#I really wish I could ignore these things more easily I don’t like to ruminate on them either! but I was thinking hey maybe others find thi

[deus-and-the-machina]

dunno if this is a hot take but I’ve been thinking for a bit. That like most of the time there tends to be an understanding that putting criticism or outright hate in a characters main tags is generally rude, but I kind of wish people would keep discourse in general out of a characters main tags. as in, even if that discourse is on that characters “side” as it were.

like, if I’m going into a tag, it’s not gonna be any less unpleasant to see a rant about how said character is great in comparison to x character who sucks, or to see a long rant about how the writers suck and did said character dirty. Honestly more than keeping it out of main tags I wish people would tag things as discourse or some variation of that more. Im just the kind of person who gets hung up and stews on things I really shouldn’t and it sucks to search up something you like only to see people complaining or arguing. That sort of thing.

#siren says #yeah honestly I feel like like ‘tag things as discourse’ one is more what I want seems more doable with tumblrs weird sorting #like you might not tag it as a character but if you say their name it may come up and stuff #I really wish I could ignore these things more easily I don’t like to ruminate on them either! but I was thinking hey maybe others find thi #unpleasant too. and I just wanted to get this out there #like I do block if someone’s being annoying but this is a sort of ‘I’d rather not see it in the first place situation’ bc my own neurosis #gets worked up very easily and I’ll end up thinking about it for the rest of the day

[nobodyfamousposts]

Chloe's Lament

Why no! I'm still not over Miracle Queen, why do you ask?

_______________________

They were impossible odds to begin with.

That was why they had failed.

Miracle Queen smirked as Ladybug was stung by her wasps and put under her control. Seeing the once great hero brought low really filled her with vindictive satisfaction.

“See?” She sneered. “I didn’t need you. You needed me!”

If anyone had the right to destroy Ladybug, it was her. After all, hadn’t she deserved this? What right did Ladybug have to refuse her her Miraculous anyway?

Well, it didn’t matter anymore. Because now all of the Miraculous were hers. Including Ladybug’s and Chat’s.

“My lady!” Chat shouted, though he was helpless to stop it. Helpless to even escape the grasp of her guards.

And speaking of which…

Her guards didn’t move, simply standing in place while they waited for orders. She was mildly annoyed that they couldn’t think for themselves and simply take the Miraculous already to present to her in offering, but…

…actually, no. It was better if she did it. This was her victory, after all.

She considered starting with the sidekick. He had always been an eyesore, anyway.

But Chloe was never one for patience.

At her command, Ladybug approached, apparently unaware of the world around him. Before Miracle Queen, she placed both hands over her ears.

She...seemed to hesitate for a moment.

Miracle Queen arched a brow at that. Was there some part of her trying to resist?

“Give me the Earrings.”

Whatever hesitancy she had vanished and within a second, she had the Earrings off, causing the transformation to fade and revealing—

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng?!”

She barely heard that alley cat’s gasp. She took little notice of Hawk Moth or Mayura’s own responses. She outright ignored the little pink bug thing that appeared and blanched at her presence. She didn’t even register anything any of them said afterwards, her mind whirling from the implications.

She had always thought Ladybug this distant figure. Untouchable. Unreachable.

But for it to be her of all people?!

She wasted no effort on kindness, simply ripping the earrings out of the former Ladybug’s hands with a sneer.

Her own goody-goody classmate just stood there staring ahead blankly. Chloe almost regretted not leaving her unstung, if only so she could see her reaction as she lost everything.

Chloe bit back a snarl at the girl.

She had always been a pest. Always getting in Chloe’s way. Always acting as if she was actually worth anything compared to her. Always denying her—demeaning her—opposing her—stealing from her!

Her Adrien! Her Mom’s attention! And now her Miraculous!

Chloe grit her teeth.

Of course. OF FUCKING COURSE!

“Chloe! Please listen to me!” The Cat was pleading to her.

Chloe felt numb. Her mind still registering the truth.

Because how dare she? How dare she?!

How dare SHE of all people fool her like this!

Words seemed to warble through the static surrounding her.

“You don’t have to do this!”

Have to? Of course she didn’t.

Want to? Oh, she certainly did.

“If Hawk Moth gets both Miraculous, he’ll make the Wish and it could be catastrophic!”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

Like that pathetic stray knew anything.

Of course anyone would say whatever they could to convince Chloe. She barely paid him any mind, still ruminating over the clear deception. How Marinette had gotten one over on her. Again.

All this time, Marinette must have been laughing at her. Trying to use her! Now she lost and Chloe won and people were still acting like she knew better! Like she was still so perfect!

Pathetic.

How could Chloe have ever looked up to her?

“Chloe, please! You can’t let Hawk Moth win!”

“Shut up!”

Hawk Moth wasn’t the winner here, she was!

And she would prove it!

She didn’t even need to waste a wasp on the sidekick. With the guards holding him in place and at her command presenting his hand to her, she was able to get to his Ring easily. His attempts to throw them off or keep his hand closed and protected were useless as she removed the ring, causing his transformation to dissipate.

She gaped.

“Adrien?!”

Him. Adrien Agreste. The boy she loved. The only one who was good enough for her. And he was staring back at her from the same spot where that stupid cat had been.

Adrien…staring at her in a mix of horror and disappointment and rage.

“Chloe…how could you?”

How could she? No! How could he?! He knew who she was this whole time! Why didn’t he tell her? Why didn’t he stand up for her when Ladybug told her she wouldn’t be Queen Bee again? Or hell, give her the Miraculous in the first place? She thought they were friends!

She shoved away from him.

This…

This wasn’t her Adrien!

“Excellent job, Miracle Queen.” Hawk Moth called, pulling her from her thoughts. “Now bring me their Miraculous and the glory shall be yours.”

A pause.

She considered.

Ladybug was defeated. Hawk Moth had won. He had won because of Chloe—the person whom Ladybug—Marinette had looked down on. The city was under her control. Now everyone HAD to listen to and obey her.

Marinette had lost everything and could do nothing about it while Chloe was free to be the Queen she always deserved to be.

Wasn’t this enough?

Wasn’t all of this…finally enough?

Silence.

Hawk Moth was waiting.

Her subjects were waiting.

Everyone was waiting on Chloe.

It was all about Chloe now.

So…wasn’t that enough?

“No.”

This wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t nearly good enough to appease her.

Hawk Moth frowned.

“What?”

“No!” She replied. “I don’t have to. I don’t want to. And now that I have these, I don’t need to.”

She smirked up at him.

“I don’t need you anymore! I don’t need any of you!”

She held up the two Miraculous in victory.

“Now I’M the one in charge!”

“Chloe, don’t do it!” Adrien shouted. “You don’t know what the Wish will do!”

“I’m not listening to you anymore!” She shouted. “When Ladybu—when SHE refused to give me my Miraculous back, where were you?”

“Chloe!”

“NO! What right does she have to say who deserves a Miraculous or not? She should never have been Ladybug!” She shouted, stomping her foot. “She doesn’t deserve it! I do! And I just want what I deserve!”

“Miracle Queen, don’t be foolish!” Hawk Moth ordered. “You are to hand over the Miraculous to me!”

“So you can just take my power away and leave me in the dust? I don’t think so! No!” Chloe shook her head. “This power is mine!”

The power and the Wish—wasn’t that what they had said? Wasn’t that what Hawk Moth had been after all this time?

Well, it was Chloe who won. Not Hawk Moth or any of his other lame akumas! HER! So Chloe earned this!

Which meant that the Wish was rightfully hers!

She turned towards Marinette with a smirk.

And she knew exactly what she wanted with it!

But first, best to get the riff-raff out of her way.

With a flick of her control, the wasps converged on Hawk Moth and Mayura. In a matter of seconds, they were under her control as well. The last thing she needed was either of them getting in her way.

The kwamis gaped at her in surprise, like they didn’t think Chloe could plan for things? Please! These peons were so below her it was embarrassing!

Chloe was smart! She was smarter than anybody! Better than everybody! Certainly better than that wannabe heroine! Even the universe agreed! Why else would she be blessed as she was?

She looked down at the two Miraculous in her hands with a smirk because this? This just proved it!

Of course she was better! And now everyone would know it, too!

Especially…

She turned to face Marinette once more.

Because this time, there would be no interruptions for Chloe’s gloating.

And boy, was she going to gloat.

“So…how does it feel to be the one to lose for once?”

Marinette simply stared blankly, as if she didn’t actually understand what Chloe was talking about.

“All this time,” Chloe continued. “You’ve been playing it up for the masses. Making everyone love you. Pretending like you were actually worth something. And all just to look down on everyone and boost your own ego!”

She laughed.

It sounded hollow to her own ears.

She pushed through.

“Like it wasn’t bad enough even as a civilian! You were always showing off! I bet being a hero was everything you ever dreamed of so you could get twice the attention!”

Marinette didn’t respond.

Adrien, however, did.

“That’s not true!” He shouted, struggling in vain to pull out of the hold as he defended his ‘Lady’. Gag. Miss her with that shit. “She’s never shown off or done any of this for attention! She’s not that selfish!”

Chloe was only more infuriated.

“Of course she is! The glory! The popularity! The power it gives you over other people! Why else would someone like her be a hero?”

Adrien actually seemed to find his spine, because he glared at her.

“That might be what you would do, Chloe. But that’s your choice. That’s how you choose to respond to things. Not everyone is like that!”

“Adrikens!” She gasped, appalled that he would argue against her like this.

“No, Chloe! You’ve done some horrible things, but this is probably the worst! You helped Hawk Moth! You betrayed everyone!”

“Oh please!” She said, brushing him off. “I wasn’t helping him, I was only using him. Now the city is safe and it’s all thanks to me!”

“Then why aren’t you freeing everybody?” Adrien demanded. “Why reveal Marinette? Why take over the other heroes and make them fight us? Why not just use your power to control Hawk Moth and let everyone else go?”

“Why should I?” She asked, flippantly. “They were all useless anyway.”

She had always wanted people to respect and obey her, and now they would! So she would be waited on like the Queen she was, and they would have some actual purpose to their lives.

Really, if anything, she was the gracious one, here.

It wasn’t like any of them were useful otherwise.

But something seemed to upset Adrien, as he winced at her statement and shook his head. She didn’t really know why.

“No one is useless.”

She sighed.

“Oh, Adrikens.” She looked at him in pity. The poor boy just didn’t get how the world worked. “Of course they are. Why else am I here in charge,” she asked, gesturing to herself before turning her hand to gesture to the unmoving ‘Guards’ around them, “and they’re there waiting for orders?”

Whatever response he seemed to be expecting from her, that apparently wasn’t it as he stared at her in shock.

“Chloe, that’s horrible!”

“What? It’s only the truth.”

She won. Lady—Marinette lost. Everyone had to obey her. Why wouldn’t that be the case if she was wrong?

“But it’s okay now!” Chloe said cheerfully as she turned back to him. And—oh, he was drawing back from her. Here poor Adrikens. He always was skittish.

“Now it’s just the two of us. We can do whatever we want, live however we want, and have nothing to worry about. If there’s anything we need done, the peons can take care of it.“

She smiled.

“It’s you and me against the world!”

Just like it always was.

Just like it was supposed to be.

But Adrien…

…he only seemed to look more upset at that. Pale. Almost sick.

“No.”

She blinked, surprised.

“No?”

“No!” He repeated with more emphasis. “I don’t want that! Nobody wants that!”

“I want that!” She replied. Because that was what mattered! As long as she got what she wanted, things were fine! And now they always would be since she would always get what she wanted! What was wrong with that?

“Nobody else wants that!” Adrien bit out.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, they don’t matter.”

Honestly, he must have been stuck under Marinette’s thumb too long to actually take that whole ‘hero’ role seriously. Seriously, people were there to help THEM, not the other way around. It’s a good thing she saved him from that line of thinking.

“They do matter!” Adrien said with a hiss.

He paused, his gaze falling on Marinette.

“She matters.”

And his voice had gone so quiet and soft. She couldn’t recall a time he had ever spoken that way to her.

It only infuriated her.

“Oh please! What has she ever done for me?!”

Adrien actually seemed to look annoyed now. That was actually a new look for him, and she couldn’t recall a time he seemed so angry.

“Do you want a list?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, there isn’t nearly enough to bother counting, much less make a list—”

“She stood up for you time and again. Both as Ladybug AND as Marinette. More than she had to, especially as the person you’ve been bullying all this time!” He stated flatly, giving her a glare. “She helped you with your Mom and supported you. She gave up on a once in a lifetime opportunity just because you were upset she was the one getting the offer to go with your mother instead of you. And that Queen Bee party everyone put on? Her work. She was the one who got everyone to do it.”

“No, she didn’t!” All of that was just because Chloe was that awesome and people had finally realized it.

“She did!” He insisted. “She stood up for you to Alya over your blatantly false account of how Zombizou was defeated and she got everyone to convincing everyone to throw you a party to make up for saying you weren’t a hero! Even though you never apologized! Even after you tried to get her kicked out of her home city!”

Chloe huffed. “Well, she deserved it! And why should I have had to apologize for anything? It was her own fault I had to do any of that to put her in her place! If she had left, everything would have been better off!”

That way, there would have been no one to challenge her. No one to take attention. No one to be compared to. No one to be reminded was ‘better’. No one for people to admire instead of her.

“She was useless anyway.”

And he just…stared at her. Like she was something abhorrent. Someone he couldn’t even recognize.

“What?” She groused.

A pause.

And then a quiet admission. Spoke just above a whisper but still somehow louder than anything Chloe had heard before.

“Marinette was right. I should never have defended you to her.”

Chloe reared back in hurt.

“Adrien—!”

He only glared at her.

“That day you announced you were leaving, everyone was glad. Nobody was sad to see you go, Chloe! Not one person!”

“That’s not true!”

“They were celebrating, Chloe!”

She froze.

“What?”

“Our entire school was literally throwing a party the instant they heard you would be gone!” He explained. “Teachers were hugging and crying in relief! They canceled classes! There was a conga line at the time I showed up! Fireworks, music, confetti—the works!”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“But...no. That was a party for me. To thank me!”

“Not originally.” Adrien corrected her. “They changed the reason for the party after the akuma attack, but reused everything from it. They just added a banner. That party was only started because you were leaving, Chloe. Not so you would stay.”

She gaped.

She had known they hated her...but that much?

“And the real reason—the only reason they did even that much to turn it around for you was because Marinette asked them to. And that was after you threw a tantrum and tried to get her banished from Paris just for saying you weren’t a hero!”

“But I was!” She shouted, stomping her foot. “I was Queen Bee!”

“Not at that time, you weren’t!” Adrien shot back. “You were a thief who used a stolen Miraculous to try to crash a train!”

“It was her fault for losing it—!”

“Marinette was on that train!” The bug kwami exclaimed, suddenly speaking up. “She and her parents could have died because of your stunt! Her saying you weren’t a hero after that was not only justified, but the very least you deserved!”

Adrien hadn’t seemed to know that previously, as he stared at the kwami in horror.

“She and her family—all of those passengers could have pressed charges! They should have! But Marinette believed you could be better!”

It glared up at her.

“Her saying you weren’t a hero at a time when you had done nothing worthy of the title was nothing compared to that!”

“Shut up!” She hissed, making the thing glare at her. “What does a bug know?”

“Enough.” Adrien cut in. “Do you really think anyone would have decided on their own to throw a party to thank you for something you caused in the first place?”

She didn’t believe it. She refused!

It was only because of her that the city was saved! Was a little gratitude so uncalled for? Seriously, after what she did for them, she deserved a parade at least! They’re just lucky she intervened at all!

She huffed. “Well, it was only the least they could have done after I saved the city from my dad!”

“Who only threatened the city because you upset him to begin with by demanding something he couldn’t give without unfairly hurting people!”

“Unfair?! You want to talk unfair? You heard what she said about me! That I wasn’t a hero! How was that fair?!”

“Because it was the truth?” The black cat kwami replied with a smirk.

Adrien shook his head and just…looked at her like he was disappointed. Like she actually did anything wrong! “It says something that you put Marinette in danger and she still tried to get everyone to appreciate you with that Queen Bee party.”

She blew up at that.

“She only did that because of you!” Chloe practically screamed. “Because she’s so in love with you that it’s pathetic!”

Adrien started in surprise.

“She loves me?”

And she couldn’t believe it, but the damned fool was actually starting to smile and his ears were turning pink! Like that was supposed to be something to be glad about!

Marinette had only ever acted for Adrien’s attention. Even that time she comforted Chloe as Ladybug when her dad was akumatized was probably just to look good to him! It didn’t matter that no one else was there to see her breakdown, it had to have been part of her plan!

She just had to explain it to him! Adrien would be on her side! He was her friend, after all!

“She was only acting nice to make herself look good to you!” She insisted.

He blinked and the happy look was gone. Chloe smirked at that, because he should be disgusted!

But Adrien only shook his head at her.

“Regardless of the reason she did that for you, she’s still the only one who did. Nino didn’t stop DJing that party out of friendship for me. The teachers didn’t corral the students or end the party out of duty to their jobs. The students didn’t receive any lecture for an unauthorized party on school grounds, celebrating a peer leaving, or just about having basic kindness and respect for others. The only one—the only one who not only stopped but advocated on your behalf to get everyone else to do the right thing was Marinette.”

He gestured to the city around them.

“And now after this, I have to wonder if it was really the right thing after all...”

She balked.

“What? No! Adrikens—”

“STOP calling me that!” He shouted sharply.

She took in a breath.

He…never…

Even when he was mad at her, he never talked to her like that!

“Adri—”

“I hate it. I hate that name. I hate how you call me that. I hate how you cling to me and hurt people and try to drive people away but also drive them away from me like I’m not allowed to have friends besides you and I hate…”

He took a breath, coming to a decision.

“...I hate you, Chloe.”

She stared at him, waiting for some sign that this was a joke. Because he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it, right?

But Adrien glared back at her unflinchingly.

She felt her heart freeze.

He...

He meant it.

He really and truly meant it.

“You...you can’t be serious! You would turn on me? For her?!”

He didn’t take it back! Why wasn’t he taking it back?!

“You promised! You promised me, Adrien, that you would always be my friend!”

“Chloe, you don’t know what friends are!” Adrien exclaimed. “To you, they’re either supposed to be servants like Sabrina or things to ‘own’ like me! And I didn’t know better before because I only ever had you. But since I’ve started school, I’ve learned what friendship is!”

He looked away, guiltily.

“I wish I had learned it sooner.”

She stared.

This…

This couldn’t be.

There was no way this was real.

Adrien. Her Adrikens!

“Are you really going to abandon me, Adrien?” She asked. “You, of all people? I thought…I thought you understood.”

He winced.

But he didn’t take it back. Not one bit.

She clenched her fists.

“Fine! Then…then if you want to be with them so much, I’ll just make you one of them!” She shouted, ignoring the tears stinging her eyes. “Then you’ll have to stay with me!”

He looked her in the eyes, solemn but stern.

“It won’t be real, Chloe. Whatever we had…whatever you would call it is already gone.”

“But it doesn’t have to be!” She insisted. “I have the Miraculous. I can just…there’s a Wish! If the world won’t let us be together and perfect, then I can just Wish for it!”

It was in equal parts a plea and a warning. For him to give in, just as he always had. For him to stay by her side like he’d promised.

He clenched his fists. But refused to back down.

“Whatever you do. Whatever world you create. My feelings won’t change.”

“We’ll see about that!”

“Don’t do it!” The bug kwami shouted. “Making a Wish should never be done, especially for selfish reasons!”

“I’m not selfish!” Chloe argued. “I’m the most selfless person I know!”

Adrien didn’t look impressed. Neither did the kwamis. If anything, the bug one looked furious.

“You can’t ignore all the horrible things you’ve done and reasons people could have to not like you, then turn around and figure that doing one nice thing after hurting someone means they now owe you somehow!”

“What,” Chloe bit out, “am I supposed to be owing her instead?” She demanded, gesturing to the still frozen Marinette.

“No!” Tikki replied, earnestly. “Because friendships are not about owing each other!”

“Since when were we friends?” Chloe laughed, jerking away from the annoying pink…thing. “Everyone is so below me it’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

The thing looked up at her, almost pityingly. “Chloe, you clearly care. That day when you were going to leave Paris, you were crying because you didn’t have any friends.”

Chloe stomped her foot. “That’s not true!”

“But you can have friends!” It insisted. “You just need to be nice—”

“I AM nice!”

“You’ve hurt people, Chloe! Intentionally and maliciously! And right now, you were helping a terrorist just because you didn’t get the Bee Miraculous on demand!”

“It was MINE!” Chloe shouted. “She took it away from me! How was that fair?!”

“It was never YOURS!” The kwami argued. “There is a duty! A responsibility involved! The Miraculous is not a toy! It it not a thing you can just use as you wish! It is a magical artifact that must be used for the greater good! It has a kwami with a name feelings attached to it! Did you ever even talk to Pollen?”

Chloe faltered, but then scoffed. “What would you know?”

Geez, did Marinette always let this thing talk so much?

It was Adrien who answered. “Of course not. Because you never do, Chloe. You don’t talk to people. You don’t consider people. You don’t look at anyone outside of yourself to even notice the effect you’re having.”

The black thing laughed. “You’ve caused a good half of the akumatizations in the city! In all our time active here so far, it says something that we have spent more akuma fights protecting you than any other person.”

The bug nodded. “And not once—not once have you ever so much as acknowledged doing anything wrong! Much less apologized!”

Oh, now Chloe knew she was full of it. “Because I wasn’t wrong, duh!”

She was. Because why else would Ladybug refuse her when Chloe had already proven herself? And she had! No other hero was nearly as good as her!

“Of course I wasn’t wrong!” She insisted. “Because even the universe knows it! That’s why I won! I’m a better person, a better hero, and a better Guardian than she could ever try to be!”

The bug was having none of it.

“Marinette is a better Ladybug—a better person than you ever will be. And that’s because she chooses to be kind! Regardless of the circumstances!”

It glared at her defiantly.

“Even if your positions were switched, that wouldn’t change.”

Chloe glared. “Why you—!”

How dare she?! Acting like she was better than her?

But Adrien cut her off.

“I kept telling myself that they don’t understand. That I knew who you really were. That other people just didn’t know you.”

Chloe gave a disgusted look at the prospect. She didn’t get why he looked so angry though?

Or why that look was directed at her?

He…wasn’t still serious about hating her, was he?

Adrien shook his head, completely infuriated.

“But I was just making excuses. It wasn’t that they didn’t know you…it’s that I didn’t.”

She balked.

“What? Of course you know me!”

It was why he was so perfect. And the only one worthy of her, after all!

Or…well…had been, she remembered, shooting him a petulant glare.

But Adrien refused to be cowed.

“The Chloe I thought I knew never would have done what you have! You were willing to go this far—help the enemy and take over the city all for the sake of your own self interests! Even if she had given you the Bee this time…what about the next time? Or the time after?”

This was irritating. He was acting like Chloe was the one bringing THEM down.

“At least I would have gotten my Miraculous!” She pointed out. Because that was what mattered here! It was only what she deserved and Marinette was the one in the wrong for not giving it to her! Everything would have been fine if she had!

