dandelion nods. Apparently satisfied with this, Geralt disappears behind a wall of trees. He returns a few minutes later, looking quite pleased with himself.

      “It’s still clear. Come on.”

      This time Geralt takes the bard’s hand without waiting for him to respond, and leads him forward. 

      “So, I found this waterfall...” Geralt says as they step through the wall of trees, and Dandelion gasps out loud, unable to stifle the sound. 

      The scene before them is stunningly picturesque, like something out of a fairy tale. A small cascade of water pours over the side of a small cliff and into a pool below, sparkling in the rays of sunlight that filter down through the forest canopy. The water is crystal clear, even though the pool looks deep enough for swimming. 

      Geralt glances over in time to see Dandelion already half out of his clothes. 

      “It’s pretty cold—” he begins, but as usual, Dandelion seems to be just a step ahead of him. The bard tosses his underclothes aside, runs forward, and jumps into the pool with a whoop. Geralt watches with amusement as he resurfaces a second later with an even louder yelp and rockets out of the water at an impressive speed. He comes to a halt in front of the witcher, his eyes sparkling with joy. Geralt can’t help but be reminded of the few times he has seen polished aquamarines.

      “This is so beautiful, Geralt,” Dandelion gushes, flinging his hair back in a wet spray that hits Geralt in the face. “Oh, sorry!” 

      The witcher chuckles and wipes the water out of his eyes.

      “I thought you’d appreciate it,” he says. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of wet hair behind Dandelion’s ear. 

      “And you said you found this only a day or two ago?”

      “Yeah.”

      Dandelion sighs happily and reaches up, wrapping his wet arms around Geralt’s neck so he can place a cold and watery kiss on his lips.

      “Thank you for thinking of me,” Dandelion whispers, pulling back and kissing the tip of the witcher’s nose, then his cheeks. 

      “Of course,” Geralt replies, bemused but clearly pleased by the reaction. 

      “Now, you gotta jump in with me!”

      “You’re crazy, it’s freezing.”

      “You’ll be fine, come on!”

      “... Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

      And so the witcher sheds his armor, adding a second splash to the first, and a soft chuckle to the joyful laugh, then lips press against lips, and the quiet sounds that follow are lost in the rush of the waterfall.

[houseboatisland]

Thomas x Oliver

Interesting💙💚 :3c

By the time Thomas and Oliver first met, Oliver had been on Sodor for just about a year. Oliver was also essentially engaged to be married to Douglas, but both knew each other to be notorious flirts. Because they trust each other so much, they have a long-standing agreement to allow little flings on the side.

At this time, Thomas hadn’t had a steady partner for decades, the last time being James from the mid Twenties up until the famous Big Engine Strike of 1933. He had an incredibly short thing going on with Jinty until he went back to England, and his experimental kiss with Percy in 1933 could hardly be considered a relationship at all. Thomas was anxious, to put it mildly, to get back into romance, and Oliver turned out to be just his chance.

The first winter after Oliver was back in service, Sir Bertram Hatt I decided that Oliver would be best used elsewhere. Duck and one of the Scottish Twins could easily handle the Little Western alone in these months. One place Oliver found himself, and routinely has since, was the Ffarquhar Branch.

Thomas more or less sees Oliver, a trim new figure with a heroic backstory, and thinks “Target Acquired😳😍.” Oliver had heard about Thomas back in England when first plotting his escape to Sodor, and although what he heard amounted to “famous blue brat who gets into the FUNNIEST accidents, mate XD,” he was pretty intrigued when he met Thomas at last.

They immediately began swapping stories and cozying up to one another. Percy, Toby and Daisy are beside themselves seeing Thomas fawn over another engine for a change, and the dreamy expression he’s wearing as Oliver tells his story has to be saved to be believed, can someone with hands and a Super 8mm camera please do something about that.

Tidbits: Annie and Clarabel teased Thomas SO MUCH that first winter. Thomas was mad at Oliver for one week when he began pursuing Percy, who to Thomas’ fury, allowed Oliver and then some. This was quite silly because Thomas knew by now that Oliver was in an open yet committed relationship with Douglas, but he had yet to wrap his smokebox around that idea, and thus began to dislike what he didn’t understand, because Thomas.

He forgave Oliver at the end of that week though. From then on, Thomas and Percy managed a contest between themselves of who had kissed Oliver the most times.

Thomas spent that first Spring in which Oliver went back to his own branch utterly heartbroken. Percy, who as a former contractor’s engine moved from place to place, adjusted without a hitch.

Oliver still comes back every winter, and Thomas looks forward to it so terribly. They’ve continued this on again, off again relationship each year, although Thomas has gotten over his seasonal depressions every Spring.

(Yes, Thomas and Percy still compete to see who kissed Oliver the most. And yes, Oliver enables them endlessly, because he’s a sucker for that sort of thing, and attention in general.)

[srrrokka]

WIP Tag

I got tagged by @exultedshores to post a snipped of one of my wips! Thank you, Shores, you know that this is the only way they shall see light of the day :’)

The following bit is from the first chapter of To All That Is Lost, a Corvo/Daud fic. (Couldn’t find a good moment to crop this so it’s a bit over 3k, just saying.)

I shall tag @screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse, @puppyblueao3, @modlisznik, and @ptera-novaeangliae :3c

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Maybe it was that he became too cocky, too confident after a month-long streak of easy, uninterrupted burglaries and theft—or rather scavenging, considering the flats he entered had been mostly emptied by the plague already—or perhaps it was the gnawing hunger, twisting his stomach into painful knots that spurred him onward into actions bordering on straight up idiotic. Regardless of the cause, Corvo found himself south of the river, uncomfortably close to a Watch outpost swarming with officers and equipped with not one but two arc pylons. 

A string of colourful Serkonan curses fell from his lips between one heavy breath and another as he ran out onto a narrow makeshift bridge linking two opposing buildings, and prayed to the Outsider, and any other being listening, that he wouldn't get shot from the street below. He fisted his left hand, ignoring the throbbing headache it caused. Turquoise light flared from under the too long sleeve of his tattered sweater. The moment his fingers unclenched, he was on the other side, slamming the balcony door shut with his foot. He stumbled forward, looking for a way out, his worn leather coat flapped around his shins as he whirled around.

Stairs. Stairs leading to the ground floor. No breaking legs today.

Angry shouting from the footbridge pushed him forward as if he had wings and he nearly flew down the first flight of stairs, jumping three steps at a time. The few things in the canvas bag slung over his shoulder slammed their sharp edges into his thigh where it bounced with every step. But he barely registered the pain.

"Stop! Stay where you are!" Corvo froze at the words, his eyes wide behind the simple leather mask. He nearly ran into the Watchman climbing towards him.

Upstairs a loud bang and the sound of shattering glass announced other officers being right at his tail. He let out a strained breath. If there was no way up or down... there was always left and right.

He swallowed hard and, using the handrail like a springboard, jumped over it and into the drop between the steps. The fall wasn't massive, but it was enough to nearly make Corvo land on his knees, all of the muscles in his body strained with the impact. Probably only due to the adrenaline rushing in his veins and humming like a waterfall in his ears did he manage to not stumble and immediately broke into a run.

The way out was so close, so very close. He could make it. He could live another day.

A light blue shine on the right caught his eye. Whale oil tank powering one of the arc pylons. He forgot about the arc pylons!

"Don't move! There's no escape!" yelled one of the officers behind him and he shot a quick glance in his direction. There were five of them, already nearly at the ground floor.

With a metallic scrape, Corvo yanked the whale oil tank from its socket and blinked down at it as the contents swirled dangerously behind the glass. He had an idea. It was a bad idea. But it seemed to be just the day for those.

He tossed the tank towards the staircase and broke into a desperate sprint.

The heartbeat in his chest counted down to the explosion along with his frantic footfall. He caught one hand on the door frame to aid in taking a sharp turn. But instead it helped him not to tumble forward when he slammed into someone's solid form.

It felt as if time had slowed down for him. Against all logic there was enough time to look at the man in a red leather coat in front of him — his light grey piercing eyes wide in surprise, grab his lapels into a grip so tight Corvo's knuckles felt like they were about to dislocate, and yank him away from the entrance, spinning them around and slamming him against the wall right next to it. The man opened his mouth, a scowl growing on his features, but whatever he had to say was swallowed by an explosion that shook the marrow in Corvo's bones. They both instinctively curled in response, trying to shield themselves as much as possible, as a ball of fire shot out with an angry roar from the building. 

Through the ringing in his ears, Corvo heard what seemed like quite a large number of people yelling. He couldn't quite make out the words but when he lifted his head and his eyes met the red-coat's, he knew it was time to go.

They both lunged away from the swarm of Watchmen at the same time as if signalled by a starter pistol. They sped down along the street, kicking up clouds of dust and Void knows what else, as a thunder of several gunshots cracked behind them sharply like a whip. A bullet hit the cobble near Corvo's feet and ricocheted away with a high-pitched whistle. He grit his teeth, willing his legs to go faster.

Regardless of how bad the Watch was at aiming, they would eventually get shot if they continued on in a straight line like that.

As if knowing his thoughts precisely, the man at his side yanked him by the arm to the left, nearly throwing him over in the process. Corvo scrambled gracelessly with him towards a narrow, shaded alleyway. It was closed off by a tall brick wall, too tall even for him to Blink on top of, if he had any energy left for that in the first place.

But his companion didn't seem too perturbed by the fact that he was leading them into a corner. Either he had a plan or he was simply insane. Either way, one thing was clear — there was no going back now.

Corvo was about to open his mouth to voice the concern, when a strong, gloved arm pulled him closer to its owner, wrapping itself tightly around his middle.

In the space between a heartbeat and another, an endless sea of whispers like the last breath escaping a hundred souls surrounded him along with a swirl of ash. The sensation of misplacement that followed was familiar in the most unfamiliar way — weightlessness guided by the purpose of another, not his. Then, as the ash parted, the world caught up to him in a wrong angle, wrong space, wrong altitude.

And with a breathless exhale he fell.

The only thing that saved him from landing three stories down in a pile of broken bones and blood on the hard concrete, was the mindless instinct to grab. The old cast iron balcony railing rattled dangerously under his weight, as the gravity almost wrenched his shoulders out of their sockets and his solar plexus hit the outer edge of the stone floor, making him fruitlessly gasp for air with a painful wheeze.

Above him, heavy boots on either side of Corvo's palms, the red-clad man struggled to keep his balance on the balustrade — arms spread wide, attempting to counteract the wobble Corvo was causing. Quickly enough, he regained his footing, jumped back onto the landing, and, having thrown a glance to the mouth of the alley, grabbed the back of Corvo's coat and helped him clamber up and into the building.

With a ruckus equal only to a herd of blood oxen, the stampede of Watchmen turned the corner and ran into the dead-end below, to their surprise, finding it completely empty.