Adrien glared at her—and she couldn’t recall a time he looked so angry. Not with anyone. And especially not with her.

“I had already enabled you enough, Chloe. And I encouraged others to do the same, thinking it would help you. That if they got to know you—if you had enough support, eventually you would open up and finally be the great person you always seemed to think you were. That they just needed to give you a chance and you would be satisfied and everyone would finally get along. But I was wrong.”

He looked done. No, even worse, he looked done with her!

He hung his head.

And near whispered:

“You’re the sort of person who is never satisfied with anything.”

And with that, Chloe broke.

“SHUT UP!”

With a wave of her hand, the wasps surged forward and Adrien was made into another of her mindless thralls. But she didn’t care. He was as good as lost to her anyway and in her mind, there was only one person to blame.

“Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!”

She spun around on the expressionless Marinette in a rage, zeroing in on the cause of all her problems. Even now, the former hero still somehow looked so goddamn noble!

“You don’t deserve to be Ladybug!” She shouted, eyes wide and spittle flying. “You don’t deserve your Miraculous! You don’t deserve your life! You don’t deserve ANYTHING!”

She clenched her fists tighter.

Her palms hurt, drawing her attention back to her clenched fists and specifically to the two Miraculous she had in each.

She smirked.

“I do. And now I have the power to fix that!”

She turned away, putting the Ring on her finger.

"You becoming Ladybug was a fluke!” She continued, moving on to the earrings. “You just got lucky! It was just a chance! Anyone else could have had it!”

She put in one earring.

“I could have had it! I would have deserved it more!"

She put in the other earring.

“I deserve it more than you!”

“Don’t!” Came a little voice—the pink kwami. Whatever the hell her name was was now floating in front of her waving her arms frantically. “The Wish isn’t without consequences!”

Chloe cut Tikki off.

“Just shut up and grant my Wish!”

The bug gasped right before her mouth disappeared. Nice! Chloe liked this feature.

But there was still the distinct lack of Wish-granting.

“Well?” She demanded.

The black one floated up to her.

“You’re going to have to actually say what your Wish is, first.” He said amicably.

See? This is what she needed. Simple. Sweet. And straight to the point! If only more servants could be like this!

Of course, if Chloe knew Plagg—or if she was just paying attention, she would have noticed the smirk on his face and been wary of it.

Plagg was a chaotic little kwami. As such, he was never this pleasant, especially to those who were going to use him in a way he didn’t like.

Chloe did not know this. And in this moment, she was too driven by rage and spite to consider it.

She was used to Pollen, after all. A quiet, subservient kwami who was perfectly fitted to Chloe—a person who was used to quiet, subservient people in her life.

Plagg was neither quiet nor subservient.

When he was, it was a sign to worry.

Perhaps if Adrien had been in control of himself, he could have warned her.

Perhaps if she had put more thought into Marinette’s attempts to help her previously, she would have reconsidered.

Perhaps if she had just given more consideration to Tikki's own warnings against it, she would have taken her time.

But Chloe Bourgeois had won.

She won. Everyone else lost. And that was all that mattered, so it was all she needed to think about.

And thus, without hesitation. Without thinking twice.

“I Wish—“

Chloe made the Wish to rewrite the world.

And

i t

a l l

w e n t

b l a c k . . .

.

.

.

.

.

.

Reality is not as one would expect. It is both more complicated and yet also more simple than one would think. Thus, there is no scientific way to adequately explain the process through which things are rewritten so that something that once was not now is and always has been. Or vice versa.

That is what metaphor is for.

Imagine, if you will, that the story as we know it is a performance. Particularly a play. One where the people we have met—from Marinette to Adrien to Hawk Moth and everyone inbetween are all actors filling certain “roles”. And imagine further that the Universe itself is equivalent to a Director overseeing these actors and their performance.

It was a passable show. Mixed reviews so far. Decent performance depending on the actor and their scene. But overall, it was entertaining enough and there weren’t any major issues.

Not until one of those actors just up and stopped the entire performance in the middle of the climax to complain about the show, insult the Director’s choices, and demand everything be redone with her in a different role.

Now the Universe is not a person. It does not have a form. It simply is. And despite having a will and a sick sense of humor, it is in no way a human.

…but if it WERE a human, what happened next would be the equivalent of it tilting its head and considering the defiant actor before it and said actor’s ridiculous demand.

For one eternity…

Two…

Before shrugging and simply saying “You know what? Fine.”

There was a sound of a “snap”.

The feeling of a curtain closing.

Darkness.

A shuffle from behind the stage.

A cough from the audience.

Then the curtains lifted.

And Chloe Bourgeois woke up in a room she had never been in before.

#ml fic #chloe salt #miracle queen #chloe's lament #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #tikki #plagg #gabriel is an idiot #be careful what you wish for #chloe is not careful

[copperbadge]

Sam, Mr. Dramaturg sir, would you be willing to talk about Western taboos, distrust, and weird attitudes about costume masks and how that might play out with COVID-19 and the CDC's recommendation to wear face-masks when in public? I've seen people wearing masks pull their masks off when they talk to someone, because "that's just polite," even though that's when you need the mask most.

Oh man this ask came in SO LONG AGO and I’m so sorry I didn’t answer it sooner; I was ruminating on a lot of stuff to do with masks and wasn’t sure my theses were fully formed yet. They may still not be. But I have a hunch that there are a couple of factors in play.

So, first, in America we have a real wariness around masks and masking in a costuming sense, because we perceive masks as concealing. This is actually a relatively recent cultural development brought over from Europe. Prior to the Renaissance and I would posit up into it, especially in the Mediterranean, theatrical masks were not seen as concealing an actor but rather as revealing a character. This is actually still the premise of a lot of masked theatre in Asia, where they tend to be much more comfortable with masks in general. In Europe, this drew on ancient ideas of the external appearance representing the internal person (which gets into some really dicey ableist areas but we won’t go there right now). 

That changed around the time that masquerade balls became popular in part because they were condemned as orgies of sin and vice by conservative religious groups, who came from a different cultural context in many ways. And that attitude pervaded a lot of Europe and, through colonialism, a lot of the western world, aided by the Puritan settlement of America, since Puritans were against theatre in general (surprisingly not because it was considered somehow blasphemous, but because it wasn’t considered a productive use of time or energy). 

 Anyway, all that is to say that especially in American culture you have this pre-existing belief that if you can’t see a person’s face you can’t interpret their emotions, particularly the eyes and mouth, which is why clowns freak us out -- not because their features are concealed, but because their features are exaggerated in an extremely specific way that presents one emotion even if the clown’s actual face is portraying a different one. 

So. There’s that in play, where people pull their mask down to speak or refuse to wear one at all in part because they think they’ll be muffled, but also so that they can more easily convey the specific emotions they wish to convey, which Americans feel we can’t really do if our face isn’t fully visible. (This...may be why I was confused about the whole “frown on the forehead” thing. That’s not really how American culture works.) 

But I think the creepy, dangerous view that some people hold, that they have some kind of right not to wear masks and they’re being oppressed if they’re asked to, goes deeper -- I think it speaks to the fragility of their perilous worldview.

People who don’t want to mask up also tend to be people for whom reality is a carefully constructed cushion of lies, conspiracy theories, and blind loyalty to the word of the moment, even if that word has been contradicted in the past. To wear a mask is to acknowledge an authority outside of oneself, to tacitly admit that not only is there an objective reality one cannot sway by believing hard enough, but that the reality is based on science and fact and doesn’t care if you’re made uncomfortable by it. If you have spent years, sometimes decades, believing that science isn’t real, that anything can be argued into not existing and that your worldview is the most objective and “real” one possible, to put on a mask is to acknowledge the authority of the natural world, and worse, of science that is unaffected by your opinions or feelings. 

To put on a medical mask, a mask designed for use by scientists and doctors, is to align yourself with science and medicine -- to admit that you could possibly be wrong, or have been wrong, and that it is an ongoing state, not something that will change the next time your chosen idol changes his mind about something. To wear a mask is to admit that science is real, which is terrifying to people who have built their identity around the idea that anything that makes them uncomfortable is a falsehood they can safely ignore. 

A covid mask is an admission that we cannot dictate our own reality without consequences or ignore that our behavior impacts others. Plenty of people know this already; it is a lived reality for a huge swath of American society. But a lot of fragile egos are being forced to confront their own childishness for the first time, and they can’t handle that. So they react like children do, with temper tantrums and whining. 

TLDR in America masks both conceal our emotions and dictate our identities, and some people are real new to the idea that their feelings are not anyone else’s priority anymore. 

#no pasaran #figtreeandvine

[bluestarscribbler]

Writing Characters With Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD)

Hi everyone! :) How are you doing? 🥰💕 Today I'll be outlining the main do's and don't's of writing characters with SAD, as well the definition and the main symptoms of SAD.

DISCLAIMER: I am not diagnosed with SAD myself; however, all of the following information had been obtained from different posts and sites of people that have first-hand experience with SAD. I will be linking those at the end of today's post, please feel free to check them out.

What I learned from the intense research I did is that nobody has social anxiety the same. Some people feel like they can't breath. Others tend to laugh in awkward moments. Nobody is the same. No character is exactly alike. You can't get it "right," because it's not an exact science. So don't feel too pressured while writing a character with SAD, there's no "one" way to write them. A helpful approach is to think what about how the SAD fits into the story you want to tell because the topic is really as complicated as any other and you can view it from many different angles and go as deep as you want - depending on what this story you're trying to tell calls for. So rather than trying to get an objective view of this complicated topic, focus on the aspects that are relevant to the story.

What is Social Anxiety Disorder?

AKA Social Phobia, SAD describes an intense fear and avoidance of negative public scrutiny, public embarrassment, humiliation or social interaction. This fear can be specified to particular social situations; such as public speaking, or more typically, is experienced in most/all social interactions. Those suffering from SAD will often attempt to avoid the source of their anxiety; this is particularly problematic and in severe cases can lead to complete social isolation.

Symptoms of SAD:

person paces a lot

very fidgety

stops talking mid sentence...a lot

wrings hands

angered by slightest infractions of others

finds fault in others a lot

hard to breathe when focus/attention is shifted to them

sweating profusely

mumbling

shrinking to hide

lack of eye contact/wandering eyes

painfully shy and withdrawn

picking the nails, picking the skin

always the person in the back of the room or in a corner

gravitating toward the first person they recognise and following them everywhere

headaches

finding ways to avoid certain situations

crying before or after social events

feel dizzy and the entire world becomes very far away

feeling like chest was caving in

assuming that everyone is focusing on them

assuming that people are laughing about them

grind their teeth a lot

bite their knuckles

tap out drum patterns with their feet or fingers

nausea and vomiting

muscle weakness

migraines

heart arrhythmia

increasing nervous tics

Keep in mind that social anxiety exists on a spectrum. Not everyone is paralysed at the smallest conversation, but some are. Others feel mild discomfort at certain types of socialising. It’s all relative.

DO'S:

DO write in a lot of internal dialogue. People with SAD say that most of their anxiety is created by their own internal rumination. So, add a lot of overly self-critical internal dialogue and have them think about trivial things that they may or may not have gotten wrong for hours after the fact. People with SAD also tend to avoid initiating with anyone, instead preferring for them (the other person) to initiate — because then they know they're not inconveniencing them (the other person). If a person with SAD does have to interact with people then they tend to plan and rehearse what they're going to say to them. However, once the social interaction has begun, there will be very little internal monologue. In those situations, the character is very much relying on instinct. After the interaction, if the character feels that they messed up (which is likely; be sure to pick up on even the slightest fumbles or awkward pauses), they should keep thinking about how they're an idiot and they want to never have to talk to another person again, because they know it'll end the same way. If they feel like they did a good job, they should express surprise at how well it went, congratulate themselves, and say that they should maybe do this more often — although they probably won't.

DO let them have observational skills. Part of the anxiety stems from not always knowing how to/being good at socialising. Thus an anxious person will watch others closely for clues to their performance and acceptance. While it doesn’t always tell the person how they are doing, it does teach them a lot about the people around them and how they feel about each other. The person in a group with SAD may actually have a better idea of who in the group are friends, enemies, annoyed with the others, think they are better, have crushes, and so on. Having SAD doesn’t mean that a person doesn’t know social cues, it means that they underestimate their ability to use them. Don’t confuse SAD with autism.

DO make it influence all decisions. This is one you can do as the writer and not include every bit of internal dialogue. Just keep in mind that Every decision an anxious person makes is put through the anxiety filter first. Even if they are doing things by themselves, they have to evaluate the chances of meeting people, meeting people they know, having to talk to people when they are done. Keep that in mind when writing these characters in order to keep their personality consistent. That said, in general you can think of someone with SAD feeling physically, mentally and emotionally uncomfortable and "out of place" in ordinary social situations - they want out of it, looking for the door, excuse to leave, cut the interaction short. There could be a sense of shame, guilt and self-loathing about not being "good enough", or that there is something broken and wrong with them (or society).

DO give them other traits. Make sure you give them other traits that influence their decisions and drive their motivations. Someone can have anxiety and also love adventure, want to save all the stray dogs, want to help orphans, want to be a basketball hero, etc. One of the big problems with SAD is that it interferes with a person’s desires to do and be other things. It doesn’t always win though. And sometimes a person may decide that an awkward encounter or two is worth taking part in some other activity they love. Just remember to keep your characters balanced.

DO let them find each other. SAD is probably more common than you’d think. Not everyone has a crippling case. You can have characters share their anxiety with each other and comfort each other and help each other through tough times. SAD can make a person feel isolated but they don’t have to be, and often aren’t as isolated as they think. That observational skill can also help them find the right people to share their feelings with. Not all socialising is terrifying, it can often be cathartic.

DON'T'S:

DON'T make them hate people. Social anxiety does not mean that the person afflicted doesn’t like people or always craves solitude. One of the harshest aspects of SAD is that a person may want companionship and friends but still have uncontrollable discomfort when faced with making friends or spending time with the friends they already have. This constant tug-of-war between wanting friends and feeling the anxiety around people can cause a lot of internal pain and lead to other emotions and conditions such as depression. Someone with SAD can have friends. Even a lot of friends. But certain factors may influence how a person with SAD chooses friends more than they influence others. The level of contact is different for everyone and there will be some friends who can take up more time while not taking up more energy on the part of the anxious person. However, SAD can get so bad that the person with it is unable to leave the house for days at a time, ghosting on all social engagements, not answering their phone and ignoring all texts; but that still doesn't mean they hate people.

DON'T always make them succeed. If you are writing about a person with SAD and they are forced again and again to go outside their comfort zone, make them fail. Have them go to a meeting and then duck down a side corridor at the last minute and disappear. Have them talk to a person and then freeze up in the middle of a conversation, at a loss for words. The longer they go without knowing what to say the stronger the anxiety gets and the harder it is to think. Or have them execute the socialising brilliantly but then go into the bathroom and cry from the overwhelming sense of effort it took to look normal. And just because they have had a few successes doesn’t mean that they will start succeeding every time. Sometimes, the energy it takes, even when the interaction was a success, means that next time they are reluctant or too exhausted to do it again.

DON'T always give them "tells". Anxious people can be very good at hiding it. In the example above of the person who socialises brilliantly and then cries in the bathroom, no one knows how hard it was. They only saw the brilliant “performance.” Keep that in mind. Not all people uncomfortable with socialising are bumbling awkward goofballs. Sometimes they actually appear very cool and collected.

DON'T suddenly make their anxiety disappear when they're at the end of their character arc. This pisses me off, anxiety is a life-long condition. It cannot be "overcome" easily. However, the person with it can learn to live with it. They can visit a psychiatrist, get pills prescribed or change their lifestyle completely to fit around their SAD. A person with anxiety always thinks about their anxiety. Even when they are happily at home reading a book, sometimes they will think about an upcoming engagement, or wish they made friends like the characters in their book. Every time a person with SAD makes plans they have to run through a list of criteria before nailing anything down. Will they have time before and after to prep for and cool down from the experience? Is it something they have done before and feel comfortable doing? Can they back out at the last minute if they feel too overwhelmed that day? These are just a fraction of the things that go through an anxious person’s mind before committing to plans. Again, this isn’t an absolute, but for many people with SAD it is a defining characteristic of who they are. They don’t talk to a single person, even a spouse sometimes, or make a doctor’s appointment without the anxiety affecting how they feel, think, and behave. It is always there. Always.

That's it for today folks! I hope everyone has an absolutely fantastic day! 😊❤

#social anxiety #mental health #social anxiety disorder #writing tips #writing advice #writing #writblr #my writing #anxiety awareness #anxiety disorder #mental illness

[isabelleashmore]

Invisible Moonlight: Padmé Amidala/Sabé for @star-wars-wlweek

Padmé winged easily through the steps, whisking Sabé along with her, and for a moment, they were waltzing in their nightgowns through the ballroom of Theed Palace, Sabé’s touch electric at the small of her back. It was only on her planet that petticoats and ballgowns, stiff and unforgiving on the bodies of Imperials, turned beautiful, their hems flaring vibrantly over the floor with their soft, silken sighs.

It was only in Sabé’s arms, dancing through her memories of Naboo, that Padmé became weightless.

(Or, Padmé and Sabé have a romantic night to themselves following the rise of the Empire.)

Rating: Teen

@star-wars-wlweek

Read here or on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33233989

Invisible Moonlight

“Were you surprised?”

Sabé whispered the question as if they were kids at a sleepover, scared to be caught out of bed after lights-out. They essentially were, Padmé reflected, only this time, it was being caught in bed that would get them in trouble. She tried and failed to banish that image from her mind: palace guards breaking down the door to her and Sabé’s hidden bedroom, finding them tangled up in the sheets and in each other. A humiliating arrest, after which they would be hauled to the throne room and tossed at the feet of a furious Emperor Vader. He’d throw his jealous little tantrum right then and there, which would subside only after he’d locked away his wife and executed her lover, all without ever addressing the women who frequented his room each night. The sparks of resistance that she and Sabé had so painstakingly kindled would be snuffed out; Luke and Leia—well, thank the gods that they were Anakin’s, too, because envisioning her children at risk, especially as a byproduct of her own actions, squeezed the air from Padmé’s lungs faster than if she’d been chucked off a skyscraper—

Sabé curled an arm around her waist, breaking her free from her ruminations. Padmé’s lips twitched into a fragile smile. Sabé’s every touch felt like a lullaby, like a murmured, “I’m here.” They had taken all the necessary precautions, she reminded herself: Dormé was covering for them and Anakin was spending the night with his own mistress. Not that Padmé thought of Sabé as her mistress. If anything, she liked to imagine that she was her girlfriend, and sometimes even indulged in fantasies of one day calling Sabé her wife.

Emboldened by the dream kneaded into that word—wife—Padmé giggled and touched her nose to Sabé’s. “Was I surprised by what?”

“Realizing that you were attracted to me. Were you surprised?” Sabé shimmied coyly out of Padmé’s grasp; her sultry, side-eyed gaze was enough to send tingles down Padmé’s arms. She found herself admiring Sabé’s lip gloss under the muted, golden light, the way it drew attention to the delicate purse of her lips, and thinking about how, whenever she was deep in thought, those lips would fall open just slightly, like a rosebud puckering into bloom…

It took Padmé much too long to focus on the question. She inhaled and blew out a slow stream of air, hoping Sabé hadn’t noticed. “Yes,” she hedged, “and no. I mean, there were some things about us that finally made sense. Like back when we were girls, and I got jealous when Harli Jafan started flirting with you—”

“You did?”

A blush stole into Padmé’s cheeks at Sabé’s unabashed delight. “Why else did you think I was upset about her trying to kiss you? I should have realized it earlier, but everyone around me just assumed I was only into men. Maybe I assumed it, too. Until…”—she met Sabé’s gaze from beneath her eyelashes—“until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”

Sabé smiled and took Padmé’s hand in hers, absentmindedly tracing the lines of her palm. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you so sure that people had those assumptions in the first place? No offense, but I can’t imagine Theed Palace being thrown into chaos over your sexuality. Yané and Saché were openly a couple, and I was out as bi before I signed on as your handmaiden.”

“It wasn’t that. I’m sure that if I made a point of coming out, everyone would have been supportive, but…” Padmé rested her head on Sabé’s shoulder, pondering how to translate her emotions into words. “My parents and sister were always asking me when I was going to bring home a boy. Maybe I started to believe that that was the ultimate goal, that liking anyone else made me somehow…less than. And then one day, Anakin happened to accompany me to my parents’ house. He was only there as my bodyguard—a Jedi one, at that!—but my whole family leapt to the assumption that he was my boyfriend. Sola and my mother were so happy—relieved, even—and…I don’t know. I told myself that none of it would matter if I could just fall for Anakin, but then I caught myself thinking, how would they have reacted if I’d brought home a girl instead?”

“I know your parents,” Sabé said. “I’m sure they would have been supportive.”

“Oh, they would have, if they had known. But I brought home you and Dormé a few times and they never assumed either one of you was my girlfriend.”

“It’s probably because you’re so feminine,” Sabé said with a hint of bitterness. “No one ever expects feminine women to be into women.”

“No one ever expects women to be into women.”

Sabé’s only response to that was to grip Padmé’s hand a little tighter.

They sat together in silence until Padmé had collected her thoughts. “I think,” she confessed, “that I was most afraid of seeing the shock on their faces. It would have felt too much like letting them down, like turning my back on a dream they’d had for me since childhood. No, more than a dream: an expectation.” She worried her lip. “I don’t know when ‘assumption’ turned into ‘expectation’, but it did, and I couldn’t bring myself to ruin it—not for them, and especially not for myself. I still don’t know of anyone in House Naberrie who isn’t heterosexual, and there was enough tension between my relatives and me as it was, what with some lingering contention over my career choice and my not-entirely-pacifist politics—and then this—!” Padmé didn’t realize she was crying until the tears were flooding down her cheeks. She clapped a hand over her mouth, just in time to muffle the sob that escaped her. “Gods, I wish I had told them—now that Anakin won’t even let me talk to them—”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Sabé stroked Padmé’s hair with her free hand, pausing only to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? We all move at our own pace. I knew pretty young, but if I’d figured it out just a little bit later, I would have had the same insecurities as you. Probably more of them, since in my case they would have been justified.”

“Stop it, Sabé. You know how I feel about you talking yourself down.”

“I know, love.” Sabé raised Padmé’s chin to drop a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth. Somehow that still ignited every nerve in Padmé’s body. “For the record, my career path was also hard for my family to accept. Being chosen as your handmaiden was an honour, of course, but my parents were just so hung up on this fantasy of me following in the family tradition, playing hallikset in the back row of some orchestra for the rest of my life.”

Padmé sighed, wiping the last of her tears on the back of her hand. “I think that’s one of the main problems on Naboo. Everyone wants their child to go into the arts, but we still need people who can run the government or fill any of the other thousands of jobs that are necessary to our planet’s survival. My father did support my engagement in politics growing up, but even he still hoped that I would ultimately pursue a career in the arts. Thankfully, once I announced to my parents that I was running for Princess of Theed, they understood that politics were my calling and stopped trying to wrangle me into an artistic pursuit. But before that, they’d tried everything: poetry, original oratory, debate, the like. My mother had desperately wanted me to be a musician, like you, but I wasn’t a standout talent at any particular instrument. At least I took all those years of dance classes—”

“No way, that doesn’t count. Everyone takes dance classes.”

Padmé shoulder-checked Sabé in mock offense. “How dare you dismiss my prodigious dance skills. I’ll have you know, I was recommended to a couple of ballet conservatories thanks to my ‘natural poise and diligence’.”

“Oh, I can believe it. I was watching you dance tonight.” Sabé’s voice had taken on a genuine, if a bit seductive note. She grinned and dropped her lips to Padmé’s ear. “You want to know a secret?”

A thrill shot down Padmé’s spine. “Yes…”

“I was jealous tonight, love. Really jealous, having to watch you dance with him in front of everyone. His hands, just…digging into your waist, as if to lay claim to you or something…” Padmé was horrified to find that the passion in her girlfriend’s voice, so hot and sensual a second ago, had suddenly been zapped dry. “Gods!” Sabé cried, sharpening and spitting the word like it was dirty. “That man is insufferable, I—I hate him!”

Padmé remained silent, rubbing the silk of her nightgown between her fingers. She had thought for a moment that this was going in a different direction, but then somehow Anakin had ruined it without even being here and—no. She refused to let the thought of him spoil her mood. Instead, she took a deep breath and examined the small, windowless bedroom that she and Sabé shared. Already a warm pulse of pride was pushing out the anger in her chest. They may have lost the bulk of their past lives to Anakin, but they had still succeeded in making this one thing their own.

Padmé’s favourite shimmer-silk robe had taken up permanent residence on the back of the desk chair, and Sabé’s hallikset case lay nestled at the foot of their bed. On the walls, they had hung every holophoto they’d rescued from Anakin’s war on the past, regardless of whether said photos were personally relevant to them. Decade-old letters from Padmé’s sister and Sabé’s brothers, penned on real arbovellum paper, were piled lovingly on the vanity; next to them, a meticulous arrangement of eyeshadow palettes and perfume bottles. What really caught her eye, though, was Sabé’s music player, its bulky form squatting somewhat obtrusively in the corner. Sabé had held a strange affection for the battered old thing since Padmé had known her, despite—or perhaps because of—her brothers’ alleged attempts on its “life” over the years.

“Sabé,” she proposed lightly, “how about a dance?”

Sabé followed her gaze to the music player, and her eyes widened in surprise. “What, right here?”

“Why not? We’ve got music and two people who know how to waltz. What more could we need?”

“Hmm…fair point.” Sabé stood up from the bed, her hips swaying just slightly as she approached the music player. Padmé felt a fresh blush heat her cheeks. “I’ve still got this recording my brother gave me a few years ago, from the orchestra he was playing with at the time.”

“Perfect.” Padmé closed her eyes just before the first strains of music wove through the air. When she opened them again, Sabé stood before her like a vision: her hair haloed by a cross-section of candlelight, her hand extended to Padmé with the palm up. “May I have this dance, my lady?” she asked in a manner so formal, they could have been at an actual ball. Padmé giggled like a lovestruck teenager and took Sabé’s hand, pulling her eagerly to the centre of the room. Their nightgowns traced the movement with a cool flutter of silk. “You may,” Padmé whispered belatedly, unable to look anywhere but into Sabé’s eyes.

She could feel the night wrapping them up in moonlight they could not see, driving them closer, closer, closer until her breasts pressed up against Sabé’s, whose open lips hung just a tantalizing breath away. Lost in the glossy expanse of her girlfriend’s pupils, mesmerized by an orchestra’s melancholic cries, Padmé let the past flood the present, transforming the world around her. She was dissolving into another time, a place where thousand-pound chandeliers hovered overhead like they weighed nothing at all, where moonlight came streaming through arches and marble reflected the world at her feet. Padmé winged easily through the steps, whisking Sabé along with her, and for a moment, they were waltzing in their nightgowns through the ballroom of Theed Palace, Sabé’s touch electric at the small of her back. Padmé gasped into the cello’s sonorous vibrato, each pull of the bow a tug-of-war between desolation and desire. It was only on her planet that petticoats and ballgowns, stiff and unforgiving on the bodies of Imperials, turned beautiful, their hems flaring vibrantly over the floor with their soft, silken sighs.

It was only in Sabé’s arms, dancing through her memories of Naboo, that Padmé became weightless.

The bow paused on the string, still trembling, as if on the cusp of climax. Padmé’s eyes fluttered closed and Sabé kissed her, firmly on the mouth and then more passionately, parting Padmé’s lips beneath her own. Padmé clung tighter to the curves of Sabé’s waist, unable to suppress a shiver as the music exploded around them. Sabé’s lip gloss tasted of strawberries, of carefree summers in the open air of the Lake Country. Padmé tugged insistently on her girlfriend’s bottom lip, frenzied by the elusive sweetness of home, and felt Sabé deepen the kiss in response.

Coruscant was a cold planet, in every sense of the word. But Sabé always managed to make it just a little bit warmer. As soon as their lips had parted, Padmé lowered her head to Sabé’s ear. “One day,” she promised, “after all of this is over—the Empire, the Rebellion, everything—I’m going to take you to Varykino. We’ll put ourselves first for once and leave everything behind. No Amidala, no handmaidens…just us. Well…except for maybe one thing.” She laced her fingers through Sabé’s and gently stroked the side of her palm, hoping it would distract from her own quickening heartbeat. “I…I’ve decided that I’d like to raise Luke and Leia with you, Sabé. Assuming…that’s something you would want?”

Sabé’s rosebud lips dropped open in shock. Padmé panicked and nearly jumped in to amend her request—what she would actually say was beside the point—but then Sabé laughed—a full-bodied, dazzling laugh—and breathed, “Padmé…” Her fingers were feather-light on Padmé’s skin as she lifted her face to hers; Padmé was met with the glorious sight of Sabé’s eyes, glistening beneath a thin layer of tears. “I can’t think of anything else I’d want more than to raise children with you. I love you.”

Giddiness overtook Padmé then, a rush like free-falling back into love. The laugh that emerged from her was watery, nowhere near as melodious as Sabé’s, but she didn’t care. “I love you, too,” she replied, and because that still didn’t feel like enough, “I love you, I love you, I love—”

Sabé kissed her again, robbing her lips of the words so that only raw passion remained, and in that moment, in that small, windowless, beautiful room, Padmé’s cares slipped away beneath the invisible moonlight.

#starwarswlweek2021 #padme amidala #sabe #starwars #sabedala #dancing #lesbian romance #lgbtq+ themes #naboo royal handmaidens #post order 66 #padmé amidala lives #emperor vader au #wlw writing wlw

[kazimakuwabara]

A Name Chapter 11

Previous Chapter HERE

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“Are you fucking kidding me!?” A dull roar sounded from somewhere behind them.

Kuwabara, walking literally side by side his personal walking heater, turned around to glance at the person shouting. Hiei stopped walking with a sigh, “Ah... there they are.”

“We were barely gone a day!” Kuwabara mused, tone impressed, “They’re fast!”

Hiei turned, hooking his arm around Kuwbara’s waist, just so he could be sure Kuwabara would still get the heat off Hiei’s flared aura. It had started snowing in this part of demon world, and really Kuwabara wasn’t dressed well enough for this weather. But, thankfully, Hiei had no problems keeping one human warm.

“Well... we would have gotten much farther if you’d let me carry you,” Hiei sighed, looking irritably out at Yusuke who was charging forward, Kurama quickly trailing after him.

“No way. I’m like nine feet tall and you’re like three feet nothing! It’s too weird!” Kuwabara said with a frown.

Hiei gawked at Kuwabara, as if he’d said the wildest thing he had ever heard.

And then he threw back his head, and out a startlingly loud laugh.

Kuwabara had too look down to make sure he was hearing right. But yes, Hiei was cackling, looking... disbelieving in his own amusement. Memories of not, there was no way Hiei was someone who laughed like, that, normally.

In the middle of his laugh, a blur, swearing up a storm and practically radiating with anger, sacked Hiei and shoved him to the ground. The blur resolved itself into Yusuke, and then he swung his fist into Hiei’s face. Hiei took the blow, looking quite bored, and then sent an answering punch into the side of Yusuke’s throat.

Kuwabara shivered now that his walking heater had been thrown to the ground, but he didn’t interrupt their fight. Actually, now that he was watching a fight, it looked kind of fun!

“What the hell were you two thinking!?” Kurama muttered, suddenly appearing next to Kuwabara; throwing an arm around the taller man; carefully dodging Kuwabara’s bad arm.

“Sneaking off is one thing, but you should have dressed warmer!”

Kuwabara greedily pressed into Kurama, looking to steal any warmth he could get, “Don’t blame me! Blame Hiei! He dressed me.”

Hiei was on top of Yusuke, trying to strangle him with a rather bored expression on his face. He loosened his grip to look over his shoulder, and snapped, “You should have warmer clothes! If you’re going to be a weak pathetic human, then do something about your terrible body’s ability to maintain its temperature!”

Yusuke slugged Hiei across the face, and then grabbed a handful of snow and slapped it into Hiei’s forehead. Hiei swore viciously, and Yusuke took his chance to roll on top of Hiei. He then leaned on to Hiei’s neck with his forearm, while with his free hand, kept smacking more snow against the side of his face.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask to be b-born a hu-human!” Kuwabara said, starting to stutter now.

Kurama ran a hand up and down Kuwabara’s arm. With a soft tut, Kurama sighed, “Yusuke... let Hiei up! Kuwabara needs him.”

“Ow! He’s fucking biting!” Yusuke shrieked.

“Really you two! Stop!” Kurama snapped, “Kuwabara’s going to freeze out here!”

With great reluctance, and several petty slaps from each other, Yusuke and Hiei separated. Hiei stepped forward towards Kuwabara, and Kuwabara stepped close to Hiei.

Kuwabara sighed as Hiei radiated warmth. With not an ounce of shame, Kuwabara wrapped his good arm around Hiei and pulled him close, “Oh thank God. I was getting really cold!” Hiei nonchalantly allowed himself to be pulled into Kuwabara’s core, seeming to be unbothered by the closeness.

Yusuke and Kurama were both a little quiet, their eyes staring at Hiei, who was rather casually letting Kuwabara hug him.

Kurama pointed at Kuwabara’s arm around Hiei with his brows raised, and eyes wide with a question.

Hiei shrugged carelessly, and leaned back against Kuwabara’s waist, the larger man sighing with gratitude as he was warmed up.

Yusuke squinted, his anger momentarily forgotten so he could mutter, “There world has turned upside down. What the hell am I looking at?”

“When did you two get so close?” Kurama added with a warm smiled.

“We’ve been close,” Hiei answered defensively.

At the same time Kuwabara asked, “Were we not close?”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Kuwabara looked down at Hiei, his face pointing a noticeably downwards. Hiei’s face was still placid and impressively blank, but his ears were red.

Yusuke was had been raging just a moment ago, burst into loud laughter, and Kurama was all smiles, saying in a pleased tone, “Well, I’m glad to see you being more honest!”

Hiei growled, muttering something under his breath while Kuwabara shrugged, smiling at the group.

Without preamble, Kuwabara stated, “Hiei is taking me to see the Áine Sovereign Blade.”

It went quiet, but Kuwabara smiled easily, “You’re welcome to join us if you want. But if not, get out of the way. Hiei and I can manage on our own. We’re almost there already.”

That comment made Hiei smile smugly, while Yusuke’s mouth fell open, and Kurama looked oddly offended.

“I can help you steal a sword!” Kurama muttered with a little huff at the end of his sentence.

“I’m not so sure,” Kuwabara said, one of his brow’s lifted high, “You two were all uncomfortable about talking about the sword the other day!”

Yusuke sighed, sulking a little, “I...” He sighed forcibly, and balled his hands in his fist. Puffing up his chest he blurted, “I don’t want you to die!”

Kuwabara blinked, and the scrunched up his face, narrowing his eyes as he tried to understand, “Why would I die?”

Kurama put a hand on Yusuke’s back, and then looked at Kuwabara, his green eyes serious, “We were... are, both concerned the sword... if you interact with it again... might decide to finish the job. People... have never survived an encounter with it in regards to also using the mirror. The Path and the Blade... no one makes it after using the two for a wish!”

“But you did,” Yusuke said, voice sad but also full of pride, “Despite your arm, and despite your memory. You’re alive.  And... and that’s... it’s a miracle.”

Yusuke reached out for Kuwabara, and Kuwabara held out his good hand. He let Yusuke clasp it tight, and Kuwabara gave a returning squeeze. Yusuke, in a low and somber tone, whispered, “We almost lost you. And if... If your arm never recovers, and you never remembered. I was just so happy to have you alive! I don’t... I’m afraid to press our luck.”

Kuwabara smiled a little, his expression subdued as he ruminated over Kurama and Yusuke’s fears.

After a long stretch of quiet, Kuwabara sighed, “I have to see that sword again... but you should have told me your fears rather than trying to just keep me from asking!”

Hiei let out a grumpy sound of agreement before adding, “You should have let Kuwabara talk to you, rather than trying to ignore it. He’s had a vision.”

Kurama and Yusuke perked up, both their mouths hanging open.

Kuwabara’s also fell open, and a blush crawled up his neck, “I-I don’t think it was a vision!”

But as he sputtered, Hiei turned to look at Kuwabara, “It was more than a dream. Why would you look into it otherwise?”

Kuwabara’s mouth opened, and then closed. He repeated this process several times until finally, he managed to sputter, “I... I... Something is just... telling me to look into this.”

Hiei nodded, looked at Kurama and Yusuke and flatly stated, “Visions.”

Kuwabara was about to shout something at Hiei, what he wasn’t sure, but he was going to shout, when Kurama gently touched Kuwabara’s arm.

“Kuwabara... please tell us about... your vision. Or dream, whatever you want to call it... please tell us about it.”

Yusuke still clutching Kuwabara’s hand nodded, “Please tell us man. We’ll listen to you this time.”

Kuwabara sighed, sagging a little, but not with any dissatisfaction. He was actually feeling relieved that they were going to listen... and so he straightened his back, and as the snow of demon world fell around them, retold his dream of the strange girl who said she’d help him.

#kazi fanfic #kuwabarabirthdayweek #kuwabara #hiei #yusuke #kurama #yyh #yu yu hakusho #i'm very pleased of the groups interaction here.

[thisdreamplace]

it’s in our very surrendering that we gain all control.

the truth is, the more we surrender our control of the outer world, surrender to the truth of our Godselves, the more easily and effortlessly the world of shadows conforms to show us what we want to see. this is the greatest paradox of the law, and one i have been heavily ruminating over. as i look back at my journey and just my own feelings recently, i feel at a loss.

i have many successes but i have been left feeling as though they all meant nothing, and i’ve sat here wondering if this is all there is to life. for i have seen my thoughts manifest before my eyes plenty of times, but these were simple things. easy things to achieve.

i fell short because i did not change self. its easy, simple really to get a thing or two here and there. but to change self is the ultimate key to the law. for who you are, will always be reflected back to you. and i want not another thing, but it would please me more to experience an entirely different life than the one i have created thus far.

we often come to these teachings to get something, totally ignoring what is it we truly wanted in the beginning. it becomes a game of results. you win some, you lose some. you wonder what you can do differently next time. always thinking of that next technique or if you did something wrong.

but what you want, is yours and you have the power to give it to yourself upon desiring. as soon as you want it, you can have it immediately. if only we put more attention on our true selves, and stopped identifying so heavily with the outer world. there is truly nothing that can be done, besides a greater relationship with the innerself. the inner world is a real reality that exists within us, not outside of us. but this is the reality that we experience outside of us.

you dont need the permission of anyone else, nor the permission of the world itself. within your imagination, you are infinite and you make the rules. and the only one who may grant your wish is yourself, and it’s your choice whether or not you may allow yourself it have it. who else can fulfill the desires of your heart, other than you?

and if we are to just focus on the inner one, this inner infinite being, not only would we begin to feel better about ourselves on our own, but the things we desire would show themselves to us so effortlessly.

“Stop trying to change the world since it is only the mirror. Man’s attempt to change the world by force is as fruitless as breaking a mirror in the hope of changing his face. Leave the mirror and change your face. Leave the world alone and change your conceptions of yourself.” - Neville Goddard

things don’t happen to me, they happen from me.

while i had read neville’s words so many times and the words of those who spoke like him, i could never truly allow myself to understand the words deeply. i was fearful that if i were to turn my attention away from my specific desires and from the outer world, that things would get worse. however, the scariest thing to me, was accepting it’s actually the opposite. the quicker i surrender, the quicker everything falls into place. i have nothing to fear, for i created fear. i have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

(these are just my own thoughts, a little summary of everything i have been thinking of and realizing the past week. just wanted to share here as a documentation on my journey with the law.)

#journey

[chocosvt]

(below is a mix of rambling/more discussion/some updates on where my blog is heading, read if u wish)

to be frank, at this point, i don’t think an apology statement is in sight. pledis has proved time and time again how manipulative and apathetic they are as a company. even the bare minimum - making a small edit in the clip which would have removed the offensive segment - is ignored. no matter how vocal this fandom was, pledis chose to do absolutely nothing. they would rather preserve clips of their artists normalizing an abhorrent, discriminatory song than issue a simple statement, leaving south asian carats to ruminate in this nauseating uncertainty and exhaustion. and it seems to unearth the question: “is this a space i want to be in?”

it’s not anyone’s place to dictate one’s opinion on whether or not they feel comfortable in this fandom. this name doesn’t just encompass kcarats. it’s global. it’s everyone whose decided to support the group so dedicatedly. the way svt have adapted the term “global idol” is questionable when taking into account the ignorance that has been demonstrated. this is nothing new or nothing that hasn’t already been voiced, but seriously, idols shouldn’t expand to a global platform if they’re going to be selective with their respect. 

around 2018-ish, i couldn’t keep up with any group apart from svt, nor did i truly want to get involved with other groups. since their debut, svt has been such a lovely source of happiness and comfort. even when i had to endure some of my toughest moments, i could always turn to them in order to regain strength. so admittedly, observing the complete silence from their end was disheartening. i’m not part of the affected culture, so i cannot begin to imagine such sentiments of disappointment. i do feel a strain on the relationship i once had with svt. 

watching ww’s live, it was unsettling and there were many moments of stiffness. i want to believe that ww would have apologized (dk + vn too) if pledis were not the complete control freaks they establish being, but truthfully i don’t know what’s up in his head nor his heart. nonetheless, this idol coddling is so toxic (i could really write a whole essay on this). they’re not some fifth graders, they’re matured men in their twenties who are more than capable of understanding any cultural insensitivies and how their actions entailed hurt. i was relieved to see so many fans actually holding them accountable, to a point where the original artist himself released a statement and even the damn news got involved.

i wish that we could have got even an inkling of closure. just that tiny, tiny moment where ww briefly mentions the song being cut out. many people have suggested to remain persistent with emailing (not just the pledis accounts, but the bighit accounts as well) and i’ve seen others suggesting to opt from buying tickets to the online caratland event. i can’t see this ending in a manner where any action will be taken. unless someone manages to sneak this topic into another online fs or something along those lines where there’s direct contact, i have no idea what’s gonna happen.

this was a mentally and physically draining week. i hope all south asian carats who had to yet again watch their culture get shaved down to these harmful stereotypes take the time to look after themselves, nurture themselves, step away from this train wreck and prioritize things that are fun and healing!! it’s not your responsibility to educate ignorant people when so many resources are easily accessible. getting into kpop comes with an unhealthy cost. the industry is blanketed with casual racism and it moves slower than molasses when it comes to addressing the layers of disrespect and indifference. 

i also need to question if this is something worth my energy. i’ve been writing on this platform for five years now. i need to decide if this is something i want to keep putting effort into. i’m beyond tired of witnessing pledis brush any serious concern under the rug while scrambling to make amends for insignificant matters that no one legit cared about apart from a few disgruntled kcarats. right now, i’m not in a mood where i want to post svt content or write svt related stories. until there is an apology that suggests actual remorse, growth, and willingness to be evolve in the event there are other blemishes (which seems highly unlikely) i won’t be as present as i used to. 

overall, i’m not sure the direction of my blog. i think i need to step away from chocosvt for a few days so that i can really process. my plans are definitely not to abandon my main. and as time passes maybe i’ll feel less hesitant. 

of course, i’m going to continue my admin position on caratwritersclub because i truly do love writing! i love reading the different works and seeing how galaxy brained you all are! in terms of my own writing, it’s most likely going to come to a standstill. i might finish my massive kmg fic and post it (as well as the yjh and ljh fics in my drafts) but like i previously mentioned, i need to question if keeping up with svt as adamantly as before is worth my energy. i’m not saying i’ll NEVER write or post about them again. writing is one of my only mental escapes that legitimately works. rather, i might ease off and ponder what’s the best road to take, and how involved i should remain as their fan. 

whew.

to end off this gigantic scripture, i’m going to mention that i made a new personal blog. my old one is too cluttered. it’s not completely ready yet but i’m  thinking that i’ll make a smaller post which summarizes some of my ending points. i’ll link it there. i think some kartists will still make an appearance (and there will absolutely be mr. moon wen junhui), but mostly other things i’m interested in!! feel free to drop a follow and mutuals i’ll fb as soon as i can!!! if you read this entire thing then i hope it wasn’t too disorganized. if any part of this comes across as over speaking or invalidating pls let me know! i can really freakin ramble when i’m just sitting here w my thoughts. 

anyways, I’M DONE NOW.  

#pls don't rb thank u! #i'm not sure what to tag this as #ramble/discussion/update???

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Thirteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains extreme mental duress and graphic depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

M7-97.  

  That couldn't be right.

  M7-97 .

  Quinlan must have gotten something incorrect. A line of code must be askew. Maybe he had used the wrong cipher.

  M7-97 .

  " Danse, they know you're a synth! Please , you have to run! " Haylen had begged him, tears streaming down her face. If this was a joke, it was a disturbing one, and certainly in poor taste.

  M7-97 .

  Danse's stomach wouldn't stop tying itself in knots. He was distracted, dangerously so. 

  M7-97 .

  Was Vega leading him into a trap? Was he being set up? 

  Was he really a synth? His memories swirled uncertainly, sterile and damning. Featureless gray buildings, scavenging through the ruins of the Capital Wasteland, alone, alone . 

  The meager breakfast he had eaten in the mess hall threatened to make a reappearance. Was he really a synth? Danse felt like he couldn't breathe, lightheaded from warring with his panic. He leaned against the double doors as Vega set up the location pulser, the knight fumbling for a moment with the fiddly gear.

  "Wait, Vega." The paladin said abruptly when she was about to push the activation button. She turned to look at him and Danse's heart clenched in his chest. 

  He went to remove his helmet, the gorget seal hissing loudly in the stillness of the Sentinel site. Here amongst the towering stacks of carefully packaged warheads, the paladin made a split-second choice. If she had been sent along with him to end him, he wouldn't resist. But he needed to say his piece.

  Rushed on by fear, nausea and the devastating knowledge that he would never see her again, Danse began to speak. "I just wanted you to know how immensely proud I am of you, Knight Vega," he choked out, half-expecting her to blow his head off now that he had offered her the opportunity. "You've done so much for the Brotherhood, for me , I...I'm at a loss for words." 