The wave of relief that came over Corvo, as he watched them scramble aimlessly through a dust-covered window, was like a splash of pleasantly cool water. His lungs were burning, all the muscles in his body were screaming with exhaustion, and his head was pounding, but he was alive and he would continue to be, even if the following morning he'd probably regret his continued existence.

A dry barking cough brought his attention back to the person in the room with him — tall and well built, with a narrow face on the side of which was a long scar that disappeared all the way under the collar of his thick white shirt, and armed to the teeth. But most importantly–

"You're Marked," Corvo found himself rasping out with disbelief between the slowing breaths, and cleared his throat. It wasn't a question, the man was just like him. It never even crossed his mind he could meet another blessed by the Outsider. "Who are you?"

"Depends who's asking..." he replied, voice low and husky. His eyes narrowed as he looked over Corvo with a gaze calculating enough to make him irrationally self conscious about his scruffy appearance.

Having lifted his left hand, Corvo slipped his thumb out of the hole in the side of his sweater sleeve, showing off the back of his hand. The Outsider's mark stood stark black like spilled ink on his skin. "A fellow heretic," he supplied with a self-satisfied note in his voice and bent his fingers, willing a flash of turquoise light to highlight the sharp lines.

It reflected in the man's steely eyes but, apart from the most subtle shift in posture that did not escape Corvo, it invoked no reaction whatsoever. Maybe it was best to let him mull the news over for a moment or two. If the gifts of the Leviathan were as rare as he was made to believe, the man was surely as shocked as he was.

With that through, Corvo peered outside again and found only two officers still standing in the alley. The irrelevance of that number let him relax further and he rolled his aching shoulders as he looked around the abandoned flat. It must have been grand once — high ceilings of white stone and wooden flooring with intricate patterns now filled with grime and dust like everything else. Several pieces of furniture were still there; maybe some other treasures could be found too.

"I'm Daud," the Marked finally said dryly, the arms crossed over his chest nearly audible in his words.

Corvo didn't turn to look and continued rifling through the drawers of a water damaged desk. "Just Daud?"

"You're not from around here, are you?"

He froze, fingers just above the splotchy brown surface of a tarnished brass knob. For the second time that day his heart jumped straight to his throat. Was that one innocent question really enough to give away his complete lack of knowledge about Gristol? "You that famous?"

"As much as getting dubbed the 'Knife of Dunwall' warrants," Daud said darkly and leaned his shoulder on the nearby wall, making some loose flakes of plaster and paint fall to the floor.

"Oh, right, I heard about you. Head of the Whalers." Corvo finally reached into the drawer and shuffled the yellowed papers around.

"And you are?" Daud put a bit more stress on that question, clearly getting irked by him avoiding any solid answers.

Nimble fingers pocketed a silver coin from under the papers and, not having found anything more of interest, he turned around to sit on the edge of the dresser. "Attano. Corvo Attano." With his thumb he pushed the leather mask up to rest on the top of his head and rubbed the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "Nice to make your acquaintance," he added with a cocky smile.

"Attano," Daud repeated slowly as if trying his name out. "A Serk, huh?"

"Problem?"

"Not at all. I'm from Serkonos myself."

"A little pale for that," Corvo grinned at him smugly from across the room.

Daud raised an eyebrow, the arc of it a sharp angle. "So are you."

"Touché."

In his most recent memory he wasn't — he used to be quite tan, skin sun-kissed with constant running around in the Serkonan heat — but it must have been decades ago, considering how he looked at the present and how the gap between then and now felt nearly endless. A black void of a sudden cliff's edge.

"So, Attano." Corvo's attention snapped back to the assassin as he spoke again. "How long have you been in Dunwall?"

The desk whined underneath him when he shifted, eyeing Daud with narrowed eyes. Something felt off about this. "No offence, but what's it to you?"

"Just curious," he shrugged.

"Aha, sure. Do you show this interest to every person you meet on the street?" Corvo gritted out and got properly back onto his feet, ready to move at any time. Did the man think he was stupid? "Listen, if you want something from me, say it and stop running circles. But, as far as I see it, I saved your skin and you saved mine so we are done here."

"Straight to the point, I can appreciate that." Daud pushed himself off of the wall and half-heartedly dusted off his shoulder. "I want to offer you employment. You've got some skill, and certain other advantages, which I would definitely use among my men."

That caught Corvo completely off guard. "What, you want me to be a Whaler?" he asked incredulously. "Sorry, Knife, but I am no assassin."

"No one said you have to be an assassin. Other positions are available."

It seemed too good to be true. As far as Corvo and many other people of his status were concerned, the looking a gift horse in the mouth saying was a steaming pile of oxen dung. Always question an overly generous gesture because it might turn out that under the surface it isn't one at all.

But despite that, Corvo couldn't stop a spark of hope igniting at the very back of his mind. Having a job, no matter how shady, would not only give him some means to live but also put a sense of structure into the confusing wreck of his life. The Outsider only knows how difficult and terrifying the last month was for him.

Daud graciously let him consider the offer for a good while but when he finally spoke again it was like putting a marble block on the scale. "I can also offer you a safe corner to sleep in and a reliable supply of food."

A ravenous twist of his empty stomach sent Corvo's thoughts to the two heavily bruised apples at the bottom of his bag — his only food. "You got me there..." He exhaled slowly. There shouldn't be any harm in chancing the truth, should there? "Listen, it's not that I'm not willing. I just doubt I would be useful to you."

Confusion clear in the tilt of his head and eyes scanning, Daud questioned on, "How so? You seem capable enough to me."

"What if I told you I can't remember the last fifteen, maybe twenty years of my life?" Corvo asked, throat tighter at the admission than he expected. It occurred to him then that he hadn't told anyone about this before. He hoped it didn't sound too much like a weird excuse. "I doubt I would be useful to you because I don't even know what I can do."

"That's... rough," Daud managed. His grey eyes darkened under a deep frown. He seemed horrified by that concept, in a faraway, concealed way. Or maybe Corvo just wanted him to be.

Corvo laughed mirthlessly, "Yeah, tell me about it... All I've got is the last month and then nothing until I was a kid." His eyes dropped, fingers fidgeting nervously with the edge of his tattered bag.

"We can always find out what you can do. Or put you through training," the assassin offered.

That wasn't a bad concept. He definitely had muscle memory of some skills, like the mark and various sword fighting techniques he doesn't recall knowing in his youth. But it was unexpected how easily the Knife came to accept his affliction. So with a frown of his own he looked the man dead in the eye, challenging. "Excuse my distrust, but you are very... intent on getting me on your side. Why?"

Daud considered his words for a short moment. "You're Marked," he finally said simply. "There are very few of us and those who are alive are very powerful. I would most definitely not want an enemy out of you."

"And that's why you want me under your heel. Makes sense," Corvo thought out loud and immediately winced inwardly. It sounded much more malicious than he intended. Fortunately, Daud didn't seem bothered by that remark.

"You would be under my command, yes, but it's not like I would be able to control you, Attano," he reasoned. "You can leave whenever you want to."

"So what are your conditions?" Corvo asked as if he hadn't decided already.

The corners of Daud's narrow lips curled up in a knowing smile. He was undeniably handsome, in a sharp and dangerous kind of way that either made one's blood freeze or run hot, no in between. With slight amusement Corvo found that he fell under the latter category. There was something exhilarating in being under the scrutiny of those icy, attentive eyes.

We learnt something new about ourselves there, huh?

"The Whalers are more of an organised force compared to other gangs — everyone has their own function and a strict hierarchy is in place. As such, I would expect you to follow my orders and those of the ones above you." When Daud began moving in his direction with leisurely steps, one arm behind his back and the other gesturing loosely as he talked, Corvo straightened his back instinctively. With eerie ease he felt himself slip into the alert stiffness he could expect from Watchmen during an official briefing. "To trust you with our secrets, I need your loyalty. But as I said, you can quit at your discretion. Preferably by telling me, otherwise it might so happen that you could be considered a traitor and hunted for sport." The last words were accompanied by a dark glint in the master assassin's eyes. That was not an empty threat.

None of what he was asking for was unreasonable, Corvo had to admit. And considering he wouldn't be forced into killing people, it seemed like a great deal all around. Then again, casting his mind back to the officers he blew up — probably gravely injured, if not dead due to his actions — didn't fill him with too much remorse, so maybe they could make an assassin out of him still.

Lightly, he tapped the heel of his boot on the wooden panelling several times, rolling all of it over in his head for the last time. Then on a long exhale he said, "Alright. I'm all yours."

[zblackiez]

Episode 8: Adventure

"So, there I was, hanging from the edge of my seat, ready to accept the award for 'Most Improved'. I mean, it had to be me, right? I'd been tearing up the arena, getting knockouts left and right. I even went on a ten-win streak. Ten!"

The mountainous mass of black symbiote tensed up, his frustration boiling.

"It was supposed to be me . . ." he whispered.

His finger then shot towards the figure at the other end of the room: a being of crimson goo, slightly slimmer, indulging in a comic book.

"Yet they hand it to this goofball instead!? Are you serious!?"

"Face the facts, Venom," the red man implored. "You just lost. No need to cry about it."

"What facts?" the black beast hissed. "I was cheated! I improved more than you and you know it, Carnage!"

The one of crimson, Carnage, merely shrugged.

"Apparently not, since I'm the one with the trophy in my case."

He chuckled.

The behemoth, Venom, turned to me.

"Can you believe this jerkface?"

For my part, I insisted with my signature Are you serious? Face. (Getting pretty good at it.)

Chains had been wrapped around my person, keeping my butt glued to the metal chair beneath me. Around us, the essence of a dingy hideout smirked, complete with stained cement flooring and fluorescent lights that flickered like dysfunctional fireflies.

I'm still trying to figure out how I got here.

The memories unfolded like pages of a book:

First, the walking of my dimension to this one (like usual);

next, the all-encompassing blackness that swallowed me whole, knocking my buttons out cold;

finally, my waking up in the aforementioned dingy hideout.

(Seriously, get a damn broom. This place is filthy.)

At first, a sense of terror gripped me tight as the symbiote's many, many teeth greeted my coming to. But as the duo's comedy routine unfolded, as they bickered like brothers, my panic quickly dissolved into indifference. (Well, for the most part. I still had an essay due tomorrow, so unless someone could give me the power to type with my hands tied, I was, as the kids say, "screwed".)

"You need to learn to be humble, Carnage," Venom insisted. He gestured towards himself, smug. "Like me."

"Weren't you just bragging about getting a win streak?" I asked.

Carnage's eyes stuck to his read. "They have a point."

Venom grimaced. "I wasn't bragging! I was merely giving an example as to why I should've won the award. Learn to pay attention."

"Sorry," I said, sarcastic. "It can be a little hard to focus with all these chains on me. Shame on me for not being used to being kidnapped."

"For the record, we didn't kidnap you," Big Black said. "We're merely borrowing."

"I'm pretty sure taking someone against their will is considered kidnapping."

"You didn't tell us not to."

"Because you knocked me out!"

"Debatable."

"Debata—?"

I merely let my jaw dangle, my disbelief soaring to cloud nine.

Intelligence . . .

Where is it?

Carnage chuckled.

"Relax, fleshie."

Fleshie? That's a new one.

"You won't be here forever," he continued. "We just need you for our grand plan."

"Grand plan?" I echoed.

The beast of crimson flashed a wicked grin.

"How do you feel about games?"

https://www.wattpad.com/1133651257-the-mortal-babysitter-a-dark-deception-fanfiction#:~:text=%3Ciframe%20width%3D%22500%22%20height%3D%22280%22%20frameborder%3D%220%22%20allowfullscreen%3D%22%22%20src%3D%22https%3A//embed.wattpad.com/story/190404226%22%20%3E%3C/iframe%3E

[emerald-amidst-gold]

questions for dragon and wolf otp ❤️ 11, 17, 25, 31 & 50 :3

Let me tell you, I just adore rambling about these two sad, but beautiful fools. And I'm so happy that people like me rambling about them enough to keep asking questions! >:D

So, let's get ANSWERINGGGGG! >:3

11. Who is the most physically affectionate?

Fane. Fane, Fane, Fane, Fane. Fane is 100% the most physically affectionate. A lot of times, he taps into old habits that he used to do as a dragon when he's with Solas. Nudging, nuzzling, resting his head in the other's lap, etc. As time goes on, Fane branches out and develops more ways to express himself through touch. Leaning his shoulder against Solas', reaching out involuntary to hold hands, sitting behind and wrapping his arms around the other while burying his face into a shoulder, etc.

Fane is touch-starved. He would never admit it, but he is. All his life (both draconic and mortal), he's received only ridicule and harsh treatment. So much so that he disassociates from reality and goes numb, and that's even with Mhairi and Cyfrin around him. It also doesn't help that his literal body is a beacon of pain due to his scars. But, all it takes is a brush of a hand against his own, or cupping of his cheek from Solas and the world sings and feels. It seems cliche, but Solas and Fane both know how it feels to walk through life believing it to only a bad dream. They take solace in each other, and Fane desires it through touch. Not always, of course, Fane and Solas merely find joy in existing in the other's sphere, but when nights are cold and the world feels silent and grey, Fane needs more than what Solas' eyes can offer.

17. Do they ever trade clothes?

Ohhh, you're outing me with this question, you fiend! X'D

*takes a deep breath and taps two fingers together* ...Yes. Yes, they do.

Okay! So, obviously, Fane is built different than Solas. I like to think of Solas as being about 5'7 in height. I also like to think his overall structure is slender, but not like impossibly lithe. It's an in-between deal, but Fane is vastly different in structure and height.

Fane is 6'1. He's not as broad as Bull is, and that's because I don't want people to envision Fane as Qunari in build because he's not. He's athletic, but not immovably bulky. He retains the body shape of the Elvhen--slender and agile, but he does have more muscle mass due to the draconic aspects of himself rolling over.

...And because he wields a heavy ass sword to the point where he can swing it with one hand and barely lose his balance with the momentum. (BUFF ELVES FOR LIFE >:3c)

Anyways, the reason I put the above is it explains why Fane can give his clothes to Solas, but Solas rarely ever gives his clothes to Fane. Short story; Fane's would fit Solas, albeit it loosely, but Solas' wouldn't fit Fane.

...Fane isn't hard pressed by that though. He secretly enjoys when a bucket of water somehow finds its way from the rookery down to the elf's desk, soaking him and forcing him to change. *sips tea* Ahhh~ Nope. Not hard pressed at all.

25. How do they comfort each other when one of them is scared?

Presence, presence, presence.

Solas and Fane find joy in existing around each other without words or touch, but they also find comfort in that, as well.

Fane usually has border-line panic attacks after one of his nightmares and when he has to suffer through a bout of retching from either magic or memories of blood and flesh being torn and ripped from his body. During any such episodes, Solas will ground Fane--asking him gentle questions of 'where and what'.

For example: If it's after a nightmare of his father, Solas will ask, 'Vhenan, do you know where you are?' If Fane manages a nod or a shuddering sigh then Solas will continue with, 'Can you tell me where?'. If Fane responds with the 'correct' location then Solas will shift and ignore the 'what' part of the ritual, instead whispering Elvhen and soothing reassurances of, 'You are fine, ma'isenatha. Breathe. Breathe. Take your time, and I know I am here for whatever you need, whatever you desire.'

However, if Fane struggles or can't articulate then Solas will delve into asking the 'whats'. He'll prompt with simple questions like, 'What is solid?' or 'What is cold?'. These open ended questions are meant to reconnect Fane to the physical world, to pull him from the Fade and his spiraling fear inch by inch by urging him to think beyond what initially caused him to plummet (in this case, his father). This process can take quite a while, depending on how entrenched Fane is in his mind and his memories, but when Fane finally does manage to reconnect and utter, 'I'm...awake... I'm awake. Just a nightmare. I'm in Skyhold. I'm in Skyhold..' then that's when Solas will pull his dragon's head close to his chest and stroke his hair, offering familiarity of a kinder essence.

Now, when Solas finds himself quivering with fear, be it from his own nightmares or a momentary sensation of the world closing in, then Fane will do what he does best; observe. This might seem odd, but Fane does this to determine what will help Solas best. If Solas is tensed up, back rigid and shoulders hunched in a defensive position, then Fane knows to use his voice to coax the man back from the edge. If Solas is prone, posture defeated and visibly shuddering, steady hands trembling and chest rising and falling with increasingly sharper and sharper and sharper breaths then Fane knows immediately that he needs to reach out with touch. Not suffocating with an embrace, but just a grasp of hands, stilling the fearful tremors and giving back control. Fane understands how desperately Solas wants to be in control of any and every situation that involves himself, so the moment he detects the hint of terror in blue and grey from it being lost, then Fane knows that Solas needs him to help him get it back.

Once Solas reestablishes that control and the tremors stop, Fane will silently open his arms for his wolf and if he chooses to take the invitation (which Solas usually does), then Fane will always whisper, 'This dragon will catch you as many times as needed. So, let yourself spiral when it becomes too much; I'm here. I'm always here.'

...As you can see. I think about this a lot. X'D

31. Who is the big spoon and why?

To be honest, Fane and Solas take turns. PFFFT!

It honestly depends on how they both move throughout the night! Though, when they start out, Fane is the big spoon because he has a tendency to...curl. XD

So, you know how dragons are shown just kind of curling up like large cats? That's what Fane does with Solas. He'll burrow his face in our dear wolf's neck, pull him as close as he possibly can, and just...pass out. It's one of the fastest ways Fane falls asleep, actually. Solas, at first, was like, 'Fane? ...Fane?', but once it kept occurring all it got were fond chuckles and a single utterance of, 'Good night, ma'isenatha.'

...Fane just chuffs in his sleep and Solas has to try and keep a straight face. My boy is feral. Don't let him fool you. Don't.

50. Who makes the best flower crown?

You all are catching onto me, aren't you?! Aren't you?! *dinosaur scream*

Indirectly, Fane was the best at making flower crowns. Yes, you heard me. Was.

---

Fane used to wander away from Solas during the time of Elvhenan, seeking the forests and the mountains instead of enduring the piercing eyes of the Evanuris and the boiling rage that nearly made his icy core melt with its heat. As such, he would start...poking around in the meadows, draconic curiosity taking him by the horns. Once, during such a necessary venture, Fane stumbled upon a vibrant patch of blooming Gladiolus--golden and sweet. They swayed with magic and spirited wind, twinkling with the song that encased the entire realm.

They were beautiful in a world that had steadily been on the decline.

Fane nudged a bloom with his snout, blinking and huffing as a bell rung from it--glittering essence drawing out from the center and cascading to the earth below. Had the flower just sang? Sang as the spirits and elves did? He found such a thing curious, and so he had nudged another.

Ring. Another bell. He then nudged another golden chime. Ring. Another bell! They did sing!

Fane huffed again, cool breath sprinkling a light frost over the chiming flowers, but they endured with their beauty, with their eternal nature. His burst of air spurred up glittering pollen, wafting the sweet scent of these delicate bells up to his nostrils without preamble.

They smell of honey, Fane mused and began to gingerly nuzzle into the tiny patch, seeking more sweetness, more beauty. Why had he never seen these blooms before? He had graced this world for many, many centuries, and yet, never once had he observed golden Gladiolus. How odd, but it gave him an equally as odd idea.

The wolf likes honey, yes? Fane thought, eyes narrowing as he stopped his mindless snuffling. A feeling of warmth engulfed his snowy core, scales bristling from the foreign sensation before it ebbed away. Why did he always feel so...strange when he thought of the rebel?

Fane huffed harshly at the warmth coursing through him, actually shaking his head a bit before fixing the dazzling buds with an intense stare.

The wolf likes honey. Fane nodded in agreement with his mind and, with one edge of a sharp fang, sliced into the stem of the sweet bloom of gold. He nudged the severed flower to the side, snorting a bit when some pollen invaded his airways, but shook it off to continue gathering more.

Fane made short work of the small patch of Gladiolus, rising with pride to gaze upon his bundle of petaled nightingales. Each one softly chimed and glimmered, not at all perturbed by being uprooted. He supposed the foundation of magic was not so vile, so long as it was used as it was intended.

Now, I suppose I should head back. Fane growled under his breath at that thought. He didn't wish to go back to...to there. The lair of deceit and pitiful, self-proclaimed 'gods' who had nothing but desire in their single toned eyes. But...the wolf was there, and he wan--no, had to stay by the wolf's side.

Heat filled Fane's core again, making him growl once more and shake out his scales as they bristled with a sensation unnatural. Why did he keep getting so warm?! It was mid-spring! Not the height of summer!

Fane growled as the heat stubbornly refused to abate. Begone, begone, begone! He huffed heavily as the ember trickled away, leaving him cool and all together, snowy. There. Better. It must simply be the magic in the air. It is stronger within these woods.

With the heat of oddity gone and his mind decided, Fane turned his head to gather up his...bouquet? Is that what the Elvhen called it? He had seen arrangements done, but none of them held a flame to the golden blooms he--

Fane blinked, eyes staring down at...a spirit? Wait this spirit who was now holding his flowers was--

Wisdom. Fane immediately thought next, form slowly relaxing as he caught the familiar sight of the kindly spirit. Their body ebbed and flowed like the silk robes worn by the Evanuris, but not for a need to flaunt. It was merely their nature, their being. A womanly face gazed up at him, serene smile in place as golden flowers were cradled in ethereal arms.