  Instead of killing him where he stood, Elizabeth removed her own helmet, her brilliant smile making Danse's heart trip violently. "Thank you, Danse." She replied softly, a gauntlet over her chest. Not in salute, but in sincerity. 

  Danse's finger twitched on the trigger of his rifle, but he forced himself to unclench his hand from the stock. No, not like this . She had offered him her vulnerability in turn, though hers seemed to be unwitting. He wouldn't sully their last encounter by being the one to fire first.

  "When you arrived at the police station, I didn't know whether we could trust you. But as I said before you departed for the Institute, you've proved yourself time and again in my eyes. I am honored to have fought alongside you, and I'm honored to call you my friend," Danse's voice trembled, "Elizabeth."

  "Gosh." Vega blinked at him, seeming concerned. "You really need that R and R, Danse. Look, this isn't the end of the world! We'll only be apart for a little while."

  "Apart?" Danse asked, confused. He could have sworn that she was here to either kill him or simply keep him occupied until the rest of the Brotherhood arrived to put an end to him. 

  "Yeah, you're supposed to stay here to count and secure the bombs. Elder Maxson wanted me to report back double-time once I activated the pulser, according to that scribe at Echo." Backhand shrugged. "I dunno', seems kinda' dumb for me to hoof it if they're sending vertibirds, but I guess they trust you to make sure nothing stupid happens in the meantime."

  She was leaving him alone? Danse's brain reeled with a million plans half-formed, a million courses of action that he could take. They're separating us , he realized. If she was being removed from the situation ahead of him, that allowed him tactical breathing room to devise a strategy. He wouldn't have to fight her. Wouldn't have to get her tangled in his mess. Wouldn't have to kill her . "Of course," he murmured. "Sorry, I...it's been a long day."

  Backhand waved him off, rummaging through her satchel. That familiar bandanna emerged from the cavern of her bag and Danse forced himself to remain still as she got within melee distance. Her fingers surprisingly nimble in their gauntlets, she wound the 'lucky' bandanna around his neck and tucked the loose ends beneath his left ear. The fabric was worn and faded, a nondescript color that may have once been olive drab. It was technically much too big to be a simple bandanna, but he had no other name for the large square of cloth. A scarf, perhaps?

  "There." She hummed, appearing pleased with her handiwork. "Now you'll have a little luck with you until we meet again."

  Danse reached out almost against his will, the servos in his gauntlet whirring softly when he drew a finger from the cryo burn on her forehead down to the one on her chin. "Take care of yourself in my absence, Knight Vega." His throat ached. 

  "I will. Don't worry about me!" Backhand promised him with an easy grin. "I just hope you won't get bored to death out here all alone." She brought her hand down on the pulser, slipped her helmet back on and then threw him a salute. "Ad Victoriam, Paladin Danse."

  And Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, gave her the most razor-sharp salute of his career. "Ad Victoriam, Knight Vega."

  …

  He was going to be sick. Elizabeth had departed not five minutes ago and Danse dry heaved from nerves as he shoved his helmet back on. 

  He didn't have time to be sick. 

  M7-97 .

  There was no way she had known. She would be safe. She could claim ignorance.

  M7-97 .

  Danse knew he didn't have long before the vertibirds arrived. Half of him was so sure this was all a mistake, a misunderstanding that he could easily clear up with a simple explanation. The other half of him was Haylen's anguished voice pleading Danse you have to run, they'll kill you!

  And every second he wasted arguing with himself was a second that possible death drew closer. The paladin could feel his legs shaking in his armor frame, his whole body starting to tremble as the urge to flee threatened to swallow him whole. But no, he was a Brotherhood soldier. 

  Danse paced the floor in front of the double doors, making a point to leave the safety on his laser rifle. Whatever his fate, he would meet it peacefully. He would not open fire on his brothers and sisters, even if they were indeed arriving to slaughter him. If he truly was a synth, he reasoned desperately, then he needed to be destroyed. There could be no allowances or exceptions.

  Had there ever been a real Danse? 

  He jerked to a halt at that, his heart dropping. Was he a replacement , or had there never been a 'real' Danse to begin with? The notion that the real Danse might have been disposed of ages ago to allow him to infiltrate the Brotherhood was...oh God, it was awful , Danse wished he had never thought of it.

  M7-97 .

  He slammed a fist down on the button for the lift. Vega had left via the same path, so he knew that it must eventually lead outside. That…

  He shouldn't try to escape if he was a synth. He needed to be destroyed . If he wasn't one and he fled, it would just make him look even more guilty. 

  But...but he didn't want to die. After everything that he had survived, everything that he had overcome, all the suffering he had endured--

  Oh God, he didn't want to die. Was this some malevolent failsafe programming, or was this just his human self-preservation instincts kicking in? Danse wanted to tear his hair out. He was second guessing every damn thing his body was doing, hyper-aware of the thunder of his pulse, the way his pace of respiration felt stilted and unnatural. 

  With a grind of gears the lift finally arrived at the bottom of its track.

  Danse heard the armored footsteps approaching through the tunnels and he braced himself, hoping against hope that he was wrong, that everything was wrong. He couldn't be a synth. That couldn't be true. His entire existence couldn't be a lie. The emotions that ran rampant in him even now, the times he had longed to be less expressive, as sturdy and unwavering as his armor, the fear that tried to choke him...just a walking, talking falsehood?

  Danse's stomach dropped out when a knight and numerous scribes emerged from the end of the tunnel, the armored individual brandishing a heavy gatling laser. The paladin heard the weapon spin up in warning and he realized he wasn't even getting a shot across the bow or a chance to surrender. All doubt was removed from his mind. 

  Danse, his body moving without conscious input, flung himself to the side. He dropped his rifle in his rush and it was obliterated by the deadly laser fire that dogged his footsteps while he lunged for the elevator. Hammering the button to raise the lift once he was onboard, Danse stumbled into the far corner of the platform.

  " Abomination! " The knight screamed after him, making Danse cringe against the wall of the shaft. " Fuck you, what did you do with Danse?! " Lasers tore through the platform beneath Danse and the paladin staggered, almost losing his footing. " How dare you, freak! "

  Whatever Danse would have said in reply caught in his throat, his eyes blurring with pained tears as the lift platform teetered and shrieked to a halt. The knight continued to aim upwards from beneath the platform, heedless of the damage that could be done to him should the whole thing give way. Danse jumped and grabbed the lip of the shaft, the gears under his pauldrons clicking loudly as he hauled himself up and over onto the small landing. Double doors greeted him and he shouldered them open hurriedly, hearing a resounding clang! as the elevator grating pulled itself apart and collapsed behind him.

  The doors led to the outside of one of the exhaust pylons and Danse quickly swept his head back and forth, squinting in the irradiated light as he took in the landscape from his elevated perch. A lone vertibird sat empty beside the entrance to the site. They must have sent a vanguard squadron to... dispose of him before the rest of the fleet moved in.

  The scaffolding creaked threateningly beneath the weight of his armor and then gave out, sending Danse plummeting to the ground. The paladin gritted his teeth on impact, feeling the shock rattle his legs and spine. He didn't have time. He needed to get away.

  M7-97 .

  His radio buzzed with static, solidifying into what resembled a repeating distress signal as Danse fled Site Prescott. He quickened his pace as soon as he dared to, too concerned about distancing himself from the rest of the Brotherhood to worry about turning off his radio. But then, a specific portion of the staticky distress message caught his attention.

  "... remember that church steeple sticking out that we spotted a week ago? Go there, turn southwest and walk until you find a cave… " 

  Danse checked his compass, sighed, and then turned the radio up just enough so that he could determine if he was getting closer or further away from the origin point of the signal.

  Calling it a cave smacked of charity instead of reality. It was more of a hollowed-out landslide of debris, and it looked on the verge of collapsing beneath the heft of its own weight. Danse crouched down, listening intently. He could still hear the faint sound of more vertibirds high above, but he didn't hear any motion inside the cave.

  "... must have had a better suit or something… " The message continued repeating without a hitch.

  Emboldened, the paladin crept forward into the cramped space. His sabatons scored the dead earth beneath him, dislodging chunks of cracked asphalt with every ponderous step. All he could hope is that he wasn't sauntering into some deathclaw's den, or a nest of radscorpions. Danse loathed entering tight spaces in his power armor.

  His headlamp bounced off the walls, the light watered down and sickly from the heavy radiation storm that seethed overhead. Brain fungus cluttered the debris around him, bioluminescence glittering feebly in the gloom.

  The man who had set up the distress signal (a raider, if Danse had to guess based solely on his voice and the bedraggled body on the ground in front of him) appeared to have expired from the radiation. His suit of power armor stood empty, and after a perfunctory examination Danse quickly spotted the problem. The fusion core was untouched, inserted improperly and thus wasn't powering the suit. A rookie mistake, one that had cost this raider his life.

  On the spur of the moment, Danse made another choice that he knew would have serious repercussions. 

  Stepping out of his own armor, he hastily put the fresh core into his utility pouch and then extracted his half-spent one to slot into the raider's suit. He suddenly remembered Backhand's bandanna draped carefully around his neck and he fumbled with the cloth, tearing it free and shoving it into the pouch alongside the fresh core. 

  Radiation seared at his skin through his jumpsuit. Danse rushed to don the ramshackle armor, his body immediately noticing the difference in protection. The right leg on the armor was rusted through, but Danse didn't have the luxury of time on his side to change it out. At least the frame was still sound.

  Paladin Danse emerged from the other end of the cave, the raider armor shrieking in protest as he knocked the grit out of the joints. The rubber gaskets around the neck and gauntlets were worn to almost nothing, and Danse could feel the irradiated rain seeping into the suit. 

  He raised his head, squinting through the hissing droplets that marred the face shielding, and finally caught sight of the overpass in the distance when it was brought into stark contrast against the sky by a jagged flash of yellowed lightning.

  Danse didn't actively think for quite a while. He simply put one foot in front of the other and intermittently checked his compass, doing his best to avoid the meandering packs of ferals that dotted the perpetually gloam-shrouded landscape. This armor was barely capable of shielding him from the radiation; he wasn't overeager to test its combat capabilities.

  Unfortunately, a territorial deathclaw didn't give him much of a choice. Danse knew he was severely outmatched, and he certainly knew he wouldn't be able to outrun the swift creature. So it was down to him finding stable high ground, his service pistol cracking in the green twilight as he squared off with the massive beast.

  It roared and charged at him, bounding up the hillside faster than Danse could backpedal. He quickly found himself beneath the creature, the claws that were its namesake raking through the welded-together pauldrons while Danse pressed the muzzle of his pistol to the beast's unprotected stomach and pumped it full of bullets. The deathclaw roared again, fitting the top of Danse's helmet into its mouth and biting down.

  The shriek of metal rang in Danse's ears and his jaw locked up as a portion of the helm gave way, his nose immediately broken under the assault. 

  He prayed he hadn't run his magazine dry just yet, because reloading in this position might prove difficult. His left gauntlet grappled beneath the deathclaw's chin, crushing the mutated beast's throat until it finally released the grip it had on his helmet. Danse braced the point of his elbow against the ground at his side and just held down the trigger until the weapon clicked emptily. 

  The deathclaw was still fighting (albeit a bit less staunchly) and Danse took the opportunity to release his gun, slam his gauntlets down on the creature's prominent horns and twist its head violently until the neck snapped. 

  It went limp on top of him and Danse laid there for a moment, simply trying to catch his breath. He had been wholly silent through the encounter, and his heart sank as he determined that no human would have faced down a deathclaw so quietly. 

  M7-97 .

  A vertibird flew by overhead, a very familiar munitions crate dangling from the main body by way of a cargo cable. 

  Danse wriggled out from beneath the deathclaw's body once the flying vehicle had passed, managing to shed the helmet after he rose. He knew he must look grisly; he had felt his nose break and he could only imagine what else had shattered. 

  But the overpass that marked the edge of the Glowing Sea loomed nearby, a Lovecraftian sentry tall and motionless in the constant yellow-green lightning of the radstorms. The same urgency that had fueled Danse before returned once again as he heard the distant roar of more vertibirds. They would be searching for him.

  Danse lumbered forward, not really picking a direction so much as trying to move away as fast as he possibly could. He was limping in the armor but he didn't dare to stop and assess the damage. If he stopped, he was dead.

  So he didn't stop. 

  Danse ran through the night, the driving rain pooling at the gorget gasket before his next step would tilt his hips and dump the water down into the frame. He burned through the rest of his core and paused only momentarily to switch to the fresh one, agony spiking hot behind his eyes when he peeled his body free of the shredded pauldrons and slammed the new fusion core home in the backplate. Exhaustion knotted his muscles as he forced himself back into the suit. The metal latched down like the deathclaw's talons, perforating his shoulders anew and all but bonding him to the inside of the frame.

  And he didn't stop. One foot in front of the other, body wracked with shivers from being soaked to the skin, his mind terrifyingly empty, devoid of any thoughts, Danse simply fled. 

  The second core burned out just as the clouds were beginning to pink up at the horizon and Danse abandoned the armor in a grove of sticks that might have once been a picturesque copse of birch. Without armor the going was admittedly slower. Danse knew he had lost too much blood to keep this up for much longer without causing severe damage, possibly long-term effects--

  Did things like that even matter anymore? He was a synth .

  M7-97 .

  Just thinking about that reality again had Danse hiccupping and retching, the man staggering to grab hold of a tree as his legs tried to give out. The brittle trunk split under his ungainly weight and Danse found himself tumbling forward over a steep bluff, the paladin's body finally crashing to a halt in a nest of shrubs at the base of the cliff.

  With all the wind knocked out of his lungs, Danse welcomed the darkness of unconsciousness that rose to greet him.

  After that, it was a blur. Two tiny hands grabbed underneath his arms, Danse's large frame obviously too heavy to be budged by the owner of said hands. The taste of blood dripped down his throat from his broken nose, making his stomach churn. Danse couldn't even muster up the strength to open his eyes.

  " Easy there, Matt! He's hurt. Wait for your brothers and I ."

Part Fourteen

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse x f!sole #paladin danse imagine #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #fo4 paladin danse #canon-typical violence #spoilers #Eventual romance #slow burn #brotherhood of steel

[stxphxn-strange]

be glad he’s holding me back

a/n: I’ve never written a fic where Peter gets bullied, but i couldn’t stop thinking about how overprotective Stephen and Tony would be and that bloomed into this fic. I’m actually v proud of it, hope you like it too! tw for bullying

It was an innocent quip, a comment that just spiraled out of control. The same sentence Peter used to actually defend his bullies now applied to this situation, the situation being that he told his Baby Sister that he was being bullied at school. The running joke in the Stark-Strange family was that Morgan could smell fear, and everyday she proved that to be more than just a coincidence. She sensed Peter’s discomfort and just laughed in understanding.

“These Animal Crossing villagers can be so mean!” Morgan had said. “I bet it would be AWESOME live on an island with a cool friend who brought me gifts!”

Even in her youth, she was perceptive. She could see her brother relax as she dismissed his comment, but Peter didn’t know that Morgan would probably never forget what he told her that day.

“I already get bullied enough at school, the last thing I want is for my Animal Crossing villagers to be mean to me too! But at least they don’t throw things at me or...”

++++

Stephen was equally surprised and unsurprised when he emerged from the en suite and found Morgan sitting on the bed and talking to Tony. That didn’t, however, stop him from pointing out that it was well past her bedtime.

“I wanted to talk, but I had to wait until Pete went to bed so he can’t hear,” Morgan explained.

“I’m listening,” Stephen said.

Tony cleared his throat. “We.”

The sorcerer disregarded his husband’s quip. “I’m listening,” Stephen repeated, getting into bed and resting his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“What am I, a cushion?” Tony asked. Between Stephen laying on him and Morgan sitting on his stomach, he felt a bit like a piece of furniture. This, of course, was a role he’d always proudly play for his family. Both Morgan and Stephen ignored his grumbling anyway, as they tended to do when Tony jokingly complained about things.

“What’s going on, Morgan?” Stephen asked. His smile was always soft when he spoke to the kids, especially his youngest, but it faltered the longer she talked.

Morgan was nearly asleep by the time she finished relaying Peter’s earlier words, her head resting on Tony’s chest where the arc reactor once was. “I don’t think he wants you to know, but I don’t want him sad. So I told you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Stephen’s voice was clipped as he softly brushed through Morgan’s hair. “You did the right thing, Little One. Can you just keep playing with him and trying to make him laugh with Illyana? We’ll take care of everything else.”

“Promise?” Morgan asked. Normally she would object to Stephen calling her “Little One,” but tonight she was too worried about Peter and too tired to care.

Stephen and Tony promised their youngest they’d take care of Peter, their tones vastly different even as they said the same words. The sorcerer could hear the fierce, protective growling in his voice and ruminated on it as Tony put Morgan to bed. Once Tony returned, laying beside Stephen and holding him close, his anger gave way to despair.

“Why wouldn’t he say something?” Stephen asked quietly, burying his head in Tony’s chest.

“He gets his sense of ‘I can handle anything and everything by myself’ from us, but he’s trying to prove to himself that he can handle a bully. Maybe part of him thinks he deserves it, and if that’s unfortunately true then he’ll really want to deal with it quietly and not draw more attention to himself. It’s not a matter of whether we failed him or not,” Tony said, trying to assure himself just as much as Stephen. “We can’t choose whether or not he ever talks to us about it, you know? All we can do is support him and let him know that we love him. He does know it, but you can never hear it too much.”

Stephen nodded frantically as memories from his childhood and adolescence resurfaced.

“You know, I have to tell myself a lot that I’m not failing Peter or any of the kids when something like this happens. Any effort on our part to give them the best is already a success objectively and compared to what we knew. You’re a great parent Stephen,” Tony said firmly. “And a great husband, I might add.”

“We’re not talking about me,” Stephen replied.

“We’re not, no. But I thought you just needed a little reminder,” Tony said. He gently kissed Stephen’s hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Stephen murmured, snuggling closer to Tony. It was quiet for a few minutes more, thoughts bouncing around the walls of their minds and the room. “What can we do?”

“Well I’d like to know how this happened, since the school has supposedly an anti-bullying policy. A meeting with the principal sounds good,” Tony said. “And we can determine whether or not pursuing legal action is necessary.”

“You’ll threaten to sue anyway,” Stephen replied knowingly.

“Of course I will, and then I’ll be shown up by your protective side,” Tony said. His tone was teasing now, but his statement was true.

Stephen wasn’t a helicopter parent, but he was protective of the kids (and Tony) in a way that he never thought he’d be protective of anyone. It was just nice to have someone to protect, and to be needed.

“Hey.” Tony cleared his throat and kissed Stephen’s hair again. “Asleep?”

“No... just thinking,” Stephen replied. “Do you think Pete was bullied last year too, before Harley left for college?”

“I’m not sure... but if Harley defended him it also makes sense why we’re just finding out, doesn’t it? He would allow Harley to handle it and hope that he could make it stop, so we wouldn’t need to know,” Tony said. “I don’t honestly know how much we can do, but we won’t know until we try.”

Stephen nodded, yawning as he did so. “Can we handle this in the morning? Or sometime tomorrow?”

“That should be fine, I’m free most of the day tomorrow except for one meeting at 10:45. In the morning I’ll see if we need an appointment with the front office, but I won’t hesitate to name drop to make something work,” Tony declared.

“Worse case scenario, we walk into the center of his office via a portal,” Stephen said, his words muffled as he closed his eyes and shifted to lay his head on Tony’s shoulder again. “Now shush, I need beauty rest for a confrontation like this.”

Tony snickered fondly. “Goodnight, you absolute drama king.”

++++

A plan fell rather easily into place. Christine and Pepper would pick up Illyana and Morgan in the early afternoon while Tony and Stephen would meet with the Midtown administration. Harley even called his parents to offer moral support, though he too was unaware of the bullying.

Stephen was shocked and saddened when he heard that, his heart breaking at the fact that Peter had been silently hurting for so long.

“When is he going to learn that he doesn’t have to go through everything alone?” He’d asked, leaning against Tony.

“He’ll probably figure it out at the same time you or I do,” Tony replied bluntly.

“Does that mean I’m a bad example? I—”

Tony shook his head, quickly cutting Stephen off. He fell into a pattern of oversimplified thinking and rambling when he was nervous, and it was no secret that the sorcerer was nervous.

“We both know that’s not what I meant,” Tony soothed. “Peter is strong and stubborn and independent, but with that comes pride. None of those things are bad, it just means the internal odds can be stacked against you when you try to go against yourself and ask for help. It’s in all of our nature, and you acting as you normally do isn’t showing him that he can’t ever be vulnerable or ask us for advice or assistance. It’s just hard to admit when you need it.”

Stephen nodded, unclenching his jaw. “Somehow this has become about my insecurities, rather than being there for our son.”

“Your heart is in the right place, you know? You want to do right by him. And we will,” Tony promised. “Although it might be a good idea to unpack everything that’s bothering you, if you want to tell me about it.”

“You’re right.” Stephen nodded again, an air of professionalism setting onto his face. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

Traveling by portal hardly took any time, including the short walk to the school from a nearby side street, but today wasn’t the day to be fashionably late. Tony was already fiddling with his sunglasses when the couple walked into the office, opening and closing them in his hands. To most, it seemed like a simple boredom-relieving thing to do while sitting in a waiting room, but Stephen knew that Tony was also nervous. He would present himself as invincible during their meeting, but the wait leading up to it could make Tony second guess himself.

“We’re doing the right thing,” Stephen whispered, drawing circles on the back of one of Tony’s hands.

“Peter hates when we interfere with his life,” Tony muttered absently.

“If we don’t, the bullying might not stop. I’d rather have Peter be a little angry and tell us that as opposed to not tell us that he’s hurting, or that someone is hurting him,” Stephen said. “Because he doesn’t deserve this.”

“Damn right he doesn’t,” Tony replied. “May I lean against you a little, while we wait?”

Stephen nodded. He wasn’t one for PDA in places where someone might use his affectionate nature to judge him or diminish his credibility, at least not large gestures of affection. But there was nothing harmful in Tony leaning his shoulder against Stephen’s, it looked almost like they were just having a private, whispered conversation.

Which, incidentally, they were. They talked quietly until the door to Principal Morita’s office swung open, revealing the man himself standing in the doorway.

“Gentlemen!” He greeted them warmly. “So nice to get your call, Mr. Stark, and as always it’s nice to see you.”

Stephen refrained from calling him a kissass, instead forcing a smile. “Same to you, although I do wish it was under better circumstances.”

Principal Morita closed the door to his office and ushered the couple in. “Yes, I thought I could pick up some stress on your end while we were on the phone. I trust it’s nothing too urgent?”

Tony could see that his husband’s temper was already beginning to flare. Stephen’s back stiffened and he impatiently gripped the armrests of the chair, ignoring the pain that this always caused his hands. To steady him, Tony discretely placed a hand on his back.

“That depends. How urgent is bullying to you?” Stephen asked. He relished in the discomfort he caused the man across from him, noticing Morita beginning to shift uncomfortably in his swivel chair.