"Greetings, White One.", Wisdom greeted, swirling eyes of magic and knowledge somehow appearing fond. "I see you have found a rare flower this day." They gently jostled the bundle in their arms, golden essence puffing forth and sound like that of jingling Sentinel armor.

Fane tilted his head at the spirit. They knew of the flowers that sounded of bells? Before he did? Odd, but he supposed spirits of Wisdom would know such obscure things. Wisdom chuckled softly, voice that of a tender breeze.

"I know many things, isenatha.", Wisdom said, communicating with him easily. Although, most spirits did. They gracefully floated down to the ground, images of legs folding depicting the image of them sitting. "Just as I know of a perfect way for you to present this gift."

Fane blinked and found his eyes darting to and fro, trying to avoid the knowing gaze of Wisdom as they smiled serenely up at him. Damn it all! How he wished his disconnection to the minds of others and they to his worked on spirits!

Wisdom hummed, mimicking the chime that sang from the flowers as they picked one up with a delicate swoop of their hands. Fane watched from his peripheral, somewhat intrigued while still wishing to rebuff he had picked the flowers as a...a gift? How ridiculous! He had only want--thought the wolf would enjoy the scent. Nothing more!

"Please, sit, White One.", Wisdom beckoned with patience and a gentle voice. Their hands began to directly interact with the blooms, summoning a tendril of magic to fabricate a vine. "This will take but a moment." A smile danced on their wispy lips, upper half of their face hooded by a vision of a hooded cloak. "...And I have no doubt Fen'harel will be warmed when you offer him this particular crown."

Fane made a questioning growl, but Wisdom offered no more, resuming the odd task of weaving magical vines and twinkling gold. He watched for a time, curious and puzzled, but soon, he found his body carefully lowering to the ground. He curled up a bit, resting his maw upon his claws and observing the act of the spirit quietly. He caught another smile from the kindly spirit before their face went neutral, focused.

A crown.. Fane mused as he watched just that be formed from both the natural and the imaginable. The warmth from earlier began to invade his body again, but this time, he made no moves to shove it away, so entranced by the delicate weaving of gold and blue. He merely narrowed his eyes and watched, letting the ember steadily grow. I want to see the sky smile.

Fane completely missed the tender look in Wisdom's otherworldly eyes, so besotted by the idea of a sight he shouldn't, but would desire.

---

Oh GOD, I blurbed! *yoinks this snippet for potential fuel for later* >:3

[dorizardthewizard]

Why G:KND would be a thematically good end to the show

It’s rambling time >:3c OK so I was just thinking about how GKND would have been such a good way of wrapping up the themes of the show, especially for fans who watched it as kids and are grown up now.

Let’s start with the series finale… some people didn’t really like the GKND reveal at the end for various reasons: it was out of nowhere, it felt like the splinter cell was built up for nothing, adulthood being a disease is dumb, a civil war of KND vs splinter cell season would have been cooler… etc. I can see that, since at the time that was the last KND content we were ever going to see so maybe it was too much to throw into one final episode.

BUT having an extra GKND season changes everything, for one main reason: the GKND are actually the antagonists. I’d argue they can fulfil the same role as the splinter cell, but with the added theme of growing up and facing adulthood. For instance, they claim that adulthood is a disease, but this likely isn’t true because it goes against the message of the show: op. M.A.U.R.I.C.E. perfectly illustrated that growing up itself wasn’t a bad thing, only forgetting your childhood spirit is. You can grow up but still have that childhood idealism in you like Maurice or some of the adults in the show, OR you can dismiss kids as silly little brats and think you’re above them, like Cree and the other villains. It’s a choice, whether you become a TND operative or not, since only memories of the KND organisation get erased, not all childhood. Plus, there’s plenty of child villains as well, so being a kid isn’t inherently good in the show either.

Therefore in fighting the GKND, the KND are also fighting the ideology that growing up is inherently bad. I’m guessing that if we did get a continuation, there’d actually be no cure for adulthood and the Earth KND accept that, unlike GKND, who as a result are pushed to employ drastic measures against planets being “overrun by the disease” (ok this is where I realise this probably isn’t the best time to be writing this, eek). In a way, due to their black and white thinking and extreme actions, they’re like the splinter cell anyway but with even higher stakes.

Also, taking the story to space is a nice setting to really demonstrate this, because not all aliens have the same familial structures as Earth, if any. Maybe Earth has the closest relationships between kids and adults with the most coexistence, so their KND is the least extreme in their views. Maybe some GKND operatives could even splinter off from the GKND and join the KND after having a change of heart like Lizzie. Heck, you could even have the opposite – some KND members could agree with the GKND ideas and not want to grow up, so become traitors. That way you could still get the “who’s really on our side?” aspect of the splinter cell story.

I just think it would be really fitting to go this way- the show already established that not all adults are bad and that the KND only fights the evil ones, but there’s still more room for it to tackle growing up after decommissioning, which was kind of the elephant in the room ever since the concept was introduced (buuut the general concept of memory wiping is a whole other can of worms for another post, maybe). The GKND “reboot” could have been like a Toy Story 3 for older fans- seeing sector V finally nearing the end of their official KND days and wrapping up the story in a satisfying and relatable way while showing what the KND is truly about. It’s not meant to be about defeating adulthood altogether, but fighting against those who abuse their power and enforce tyranny over the kids, whether it’s with silly superficial things or more serious threats. The KND fight all threats to children, whether it’s from adults or other kids.

[dark-take-my-soul]

Hey! So this awesome piece of artwork inspired me to write this! I hope you enjoy @volbeast, because I know you've been waiting for this for a hot minute now >:3c (also if other people like this then there is a good chance I will actually start writing more of this because this is only part of the bigger picture of a story forming in my head lol)

As always, you woke up with a start. Jerking upwards to figure out where you were and what happened the night before. At first you didn't recognize the room until it hit you like a sack of bricks.

You're back in Dark's manor.

And this time, you can't leave.

Crap.

You gulped as you managed to push yourself out of bed, bare feet touching the cool wood and making you shiver. This manor was very old and did not have any heating/air conditioning, so you had to wrap your blanket around you to keep your teeth from chattering. The room was small, with only a queen-sized bed, dresser, and vanity. It didn't seem like Dark was good at decorating but at least he had the essentials down.

Before you left the room, though, something caught your eye. It was the fireplace, and it was smoldering, the burnt ashes of last night's firewood still glowing faintly as it died. If you remembered correctly, there was no fire burning when you collapsed into bed last night; with that in mind you frowned and opened the door.

Walking through the hallways you realized it was pretty early in the morning. Everything seemed so...calm and quiet as the slight sunlight began to warm your bare feet through the windows. Maybe you'd be able to sit down and have a nice cup of coffee by yourself, get a calming jumpstart on the day. Try to make sense of everything so your mind wouldn't be a big ball of confused mess anymore.

Finally, you reached the kitchen and you sighed softly, making a beeline to the coffee machine and beginning to make coffee like a zombie. The large window next to the dining room had a splendid view, and you smiled to yourself as you watched the sun start to peek through the mountains as the smell of french vanilla wafted through the air. And for some reason there was an odd hum-

"Good morning."

You couldn't help it, you gasped and turned around sharply, left arm raised to hit...but it was just Dark, and he raised an eyebrow at you as you leaned against the counter in relief, hand over your heart. "Jesus, dude! You scared the shit out of me, don't-" A choke almost escaped you when you opened your eyes again and they went wide as you realized...that Dark wasn't wearing his usual suit. He was shirtless.

"Your face...is extremely red."

Well that only made your face even more red as you blinked rapidly and turned towards the fridge, ignoring the fact that the coffee machine was done. "Oh is it? It must be really...hot in this manor." You say as your breath left your mouth in an obvious cloud. Clearing your throat you bravely opened the fridge, looking as intently as you could at what little amount of food was in there. It's okay, you think to yourself, you were just surprised at seeing him shirtless, that's all! You've only ever seen him wearing a suit, not in some plaid pajama pants that were just barely hanging onto his hips-

Before your mind could go somewhere else you felt his cold hand grab your arm, making you almost jump again. He pulled you in a bit closer and closed the fridge door with his free hand, and once it was closed you felt that other hand go to the small of your back.

Crap.

"Well, if you're overheating...I can gladly cool you off." There was such amusement in his eyes that you had the feeling he was mocking you. Smug bastard. That made you scowl and press a hand against his chest -holyshithowisthateightpacksodefinedholycrap- and tried to push him away. He didn't budge.

"N-No, that's...not necessary!"

You were trapped between him and the fridge, almost pressed against him really, and it was causing all sorts of emotions to run through you, just as it did at the ball. Instead of those emotions being mostly fear, though, you now felt...mostly something else. It stirred within your heart and coiled down your stomach; somehow it was just as exhilirating as the fear. You suddenly could hear your pulse in your ears as you saw the man...creature...had the audacity to smirk, as if he was enjoying your discomfort as he hummed, "No, it's not a problem at all, Y/N. After all, we never really...talked about what happened at the ball."

A wince. You were hoping he was never gonna bring it up again, but then again...what happened at the ball was...damn, you didn't even know. It certainly was something. Everything about that night flashed in your mind, confusing you even further and you shut your eyes, shaking your head as you once again tried to push him back. This time he did move away and let you go, surprising you.

It took a few seconds for you to calm down, and once you finally did you walked around him towards the coffee machine, opening the cupboard to pull out a mug, hesitated, then pulled out another mug. You took in deep breaths to calm yourself down, chasing away the feelings that had stirred in your chest from being so close to him. It had to be him, had to be him doing...something. You didn't know what, though.

Once the mugs were full of the delicious hot bean water you turned towards him again, holding one of the mugs towards him, muttering, "I...Thanks for teaching me. How to waltz. At the ball." As you spoke you looked at him directly in the eyes, hoping he got the double meaning. He stared at you, long and hard, before gently taking the mug from you and sipping it. Without creamer or sugar, ew. As he drank you noticed something other than his really defined abs. It was...a scar. A really thick, circle-like scar that branched out across his left ab.

It looked like a bullet wound. As soon as you thought that, a vision flashed behind your eyes; a familiar man with a very bushy and black mustache reaching out towards you as you slowly fell backwards. The vision left as soon as it came and you blinked, your face turning pink again as you realized you were staring. Again. Looking away you fixed your coffee up just the way you liked it, and took a long drink out of it, sighing in content as you felt the caffeine work its way in your system.

Leaning against the other counter Dark finally nodded, once again looking at you intently before speaking, "I would say I'm sorry for that...but I'm not. I was tired of him having you...repeat the same sad dance of his over and over and over. As if you were some kind of emotionless doll. It was disgusting, but I...knew the feeling." There was a hint of...something...in his eyes. Sadness? It disappeared quickly though and he continued to drink.

You didn't say anything at first, looking at his face, then his scar, then his face once again. Then you decided not to ask, didn't want to pry into his privacy like that. He'll talk once he wanted to. Instead you started walking towards the huge window, looking out as you watched the sun climb higher into the sky, it's light glinting off the snow-capped mountains and glistening against the wet autumn leaves that were still painting the very tall trees a brilliant orange. It was so...perfect. And for some reason, you felt...at peace. Even though you could hear that high-pitched hum get louder as Dark approached you and feel that odd emotion curling in your gut again as he got closer and closer. Even though it would only be a matter of time before the rest of the household would wake up and cause chaos in the manor. Even though Mark was probably searching high and low for you, to bring you back into his fold.

You took another sip of your coffee before looking back at Dark, at his highly defined chest, his bullet wound, then his eyes that were also looking out the window at the serene scene. Before you could look away, though, those dark eyes cut to you, and immediately a devil's smirk graced his lips.

"I can still cool you off if you're overheating."

Aaaaand you felt your face burn as you jerked your head towards the window again. Taking another loooong sip of coffee as you swore you heard him chuckle.

Crap.

[autumnslance]

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them - For Aeryn~ :3c

((Now on Ao3))

“So what’s she like?” Minfilia asked, arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees.

He did not answer right away, staring into the campfire for a long while, until she then hesitantly said, “I’m sorry, if you don’t want to tell me—“

“It isn’t that,” he replied hastily. “I’m just trying to decide where to start.” He frowned.

“Well. What does she look like?”

He glanced at Minfilia, then chuckled. “She is…radiant, is the best way I can describe it. Hyu–Sorry. Hume, like us, only a couple ilms shorter than myself. Fine-spun hair like strands of midnight silk, and grey eyes that change with her moods; a fine mist when she’s feeling sentimental, rain clouds when she’s sad, a storm when angry. Her eyes crinkle up at the corners when she smiles; that’s how you know it’s real. A real smile lets out some of that warmth she carries, that draws so many to her side.”

The fire flickered and cracked as he watched it, smiling now himself. Minfilia peered, unable to read that faraway look on his face. She had never seen such an expression before–but her experiences were rather limited.

“She was so quiet, when we first met. Hardly said a word–gestures and a look were all far more common; she’s very physically expressive. But once you do get her talking, she’s witty, a bit sarcastic, but still kind. When she can be. She prefers to be. But actions mean the most with her. She just…does things for people, likes to take care of them. She actually seeks out chores and jobs to do, to keep herself busy and help others. It can be as frustrating as it is endearing.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

He started, almost as if he had forgotten Minfilia was there. “She is,” he replied, the faraway look gone; Minfilia thought that was too bad. “But now it’s time for young ladies to get some sleep.”

She nodded and complied, sliding into the small tent he had pitched for her, shade and shelter from the Everlasting Light above and the cooling air all around. She peeked out through the tent flaps. He continued to sit on the old log, elbows on his knees, staring at the fire with another of those strange expressions on his face. She fell asleep watching him watch the flames.

He crumbled the missive in his hands and exclaimed a word Minfilia had only read in her most grown-up book, and only spoken by the villainous character (Ran’jit had taken the book away before she could finish it, having made the mistake of discussing the story; perhaps Urianger had a copy in his library…).

“Alphinaud’s trapped here now! At this rate our whole bloody order will be in Norvrandt before Aeryn arrives!” He growled.

“She’s really important, isn’t she?” Minfilia asked, holding her cloak closed. Everything felt too bright, with the light reflecting off the sands.

He sighed heavily. “She’s the only other one who can handle the Light’s corruption. Without her, we can’t hope to succeed in saving both our worlds–or her.”

“I could fight them,” Minfilia offered. “It’s what I’m–”

He reached over and put a hand on her head. “It shouldn’t have to come to that,” he said, almost gently. He dropped his hand. “And you’ve a long way to go, given our exercises this morning,” he pointed out, his tone hardening again. “She has quite a bit more practice facing impossible odds, and is stronger in the Blessing than…almost anyone else I’ve ever known.” He jerked his head, and then began walking in that direction.

She hurried to keep up; he always walked so fast when he was irritated. “Tell me about her,” she asked.

“I already have.”

“But not everything,” she countered. “How is one person supposed to change the world?”

He stopped so abruptly she almost ran into him. They hovered on the edge of town, the sands stretching listlessly between them and their next destination.

“That’s what she does,” he replied. He began moving again, but this time at a far more reasonable clip; she didn’t have to almost-run to keep up. “With the Echo, she can learn the truth of a matter, see the past and what happened. Those visions, and her willingness to face those who would hide the truth, to stop those who would go to lengths to obtain forbidden power for themselves, ended a thousand year war. Ended the occupation of two nations.” He paused. “Saved my life–possibly my soul.”

“Really?” Minfilia gasped, staring up at him.

He blinked, and then gifted her a smile. “Aye; I had been…foolish, and it led to my possession by an Ascian. Under his control, I did unspeakably terrible things, many of them to the people I love most. Usually, once they take you, death is the only release for their host. But her Light was strong enough to cut through the deepest Shadow, breaking the bond that held me, driving the enemy from my body. She brought me home, and her smile was among the first I remember seeing upon waking. All the others were waiting for me as well, of course, but now that I had seen her brilliance, it was impossible to unsee it.”

“So you admire her for saving you?”

He frowned in thought, brows drawn together as they walked the sandy path. “In part, perhaps. Truthfully, I had…admired her for a time before that. But I thought myself beneath her consideration.” He shook his head. “Perhaps more so after my rescue.”

Minfilia had seen women blush into their hands and watch him, whispering to one another, when he walked by. She had observed as he charmed people in daily conversation to wheedle out information, or simply save a few more gil. Others found him handsome and intriguing and certainly worth their consideration. And, Minfilia thought, that was only right because he was those things and more, in her opinion. She couldn’t imagine anyone not admiring him.

Except perhaps himself, she was coming to realize, as she learned more of the world, of people, of him. She wished she knew how to fix that.

So she said, “She must like you a lot, to save you.”

He looked down at her, and she couldn’t quite read his expression. “She saves everyone,” he replied. “Even people she’s never met, has never known. And if–when–she comes here, she’ll agree to help Norvrandt and its people, too. Because that’s who she is, and what she does.” He shook his head. “Regardless of what she herself wants, too often.”

Minfilia considered that as they continued on their way.

He let out a frustrated sigh. Minfilia looked up from her own book. He leaned back in his chair, head tilted toward the ceiling, rubbing his eyes as he sprawled. A chronometer ticked on a nearby shelf, and somewhere else in the house a pixie giggled–an ominous sign if there ever was one.

“Not the right book?” She asked carefully. He had been in a snappish mood lately.

“I honestly don’t know. It’s written in the most obtuse manner possible,” he replied, head still on the backrest as he looked up at the rafters, hands folded on his stomach. “I’m going cross-eyed trying to make sense of some long-dead mage’s ramblings, and can’t help but feel I’m just wasting my time.”

“Should I look?”

“No; enjoy your own book. Perhaps one of us shall learn something, at least.”

She was at the end of a chapter, and while she did want to know what happened next, she could recognize one of his moods coming on and felt she had best try to diffuse it. “Could Aeryn make sense of it?” She asked, trying to sound off-handed.

He “humphed” but a glance showed him smiling. “Probably. She’s always liked research, particularly into new magical theory. She studied it for years, before finally learning how to cast herself.”

“She’s a mage? Like Urianger?”

“Yes, and no. She’s studied arcanima with Urianger and our other colleagues, certainly. But she’s also learned other magics, rare and powerful. And she learns quickly–both magic and martial skills. Perhaps because she’s already learned the fundamentals through other disciplines, but…show her something new, and she catches on faster than anyone I know.” He chuckled. “It can be infuriating, when she masters in moons what it’s taken yourself years to learn–but it also makes sparring with her, or fighting alongside her, all the more interesting. You never know what trick she’s going to use next.”

“No wonder she wins so much,” Minfilia replied.

He turned his eyes to her, head not moving. “Aye, that’s perhaps some of it; her varied knowledge and blending of styles and techniques. But she’s also just that good. She never stops trying, never gives in to defeat. When things are at their worst, she works with others to find a new way, and her quiet determination is relentless, and infectious. When things are at their best…well, she’s not one to rest on her laurels. Always looking for some new challenge, something new to learn.”

He absently gestured to the book. “She would enjoy this challenge; translate this old fellow’s ramblings and excitedly go on about it as if it were the most interesting read she’s had in weeks, and somehow make it sound simple to understand.”

“Maybe she’ll be here soon, and you can ask her,” Minfilia said. “Urianger says the Exarch’s going to try something new to bring her to Norvrandt.”

“We shall see,” he said, a slight crack in his voice. She recognized it now; it was common, when he talked about Aeryn, thought about her coming to the First. It was hope and fear and worry and eagerness all wrapped together, while trying not to show how much emotion he felt. Minfilia wasn’t sure why he always tried so hard to hide how much he cared; he was open enough about other things he felt, like when he was cross with her.

He continued leaning back in the chair, eyes closed. He might be falling asleep and if so, that was a good thing; Minfilia still didn’t think he got enough. She said nothing as she slid out of her own seat, taking her book to continue reading outside so he could rest.

The festival was simple, as most were these days, but it was nice to see people relaxing, laughing, just being happy for a moment. The ribbons strung along the buildings and over the streets were a riot of color.

He had said they were almost like real rainbows after a storm; Minfilia took his word for it, having only read of such things, or glimpsed glamoured refractions in Il Mheg. But they must have been pretty, if they looked anything like this.

Someone was playing a lute, singing a familiar old song to make people clap and laugh. Even he was humming along, she realized. It sounded nice.

“You should join the singing,” she suggested while adjusting her hat, covering her gold hair and shading her distinctive eyes from casual onlookers. She had only heard him sing a very few times, and had always liked it.

He shook his head. “It’s been too long since I’ve performed for a crowd,” he replied. “I used to be something of a bard, telling stories, singing songs…”

“Charming ladies?” she asked. At his peering, she shrugged. “Something Urianger said.”

He grumbled about having a talk with his old friend. They stopped at one of the street vendors–really just a housewife with refreshments set out on her stoop–and he handed Minfilia a cup of fruity pudding while buying himself an ale. They wandered further up the street, finding a tree with a bench at its base, sitting and watching a group of youths play an energetic ball game for onlookers’ amusement.

“I used to sing with Aeryn, actually, for our friends’ entertainment,” he mused. “She’s trained as a true bard. Always a surprise for someone, when that normally quiet woman would suddenly raise her lovely voice. We matched rather well.” He paused, frowning slightly with that familiar faraway look. “Hasn’t been quite the same since. Singing without her, I mean.”