“Midtown has a no tolerance policy when it comes to bullying, I assure you. It’s actually very fortunate that you’re here today, Peter has been reported to my office for bullying this past week,” Morita replied.

Tony had honestly zoned out, he was too busy trying to keep Stephen calm and trying to stay calm himself.

But that bullshit caught his attention.

He scoffed. “Peter? A bully? That doesn’t sound right.”

Stephen nodded emphatically. “Our son is not a bully, in fact we came here today to discuss the fact that he himself is the victim of such mistreatment.”

“That doesn’t match the information we have on file,” Principal Morita said skeptically. “Children can lie to their parents about acting out, can they not?”

“Is that really something you want to try to convince us?” Tony asked incredulously, pointing at himself and Stephen with the hand that wasn’t now rubbing Stephen’s back.

“How long ago was it that you adopted Peter? Perhaps he—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Stephen snarled. “We don’t know the extent of what Peter has endured because he believes he can handle everything on his own and would hate to burden another with his needs, no matter what his needs are. People who brush him aside and equivocate as you’re doing now certainly don’t make him feel like he’ll be taken seriously, do you understand?”

“It’s just that... well the evidence is rather stacked against Peter at this point, isn’t it?”

Stephen would have bolted upright if Tony wasn’t holding onto the back of his shirt. He was only grounded by the soft pressure of Tony’s hand on his back, the sorcerer didn’t even give a rat’s ass about his dignity anymore. Not where his family was involved.

“Why don’t you check your files again?” Tony suggested. “If we’re wrong, you’ll grant me the opportunity to threaten our contributions to this school’s funding. I think your statements during this meeting certainly warrant that.”

The principal left the room in a hurry, muttering about “my conduct, of all things?!”

++++

It wasn’t uncommon for Peter walk down the hallways linking arms with Ned and MJ. His friends gave him strength, empowered him to be the best he could, and made him laugh. They were truly the best friends in the world.

Peter just didn’t agree with them when they begged him to report his bullies. He always replied with a “then beg,” sending them into laughter but leaving Ned and MJ with worry for their friend.

“I hate to be a downer,” Ned began, looking to MJ for support. She nodded at him to continue, and so he did. “Peter that bruise looks like it hurts.”

“Oh, my eye?” Peter asked, well aware that he had a black eye. “It’s not as bad as the bruises you can’t see.”

“That’s the point, Peter,” MJ said, as gently as possible. “It’s really bad, and you know your parents will want to know about it.”

“They care so much and don’t want anything like this to happen to anyone, least of all you,” Ned added.

Peter sighed and nodded. “I can’t believe I accidentally told my sister.”

“If you’d told Illyana, I think she would’ve taken care of the bullies herself,” Ned said. “She’s a little scary.”

“Ned, she’s ten (10) and nothing to be scared of. She’s just chaotic and cunning in a way that Morgan isn’t,” Peter replied.

“A boss bitch at such a young age... we love to see it,” MJ added. “Now can we please go to lunch? I want to get good seats.”

The trio continued walking, Ned and Peter reminding MJ that they sat in the same seats for lunch everyday.

“Betty always steals the specific spot I want at our table,” MJ quipped. “I love Betty, but that’s honestly a pet peeve. How can I sketch Peter in disaster mode if I can’t see him?”

“You can’t,” Peter and Ned replied in unison.

MJ rolled her eyes. “Why am I friends with you losers?”

“Because we’re your losers,” Peter declared. As the group walked past the principal’s office, the start of his next sentence was interrupted by a very frantic Principal Morita.

“Peter! Sorry to interrupt, but may I see you in my office for a moment?” He asked.

Peter looked at Ned and MJ. “Go on without me.”

“Like hell we’d do that! Now I have a chance to talk to MJ about the conspiracy theories I read last night,” Ned replied, sitting down on a nearby bench.

“Oh joy!” MJ said, sarcasm flooding off of her as she sat beside Ned.

Meanwhile, Principal Morita ushered Peter into his office. “I need to check something quickly, just go sit down.”

Peter did as he was told, surprised and honestly relieved to see his dads sitting there. “Morgan told you what I said?”

Tony nodded. “She was worried about you, and what she said worried us. Sit down.”

Peter grabbed a nearby chair, sitting on Tony’s right.

“Peter, are you okay?” Stephen asked, shifting into doctor mode.

“There’s no point in not being honest, since you know,” Peter said. “Today wasn’t so bad though. I just got kicked around a bit and shoved into my locker.”

“Am I wrong to assume that you’re understating it?” Stephen asked.

Peter shook his head. “You’re not wrong. I’m ashamed of myself, and why shouldn’t I be?”

“Pete—”

Peter dropped his voice so low that only his parents could hear. “I’m such a good superhero, aren’t I?”

“You are. Your worth isn’t determined by what they say about you or how despicably they treat you. You’ve proven yourself and your good heart everyday, some people are just shitty,” Stephen said. “Peter, who did this?”

“It doesn’t matter, Doctor Dad. They won’t get punished. It’ll only continue and it’ll get worse since the bullies will know you know, and—”

“Take a deep breath, Petey,” Tony encouraged, noticing his son beginning to hyperventilate. “I know this is unexpected, but we’ll figure something out. And I’ll successfully make sure your dad doesn’t kill the principal in the process.”

“Is that why you’re holding him back?” Peter asked.

Tony nodded, still gently massaging Stephen’s spine.

“He’s not really holding me back, I could spring into action if I wanted to. Your father is too short to hold me back properly,” Stephen quipped.

“Okay, rude,” Tony replied.

“If the shoe fits,” Stephen snarked back at him. He looked at Peter again. “Don’t think that question will be left unanswered.”

“Doctor Dad, it doesn’t matter who’s bullying me. After this meeting it’ll just be someone else, someone who didn’t get caught,” Peter said.

“So much for anti-bullying policies,” Tony muttered. “Your principal has a suspicion that you’re the bully, but I doubt that’s true.”

“Why would I want to bully anyone? I’m not like them,” Peter replied.

“Like who?” Stephen asked.

“I found no evidence on file that lists Peter reporting a bully,” Principal Morita announced, reentering the room. “Our records indicate that at least three (3) students have reported him for violent misconduct, however.”

“I didn’t, I would never hurt anybody!” Peter fretted. “The guys who beat me up told me that they’d do that to get me into trouble, and then they shoved me into a locker.”

“Who?” Morita asked, disbelief surrounding him.

“Flash Thompson is the worst of them,” Peter confessed. He proceeded to list the names of Flash’s cronies as well as everything they’d done to him, his face burning. He just wanted to go home and hide.

Morita sighed when Peter was finished talking. His parents shared looks of rage and sadness, Tony consoling both Stephen and Peter. “Thank you for discussing this, Peter. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

“Um... may I go find my friends?” Peter asked nervously.

���If that’s what you want, go ahead,” Tony replied.

“Mr. Stark, you don’t speak for me. Especially not if your child doesn’t feel comfortable talking about his wellbeing with you,” Morita said. “Peter, you may go.”

“Love you Petey!” Stephen called after him as he left.

Peter ran back into the office to hug each of his parents in turn before scurrying out again.

Stephen’s gaze hardened, his stare intense enough to bury Morita in the dirt. “If you ever speak to my husband that way again, or treat my son with such arrogant neglect if he needs to report something like this in the future, you will rue this day.”

“I see no reason to take any action thus far, Peter looks fine and the alleged ‘bullies’ families contribute heavily to Midtown’s success,” Morita said.

“As do we... for now,” Tony replied, a low protective growl in his voice. If Stephen wasn’t so angry, he’d be swooning all over his husband.

But there would be time for that later.

“Did you SEE the contusions around and under his eye?” Stephen asked, inhaling sharply. “I assume he has more, but he’s scared to say so.”

“And it’s no wonder why. With how aggressive you two (2) are, why would he discuss anything with you?” Morita replied.

“My mother didn’t raise a bitch, and we’re not raising a liar,” Stephen snapped.

Tony clicked a pen he found in his pocket. “I’m going to strongly advise that you not get him riled up. Why not check the security cameras? If the Thompson kid and his group don’t have any injuries, you’ll know Pete is telling the truth. He doesn’t like to fight and wouldn’t hit back.”

“Is this a... what I’ve heard students call a ‘flex,’ Mr. Stark? You bought the security equipment and paid for renovations to the AV room, why wouldn’t you run an experiment to see if your money is being put to good use?” The principal leaned back in his chair.

Stephen was fully ready to stand up, but Tony kept him still. All things considered, he was doing a good job of keeping the sorcerer level. To be fair, Tony couldn’t (and this didn’t) keep Stephen from yelling, “You have some nerve, you audacious idiot!”

“It’s fine babe, relax,” Tony said. This man could disparage Tony’s integrity all he wanted, it didn’t matter. “At the very least, Mr. Morita, find some way to prove that those boys are uninjured and exonerate my son. We will be withholding any additional gifts until you’ve done that and re-evaluated the anti bullying policy to our standards. As such, I expect a draft of your new policy in my work email no later than 9am Monday, so I can share it with Stephen. We’re done here.”

“Thanks for wasting our time and making our kid feel bad, asshat,” Stephen snapped. He stood up once Tony let go of his shirt, taking his husband’s hand and striding out of the room. Once they were away from the school and out of earshot, Stephen slouched. “That was exhausting.”

Tony just nodded, softly cupping Stephen’s cheek. “You busy the rest of the day?”

“No, why?”

“Because I need a coffee, and you need some kind of sweet or a pickmeup.”

Stephen smiled for the first time since before the meeting. “You know me so well.”

“How could I not? I’m your husband,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes lovingly. “What I would love more than anything, right now, is some caffeine.”

It was Stephen’s turn to roll his eyes. “We can’t have you caffeine-deprived, can we? Let’s go.”

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #ironstrange and spiderson #ironstrange #irondad #morgan stark #illyana rasputin #harley keener #implied pristine #pristine #pepper potts #christine palmer #bullying tw #principal morita #rip i made him into a real dick in this one #oops #ned leeds #michelle mj jones #animal crossing villagers

[ampleappleamble]

Pillars of Eternity: Anthem Infinitum

Chapter 6: Bonds

"She's the real thing, isn't she?"

Aloth looked up from his grimoire at the blond man, startled. Until now, Edér had seemed content to ignore him for the most part, more interested in discussing recent Dyrwoodan history and Eothasian theology with their orlan directress. Not that Aloth minded. After all, the less attention drawn to himself, the better. And it was always a boon to be up to date on current events. And to practice his eavesdropping.

But now that Axa had excused herself from their campsite temporarily (facetiously citing "urgent business" to attend to in the bushes), the folk man turned his attention to Aloth. He thrust his bristly, blond chin toward the scrub brush nearby, gesturing into the darkness beyond the campfire, where Axa had walked off a few minutes prior.

"That girl's really a Watcher." He shook his head, his expression filled with wonder. "I was maybe expectin' a cipher with an inflated ego at best. But far as I can tell, she's bonafide."

"It would appear so," Aloth replied after a beat, remaining as carefully neutral as he could. "I must admit, I had my doubts at first. Even suspicions-- albeit slight-- that she may simply be losing her mind, hallucinating and so forth. But the more we see her use her... unique abilities, the more her assertions are corroborated by the real world, the more undeniable the truth becomes: she is a Watcher."

Edér smiled crookedly at the elf, eyeing him curiously. "...Right. That's, uh, what I meant, more or less."

Ye sound a right fuckin' twat, lad.

Aloth bit the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood.

An awkward silence descended over the two men, Edér propping his chin on his fist and gazing into the fire, lost in thought. Aloth stared into his open grimoire, but found he could not focus to read.

"I knew somethin' was up with Perly and Ingroed. And Nonton," Edér murmured, shaking his head and furrowing his brow. "Just couldn't quite figure out what. But the temple..." He sighed, heavy with melancholy. "Black bones, what a mess. Wish someone like her'd have showed up a few weeks back. ...Few years back."

And although Aloth knew he should at least try to be amicable, he found himself too consumed by his own thoughts to engage the farmer further. Instead, he politely pretended to listen while he ruminated over the day's events.

---

It had started with a few simple tasks. Edér had led the three of them around town, asking if any favors needed doing in exchange for coin and supplies to get to Caed Nua. The villagers seemed surprised and delighted to actually have help with their problems for once, and the three of them had taken to their work with vigor, reuniting a stolen shipment with the town blacksmith and the inn's cook with his stove and cauldron in a single afternoon. They had been on their way back to town yet again, spirits high, when Axa had remembered the hunter she'd met the other day, the bear who'd killed his companion.

"What do you think, lads?" she'd asked, hands on her hips as she stared into the mouth of the cave. "Shall we nip this one in the bud?" She had turned to Edér, her expression cautious and grave. "It killed your neighbor, Edér. How long before it happens again?"

The three kith had come to a consensus quickly, and advanced upon the bear's den, weapons drawn. The beast was slain easily enough, and Edér identified the kith body in the cave as that of his neighbor, Perly. But of course it wasn't as simple as all that.

Aloth had seen her first, had had to elbow Edér in the side to get him to take notice. Just like before, at the tree, Axa had stood above the dead man in the cave, transfixed by something invisible to her two companions. They had traded concerned looks briefly before turning their attention back to her, waiting for the little woman's episode to end.

Thankfully, it didn't last nearly as long as the one before had, but when she snapped back to awareness and turned to face them, Aloth had felt his heart dip into his stomach. She looked like a woman just told about her husband's infidelity. So much for high spirits.

"We're heading back into town, now," she'd said quietly. "Edér. Tell me everything you know about Nonton, Ingroed, and Perly."

He did.

---

And then... she had let them go.

Honestly, that was what had surprised Edér the most: despite her quick-tempered, no-nonsense attitude, she was remarkably softhearted when the situation allowed. She had showed little hesitation dispatching other kith, as he had observed during their skirmishes with bandits. But when she'd pressed the couple of conspirators, they'd confessed, and when they'd explained, she'd listened. When they'd asked her to accept their meager savings in exchange for her silence, she'd pushed the coinpurse away.

"No. No one should have to live in fear like that," she'd declared, her gaze fixed on the fading bruise on the woman's face. "...And everyone deserves a second chance. You take that coin and start your lives anew."

A memory of Elafa brushed against his thoughts, but only for a second.

Edér couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anyone in Gilded Vale shed tears of joy, and the memory of Ingroed wiping her tears away as she followed Nonton brought a slight smile to his lips even now as he stared into the fire.

"Well... I have always heard that orlans are intense and emotional. And that's exactly how I'd describe her. Just... not in the way I expected, I guess." The folk man could tell Aloth had only been half listening, but he'd pressed on anyway, talking as much to himself as to the elf. "She even stayed her hand against Wirtan, after what he did. Don't know if I could, if it'd just been me there with him alone. She ain't from Gilded Vale, though, of course. So... maybe it's just me."

Now Edér fell silent all of a sudden, and Aloth glanced up at him. Wirtan. The priests in the cellar. He shuddered, and felt a pang of sympathy for the Eothasian across from him.

And she not only stayed her hand. She let him go, too.

---

"You lied to me, Wirtan."

The gaunt, wiry man had squirmed under Axa's scrutiny, trembled and stammered as he explained himself. She was at least two heads shorter than him, but her fervor, her quiet, indignant fury had had the same effect as though she had towered over him.

But then, the desiccated corpses strapped to her back-- that she'd insisted on carrying back herself-- lent her a certain authority, too.

But once again, she did not come out swinging, the way your typical Dyrwoodan might. She'd asked him why he did what he had done, and she had listened. And he'd told her everything: how he'd tried to warn them, how he'd tried to help them hide. How he'd abandoned them to their fate, terrified of his Lord's retribution.

"So you killed them," Edér had snarled. "Or you may as well have. You never thought to tell anyone? Try to get some folks together to save 'em?"

"Sure, and get the whole lot of us executed," Wirtan had snapped back, clutching at his bloody wound and glowering at the Eothasian. "I'm sure the Scattered God would love yet another martyr."

"At least then you could have died with some honor left to your name," Edér had retorted hotly, "instead of having to live as the murderin' coward you are--"

"Edér. Please."

She'd turned toward him, her hand raised in a bid for peace, and everyone had looked to her, awaiting her judgment.

"He's right, Wirtan. You are a coward. But... lesser circumstances have made cowards of stronger kith than you. And you cannot undo what you've done, now."

She'd forced the bundled remains of the priests into his arms, looking hard into his eyes.

"The question isn't whether you can make it up to them. You can't. The question is: can you do right by them the best you're able to now? Can you live a better life, be a better man than you've been?"

He could try.

---

Bold, blunt, irascible. Not fond of liars. But... conscionable. Kind at heart, quick to forgive. Aloth was starting to notice a pattern in the little woman's behavior, one that might prove very beneficial to him.

Sure, she were tailor-made fer ye, laddie! Now see if she fits in yer lap nice 'n snug--

He slapped himself in the face, drawing an odd look from Edér.

"Damned horseflies." Aloth smiled blithely back at him, and the farmer cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing, turning his attention back to the campfire.

Yes. After all he'd seen, after his careful deliberations, this arrangement, Aloth had decided, was his best prospect: following a stranger to a castle because she could talk to the dead. It felt like a bad joke, but then, so did most of his life when he really thought about it.

And if she can lead me to some sort of punchline without managing to get me killed, I'll be better off than I was when she found me. He could feel his conviction solidify in his chest, in his stomach. They would reach Caed Nua tomorrow afternoon, and then--

"Think Maerwald'll know what t' do for us?" Aloth jumped a bit at Edér's voice. "I haven't heard any news out of Caed Nua in, oh, years. Don't even really know if he's still there."

The elf gave the folk a polite smile. "I certainly hope so. Otherwise, we might be in for some difficult nights. I've been informed of-- and witnessed first-hand-- the difficulties Watchers sometimes have sleeping."

He looked at the wizard as if for the first time. "Y' know," Edér murmured, "I never even considered I'd still be followin' her after we met up with Maerwald. But now that I think of it..."

"You'll not be rid of me that easily, I'm afraid." Axa's reappearance was sudden, but not startling. Chanter training, Aloth imagined, easing the surprise with her soft, dulcet tones while still ensuring she was heard. "But I promise to try to keep my nightmares to a minimum."

The farmer grinned broadly at the little woman. "There y'are. Nightmares, huh? I been there."

Goan, lad, ask 'er dae she e'er dream o' bouncin' li'e a coney in a elf lad's arms--

"Shut up," he hissed, turning his quickly reddening face away from the orlan, realizing his error when he saw Edér's dumbstruck expression.

Axa's voice was soft and low and even. "...Sorry, come again?"

---

#pillars of eternity #fanfic #fanfiction #poe anthem infinitum #watcher #watcher axa #eder #aloth #this chapter threw me through a plate glass window #worth it tho

[howaboutleeches]

And a really quickie one that leaves most of it up to your imagination: ( MC aren’t « dating »quite yet) MC getting hurt in some life threatening way, Julian using his magic glowy tattoo to save them. MC thanking him with some juicy smut. I’m confident you can come up with something amazing but If it’s too vague it’s alright too 🌸

"Wrong bottle, right outcome" (Julian x Reader)

AFAB Reader*

AFAB = Assigned-Female-At-Birth

WARNING: Contains smut, if you're under 18, don't read it (like people respect that, anyway)

Word Count: 1,965

Asra was out of town. Again. Faust went along with him, so the shop became really lonely. So you decided to ask Julian to come over. You two have met each other a few times before through Portia and had clicked instantly. You became really close, even though Asra didn't actually approved your friendship.

Knocks were heard on the shop's door and you couldn't help but to feel the adrenaline rushing through your body. You dropped the ingredients you were holding on the counter and rushed to the door, opening it faster than you intended.

The tall doctor was standing at the door, a sly smirk on his face with his hands hidden behind his back. With a delicate move, he showed what he was hiding behind his back, a single rose, and extending it to you, he slightly bowed.

"M'lady" You giggled at his gesture and rushed him in, closing the door behind you "Missed me much?"

"You don't leave me alone enough for me to miss you" You gestured to one of the armchairs for him to seat down and went to grab one the flasks you have left on the counter.

"Is that what I think it is?" He sat on the edge of the armchair and eyed the flask while almost salivating.

"Yes sir. I, (y/n), have developed the best alcoholic beverage for you. It has a mix of the most exotic ingredients you could imagine, a little bit of Nevraki milk and destilated salty bitters"

His eyes widened "Nevraki milk? Isn't it extremely poisonous?"

"Only if taken in high doses. I used only a few drops to make the drink a little bit more...interesting."

"And what do you mean by interesting?" He took the bottle from your hand, examinating it curiously.

"It's a surprise" You took the bottle bag, removing the stopper and chugging on it.

You had taken an interest on Julian for some time now, and your affection towards him grew day by day. You knew Julian was a flirt, and he definitely flirted with you, but that was it. Just flirting. And by the end of the day, you didn't know if he really liked you or not.

But you definitely felt the tension. Sexual tension. It happend around two weeks ago when you were play fighting and you landed on top of him. His hands landed on your thighs and you just stayed like that for a few seconds, until Faust bursted into the room and the situation got awkward.

Later on, he was complaining about how dull salty bitters have been feeling lately, and you had the genius idea of creating your own drink. The exact same one your were swallowing right now. But there was a trick.

You didn't know how to talk to Julian about your feelings and decided to give your relationship a little push. Inside the drink, there was a truth serum and I little bit of the essence extracted from an aphrodisiac flower. The results would yet to be known, but for sure it would make both of extremely honest...and horny. In your mind it was the perfect idea. But things started to feel weird when you started coughing.

You felt a sharp pain in your stomach and bent over a little. Julian immediately standed up and approached you, worried eyes trying to find the source of your pain. You rushed to the counter, ruminating over the flasks that layed on it and found what you were looking for, face palming yourself mentally. Asra had messed with the flasks, again, and you poured the whole content of the Nevraki milk on the mix, and only a few drops of the aphrodisiac. You needed to find the antidote in less than two minutes, or else you would die.

"What? What's going on? What's happening?" He asked as you kept on coughing.

You slightly pointed at the empty milk container as you still looked for the antidote, in hopes that he would understand and help you find it. He rushed to the table and, reading the label, mumbled something while reaching for your wrist. He pulled you away from the shelves, ignoring your protests and your face, mixed with fear and confusion, and sat on the couch, placing you on his lap. He held you firmly, against your will, and closed his eyes, as if he was focusing on something.

You felt the pain and discomfort slowly be drained out of your body. It was a weird relieving feeling. You turned your head to Julian, wondering what was happening and then you saw it. A glowing symbol on his neck, shining brighter than anything you have ever seen, even brighter than any magic Asra has ever casted. Soon, all the pain had left your body and Julian opened his eyes again.

Before he could say anything, a rough cough erupted from his mouth. It was escalating quickly and you felt the urge to do something about it. You jumped off his lap and rushed to the shelves again and found the antidote in no time. You went back to the doctor and poured the liquid into his mouth. It took some time, but soon, Julian had stopped coughing and everything seemed normal again.

You didn't know what to say, and neither did he. Yoh were both just waiting for the other to say something, hoping the situation could be easily solved.

"So, you're gonna explain it or should we just stare at each other?" You broke the silence between the two of you.