“If she’s coming soon, will you sing with her then?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. I think we’ll all be rather busy.”

The ball game ended, more instruments joining the lute, and the square instead began to fill with people dancing, separately or together, at various levels of competency and enthusiasm. She noticed he was watching them, smiling in that reminiscent way again.

“Does she like dancing, too?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied quickly. “I would try to get her to as often as possible–at first, I’ll admit, as an excuse to have her close. But then because she was…safe, and an excellent partner. She’s graceful and surefooted–so long as she’s not thinking of who all is watching.” He sighed. “We haven’t danced in a long time, actually. Even before I came here, there was just so much happening and we were separated so often. It was all we could do to find half a moment to even be in the same room by the time the Exarch’s Call pulled me here.”

Minfilia looked from him to the square of happy villagers. “I wish I knew how to dance. It looks fun.”

He peered at her. “Not something they taught you, I suppose?”

She shook her head. He finished his ale and stood, offering her a hand. “Well then. No better time to learn.”

Minfilia’s eyes widened. She set aside her empty pudding cup and took his hand. “I don’t think I’ll be so good a partner as Aeryn”

“It’s like anything else one must learn,” he answered as they joined the villagers. “But I know she’ll be pleased you’re so eager to try new things.”

That made her smile, though she was less concerned about making this long-awaited champion happy as she was seeing him so relaxed and smiling and willing to teach her something so important to him as well.

Minfilia knew right away, as she looked up at her rescuers. She already knew Captain Lyna from the Crystarium. There were two elven youths that she did not recognize. And then there was her. The hume woman seemed bright, somehow, against the backdrop of the new blue sky. Her fine-spun midnight hair was braided away from her face, as she wielded both sword and magic against the Eulmoran soldiers, scattering them off the landing. The storm in her grey eyes softened, and they sparkled like the stars as she knelt next to the girl and undid the bindings.

“You’re Aeryn,” Minfilia said as they stood. “Thancred’s told me all about you.”

[lambs-rest]

Stories you want to write...

…but haven’t (yet)

Tagged by: @windup-dragoon Thank you for the tag on my main!

Tagging: @nezarehgar @praeuro I’m not sure who has or hasn’t done this so I’ll just play it safe to avoid double tagging BUT if you want to do it, go ham!

This is actually incredibly good timing because I’ve been trying to  put my ideas in order! I’ve...actually done more writing this year than I have for a really long time? I think it helps that I’m enjoying Granye a lot, and that I have a wonderful enabler :3c no seriously I’ve never had someone feed my nonsense like this and I’m literally THRIVING.

1. CTC I’ve got to finish the Crystal Tower Chronicles before I get swept up in continuing anything on Granye, otherwise it’s going to get left behind in the dust like..

2. The Ultimate Weapon I - Into the Wolf’s Den I NEVER WROTE THIS. I don’t even have a draft! Once I do, I think I’ll be comfortable labelling the ARR part of Granye’s story as Finished. Honestly, writing Granye alone is hard sometimes :c I want to skip to the fun bits! But she has to be able to stand on her own as a character. Like this introduces her to Nero and gets her to talk to Gaius, and he raises serious questions that only further her doubt in the Twelve at that time, which is an important push for her to denounce them after Moen’s death.

3. The Banquet and leadup to Heavensward Basically wrapping up the entirety of ARR content is the goal I’ve set for myself. I also have to figure out how I want to present certain points in Granye’s adventure, like the banquet and certain character deaths because the relationship between her and Lahabrea is... Well, let’s say I have barely scratched the surface of what I want to present it as.

4. Aiode!! I don’t know how I want to write her though, which makes it harder. Flashbacks? Feelings? Vague memories via Granye? I don’t know, but Aiode has her own story and dynamics with the Convocation. It think I also need to delve into the MSQ more to get a better handle on that. I’ve been using Saraa (since she’s my main character to play, as in she’s finished main SHB and all the raids etc) to go through the MSQ and take notes for Granye, but I literally stopped her at the finishing quest of SHB to do Neir, finish Omega and Ivalice, and she has to start Eden. So anything (MSQ-wise) past 5.0? We got Fog of War over there.

5. The Aetherochemical Research Facility aka. How the Bread was Caught I’m dangling this in front of myself as a carrot to finish writing ARR and HW events but *clenches fist* the struggle not to just hone in on it is REAL. Also, I think if I write HW more or less in order, the feelings will manifest into this pivotal moment much better than if I just jump ahead.

6. muse; trickster and fool aka. Goddess Granye and Scholar Lahabrea AU I’ve got an outline for the start of this AU, and a cast list of characters and their roles in the AU, but I just haven’t...felt good about putting time into it? There’s just so much of Granye’s ‘canon’ that hasn’t even been hinted at in the things I’ve posted, that right now Goddess Granye is nothing but her BLU glam. And my most popular post on this sideblog... (to be fair she looks gorgeous in it and 100% deserves that)

7. SARAAAAA I miss my angry ball of scales and murder! I think her story needs...a bit more polish, now that I know more about what I’m writing. She WAS the main gal in the cast of OC WoLs, but... I’m sorry baby I’ll try and get you to smooch your murderous beast soon q-q In the mean time have all the Shinryu paraphernalia in-game that I can get for you. I don’t know I just love her and Zenos. He completely unhinges her self control and turns her into the feral animal he expects and she loves it because GOD she’s sick of having taken all the shit from the world as the WoL and she finally gets to unleash it all and he can actually handle it and- *chef’s kiss*

[handspoken]

FIVE SONGS

list five songs associated with your muse and its meaning to them as a character, or to you as the writer. this can be applied in-character or out-of-character. it can go as deep as looking at the song’s real-world origins or meaning along with the themes it carries to the muses’ story, values, or experiences, or as simple as if your muse would listen to this kind of music, or even if you just listen to these pieces for inspiration.

TAGGED BY: i made this meme just now. TAGGING: @dansiere @mmkqt / @gravemouth @silnaryba @madestars (kohaku :3c) @sailorrmood @notreallythegreatestperson @wardingdreams and YOU

01. Coalescence - Risk of Rain “…and so he left, with everything but his humanity.”

a song from the rogue-like survival/collect-a-thon video game Risk of Rain, but notably a piece without lyrics in order to create an atmosphere. this is honestly just a piece that i really like to listen to on loop, but this is played in the later stages of RoR when the player character has survived through multiple loops of the world and has undoubtedly killed many monsters to survive. the text i listed is the ending text for the Commando, the default character of RoR, and presumably the author of all the field notes within the game that suggest he deeply regrets what he had to do in order to survive, leaving the world as a different person. he left his morals, his soul, his caring for life behind because he was forced to in order to survive. i pin this around Gaster’s wartime era, with the atrocities he committed towards himself than anyone else.

02. When He Died - Lemon Demon they found a message etchd into his spine / that said when he died

a nonsensical song filled with more mystery and general chaos then any sense of gained lesson. this is probably the most accurate way to audibly describe how gaster’s personality; someone who takes serious matters lightly and often provides more mystique and confusion to the air than answers just out of the sheer (unbearable) quirk, character, and just plain strangeness.

03. Birth Of A Wish - NieR: Automata OST this cannot continue / become as gods

this song is notably played within the JRPG Nier: Automata during a section where machines created a religious cult after they are self-aware of their mortality and conceptualize the mantra in order to cope with the idea of death and visualizing the afterlife. i model this in gaster’s character to showcase the ideals and conflicts that he may go through in his attempt to create a machine to break the Barrier, which is a near unattainable and unbelievable feat to do (as it would have been for machines to achieve humanity, like in Automata). most of this is described in this old meta post when someone else asked me about this song. a summary of the post is describing gaster’s descent as he got more desperate to attain powers not unlike a god (ability to warp time and space) in order to break the Barrier without the use of human SOULs.

04. Charlie’s Inferno - That Handsome Devil i really don’t belong here, i know you’ve heard the tune before

probably the silliest song here but that perfectly matches the balance of silly haha goop man makes wingding signs vs. “Wait, I’m Supposed To Have Morals?”. a quick look at the song is the story of a man who is denied entrance to heaven despite his good deeds, which appears contradictory. the popular interpretation of the song is the entitlement or selfishness that “Charlie” commits by doing such good deeds in the first place (in order to garner favor by the heavens and angels) or that he has been being very “good” in order to actually atone for past sins that he refuses to admit to. i apply both to gaster’s entire character and the jaunty tune really wraps it up to make it easy to miss or ignore, which hits my Good Stuff button.

05. Lousy Connection - Erza Furman can you hear me now? / wait can you — / wait, can you hear me now?

the entire song is about being an outsider. lots of lyrics are nonsensical in a disapproving headshake sense and less of the poetic sense, with a doo-wop tone that might dismiss those worries or even accepting it. however, without the performance reading through the lyrics show that this is the piece of someone who is trying to repair their “lousy connection” with the world and see themselves with other people. both are true interpretations, but i also connect the phone call theme to the Wrong Number incident which i think is just funny

[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 5: “A Brewing Storm”

Masterlist

•••

A/N: I might actually end up writing another chapter tonight.. I can’t believe I’ve updated 5 times in 5 days jeez.. anyways... a brewing storm.. I wonder when it will touch ground >:3c

I made a playlist for this fic and I found the perfect song for this entire story.. but I won’t reveal it just yet >:3c

•••

Arthur couldn’t sleep. Again. It was a routine occurrence, but tonight was different. Mahala’s words stuck to him, and that’s the only thing he could think of.

The moon was bright and the stars looked wonderful under the midnight backdrop. They twinkled and dazzled. The air was crisp and mild.

Charles had arrived home from his weekend hunting trip, bringing back lots of game that would feed himself and Charles for many more weeks. Rains Fall expected them to feed themselves, and the people of Wapiti kept out of their business as they did the same. Charles tended to the fire at the very edge of the village, where land met forest.

Arthur had learned to hate the smell of smoke. It stung his healing lungs and made it harder to breathe, but it kept him warm. So he kept his distance from the blazing fire.

The wind changed and smoke blew into Arthur’s face, he choked on the bitter air. Dark eyes filled with worry flew to Arthur’s face. The wind changed its direction again but Arthur didn’t stop coughing.

Air forcefully ripped itself from Arthur’s battered lungs. He couldn’t stop coughing, panic rose in his chest. Charles came to Arthur’s side.

“I’m getting Mahala,” Charles said quickly, running to the healer woman’s tent.

Mahala, wearing a nightgown and holding a lantern rushed to Arthur’s side while he fell to the ground. Splatters of blood littered the dirt creating an abstract painting. The corners of the breathless man’s eyes filled with black until all light got blurry.

And then all went black.