"I guess Asra didn't tell you that. Well, where to begin? Um, shortly before the Masquerade, I was force-fed a plague beetle at Lucio's command and confined to my office under the palace as an "extra incentive". I began experiencing visions of the Hanged Man, who offered me a deal in exchange for the plague cure, but I cannot remember what exactly the cure entailed. Regardless, the epidemic subsided and I was healed. The deal resulted in me receiving a mark on my throat and the ability to heal wounds rapidly, as well as absorb the wounds of others"

"Wow, that's...amazing!" You squealed and sat on the arm of the armchair.

"Oh, please, it's nothing but a curse" He growled in frustration, intending to get up from the chair, but you used your hand to gently push him back.

"You saved my life. I'll be forever grateful to you" You approximated your faces and you could feel the doctor's heart pounding on his chest "I can't even imagine a proper way to thank you"

"Well, I- I'm not sure what to say" He couldn't keep his eyes away from your lips.

"And you know what's crazy?" You didn't care anymore. You were going to tell him everything "I like you. I like you very, very much. I have fantasized about you...and me. I had even added an exotic aphrodisiac on the drink in hopes that it would help me out"

His eyes were wider than ever "You fantasized about me?" He managed to stutter it out.

"Countless times. They were all very steamy" You smoothly moved from the chair arm to his lap, straddling him while gripping his shoulders "I known a way to pay you back. To thank you. Are you...interested in it?"

He groaned as you ran your hand through his hair, removing his eyepatch and throwing it on the floor. You could feel a growing pressure coming from under you and you already knew his answer before he could say it.

"Yes, yes, yes, very interested indeed. You know, I have liked you for a while now, and I even though about telling you, but, you see-" You cut him off with a kiss.

"Can we talk about it later? I really need you right now" You ran you free hand down his body, slowly sliding it down to tease him, and stopped on his bulge "And I can see you are needy too. Want me to take care of that?"

He mumbled a quiet "yes" while nodding his head frantically, making his auburn locks fall on his face. You slid of his lap, hearing a soft groan of disappointment, and kneeled in front of him, not breaking eye contact.

"Pull them down" It only took a few second for him to finish your command. His trouser on his ankles and his cock hitting his belly.

What a view.

"I want you to tell me what you want me to do. It's all about you, baby" You ran your hands up and down his thick thighs, making him loose a little bit of his focus.

He mumbled something under his breath, trying to control his hands from tangling into your hair.

"If you want me to do it, you have to tell me, darling. Now, what is it that you want?"

"C-can you suck me, please?" His cheeks flushed and he tried to look at any other place, but you.

"As you wish" You smirked at him, knowing exactly how aroused he was, and slowly approached him.

Taking his dick into you hands, you slowly started to stroke it. Julian release a few shy whimpers and you knew you had to do more. Taking only the tip into your mouth, you slightly sucked on it. He released a throaty moan but instantly bit his lip to try and disguise, but it was too late.

You decided to push him over the edge and swallowed his whole member. He grabbed the arms of the chair to find balance and slightly bucked his hips, making him go even further into your throat.

"F-faster, please" He managed to ask between his loud moans and you followed his command. He moaned louder and his hand instantly flew to your hair, pushing your head even further.

"I'm cumming" He spat out, his shaky breath making it hard for him to speak. I instantly let go of his cock, earing a pleading look from his face.

"Trust me, love. It's going to get better"

I slowly removed all my clothes right in front of him, his wandering eyes not knowing exactly were to stare at. When every single piece of clothing was on the ground, you straddled his lap again, aligning his already wet dick on your entrance.

Without any warning, you sat down on him, and he instantly grabbed your hips. You rode him like your life depended on it, not once loosing rhythm. One of his hands moved to your breast, caressing it, taking in all of its beauty and approximating his hungry lips, until finally sticking his tongue out to twirl it around your nipple, before viciously sucking on it.

His hand moved to his tongue, wetting his fingers, before pressing them against your aching clit, rubbing it just the right way, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You could feel him holding back, waiting for you to release first. So adorable. When you announced him you were close, and that you had reached your release, he embraced you, pulling you closer to him and slowly trusted into you in a passionate motion, until you felt his release as well.

You fell into his chest, exhausted from the ride and he laughed lightly, grabbing a nearby blanket and covering both of you up, his member still inside of you.

"Next time we can try that aphrodisiac of yours. Might give us a boost" You laughed and accommodated yourself on his chest, letting his fresh smell of cinnamon take over your senses.

"Maybe after our first official date" You looked at his cute shocked expression and giggled, giving him a light peck on the lips.

Maybe Asra messing with the bottle's labels wasn't so bad after all.

------------

That made me horny. Bye

#julian x you #julian x mc #julian x apprentice #julian x reader #the arcana #the arcana smut #julian smut #julian imagines #julian imagine #julian #julian devorak #julian devorak x apprentice #julian devorak x mc #julian devorak imagine #julian devorak x reader #julian devorak smut #the arcana imagine #the arcana headcanon #the arcana imagines

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Tell Me (NSFW)

Chapter 50 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3! ~5400 words; read here on AO3 instead.

In which Fenris and Rynne have some religious chit-chat and some sexy times in the Frostback Basin.

*******************

Fenris took a sip of his ale, then set the stein aside and loosely wrapped his arms around his knees. At this hour of night, the treehouse camp was mostly quiet and still; Inquisition sentries spoke softly to each other as they patrolled each level of the sprawling structure, and half of Fenris’s companions had turned in for the night. One level below, Hawke was embroiled in a game of twenty-one with Bull and Varric while Sera variously encouraged and jeered at them, and Fenris could tell who had won each hand by the quality of their laughter as it floated up to the highest level of the treehouse every few minutes. 

He tilted his head back to study the stars. The sky of the Frostback Basin was thick with them, twinkling like fireflies captured in the navy-blue net of night, and it was lovely enough for Fenris to nearly understand why the Avvar revered the sky so much that it warranted its own goddess.

The Lady of the Skies, he mused. But if the Avvar considered their Lady to be a goddess, that meant she was really just a spirit, if she truly existed at all.

Fenris frowned slightly at the thought. It was still odd to think that the Avvar revered spirits as gods and welcomed them so openly, given how feared they were in the rest of Thedas. Aside from in Tevinter and Nevarra, of course, where the necromancers and mortalitasi performed their dubious rituals.

He looked down at his left hand and studied the flickering in the fissures of his palm. It was also odd – and disturbing – to think that spirits in the Fade could track him down by virtue of the mark. To imagine that at this moment on the other side of the Veil, just a mere hairsbreadth of magic away, spirits were hovering near his hand and watching his every move, like ghoulish spectators at some kind of show…

He shifted his shoulders uneasily the thought, then closed his fist and leaned his head back once more to look at the stars. Truth be told, he was feeling quite drained by all this talk of spirits. Talking about spirits, talking to spirits, finding out that the Avvar gods were spirits… it raised so many questions about spirits and gods and… and religion in general. Questions that Fenris hadn’t been forced to think too much about before the Inquisition, back when his understanding of the world was far more clear-cut.

The more I learn, the less I know, he thought ruefully. It was an uncomfortable truth, and one that Fenris was still having trouble coming to terms with, even despite everything that he and Hawke had seen and done in the past few years. And not for the first time, he wished he could be as lighthearted as Hawke when it came to the unknown. 

Her lightheartedness, Fenris thought, was one of the things about Hawke that had always struck him as strange and special. She was hardly the most knowledgeable person in Thedas, but she knew what she didn’t know, and she cheerfully acknowledged her own ignorance. When Hawke found out that she was wrong about something, she owned up to her incorrectness with a laugh. She was always happy to learn new things, incorporating new and seemingly insane information into her worldview as easily as though she was adding a new patch to a quilt.

Hawke certainly wasn’t ruminating about the nature of spirits and godhood, for instance. If anything, she seemed fascinated that the Avvar’s gods were simply spirits, and she was positively tickled by the Avvar’s respectful treatment of Cole. But this religious issue was different for Hawke. She didn’t believe in any gods at all, so questions of gods and mortals and reality and fiction were all purely academic to her. Fenris, on the other hand… 

He ran his fingers through his hair. He still didn’t know where he stood when it came to Andraste and the Maker. Ever since he’d woken up with this damned anchor on his hand, he’d been forced to consider his own religious leanings more deeply than he had since his discussions with Sebastian back in Kirkwall. And some two-odd years later, Fenris still didn’t know where he stood. 

He didn’t think he could be faulted for his confusion. After all, he’d been praised himself as Andraste’s holy herald, seen the Black City with his own two eyes, watched an Old God soul being taken from Kieran’s body, and met with an elven goddess wearing a human witch’s skin. The inconsistencies, the seemingly contradictory stories… of course Fenris didn’t know where he stood.

He sighed and stared blindly up at the sky. A moment later, he heard Hawke’s footsteps padding up the stairs to the platform where their little shared tent was pitched. “Hello, handsome,” she chirped. “Is there room on this platform for one more?” She plopped down beside him and started pulling off her boots. 

He smiled faintly at her. Her breath was scented with ale, but her gaze was bright and alert, and he admired the smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as he replied. “There’s only room on this platform for the winner of your tournament of twenty-one,” he said. 

She laughed and poked his arm. “I see how it is. I’ll fetch Bull to come and keep you company, then. I have it on good authority that he gives excellent cuddles.” She started to push herself to her feet.

Fenris grabbed her arm and pulled her back down with a smirk. “You are aware of why you constantly lose at that game, aren’t you? You always demand another card when you ought to hold. You always go over.”

She grinned and leaned into his side. “If you’re such an expert, why don’t you play with us?”

“Because Varric always fleeces me,” Fenris said dryly.

She laughed. “He does not! You always just lose because you don’t demand another card when you should. You always fall short.”  

He casually lifted his stein to his lips. “An interesting perspective. I’ll consider it.”

She chuckled and settled her head on his shoulder, and they sat in a cozy silence for a moment. 

Then she lifted her head and looked at him. “Seriously though. A royal for your thoughts?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I believe the expression is ‘a copper for your thoughts’.”

“I know,” she said. “But you’re so clever, your thoughts are worth an entire royal.”

He shot her a chiding look, then chuckled at her winsome smile. “Do you never tire of flattering me?”

“Never,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Rynne Hawke, Champion of Flattering Fenris.”

“That title is terrible,” he said. “No one will respect it.”

She grinned at him. “Fine then. What title should I have instead?”

Fenris thought for a moment, then smirked at her. “Rynne Hawke, Champion of Dirty Double-Entendre.”

She let out a throaty laugh. “Oh yes. I love that. I should have Josie order me a gilded plaque for our bedroom door.”

Fenris huffed in amusement, but before he could tease her any further, she reached up tweaked his earlobe. “Come on, Fenris, tell me what’s on your mind. I know you’ve been thinking about something serious up here all on your own.”

He shrugged. “It’s… nothing. It’s not important.”

“If it’s keeping you awake, then it’s not nothing,” she said.

He gazed at her sympathetic face for a moment, then sighed. “I was just thinking about… about gods, I suppose. What they are, and… whether they exist.”

Her eyebrows rose, and he hurried on before she could respond. “We know now that an elven god exists: this Mythal woman that we met. And the Old Gods of Tevinter existed; they were dragons that rose up as archdemons, so their existence is uncontested. The Avvar’s gods are spirits, so they exist. But…” He broke off, feeling rather sheepish about the next thing he was going to say. 

Hawke saved him by saying it instead. “You’re wondering whether the Maker exists, too.”

He nodded. “Or… or something that corresponds to the Maker, I suppose. If Mythal and the Old Gods and the Avvar gods exist in some form, then… perhaps there is something that corresponds to a Maker, as well.”

“Could be,” Hawke said casually. “Maybe he’s just a spirit too.”

Fenris didn’t reply. He’d been circling around this idea himself, but he’d been reluctant to fully voice it for some reason.

When Hawke spoke again, her tone was tentative. “You don’t, er… Do you still think the Maker’s out there?”

He shrugged. “I… don’t know, Hawke. I have never known what to think. You know that.”

“I know,” she said softly. Then she smiled at him. “You know what’s funny? Andrastianism is the most powerful religion in the world, but it’s the only one we haven’t seen any evidence for yet. There’s a terrible sort of irony in that, don’t you think?”

Fenris huffed. “Of course you would find that funny.”

She laughed. “All right, not funny exactly. But I am thrilled that there’s no one who’s going to smite me for thinking such impure thoughts about that huge Andraste statue at the Kirkwall Chantry.” She held her hands out in a suggestive gesture. “You know, the one with the really shapely—”

Fenris tutted and pinched her waist, and she cackled before snuggling against his side once more. He draped his arm around her shoulders. “This really doesn’t bother you at all, does it?” he asked.

She lifted her head slightly. “What, the Maker maybe not really being a Maker after all?”

“Not… not just that,” Fenris said. “All of it. All of the gods. You were wrong too, after all.”

She tilted her head curiously, so Fenris went on. “You thought there was no such thing as any gods at all. But you were wrong. They do exist; they’re just not what everyone thought.”

She nodded an acknowledgement but didn’t speak, and her expression was expectant, like she was waiting for him to say something more. He shrugged and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I… I’m not sure what I am getting at. It just…” He gazed at her. “I envy your ability to take this all in stride.”

She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. “Well, it’s not like it changes anything for me. It’s not like I was shaping my life around religion or gods or anything, right?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Besides, if the gods are all just spirits or souls or whatnot, and Solas always said spirits are just conscious beings of a different type, then… gods are just people. They’re not special, they’re just people.” She grinned at him. “That’s interesting, isn’t it? The so-called gods are just as fallible as the rest of us.”

He raised his eyebrows at her blunt words. “And that comforts you?”

“I think it amuses me more than anything else,” she said.

Fenris frowned thoughtfully. “But… they aren’t like the rest of us. Those who are called gods have an uncommon degree of power, whether it’s literal magic like that Mythal woman or the pull of leadership like Corypheus. They aren’t truly like the rest of us.”

Hawke tilted her head. “Do you think they deserve the title of gods, then?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said. “It just… surprises me, I suppose. To think you are amused that those with such power also wield titles that place them on a higher pedestal. One that allows them to control others.”

Her expression became a bit wary. “That’s not what amuses me. I’m just amused by—”

“ —the irony of the situation,” Fenris finished. “I know.”

They fell quiet for a moment longer, and Fenris listened idly to the shifting leaves and the creak of nighttime insects as Hawke’s body heat seeped into his side. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. 

“You know, I keep thinking…” She trailed off, and Fenris looked at her quizzically.

“What?” he said.

She shot him a slightly apologetic look. “I keep thinking of Solas and what he’d think of all this.”

Fenris wilted slightly. “Ah.”

Hawke squeezed his arm. “Come on, you have to admit it would be sort of funny if he were here. He’d be so thrilled. An entire group of people who love spirits and welcome them and let them teach their mages? He’d be thrilled!”

Fenris didn’t reply, and Hawke blithely went on. “Actually, that reminds me — remember how we found all those inscriptions in the Hinterlands about Tyrdda Bright-Axe and the Lady of the Skies?”

“The Avvar poems?” Fenris said.

“Yes, those,” she said. “I don’t remember the details of those poems, but I do remember they referred to the Lady of the Skies as Tyrdda’s leaf-eared lover.”

Fenris smirked at her. “Of course that’s what you would…” Then he trailed off in his teasing and raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. The Lady of the Skies appearing as a ‘leaf-eared lover’?

He looked at Hawke. “The spirit took the form of an elf.”

She nodded and poked his arm. “Just like our lovely bald Solas. See, more evidence that we’re right about him! Well, that Dorian was right, really.” 

Fenris frowned. “Hmm. That is interesting.”

“I know, right?” Hawke said brightly. “Imagine Solas being revered as a god. Can you imagine?” She snickered.

“I can, in fact,” Fenris said. “If he was seen as a god, everyone would have to listen to him.”

Hawke sobered somewhat at his acidic tone. “Well, that’s a bit unfair. I actually think he wouldn’t want to be seen as a god.”

Fenris grunted. “He had the arrogance of a god.”

“Hardly,” Hawke retorted. “I mean, yes, he had his little moments of being a know-it-all. But he backed down if we called him on it.”

Fenris shrugged and didn’t reply. Another moment of silence fell between them, but it was a bit awkward this time.

Once again, Hawke broke the silence. “I still think—”

Fenris sighed. “Hawke, please.”

“Look, I just don’t think he’s doing anything nefarious,” she said defensively. “I think it’s entirely possible he just went back home to the Fade.”

Fenris gave her an exasperated look. “Then how do you explain the last words he said to me? ‘No matter what happens’...”

She shrugged and dropped her gaze, just as Fenris knew she would; she’d never been able to come up with a truly convincing explanation for Solas’s ominous parting words to Fenris.

He ruthlessly pressed on. “And he wanted Corypheus’s orb. You can’t deny that. Why would he want that blasted orb?”

“It was old and elven,” she said. “He probably wanted it for the same reasons as Merrill would.”

“You know that doesn’t particularly comfort me,” Fenris said flatly.

She shot him a slightly resentful look, and an odd twist of annoyance and affection pulled at his heart. As much as Hawke’s sunny outlook was enviable, it was times like this that Fenris found her optimism frustrating: even when faced with clear evidence of wrongdoing or poor judgment, she was reluctant to see the worst in her friends. Anders, Merrill, Solas… even Isabela when she’d left Kirkwall for three years. Even Fenris himself, when he’d distanced himself from her for the same amount of time. She refused to see any of them as harmful, simply because she loved them.

She released his arm and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I think Solas just wanted to know more about the orb. Which elven god it belonged to, how it worked…”

“You think he was collecting knowledge,” Fenris said.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Like Merrill was trying to do.”

He ignored her pointed tone. “Knowledge is power,” he said. “Solas said that himself.”

Hawke wilted. “Fenris…”

He pressed on doggedly. “What did he want that power for?”

“Knowledge and power aren’t the same thing,” Hawke insisted. “Learning can just be for fun. Like my magical macaron recipe, for example. Now that I’ve perfected it, I can basically snap my fingers over some sugar and eggs and almonds and have a plate of macarons.” She gave him a knowing look. “You have to admit, that’s pretty fucking fun.”

Fenris tried to scowl at her; really he did. But the image of her standing in Skyhold’s kitchens, snapping her fingers repeatedly and materializing plates of macarons… 

He couldn’t help himself: a little snort of laughter escaped him. He rubbed his mouth to mask it, but it was too late. 

Hawke grinned and pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Ah-ha! A smile. I knew it was hiding there somewhere.” She pinched his chin playfully.

He tutted and dodged away from her hand. “Fasta vass. You will truly be the death of me.”

“That’s a shame,” she said cheerfully. “Because that smile of yours brings me to life.”

He shot her an incredulous look, then laughed more openly. “Now who is the smooth talker?”

She giggled. “I learned from the best. Now come on, let’s get some rest. Big day tomorrow of slogging along the riverbank and killing giant spiders.”

He huffed – she wasn’t wrong about that – then followed her into their little tent. A few minutes later, Fenris was stretched out on their camp bed while Hawke extinguished the little alchemical lamp. 

She slipped under the covers and rubbed his bare foot with hers. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Sleep well,” he murmured. He let out a long, relaxed breath and folded his arms behind his head. 

A few minutes later, just as his mind was starting to settle from its usual buzz of thoughts, Hawke spoke into the darkness of the tent. “Fenris?” 

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He turned his head and gave her an odd look. “Of course,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?” 

In the dimness of the tent, he could see the shape of her shoulder as she shrugged. “Just checking,” she said. She shuffled closer to him and slid her bare leg over his thigh, then pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. 

He let his eyes drift shut once more. Hawke’s kisses were soft and slow, more a caress of the lips than a true firm kiss, and Fenris followed her lead, parting his lips slightly when she gently kissed his lower lip.

Her lush lower lip brushed between his own. He nipped her lip very lightly, and she gasped. 

It was a soft gasp; a tiny intake of air, but a very telling one, especially when she pressed her groin to his hip at the same time. 

His eyes popped open. He hadn’t realized she was in the mood, given the chaste quality of her kisses. 

He slid his hand beneath her loose linen shirt and over her hip, and to his surprise, she moaned into his lips. 

He pulled away slightly to look at her. “Do you–?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she breathed. She rolled away from him onto her back and pressed her knuckles to her lips. 

He rolled onto his side to face her. “Why are you apologizing? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” she said. “I just…” She let out a breathy little laugh. “You must be tired. I don’t want to… It’s just been a while since we, um, went to bed at the same time.” 

He frowned slightly. It was true that he’d been coming to bed later and rising earlier than Hawke for some time now, but it had just become a part of their routine. This was the first time she was mentioning it.

“Is that a problem?” he said.

“Not a problem,” she said hurriedly. “You’re busy, you have busy – important things to do. It’s… it’s nothing.”

He frowned at her more deeply. Then he pressed his fingers against the apex of her thighs. 

She arched instantly into his hand, and he stopped breathing for a moment. She was already so wet that her smallclothes were damp, even though all they’d done was kiss.

He slid his fingers over the damp fabric of her smalls. “This is not nothing,” he told her.

She moaned softly. “F-fuck…”

“Do you want me?” he whispered. 

“Of course I want you,” she blurted.

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

She let out a shaky breath. “I… I don’t know. It’s been a while, I didn’t want to pressure you.”

He paused in his stroking. Had it really been that long? When had they last had sex? Was it… two weeks ago, perhaps? He wasn’t sure.

He looked at her. “When was the last time?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she breathed. She lifted her hips toward his hand. “Fenris, please…”

He refused to move his fingers. “How long ago, Hawke?”

She released another tremulous breath. “A month, give or take,” she murmured. “Maybe. Something like that.”

He gaped at her in surprise. Had it really been that long? He hadn’t… how had he not realized it had been that long?

He pressed his fingers between her legs again. “Well, we should rectify that.”

She jerked her hips eagerly, but her words belied her body. “You don’t have to,” she gasped. “I don’t want you to–”

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down to the hardening bulge in his leggings. “Do you think I would do this if I didn’t want to?” he whispered. 

She didn’t reply; she was too busy rubbing her palm over his hardness. Her fingers slid along the margins of his cock, and Fenris indulged himself in the sweet pressure of her fingers for a moment before pushing her hand aside. 

She whimpered in protest, but the protest was short-lived; he was crawling over her now and pushing her thighs apart, and before he’d even settled between her legs, she was gasping fitfully and lifting her hips in anticipation. 

He peeled her smallclothes down. A liquid thread of arousal stretched between the fabric and her folds, and for some reason, his heart fluttered painfully at the sight. Seeing Hawke so ready for him, wanting him so badly despite barely a touch… It made his chest ache for some reason. 

Worse yet was the thought of her wanting him like this every night. The thought of Hawke waiting for him to come to bed, then keeping her wants to herself as he collapsed onto their mattress before rising just a few hours later and leaving her alone…

A lump rose to his throat. He swallowed hard, then tossed her smallclothes aside and ran his tongue between her legs. 