•••

Lee took you back to the general store, the moon was bright and illuminated your blushing faces. Barely anyone was out in the streets, except for the occasional drunken man stumbling through the cobblestone alleyways. It wasn’t a terribly long walk from the pier to the store, but Lee still held you close and had an iron grip around your arm. He was nervous about you being alone at night, perhaps forgetting you used to be a wanted outlaw. Richfield was becoming more and more dangerous though, word had gotten around of the money being created in this town and criminals flocked to new, rich places. Richfield was no emerald city, but it was still a splitting image of the advancement and achievements of the industrial new world.

He nearly shoved you through the door, taking a second glance at the street, locking the door directly after that.

Lee turned around and smiled, pulling you closer to him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” He whispered in your ear. You leaned in and kissed him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. His lips were soft and the kiss was filled with passion. Lee lifted you on the glass counter, putting both hands on either side of your hips.

“Ahem.”

You both snapped your heads away from each other, looking at the person who interrupted you. It was Mr. Rinascita, looking smugly at the both of you.

“Sorry dad.” Lee said sheepishly, pulling himself away from you. You fixed your dress and pulled your locket to the center of your chest.

Mr. Rinascita chuckled, before going back up the stairs. You both watched him make it through the apartment door, staying absolutely still and quiet.

You both busted out laughing, and a large blush formed on your face. You covered your mouth with your hand in an attempt to silence your hysterical giggling.

After you somewhat silenced yourself, Lee leaned in and once again your stomach filled with butterflies. It felt like being with Arthur all over again, like nothing could ever harm you and nothing could ever pull you apart.

“It’s getting late.” Lee said when he pulled himself from your lips.

“I know.” You fluttered you eyes closed, leaning in for another kiss. Lee’s kisses were like a drug, and you were addicted.

But your lips were met with cold air, and you slowly opened your eyes.

“It’s time for you to go to sleep, it’s been a long day.” He told you, his eyes were warm and caring. It’s like you could get lost in the depth of his eyes, they were like a thick forest filled with fog, mysterious and intriguing.

You nodded slowly, tiredness suddenly pulled at your body, making it feel heavy. It was strange, you hadn’t been tired all day until he finally had said something. Lee helped you up the stairs, it was like you blinked and were suddenly in your bed.

Lee planted a small kiss on your head.

“Stay with me, Lee.”

He turned slowly, giving you a small head shake.

“You’re too tired.” He said clicking off the light, leaving you alone in your bed. You weren’t alone for long though, Arthur appeared in your dreams and he had a message for you.

•••

“Goddamn it. I was sure he was getting better. My poor son deserves to have something good happen for once.”

“He’s been through so much, he deserved to heal.” Charles agreed. They both sat next to unconscious Arthur, paying close attention to the rise and fall of his chest. Arthur shivered from fever, so Mahala had thrown all the blankets she could find on him. She would make sure Arthur fully recovered if it was the last damn thing she would ever do.

“You know he can’t stay here any longer.” Mahala spoke in a soft voice, the fire reflecting in her worn dark eyes.

Charles was silent for a moment.

“I know. The house is ready, but I can’t take care of him, I don’t know the first thing about medicine.” Charles sighed, leaning back into the rickety chair he first found himself in.

“I’ll stay with you two, who else would take care of my mischievous boys?” Mahala smirked.

They became silent again, and worry filled Charles’s head. Arthur fought so hard for his family’s freedom, and he had danced with death too many times. Arthur spoke of settling down once, and how he longed for life to be peaceful for once. Arthur deserved that life, and Charles would do the best of his ability to help Arthur achieve that.

“I can tell you care for him a lot, Charles.” Mahala finally broke the silence, her words cutting through the heavy air.

Charles nodded slowly, keeping a respectful watch on Arthur.

“His wife does too.”

“Well she is not here.”

“She doesn’t know he’s alive, Mrs. Morgan is incredibly strong, I’m sure she’s still out there fighting.” He was slightly taken aback by Mahala’s observations. Had it been that obvious?

“She needs to come home, to Arthur. I can see the longing in his eyes for her. I’m sure that gang of yours is spread out all over the country now.” She spoke with sincerity.

“Truth be told, I don’t know where any of them are at. If I knew where she was I’d get her sent on the first train ride home.”

“Arthur’s too weak to look for her. She needs to find him. Something big is happening in his wife’s life, I could feel it when I was with him. His spirit reflects hers.”

“I wish I could send word out to John Marston. The man who visited here the day I found Arthur, she was riding with him at the time. All I know is they were heading north, beyond the Grizzlies and god knows there’s barely any cities in those mountains, she has to be on the other side.”

Arthur’s eyes began to flutter. A small groan escaped his lips. Mahala shifted in her seat, watching him intently.

“My girl is in the mountains?” Arthur’s hoarse voice mumbled, still half asleep. Mahala leaned over and put a finger to Arthur’s lips.

“You need to sleep, my son.” She silenced him and Arthur drifted back off into a deep slumber.

His dreams were haunted by you.

•••

“Arthur! Arthur!” Your voice split through the storm, Arthur couldn’t see anything a few feet in front of him. The harsh rain splattered onto his body, making him incredibly cold.

You heard him shout your name, and you followed it, continuing to shout his.

“Arthur, please, find me!”

And the rain stopped, and the sky cleared.

Arthur was standing right in front of you. His eyes filled with happiness.

“I need you to find me.” Your voices rose in unison.

“Before it’s too late.”

[firstblesssed]

[A short drabble for @whitherliliesbloom‘s fae au!! Figuring out elle’s place in the world and how she interacts with Alphi :3c]

"Again, Alphi?" Elletha asked as she watched the young mortal stumble his way into her infirmary. "Isn't the Queen herself teaching you how to fly? I thought you'd be good at this by now..." She sighs, setting aside the medicine she was working on and standing up to tend to her patient.

Alphinaud walks over to one of the stools and sits down, holding one arm, "Yes but it's not exactly easy to learn."

"Fae children are able to fly within hours of their creation, yet you've been here over a week and can fly for barely at all." Elletha grabs some supplies and makes her way over to sit in front of him, "Well? What's wrong with you then."

"Ah, I landed strangely on my arm... It was from quite a height." He explained, lifting his sleeve up to allow her to examine it.

"Hmm... I can probably fix that with magic." She smiled at him and fluttered over to her cabinets, looking through them for something.

"Then what are you looking for?" He asked, "Your cane is right there." Alphinaud pointed to the table in the corner, where an ornate cane was propped up against it.

Elletha let out a sigh and continued searching, eventually pulling out some herbs and bandages. "Because, I can only heal it so far. And I think at this rate a little pain will motivate you to learn faster." She set her supplies down beside him and then flew over to grab her cane.

"It's not a lack of motivation though! I want to learn, it's just… very different from walking." Alphinaud pouted at her, which only earned him a sly grin in response.

"My dear, I'm starting to think you just want to spend more time with the Queen at this rate." She laughs at his flustered face before continuing, "I’m merely teasing you, but if that is your true intention, it’s best that you think of another excuse some time soon.” Elletha waves her cane over his arm slowly, muttering a spell beneath her breath, then reaches for some bandages and begins wrapping up the injury.

“What… What do you suggest then?” He asks, sheepishly looking away from the other fairy. “I just want to get to know her better is all, which is hard to do when she’s so busy all the time.” Alphinaud turns back to watch Elletha as she works, “So the only time I can do that is when she’s teaching me to fly.”

“Our Titania is very busy you know, many things to oversee.” She finishes wrapping the bandage with a neat bow and smiles at her work, “The fact that she already takes time out of her busy schedule to teach you anything shows that she has an interest in you. I’m sure you could walk into the court at any time and just simply, talk to her.” Elletha pauses to hand him a pouch of herbs and pastes, “Eat the herbs and apply the paste once a day then come see me again next week, okay?”

He nods but seems reluctant to leave, lingering on the stool for a little longer. “Um…”

“Hm? Is something else the matter?” Elletha asks, fluttering up from her position on the floor.

“Do you think the Queen would appreciate company? Most of the time she seems a little….”

“Lonely?” Elletha finishes his sentence for him, “As I said she has many duties. These keep her away from most fae for a while, expect for that Urianger.” She crosses her arms at the mention of the Queen’s advisor, “I have no qualms with him, save for the fact that he needs to lighten up a little, and while they are close, Titania could do with a few more people in her close circle.”

She turns back to the medicine she was making before and picks up some of the ingredients, thinking about how much of an interest her Majesty had taken in this mortal. A boy who came to their lands and claimed to want to cure a terrible curse. Elletha had been sceptical of his story, seeing the destruction brought to their lands in the past once mortals were allowed in, but upon the Queen giving Alphinaud not only her blessing, but the blood of the fae, she knew something had to be special about him. She may not be as close to the Queen as others, but she’s insightful enough to see something blooming between the pair.

With a soft smile Elletha looks back towards Alphinaud, “Well? Go back out there and show her how ‘motivated’ you are to learn. And perhaps, think of another way to spend your time with her, alright?”

The boy nods, quickly turning and flying out of the room, out of sight beyond the curtain of leaves covering the door.

“I hope it works out for them.” She says to herself, returning to her work. “I must say though, you’ve chosen a strange boy to take an interest in, Illya…”

[slashthedice]

Love the way you write!! Can we maybe get a 3rd part to the Trapper story? Maybe where reader and Evan reconcile and have a sweet and romantic(and nsfw) time? If you can please

I can definitely do this :3c First part here, second part here. Not so sweet at first, you guys gotta work out your problems first. Angst and NSFW below!

When you arrived back at the campfire after that trial, the others had looked at you differently. As always, your wounds were already healed by the time you felt the heat of the fire, but that didn’t make it any less meaningful when Claudette sat down next to you.

“Nea told us what happened,” she said gently. “How’s your ankle?”

They seemed to be under the impression that you had gotten the same treatment as the rest of them. You realized then that Nea had only seen enough to witness David killed and then Evan heading towards you. Of course she would assume that he had killed you too. You had been terrified that he would do exactly that, but then he had treated you with such heartbreaking gentleness.

You thought Evan would seek you out after letting you go. You waited for him in your usual meeting spot when you could sneak away without looking suspicious, but he never showed up. As you waited fruitlessly for him, you turned your last interaction over and over in your mind. You tried to pick out the emotion that had colored his uncharacteristically quiet voice before he had let you go.

His word of choice-- “sorry”-- what had he meant by it? Sorry for hurting you with the trap? It was hardly the first time you had found yourself caught in its steel jaws. Sorry for letting you go? That certainly seemed a silly thing to apologize for. You couldn’t fathom what he had to be sorry for.

Trials came and went. Sometimes you were called to participate, other times you weren’t. Evan was never the killer when you found yourself in one of the many little “arenas” that you had long since become familiar with, surrounded by generators and your fellow survivors. They seemed to be your friends once more, working on generators with you and helping you out in a bind. David had taken a few hits for you, Quentin and Ace shared the things they found with you, and Claudette and Adam were more than happy to heal you when you were injured. It was nice, for a time, but you missed Evan terribly.

You finally had enough after a particularly brutal trial during which you had been on the receiving end of a chainsaw through the chest, courtesy of the Cannibal. You decided that if Evan would not meet you halfway, then you would go to him. You weren’t really sure if it would work, as a survivor the Entity tended to keep you all contained at the campfire and the surrounding woods between trials. Evan had once explained that the killers had their own areas that they stayed between trials, but that they could stalk the woods surrounding the survivors’ campfire too if they got bored. Your plan consisted exclusively of walking in a straight line in the direction Evan always came from when he met you and hoping that the Entity wouldn’t simply loop you back to the campfire or take you to some other killer’s domain. They couldn’t kill you outside of trials, but that didn’t mean you fancied getting up close and personal to some of them on their home turf.

The woods seemed far darker and more foreboding when you wandered them alone. There was a coldness that seeped into your bones and weighed you down. You had never noticed it when you were going to meet Evan, but now that you weren’t warmed by thoughts of your lover a sense of dread had settled over you. The longer you walked, the greater your fear that you were lost in the woods, walking an infinite loop.

Finally, the trees seemed to part and reveal a path to you. In the distance you could see the light of a fire. The trees began to grow scarce, thinning until there was nothing but open space. You looked around with a dawning sense of triumph as you realized that your admittedly lackluster plan had worked. You knew this place.

Your fellow survivors, ever creative, called it the “Ironworks of Misery”. The title was quite the mouthful, so you had taken to referring to it simply as the Foundry, which is what Evan called it. The building itself had begun to fall to ruin. The metal was old and rusted, and the structure moaned and swayed perilously. It seemed like the rotting husk of a once great beast, now abandoned to decompose into obscurity.

“Why here?” You wondered aloud idly, hopeful that the Entity might take pity on you, if it had truly been the one to lead you here.

You received no response, but as you continued to scan the Foundry, you noted something that was decidedly different than when you were here during trials: There was a light on in the upper level, in what you had always assumed to be the foreman’s office. You watched the illumination flicker against the iron walls, too bright to be a candle. It must be one of those barrel fires the Entity was so fond of.

“As good a place to start as any,” you muttered.

You ascended the metal stairs with as much care as was due, not keen on the idea of stepping down wrong and plummeting to the ground below. They creaked with your every step and you couldn’t help but to wonder why you had never noticed how treacherous they were during trials. Still though, if the killers that were so much larger than you could scale them without fear, you supposed that you had nothing to worry about.

You heard the clinking of tools and groaning of metal parts in need of oiling. You knew, of course, that Evan was very proud of his bear traps and did what he could to keep them in proper working order. You also knew that one of your compatriots, Jake, was particularly adept at rendering them unusable. It never occurred to you that Evan might have to repair them after the fact, and that the Entity would not simply restore them to functioning order.

You rounded the corner and entered the door to the room you had run through so many times to escape any number of killers. It looked so much different than it did during trials. Where there were normally crates and boxes, you spotted a mattress and a twisted mess of sheets and blankets. Bear traps in varying states of repair and disrepair sat lined up against the far wall. That same locker you had hidden in so many times was still shoved up against the wall to your left, although you suspected it was full of tools and materials instead of simply acting as an empty hiding space.

Looking straight ahead, you saw him. Evan was hunched over a tool bench that had taken the place of the inoperable foundry controls. He sat upon a stool that was far too small for his bulk, but soldiered on bravely. His mask grinned sadistically at you from where he had placed it on the far left of the work bench. You watched the muscles in his back and shoulders move as he continued to work on the trap, so focused was he that he had somehow not heard you approach.

“Evan,” you said his name quietly, voice barely more than a whisper.

There was no denying that he had heard you, however. His whole body stiffened before you watched the slope of his shoulders slump as he sighed heavily. He wiped the oil from his hands with a cloth as he rotated towards you. His head was downturned, and he didn’t say anything.

“I thought you would come see me,” you admitted. “Why didn’t you come?”

It was clear that you were talking about after the trial, but he said nothing in response.

“Well, say something!” It was quickly becoming apparent that this was not going how you had planned. “Why are you avoiding-”

He spoke suddenly, startling you out of what would have been an accusatory rant. “Tell them I forced you. Tell them you didn’t want it, but I made you.”

He wouldn’t look at you. His gaze was firmly on the dirtied rag in his grasp. You could see the taut lines of tensed muscle in his forearms and briefly thought that it was a miracle that he had not ripped the fabric in half. You knew he was talking about the other survivors.

“I’m not going to tell them that,” you said sharply, furrowing your brow and wrapping your arms defensively around yourself. “You didn’t force me to do anything. I want everything we have.”

You heard him growl under his breath. “Everything we had is getting you fucked over. I’m giving you an out here, just take it.”

It felt like someone had kicked you in the stomach, but you took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “I can’t accept that.”

For the first time since you had arrived there, his head shot up and he looked at you. His eyes burned, but you could see more than the anger he was forcing to the front. “I don’t care if you ‘accept it’, that’s what’s happening.”

You felt tears well in your eyes despite your most valiant attempts. “Please, Evan, don’t do this.”

He looked back down, no longer able to meet your pleading eyes.

You took a step closer and took his face in your palms. His hands shot up and he grasped your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. You forced him to look at you.

“Please,” you repeated. Then, taking a deep breath, “I love you.”

His expression remained stoic in the wake of your confession, but you watched a flurry of emotions flit across his irises. You realized distantly that you had never noticed what a deep, rich brown they were.

“Why?” His voice was rough, harsh. When you didn’t respond immediately, he demanded it again, harder this time, “Why?”

“You are the best thing in my life, Evan MacMillan,” you answered firmly. “I’m not just going to let you push me away because you think you’re somehow helping me.”

“Those others-”

“Can go fuck themselves,” you cut him off.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, to argue with you. His eyes searched your face for something, you couldn’t be sure what. He opened his mouth and you thought he was going to contradict you again. What he said instead was so much better.

“Ah, fuck it.”

He grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you down hard to meet him. Your eyes widened, but you quickly screwed them shut and threw your arms around his neck, melting into him when his mouth met yours. The stool groaned treacherously under your combined weight as he pulled you into his lap. Your mind was far too scattered by Evan kissing you senseless for you to worry about the possibility of the little wooden seat giving way, but he had apparently taken the potential hazard into account. He stood with you wrapped around him as if you weighed nothing. Turning, he leaned you against the work bench as he cleared the surface with one hand, sending bear traps, tools, and his mask clattering and skidding across the floor.

You pulled him harder against you, as if he would leave if you didn’t hold on tight enough. Your desperation was mirrored in his movements, still holding the back of your neck with one hand while the other was splayed across your lower back to press you against him. You did your best to pour every ounce of emotion you had into the kiss, willing him to understand just how serious you were.

You broke away only when the need to breathe took over. His pupils were blown wide and he was breathing just as heavily as you were, but still he did not release you. You were sure that your face was flushed bright red and you knew your own eyes were hooded with desire. You wanted him, wanted to show him how much you loved him, and you could see that he wanted you just as badly.

You pressed your hands to his chest to create some space, but before he had time to worry that you had changed your mind, you were pulling your shirt up over your head. Your bra followed, and it was only then that Evan stepped in to help you lift your hips to remove your pants and underwear as well. You eagerly reached for the zipper on his overalls, and he was in no hurry to stop you. You were thrilled to find him already hard for you, but you gave him a few quick strokes for good measure, prompting a deep, rumbling groan from him.

You shifted to the edge of the workbench and wrapped your legs around his hips as best you could. He was so much bigger and stronger than you, you didn’t have a chance in hell of moving him if he didn’t want to, but thankfully he was in no mood for teasing. Evan slid his hand between your bodies to cup your sex. You didn’t even try to stifle your moans when he dragged his fingers through your folds. He made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat when he found that you were practically dripping for him. He pressed one thick finger inside you, prompting you to throw you head back and moan. You couldn’t help but to roll your hips into his hand when his thumb found your clit. You were all but panting when a second finger joined the first and he curled them into you. As nice as his fingers felt inside you, and as much as the logical part of your brain knew from experience that you needed him to prepare you like this before you had a prayer of taking his cock without feeling like you were going to be split in half, you were beginning to grow impatient. You really needed him to fuck you.

Either he was just as impatient as you were, or he could read your mind. He withdrew his hand from your heat and smeared your wetness across his length. He pulled your hips down to meet him before lining himself up with you entrance and pushing in. He groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him, the sound vibrating through your smaller form. Your breath caught in your throat at the stretch you felt, quickly reminded of how truly full you always felt when he was between your legs.

He leaned his forehead against yours. “Fuck, I missed you.”

The admission was unexpected, and your chest filled with a pleasant warmth at his words. You wanted to respond, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to tell him how much you had missed him too or to give him a hard time for being so hardheaded and avoiding you, but you didn’t get the chance.

He pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in, hips colliding with your own and forcing the air from your lungs. He held you in place with one hand on your hip and the other supporting his weight against the tool bench. You cupped his face with your hands, pulling him down to meet you in an ironically chaste kiss as he continued to piston into you. You gasped against his lips, moans filling what little space there was between you.

“Say it again,” he growled.

You were confused for a moment before you realized what he wanted to hear.

“I love you,” you managed between gasps and moans.

He thrust into you harder, causing you to bounce against the surface of the table. “Again,” he demanded, voice husky and strained.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he hit something that had you seeing stars. “I love you.”

He didn’t have to tell you a third time, just continued to drill into you as you serenaded him with a chorus consisting entirely of those three little words. As you neared your end, your chant became a jumbled mess of whining and moaning, but to Evan it still sounded just as sweet. Your walls fluttered around him, and you held onto him for dear life, arms wrapped snugly around his neck. His thumb found your clit once more and you wailed. White hot electricity burst from your core and danced through your body, leaving nothing but blissful pleasure in its wake.

You rode out the high, only vaguely registering the way Evan’s thrusts stuttered when you clenched around him. His heavy breathing was like a freight train in your ear, and you loved it. He grunted as he slammed into you one last time, grinding your hips into his own before you felt him spill inside you, seed warm against the walls of your overwrought sex.

You held onto him with all the energy you had left, intent on never letting him go again. He took a moment to catch his breath, both hands now pressed against the workbench to support his weight as he loomed over you. You pressed light, fleeting kisses into the heated skin of his chest and shoulder. You felt him turn his head to leave a lingering kiss against your temple.

“Don’t leave me alone again,” you said quietly.

“I won’t,” he promised.