She jammed her fist against her mouth and jerked her hips, and Fenris grasped her thighs as he lapped up the sweetness of her musk. He tasted her thoroughly, treating her lower lips as though he was kissing her mouth, and although her sounds were muffled by her fist, the language of her body was more than clear enough. She twisted her hips slowly when he smoothed his tongue lightly over her clit, so he continued to lick her gently, stroking her swollen little bud until her writhing told him that she wanted a firmer touch. 

When she rose to her peak a mere minute later, her fingers scrabbled down over the planes of her belly to scratch her skin, and Fenris reached for her hand. She grabbed his hand, digging her fingernails into his palm as she shuddered with pleasure, and he carefully brought her through her rapture until her fingers loosened in his palm. 

A moment later, she was sliding out from beneath him and pushing him back, plucking at his tunic and his leggings at the same time, and Fenris’s breathing grew harsh as her obvious desperation fed his own desire. With Hawke’s overeager help, he freed himself from his clothes without dislodging her from his lap. She dragged her shirt off and threw it aside, and then she was clutching his shoulders and rocking her wetness over his length. 

He braced one hand on the bedroll and pulled her eagerly against his cock. “Hawke,” he rasped. “Please–”

She lifted her hips and adjusted his cock, then came down hard on his lap. Surprised and pleasured by the hardness of her thrust, he just barely managed to muffle his groan of pleasure by biting the side of her neck. 

“Fuck,” she gasped. She craned her neck to the side to give him better access, all the while digging her fingers into his shoulders as she rolled against his hips in a hard grind, and Fenris breathed hard against her neck, silencing himself against her salty skin as the rapid rise and fall of her hips brought his lust roaring to life. 

A rapturous minute later, she released his right shoulder and slowed down to a stop, and Fenris opened his eyes. “Do you want to switch?” he panted.

“No,” she breathed. She lowered her left hand between her legs. “I want to touch myself while I fuck you.” 

Her blunt words lit a fresh flare of want low in his belly, and he shamelessly watched as she parted the curls between her legs. She pressed the swollen bud of her clit with the flat of her fingers, holding her breath and holding still on his lap as she petted herself, and Fenris’s hungry gaze darted from her hand to her face, his entire body tense as he tried to control his rising impatience. 

A torturous minute later, her face twisted into an expression of utter rapture. She gasped loudly, then burst out a sob. “Fenris–”

He kissed her hard and thrust into her even harder. He could feel her pleasure cries echoing in his mouth, heightening his impatience to a fever pitch. A second later she was riding him hard and fast, and the force of their fucking and the sheer obviousness of her desire was driving him swiftly toward his peak. 

She broke away from his lips and clasped his neck. Without slowing in her zealous rhythm, she pressed her forehead to his. “I love you,” she breathed.

“I know,” he rasped. “I – I know, Hawke. You…” He broke off with a soft moan as she ground herself firmly against his lap.

She stroked his neck her thumbs. “I know you know,” she whispered. “I just…” She kissed him again before speaking in a breathless voice. “It feels like a while since I said it.”

He shot her a brief odd look. She’d just told him she loved him earlier this evening. 

She pressed her lips to his cheekbone and trailed her fingers down his chest, and that’s when he realized what she really meant. This was her way of saying it. This was how and when Hawke showed him that she loved him: by stroking his arms and his chest and showing how much she cherished his every scar and line. By lifting him to peaks he would never have otherwise had, and by kissing his lips and breathing her love against his ear in the throes of their mutual pleasure. 

The love they made together was how Hawke told him she loved him. And it always had been, ever since their first time over ten years ago. 

He slid his palms up her sweat-laced back and brushed his lips to hers. “Fuck me hard,” he whispered. 

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “My pleasure. Literally,” she purred. A moment later, she was rising and falling on his lap in a frenzied rhythm, her gasping breaths ghosting across his ear while he panted against her shoulder, and his climax was climbing, roiling and building between his legs until it finally burst through his limbs in a shock of ecstasy.

Mired in the pulsing of his pleasure, he mindlessly bit her shoulder. She gasped and fucked him even harder until he ran his hands down her back and squeezed her waist. 

She carefully slowed to a stop, then rested her cheek against his temple with a happy sigh. Her arms were still around his neck, and Fenris lazily ran his palm along her tattooed back and inhaled the sandalwood scent of her skin as their sweat started to cool. 

She brushed her lips gently over his ear, then nibbled the tip of his ear with her lips, and he smirked and tilted his head away. “That tickles,” he murmured.

She chuckled and nuzzled his ear again. “But your ear is so tasty.”

He grumbled, and she giggled again before starting to shift off of his lap. “All right. Now that you’ve fucked me so nicely, I think I’m going to fall right asleep–”

He grasped her hips to keep her on his lap. “Rynne,” he said. 

She stopped and met his gaze, and he carefully brushed her damp bangs back from her forehead. “You can tell me when you want me,” he said quietly.

She laughed and idly brushed her fingers along his collarbone. “What a silly thing to say. I always want you.”

“Then you can always tell me,” he said.

She smiled and shrugged. “But I’m always gagging for it and I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

Her gaze was downcast despite her smile. Fenris tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You think it would make me feel bad to be told that my wife desires me?” he said.

“No, no,” she said hastily. “I mean…” She licked her lips nervously, then sighed. “I don’t want to make you feel guilty. We both know you’re busy. We can’t… sex isn’t going to happen as often as it used to,” she said bluntly.  “And that’s fine, it’s just the way it is. But I don’t want you to feel guilty when you’re not in the mood.”

He brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw. “And I don’t want you to feel like you are alone.”

Her gaze dropped again, and she laughed lightly. “Look who you’re talking to. I’m never alone.”

He gazed at her seriously for a moment. She could deflect as much as she wanted, but he knew that he was right about her feeling lonely sometimes, especially since Varric and Dorian had left.

“Tell me when you want me,” he insisted. “I want to hear it. Even if I am tired or preoccupied, tell me anyway.”

She shrugged. She was still smiling, and her eyes were still on her fingers as they trailed across his collarbone. “And then what?”

“Then we will see,” he said. “Maybe we’ll make love. Maybe I can watch you while you pleasure yourself. Maybe nothing will come of it. But if you tell me, then I can tell you in return.”

“Tell me what?” she asked.

“That I love you,” he replied.

Her eyes finally returned to his face, and a smile lit her lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” she said. “Can you say it again?”

He tsked and pinched her waist, and she squeaked with laughter and smacked his hand. A moment later, they were curled together under the covers, and Fenris could just make out her cheeky grin in the darkness of the tent. 

She stroked his chin gently with her thumb. “Come on, tell me again,” she murmured.

He huffed. “I love you, Hawke. Even when you’re an idiot.”

She laughed softly and tucked her knee carefully between his legs. “I love you too, you handsome fool,” she whispered. 

Fenris smirked, then kissed her smiling lips. Hawke could smile and joke if she liked, but Fenris knew the fears that lived behind the cheeky curl of her grin. To counter those fears, he would tell her he loved her every day. She would tell him when she wanted him, and he would tell her of his love, and they would walk through the rest of their days knowing neither of them would ever be alone. 

#fenris #fenris smut #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenris the inquisitor #fenquisition #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #jaws of hakkon #joh dlc

[tetrakys]

Behind the Mask

This is the story I wrote for BV zine. It’s set in Eldarya around episodes 16/17.

---

The moment I stepped outside HQ, I felt like I’d been teleported to a new, magical world. Again. This time no mushrooms had been involved.

What was usually the busy, messy and kinda dirty market square, was now a ballroom out of a fairy tale. Long, scarlet drapes surrounded the area, giving it an air of sumptuous elegance. Small flames floated in the air, looking like sparkling chandeliers. Musicians played strange instruments that reminded me of violins and flutes of my world.

But nothing surprised me as much as the people. Everyone was impeccably dressed in amazing gowns and suits, their faces covered in colourful masks. Alajea and Karenn had told me that faeries took very seriously the festivity of Samhain, the Gaelic precursor of our Halloweeen, but I had no idea how seriously.

They’d explained that, when their people still lived on Earth, it was the one night where they could walk freely among humans without fear of being recognised. Human believed that during this night the walls between different worlds thinned and could easily be crossed. They all wore masks and costumes to blend between the faeries and demons they assumed travelled the Earth during that night. Once Eldarya had been created the faeries kept the celebration as a reminder of the life of hiding and fear they’d left behind.

I looked down at my elegant but simple white gown. At first, I thought I might be overdressed with the soft tulle skirt and the tight corset that Purriri had persuaded me to buy. She’d even offered the mask that currently covered half of my face at a discount. Now I was happy I’d spent a big chunk of my savings on this dress, at least I didn’t stand out like a sore thumb.

I walked slowly around the edges of the dancefloor trying to spot people I might know. At some point I thought I recognised Karuto, those horns kinda gave him away, but he looked too busy handling the food to care about chatting with me.

A dancing couple caught my eye. It couldn’t be… yes! Karenn and Chrome! Despite the mask I could tell he’d turned five different shades of red and was stuttering something I couldn’t hear. She looked cute in a blue dress and was smiling at him cheekily. Also, she was leading. I didn’t know what she had in mind, but poor Chrome.

“Mmm…” a soft, smooth voice whispered at my back, “you look lovely tonight my lady. May I offer you a drink? Or maybe you could offer me one?”

I turned around to find myself face to face with a tall, black haired masked man, dressed in a Victorian style.

“N-Nevra?”

“I’m not Nevra, my lady. Tonight I’m the blood-thirsty Count Dracula,” he replied with a fanged smile.

A moment of silence went by while I tried to grasp the situation.

“Let me get this straight. You, a vampire, dressed up as a… vampire??” I asked incredulous.

“Brilliant, isn’t it? This year I’m definitely going to win best costume.”

“B-but… how? Why?”

“There are so many definitions of vampire in your world. At first, I wanted to go with the sparkling one, but then I decided that you can never do wrong with a classic,” he explained. “You humans are so funny. Why would vampires live in isolated mansions, we like to PAR-TY!”

I genuinely didn’t know how to reply.

“Ah you found the kid!” said a falsely rough, deep voice, which belonged to a man with long blue hair, beard and moustaches. “Here is my dinner! Oh-oh-oh!”

“Ezarel? W-what are you dressed as?”

“Mph… you’re so stupid. Can’t you see the bag full of presents? I’m clearly Bluebeard!”

“I understand the facial hair, but… the presents?”

“How could you not know the fairy tales from your own world,” he replied irritated. “Don’t you know that Bluebeard brings gifts to kids and, once they sleep, eats them?”

“I think you’ve mixed up three of four different characters here. Have you even read the fable?”

“Nah,” he replied with his usual big, devilish smile. “Who has time for these things.”

“Wait…” I said, finally grasping the situation. “You just wanted an excuse to wear your fake beard again, didn’t you?”

“BINGO!” he laughed. Since I’d thought him a few Earthling slangs he kept using them whenever he had a chance just to annoy me.

“It wasn’t funny the first time,” I said remembering how he’d tried to trick me into believing that I’d been in a coma for hundreds of years, “and it’s not funny now. Bluebeard is a horrible character, basically a serial killer, he murdered his own wives!”

“Uhm…” he looked surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“Isn’t the point to look scary?” Nevra said patting Ezarel on the back, ”even though you look more hilarious than scary. Now, Valkyon got it right.”

“Where is he?” I asked scanning the crowd without recognising him. I wished I could chat with Valkyon for a bit, I loved spending time with him, he always made me feel at ease. “What is he dressed as?”

“I’m only going to give you a hint: It’s furry.” He laughed.

“Uh…?”

“You’ll see.”

I was scanning the area looking for Valkyon, when my eyes stopped on someone else. A man, dressed in a dark suit and black cape. He was wearing a white mask covering half of his face and I recognised him as the Phantom of the Opera. I didn't know the story was also famous in Eldarya, but apparently many of Earth's legends and fables had some sort of connection to faeries folklore.

The man was looking at me from the other side of the improvised ballroom, and even from afar I could see his eyes, which were of an impossible light shade of blue. I could tell his skin was dark from his chin and the strong line of his lips, the only parts of his body not covered by his outfit.

He was imposing, mysterious and his gaze completely unnerving.

"We have to go now." I almost jumped on the spot, suddenly remembering I was talking with the guys.

"Why, is something going on?"

"Well, we shouldn't really tell you this but… do you remember the knowledge-eating monster?" Nevra asked.

"The one who ate all the library's books and whose escape I was unjustly accused of?" I replied drily, "I have a vague recollection, yes."

"Well,” he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. “What you don't know is that those monsters come in couples. There was a second book, and we have found out today that it’s disappeared."

"WHAT?" I cried out alarmed.

"Shhh" Ezarel gestured for me to shut up. "You shouldn’t have said anything, Nevra."

"Don't worry Erika, Miiko asked us to keep our eyes open but the book has probably just been misplaced. Everything is going to be fine." 

I wanted to believe him, but it wasn’t the first time I doubted the Guard’s judgment on important decision. Who would ever hide a monster who ate knowledge… in a book… in a library?

“The library is still mostly empty. If this monster really escaped, he would try to eat people’s memories like the previous one tried to do with me,” I pointed out nervously.

“Nah, this one is different, they are complementary. While one erases the stories it feeds on, the other makes them real. Anyway, we must run, see you later.” Ezarel said while they walked away.

I was left dumbfounded, what did it mean that the monster made the stories real? I kept ruminating on that thought for a while until someone broke me away from my thoughts.

“May I have this dance?”

I smiled at Leiftan, offering him my hand as he led me to the dancefloor. A slow, soft music was playing, and I tentatively put my arms on his shoulders, while he held my waist. It was probably the most intimate we’d ever been with each other, but it didn’t feel awkward. It felt right.

“I like the wings,” I said after a moment looking at the white attachments behind his back, “they’re so beautiful, they almost seem real.”

“You look really pretty in your costume.” He said changing the subject, slightly tightening his hold on my waist. “What is it?”

“T-thanks…” I said feeling some heat rise to my cheeks. “Have you ever heard of the white swan? The story is called Swan Lake.”

“No, will you tell me about it?” he asked looking genuinely interested.

“It’s about this princess, Odette, who is cursed by an evil sorcerer to live her life as a woman during the night and a swan during the day, unless she finds someone who swears to truly love her forever.” I explained. “I’ve always loved this story, since the moment my parents took me to the ballet when I was a child. But I… am a little embarrassed to admit that I also cried in the theatre.”

“Oh… is it a sad story? She doesn’t find love?”

“She does. As in many fables, a beautiful prince falls madly in love with her. But there are different versions of the ending. Sometimes love is not enough to save them.”

The music was about to end, but he hugged me closer, almost unwilling to let me go. I felt a little embarrassed and tried to keep the conversation going.

“I’ve always felt bad for Odette. Having to live a half-life, hiding, not being able to be herself completely. It would be so difficult to find true love, someone who could love her real self. What a terrible fate.”

He didn’t reply, as if lost in thought.

“I-I’m sorry, Erika. I… have to go check…” he stuttered after a minute, when the piece we were dancing to ended.

“The library monster,” I helped him, he was probably struggling to find an excuse to keep the secret. “I know. Nevra already spilled the beans. Do you need help…?”

“You’re kind.” He smiled his usual, sweet smile. “There’s no need. Please enjoy the party.”

Bowing down, he took my hand, leaving a small kiss on its back, and walked away.

"That wasn't very aengelic of him," replied a mysterious and somewhat ironic voice at my back. I turned around to find that man, the Phantom. "Running, leaving his dance partner all alone on the dancefloor. But a man’s loss is another man’s gain, may I?"

Without waiting for my reply, he took me in his arms and led us through the next dance. The music was slightly more upbeat, and there was something wild in the rhythm, almost primordial. I was strangely intrigued by this unknown man, there was something familiar in him, but I wasn’t going to drop my guard. His eyes meant danger, and his hold on me felt vaguely predatorial.

"The Light Guard is always busy, even during festivals.” I replied. “Do I know you?"

“Ah yes, the Guard and its mysterious business. I bet they have a lot of important, questionable tasks to attend to.” He commented, ignoring my question.

His answer surprised me. I knew not everyone at the village, and even in the Guard, was a big fan of the way things were handled around here. I knew I hadn’t been most of the time. No one was always vocal about it though.

“Mysterious business? What are you talking about?” I asked.

“We all know the Light Guard is not very forthcoming with the rest of the people here.”

“Yes, but…” I tried to play devil’s advocate. “They have their reasons most of the time… Safety and…”

I noticed then that he had led us to the refreshments area. Breaking his hold on me, he turned towards the pitchers of strange liquids.

“So, do you think the Guard cares about everyone’s safety?” He continued, while mixing odd coloured drinks.

“Of course,” I replied carefully, accepting the amber coloured drink he was handing me. It tasted sweet, almost like honey.

“So, let’s say there was a threat in the City of El, they would share the news with everyone?”

“It has happened in the past.” I pointed out.

“Only when the problem was too evident to hide. But what if that wasn’t the case. Let’s say there’s a monster running around right here, right now. Would they stop the festivities to keep people safe or would they keep up appearances until it was too late?”

I felt my blood getting cold in my veins. An awful suspicion started forming in my brain.

“Who the hell are you? What have you done?”

“A friend.” He simply replied, his lips twisting in a cruel smile. “I’ve done nothing really, except borrowing an old book from the library. Just an innocent prank. A little naughtiness should be expected during this night.”

“But…” I started to protest, looking around panicked. That’s when I noticed something strange was going on. A nearby boy dressed as a ghost, went to grab a glass and his hand passed through it without being able to touch it. He’d become incorporeal. A girl I had noticed before who was wearing beautiful, colourful make up that made her look like an Alfeli, turned into the companion right before my eyes.

“People think that when the mask drops you can see the real nature of who’s behind it, but it’s not true. It’s when you wear a mask and you’re not forced to fit in that you are really unmasked. You can be yourself and follow your instincts, go after what you really want.” I felt frozen on the spot, his words made no sense to me. “And you… what is it that you really want?” He whispered almost seductively in my ear. “You’re welcome for the drink, by the way.”

When I finally managed to turn around, he had disappeared. I didn’t have time to look for him though, because that’s when all hell broke loose. Everyone started turning into the very thing they were masked as. Most people had chosen to dress up as companions or characters of famous fables, but other had picked bolder and scarier options. I could see zombies, witches, monsters of different kinds.

OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod….

I had to do something, but I had no idea of what. Was I about to turn too? It didn’t look like it, I was feeling fine. You’re welcome for the drink he had said, had he given me a protective potion? Why?

It wasn’t time to ask myself questions I didn’t know the answer to. It was time to run.

I took off without really knowing where to go, but soon stopped in my tracks.

I should’ve probably gone looking for the guys, but where could I find them? I knew they had been on patrol and I knew the spot each of them was usually assigned to.

The beach, the edge of the forest, the gardens or the cave.

All these places… I didn’t know what to expect. I knew there were things planned for this evening. I’d heard rumours of a haunted house, a maze and other unknown spooky surprises.

And what if the guys had also been turned? Was it safer if I went back inside HQ and tried to solve this problem by myself? But I had no idea how.

That moment an image popped into my mind. His face. No matter what, I had to find him. It was what my heart was telling me to do.

Now I knew exactly where to go. Without wasting another moment, I started running.

---

This story has 5 different epilogues, each corresponding one of the LIs. 

#beemoov fanzine #eldarya #lance #ashkore #leiftan #ezarel #nevra #valkyon #my writing #behind the mask

[prettywordsyouleft]

Through His Eyes - Part 11

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Through His Eyes will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 [M] | 13 - FINAL

He had done the right thing.

Whilst that wasn’t what Jaebum’s heart believed as he replayed your crushed emotions from the other night over in his head, his rationale continued to chant it over and over in his head as a well-versed mantra. In hopes, it would somehow make him feel better. That it would wash away his guilt.

Jaebum had panicked seeing you so easily in his practice space. When you first walked in, he thought he was day-dreaming, hallucinating you into the room as a way to shake off some of the exhaustion and stress he was experiencing. But he knew when Jinyoung suddenly stood up that you weren’t a figment of his imagination, your brightly smiling face was actually there.

For a second, he felt the warmth of that smile. He was comforted by the happiness you exuded. He could tell you had done something worth celebrating.

And yet he realised just how out of place you were just standing there.

You weren’t a part of the endless schedules, the dance practices, the business management of his career. And so Jaebum had grown too angry too fast, not having the energy to deal with something more than what he already was.

He had been rash, even if he felt he had been right. No matter how many triumphs you faced, eventually you had to find solace in your own accomplishments. You didn’t need him to tell you how well you were doing at each step of the way. He could already see how the return to your art was making you flourish within yourself again.

Soon, you wouldn’t even need him to hold your hand. You would be flying with your own set of wings.

Jaebum stared at your painting across the room and wondered just how you did it. The colours blended evenly, as if you had meticulously chosen each one and placed them side by side in harmony. It amazed him to know someone like you. Even though he had always believed in you, your painting was evidence that human nature was beautiful.

You were beautiful.

Sighing heavily, Jaebum climbed out of his bed, moving over to the painting and picking it up. When you had placed it down next to his possessions, he could tell it was something you had put a lot of effort in to. The hesitancy was evident in your posture on whether to leave it. He had been selfish to hope you would. And when you stormed out of the studio, this present was all he had to return to, staring at the simple brown paper packaging, wondering if he had the right to even open it now.

It had taken him two days to finally slide it out and when he did; his heart craved you more than anything. He longed to tell you just how much he loved it, how well you had painted it, how thankful he was.

But all of that would mock you and he knew that reaching out to you under that premise was a cheap shot. Especially since you had been silent towards him ever since your argument, Jaebum knew that when he saw you next, he couldn’t use the painting at a conversation starter. You would need more from him.

His head hurt every time he tried to figure out a way to seek you out.

“Maybe it’s for the best that you both take a break from each other,” Jinyoung mentioned over the phone as Jaebum made his breakfast, preparing for another long day ahead.

“You too?” he questioned heavily, shaking his head slowly. “Even you think Y/N doesn’t match me?”

“Match you? Hyung, is your relationship, well, have you finally established it?”

Jaebum frowned at the sudden urgency in his best friend’s voice, wondering what exactly he had said that alerted Jinyoung to react like that.

He thought over the question he just received and scoffed. “Establish what?”

“Oh, so it’s still at that level.” Jaebum couldn’t tell if Jinyoung sounded disappointed or not.

“At what level? I just thought you were agreeing with the others that I need to distance myself from Y/N instead of doing everything for her. The promotion has helped with that, of course, but I don’t know, I feel like I’m missing something.”

“You’re missing her.”

Jaebum sighed heavily again. “Yeah, I really am.”

It hurt more the longer Jaebum didn’t hear from you. He had faced breakups before, yet nothing had pierced so deeply within him like this. Sometimes Jaebum would laugh at himself, incredulous that he could even compare missing you like this to the aftermath of a relationship dissolving. You hadn’t dated him, yet this separation felt final as if you had once been his lover. Everything connected to you, memories flooding his system on the regular. How you scrunched your nose up at the smell of coffee, how you laughed like music, how the trees felt under his hand. Even his sanctuary, his studio, was full of you.

Jaebum couldn’t concentrate and his music was suffering.

He was incomplete.

It was a hasty decision to turn up outside your house. It wasn’t his first time driving all the way here, he had done that countless times now. But actually appearing in front of your door had been out of his reach until now. He wondered why he had hesitated, why it had taken him almost a month to do so. Jaebum should have come here immediately and approached his apology sooner.

The guilt was eating him up.

“Jaebum?” a voice called and he turned, seeing your mother before him. He bowed in greeting and then smiled weakly. She didn’t return the gesture, even though he could see in her eyes that she was relieved to see him.

Thankful there could be some progress.

“Is Y/N home?”

“She is, but I don’t think you seeing her would benefit her at all anymore.”

His hopes faltered then. “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain. Actually, Y/N is adamant she doesn’t need you in her world anymore. She’s finally finding her rhythm again and for you to come back in and disrupt that… I just really can’t allow that to happen.”

“Did, did she struggle?” he wondered, not really wanting to know the answer. It would be natural, after the way he had crushed you like that, to feel some pain, yet he hoped it was fleeting, unlike his own. The idea of you crying for too long without his arms to hide within caused Jaebum to experience despair.

He should have come earlier.

“You are struggling.” He glanced away from his heavy thoughts to the mother’s statement, eyes wide at her conclusion. Words failed him and she toiled with wanting to protect her daughter’s feelings and reach out to comfort his. Jaebum realised this woman before him had constantly been a bridge between him and you, relentlessly withholding the brunt of your combined pain, of your worries. He choked up then, unable to figure how to say thank you for something so intricate.

“I warned you both from the beginning, yet you each thought you knew better. Feelings are complicated and connections are precious. You were so busy looking out for each other that you failed to recognise your own feelings and labelled yourselves as selfish when you did. For Y/N, breaking free from you was hard but necessary. You relied on each other to be safe, to feel wanted, cherished. She’s finding her own self-worth now, Jaebum. They say acknowledging how you truly feel deep down can help you understand the actions of others. Ignore your guilt; she is stronger than you think. My question for you is do you even know how you feel?”

“I miss Y/N.”

“Why?”

He didn’t know how to answer, standing there racking his brain for a reason. Why did he miss you? There was no definite answer and the longer he dwelled on it, the more confused he was.

The mother smiled softly. “It seems you have a lot more to consider before you turn up in front of Y/N again, Jaebum.”

Whenever things got tough for Jaebum, he would just work harder. If he was busy, he couldn’t think and when he wasn’t thinking, he didn’t need to know how he felt. He spent the next three weeks living each day in and out like that, waking up early, cramming as much as he could into his day so by the time he crashed onto his bed, he couldn’t stop to ruminate over you.

It wasn’t as simple as that, however. Jaebum still met with you in his dreams. Sometimes you would appear completely at random, smiling at him from afar, as if to let him know you were okay. That he could move on without you. Others, he wished you to appear, to hold his hand like you used to, to dive into his arms, to allow him to be your safe haven. His yearning for you in these dreams almost mimicked the growth of friends into lovers and on the odd occasion when he knew his mind was taking things too far, he would force himself awake, thumping at his chest that felt too restricted, all the air within it being sucked out as the tears fell from his eyes.

Why was it so hard for him to move on when you already had? He wondered if you had made new friends who supported you, who encouraged you forward. Did you have someone at your side who helped you see or were you doing that for yourself now too? Jaebum was convinced you now saw more of the world than he did. Although he had his eyesight still intact, he felt blinded by this internal emotional hell, unsure of what he felt anymore. Was it fiction or fact? Nothing made sense anymore.

When he dreamed of you in the way that was unfathomable for what you once had, he would stare at your painting until morning arrived, trying to decipher something within the way the colours mingled with one another, the brushstrokes, anything that could clue him onto how you felt when you made this piece.

Why had you painted this for him? What about it made you think of him? None of his favourite colours were prominent, and without any clear design element, he would often grow frustrated, the puzzle he needed to crack eluding him.

Mocking his inability to understand you.

“It’s all just layers,” he mumbled as he stared at it for the umpteenth time on his evening off work, his gaze still searching even after convincing himself it was a lost cause. “Layers of paint. Layers of colour. Just layers.”

Layers of you. From when he first met you as a fan. The smiles he gave you like everyone else. Recognising you in the crowd and tipping his head in acknowledgment. Grinning when he saw you that morning of the exclusive pass.

The accident. The loss, the pain. Those were layers you shared together as well. The trauma of knowing you would never see again. The constant worry if you were okay.

And then the time you spent together. They all stacked up on top of each other, creating a blend of your lives together over the last several months. How he would smile at your silly mistakes. When you made his heart beat faster without him expecting it to happen whenever he just looked at you. How he felt complete whenever he was with you.

Layers.

Jaebum lurched towards the painting, laughing at how stupid he had been all this time. He eyed everything in a new light, seeing the build-up of everything between you both for what it was. Picking it up, he smiled at the painting, the burst of understanding enabling him to take a deep breath.

The first of many.

It was then when he felt the bump sequence along the spine of the canvas, turning it to see your painting had extended there. What was the message you had made? Jaebum had taken an avid interest in Braille ever since it became a form of being able to communicate with you, yet he didn’t know how to read it himself. He had used apps to translate text to Braille or read Braille aloud for you in the past, and he stared dubiously at your hidden message before taking the painting back to his bed and reached for his phone. Sometimes the scanner could pick up on pieces that weren’t necessarily as well-formed as properly prepared Braille was, so it was worth a go.

“Come on,” he urged the app, waiting for it to read it back in real time.

Jaebum’s breath caught in his throat when the answer was relayed to him and he placed the painting down before racing out of his home, his heart thumping in his chest noisily. Had it been dormant all this time? With all his layers of confusion towards you, had he really misplaced the normal beating of his heart? It seemed like it was only thriving again now, beating in rhythm to his anxious desire to see you.

Nothing would stop him this time.

“She’s not home,” your mother mentioned at his frantic arrival on the front doorstep and before she could explain further, Jaebum nodded, fare-welling the woman before dashing back out to his car. The rain that had been drowning the city sombrely all day long had conveniently picked up, Jaebum laughing at its harsh way of falling from the skies.

“I know, it took me long enough,” he told the heavens, as he swung his car into a park near the art studio. He wondered why he was so confident that this was where he would find you, uncaring of the water bullets lashing down at him. He made his way inside Madam Cho’s art gallery and studio, only slowing down when he noticed the new artwork that lined the entryway. He eyed each and every piece that belonged to you. Jaebum needed this pause, to steady that heaviness the skies and his heart were labouring him with.

He also just wanted to remember everything about this moment.

When he saw you, it was from outside of the room, in the darkened hallway. You were surrounded by light however, painting alone in the brightest spot of the studio. It suited you to be illuminated that way and he slowly made his way into the room, watching your subtle changes.

You angled your head when the door opened. Your paintbrush stilled with his footsteps.

And then it fell to the ground when you sensed him behind you.

“Jae… Jaebum?”

Encasing you in his arms for the first time in what felt like forever, Jaebum was unsure if it was the rain or his emotions that dripped down onto your shoulder. He smiled when you didn’t immediately push him off.

“I’m sorry I’m late to receive your confession, Y/N. Will you accept mine?”

_________________

[Part 12]

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[fireintheforest]

Bone earrings

Rialas’s voice trains in, calling Saufinril. The Bosmer is lounging on one of the sofas like a spoiled courtesan, decked in more jewelry than clothing. Saufinril heard it and hesitated. His hand had the latest letter that Ondacano had sent him, so he just pocketed it and dropped the rest of the letters in his bed to burn later, then headed to where Rialas was.

“Hey.”

“There you are, kynd!” Rialas looks like he always does, delighted and amused and smooth. Small sharp pearls of teeth peek from behind his lips, “I’ve been looking for you.” He doesn’t look like he’s moved a muscle. Well, that means he remembered he existed.

“That so? One didn’t hear you until now.” Saufinril sat by Rialas’s knee, similar to how he did when he arrived to Valenwood recently, around two weeks ago, “Do you need something, serah?”

Rialas smiled and moved his hand from the back of the sofa to pet Saufinril’s head like some kind of glimmering, chiming insect. Clearly one of those days Rialas had raided all the gifts he’s ever gotten to cover his hands, fingers, arms…he looks more decorated than a Khajiit clan mother or an Altmer officer. He hummed happily, nails running through Saufinril’s hair like water. Saufinril let him. He’d learned a while back that this was not seen as sexual to the Bosmer (took a while to learn, not going to lie). The Altmer’s hair was soft and he stayed in silence for as long as it lasted. Another lesson of The Green: silence isn’t always bad. After a while, Rialas laughed.

“Sometimes I wish your atta kept his hair long.” Again with the mother-father implications, but the more he’d insisted he wasn’t, the more Rialas was amused and the longer this happened. Rialas pet Saufinril’s hair a couple more times before moving his hand back to rest on the back of the sofa, “Alas, he’s adamant. Really, you might even think he’s going bald, so strongly against growing his hair out.” Rialas made a displeased hum, “Unnatural freak! Shame to his Divine spark. Has anyone ever heard of short-haired Altmer?!” he throws his head back and laughs.

“That’s been the hypothesis since the last era. Maybe he does that to hide his gray hairs?”

“He’s well over thousand! Of course he has grey hair. Look at his eyebrows, kynd!”

“Do you think he’ll shave them if one points those gray hairs out?”

“You could try. It’s your funeral.”

“And one’s debut in public entertainment.”

Rialas laughed. He would probably pay to see it (not that he has ever had to pay for anything he wants in his life).

“He did have his hair long when you both met, right?” Saufinril asked, realizing he’d never thought of it before. Lillandril with long hair was an idea as crazy and impossible as a gentle Nord or cold fire.

“No.” Rialas leaned back, arching his neck and smiling reminiscently, “When we first met he was bald, wet and covered in salt and sand.”

“…what. Scratch that, How did you both meet? One doesn’t think one’s asked before.”

“Oh it’s a long, long story…”

Saufinril nodded. The paper poked his thigh but he ignored it, changing the subject, “What’s with all the jewelry? Is it a special date?”

“Hm?” Ria seemed to pull himself back from far away, then looked at the jewelry hanging on him. He launched back, basking in the attention he draws, “Yes.”

“…is Lillandril letting his hair grow? Is that the special date?”

Rialas laughed and resumed petting Saufinril’s hair, “No. It is ‘I wanted to wear jewelry so I did’ day.”

Saufinril stayed silent, giving only a small nod. Oh by Mara, he could do this again. Wear whatever he wanted. Yesss. Ondac-

He missed him. Or rather, the Ondacano he thought he was.

After another stretch of silence while Rialas did nothing but pet Saufinril’s hair, he pulled something from between the cushions with his free hand. He stretched it towards Saufinril, whatever it was hidden inside his palm. “I almost forgot. I made these for you.” A small movement and a pair of bone earrings dangled from Rialas’s fingers. Saufinril turned to look at the object and blinked, not hiding the surprise.

“One…thank you.” He took the earrings and observed them in his palm, “These are beautiful, Ria.” He observed them in silence, turning them around here and there, “Sorry for asking but…why, why would, why would you give this to one? It’s not that one doesn’t appreciate it, one is just curious.”

“You act like it’s first time amma is giving you things, kind. I thought you might enjoy them. But if you don’t appreciate my handiwork…”

“One does appreciate it.” Saufinril couldn’t take his eyes away from them, observing them in silence, “Ondacano always had some, some stupid condition every time he gave one something. Not that you’re the same. It’s just, a little pesky habit. That’s it. One does appreciate them.”

Rialas made a rude noise, “Well, not like it will bother you again.”

“Considering all the letters he’s sent, one hopes not. One is already on first name basis with the messenger.” Saufinril turned the earrings around, admiring them as he talked (he was always pleasantly surprised when he remembered Rialas had talent), and only sneaking a glance at Rialas when he heard his tone of voice, “ ‘I will change, I’ll be better, remember you made me a promise, please come back’, no thank you.”

Rialas snorted. He gently tapped Saufinril on the head with his pipe, “What do we say about promises like that, kynd?”

“ ‘One didn’t actually mean it’?”

Rialas smiled brightly and leaned over to kiss Saufinril on top of his head, “That’s right.” Saufinril accepted the kiss, acting like it was usual but his ears tinted a shade of pink. Rialas, meanwhile, carefully took the earrings from Saufinril’s hand, “Let amma put them on you?”

Gods, what made him jump into the family boat this morning? “Um…sure” his ears were still something he struggled with accepting being touched here, but this was Rialas. He handed the earrings to Rialas, then removed and pocketed his own. Rialas chuckled and leaned over, a multitude of necklaces spilling over Saufinril, until the earrings had been smoothly attached and Rialas leaned back again, lounging against the sofa like he owned all Valenwood. Saufinril immediately took a hand to touch one of the earrings and smiled, “Thanks, Ria.”

Rialas waved his hand, “Anytime, kynd.”

Out of thin air, Saufinril seemed to recall something: “What makes you so sure he won’t bother us again?”

Rialas looked straight at Saufinril, raising an eyebrow. After a moment he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Can you imagine your atta letting him come anywhere near here after all that?”

Lill had seemed satisfied when he’d told them he’d broken up with Ondacano. Plus…“Was it…that obvious?”

Rialas didn’t raise his head or open his eyes, “Kynd please. You haven’t talked to me properly for, what? Fifty years?”

“One thinks he was jealous of you. He’d ask one if we had anything going on, we’d argue over that. It was stupid.”

“Of course he was jealous.”

Saufinril smiled a bit, albeit bitterly. “Fifty years. One can’t believe one let him get in one’s brain like that.” Rialas made a noncommittal noise in his throat and pet Saufinril’s side with his foot. “Sorry about that.” Saufinril grabbed Rialas’s toe, then said in a more cheerful voice, “One is not going anywhere this time. One is going to stay for a long, long, long time.”

Rialas chuckled, “Just…don’t do anything too stupid.”

“What about moderately stupid? Or are the censors watching?”

“Don’t get funny with me, kynd.” Rialas gently pushed Saufinril with his foot, “Go get yourself ready. Put on all those clothes you’ve been dying to. You’re on the floor today.”

“Right.” He stood up, “By Y’ffre, one missed this.”

Rialas smiled. “I know.” He whispered under his breath.

“We’re not opening yet, though, right? One has something to do.” He looks like he has an idea, and pulls out the letter from his pocket, “Wanna do something stupid with one?”

“What is this stupid thing, hmm?”

“It’s a letter from Ondacano, it reads:” Saufinril pushed his hair back and opened it, reading it aloud, “ ‘Dear, you can’t ignore me forever! What have I done to get your silent treatment?’ “

Rialas’s lips curl in distaste and –just perhaps- a hint of cruelty. Saufinril went on, unaware of this. “ ‘I don’t even know where you are, if you’re safe, who you are with, I’m sick with concern. I’ve asked and looked everywhere for you. Please think about this, I wish to talk this over, get to an agreement if you’re willing to be reasonable.’ “

Rialas huffed, “Lowlife. Not worth even the ink soaked to that letter.”

“You guessed that just from hearing one read it? Although the ‘willing to be reasonable’ is jerk-ish.”

“You have met one like that, you have met them all. And eventually, you learn to recognize them.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Saufinril eyed the letter again, “ ‘I miss you, peaches.’ Well that’s personal. And seems one hasn’t learned to spot them yet.” Rialas listened to Saufinril reading with face of a mer completely unimpressed by what was written. Peaches, really. How unoriginal. How crude. Saufinril shrugged. Rialas’s eyes had been opened only by the barest crack, and his gaze rested on Saufinril’s new earrings. A slow, sensual smile spread on his lips.

“Anything else that that ruminant wasted perfectly good ink for?”

“Just, you know, ‘I love you, I always did, and I’m not going to give up on ours this easily. It’s the best thing that has happened to me in my life, please don’t punish me like this, not after everything we’ve been through.’” Saufinril didn’t see Rialas’s gaze on his earrings, busy finishing the letter, “Should one…no, right?”

“Should you…what, kynd?” Rialas arched an eyebrow, leaning over a bit in a soft chiming of jewelry.

“One thought of, well…seeing him?” Saufinril paced a bit, his gaze lost as he thought aloud, “To talk, maybe just tell him to quit this and that this time one is really not coming back. Maybe it’s wiser that one doesn’t.”

Rialas closed his eyes and reached a hand to Saufinril, “What do you expect me to say, kynd?”

Taking the hint, Saufinril sat back where he was and rested his head back, allowing Rialas to pet his head again, “Nothing. It’s not your relationship. One is just mad that this didn’t work out again and that one was stupid enough to fall for someone like him again.”

Rialas hummed. He can’t relate. Not really. He has always had what he wanted. Who he wanted. The one and only. And the rest were nothing but playthings. A way to pass time. A birthright. He couldn’t say he was sad that the Altmer was gone. He couldn’t even pretend. It’s not like he was angry or disappointed in Saufinril. Nothing like that. But he had missed him, and so had Lillandril. And the Altmer…Well. He had talked high and mighty but they were all the same. Just like he had said to Saufinril. He chuckled and allowed his hands to brush over the bone earrings. “If that is the stupid thing you asked if I want to do, it is not up to your usual standards, kynd.” Was all Rialas said out loud.

Saufinril, however, smiled. “No. One was wondering if you’re up for burning the letters. There’s more in one’s room.”

Rialas smiled. “I do like fires” he said.

“It’s a big pile, too.” Saufinril said as he stood up.

“Oh alright.” Rialas said, basically leaping up from the sofa, “Show this old mer good time, kynd, hmm.”

Saufinril folded the letter and started to head outside, “We just have to move them out. If one sets fire to them here like last time, Lillandril will hang one.”

“Oh but that is the fun part.” Rialas laughed

Saufinril eyed him, with a ghost of a grin, “Realy? Inside?”

Rialas purred back a “Anywhere you want.” He even winked. This kynd was a bit thick, occasionally, and it’d be such a shame to not see him blush again. He sure is thick because he just said “Alright” and moved on to the floor where the room was, not getting the innuendo. Rialas sighed. This was ok. It was a learning curve. The kynd would get it. Eventually.

They got to Saufinril’s room, where the pile awaited them. It reached up to Rialas’s knee, all letters, in the bed where Saufinril had left them. Saufinril pushed the pile to the ground and tossed the newest letter on top.

“What a waste of ink.” Rialas said

“And money, and parchment, and time. At least for one, when reading them.”

“Come on, light it. Don’t be scared. Lill is not back yet.”

Saufinril raised his hand to his face. His four fingers were curled and the thumb was up, gaze focused on his hand, and cracked his thumb’s knuckle by curling it swiftly. A small, golden spark emerged from the knuckle with a clack! sound, appearing and disappearing into thin air at the same time that the pile suddenly was set on fire, never being touched or the spell directed by Saufinril’s hand. The letters started to curl and darken as the blazes took over. Some envelopes opened and revealed things like septims, charms, pressed flowers and a white ribbon. Saufinril groaned and rolled his head back, eyes closed.

“What a fool. Pressed flowers? In Valenwood.”

“He’d say it was just a ‘fairy tale’ and that it was an ‘archaic religion’ before the Bosmer got to believe in ‘real gods’. Like one said, it was stupid.”

Rialas hummed, watching the envelopes burn.

“And a white ribbon, really.” Saufinril continued, releasing his leather strip to tie his hair again, “One accepted because it felt like one has no choice. How idiotic is that? And money, what, to buy one back?”

“Fool.” Rialas said, but it wasn’t certain which Altmer the word was aimed at. There’s silence as the paper burns.

“Did Lillandril try to win you over with flowers?”

“He wouldn’t dare.” Rialas tossed his twin braids proudly.

“What about any exes?”

“We are in Valenwood, kynd.” It was not really an answer, “Besides, I don’t have any exes.”

“…Lillandril is the only non-Bosmer you’ve ever dated?”

Rialas laughed. “Lillandril is the only one I have ever dated. I met him when I was 59.”

Saufinril slowly turned to look at Rialas. For someone that at 23 was banging two Dunmer simultaneously and from there had around 7 or 8 boyfriends…this was something. “The only one?”

Rialas arched his eyebrow at Saufinril. “We can’t all start experimenting underage.”

“No, one knows but you just, met him and decided this was the one? What charmed you, his smile?”

Rialas made his dress of gold be sound, “Hardly. It was the constant begging and whining of ten or so years.” He tilted his head, like he was thinking deeply, “And of course. He was absolutely well proportioned for an Altmer.”

“Huh.” Saufinril was going to say something else when that last comment made him give a side glance. At that  moment the flames turned purple.

“Watch your fire.” Rialas said in cool tone.

“What did that asshole put in there?” Saufinril tilted his head, “Should we kill the fire now?”

“Depends,” Rialas shrugged, “do you wish to burn down the Den or only the letters?”

“Yeah, you-” from the fire, it started to come the suffocated noise of someone talking, as if it were from far away. Both Saufinril and Rialas could identify the voice as Ondacano’s, but Saufinril just gave it a short glance before using an ice spell on the miniature pyre to turn it off.

“A voice spell.”

“Crass.” Rialas said, like he was one of the Altmer magicka virtuosos and not a Bosmer with almost no magical gifts.

“Because begging in a voice spell is somewhat better than begging in a letter.” Saufinril gently moved aside his hair and earrings as he checked that no lit embers remained, “Next thing one knows, he’ll come in person to beg to one to take him back.” Rialas laughed, “How many did he send?” Saufinril kept searching, putting aside the purple-stained envelopes . Here and there some more pressed flowers swish out of parchments, one half-burned letter read something like ‘-at house trained, son of a bitch, shit-fucking Bos-’.

“Make sure you wipe all the ice away so it won’t melt. Fro will throw a fit.”

“One can say it was her 9 year old.”

“The one she has placed in care of Lillandril for the day. That 9 year old. That one who won’t get anywhere without my backup lunch knowing of it? Your funeral.”

“Fine. Damn it, and his sister is too well-behaved.” Saufinril scooped the ashes and checked for scorch marks.

“You have to learn to cover your crimes.”

“Eh, one will think of something.”

Rialas laughed, “Just make sure you get yourself ready. We’ll open in half an hour, you know.”

“One can cover this in five, get ready in the other 25. What about you, how long will you take to get ready?”

“Kynd. I was born ready.”

Saufinril looked at Rialas, then at the jewelry, then at Rialas. He looks like he’s about to say something, something that might get his tongue hunted, but decides against it, “Good to know.” He can’t help the curl on his lips. Rialas pet Saufinril’s head and turned his back, walking back out to the starting buzzle of the Den, “Twenty minutes.”

“What-but you just said-fuck!” Saufinril proceeded to make a mix of tossing as many wet big pieces of ashes on the counter, undo his ponytail, grab a comb, and overall cover the crime from Lillandril while getting ready at the same time.

#fourth era sau #bosmer #altmer #orsimer #(brief mention) #JUST MER THINGS: when you and your adoptive 'mother' burn letters from your ex #when your adoptive 'mother' kills your ex and makes you beautiful earrings from his bones #love how Sau doesn't understand having one (1) boyfriend and then marrying #like #'can't relate' #'my condolences to Lillandril but I'm different' #love it #meh-ayleidion #thank you Kris <3 #this was so much fun to rp tbh #I have another one to upload #another rp with Ria #but I'm dead tired so it might happen on friday