#look ma! I’m using procreate finally!

[cgenoveseart]

when your D&D OC gets friends for the first time in his life

#D&D!Mankar is basically just BG3!Mankar but that’s ok #sketch #oc art #he’s just a silly guy #look ma! I’m using procreate finally! #d&d

[orsuliya]

Since you do such detailed asks and give a well thought out answers, I want to know your opinion on the Ma brothers. Zilong, Zilu and Zitan. What do you think about them?

Ah, our three intrepid Ma princes... Wait a minute, why three? It's not like we're in a fairytale and while Zitan is certainly a fool, he's not nearly good-hearted enough to play the role of Ivan the Fool.

But seriously, it seems mightily suspicious of Daddy Emperor to sire three sons in quick succession and then, as far as we know, never ever procreate again. He's an Emperor and obviously fertile, so how come the imperial nursery remains so glaringly empty? Could it be that he has no concubines at all except for his beloved Xie Guifei?

Or... has the Empress been aborting babies left and right, and poisoning her way through swathes of women to boot? Not impossible, knowing her temperament, but it doesn't really make sense within the dynamic presented in the drama. Drama!Emperor hates, hates, hates the Wangs and especially his wife, so it's hard to believe he wouldn't have used this juicy tidbit to weaken their influence. In the book Wanru is allowed to run roughshod over Potato's concubines and feed them contraceptives willy-nilly, but that's because Potato doesn't really care. The Emperor, as we see him in the drama, would have found reason enough to care upon being given such an obvious opening to start a smear campaign against his favourite enemy. Stymying the imperial bloodline?! Why, I think it might be a crime and easily provable one at that!

This leaves the other option - perhaps there aren't any concubines in the palace or, if there are, they're not being, pardon my French, bred. It's not that multiple imperial concubines of lower rank aren't a thing in this universe - Potato gets at least two and possibly more after sitting on the throne for a relatively short time. It's a pity we don't know what's the policy on entering the palace. Is there a multi-stage selection process? There is certainly no indication of that! Xie Guifei might have been an attempt to balance out a Wang Empress, Seagull was Zitan's impromptu choice, Miss Screecher was meant to be chosen by Potato outside of any organized selection and the same could be true for Potato's other concubines. Our only outlier might be Zilu's Mom and even then it's rather doubtful she was ever processed properly as it would have required a lot of effort and luck to conceal an already existing pregnancy. No, Zilu's Mom was most probably a gift of 'peace' from one brother to another.

My guess as to what Daddy Emperor is thinking? If Zitan has been his preferred heir from the start and he very well might have been since it never had anything to do with Zitan's actual qualities, then it's possible that he simply didn't protest - or did so in a purely symbolic manner - when the Wangs started limiting his reproductive chances. Why breed competition? We already know he has no use for any sons lacking powerful backing of their maternal clans, see: his treatment of Zilu. And any son with such backing would be a direct threat to his favourite, not to mention a potential upset to the carefully maitained Wang-Ma-Xie balance.

...or it could be that Daddy Emperor really loved Xie Guifei and wanted no other. Seeing as he's strongly implied to spend his nights in her chambers twenty years after their only and last kid was born, this would make a staggering amount of sense. The same principle applies - he'd still not protest Wang tyranny over the inner courts, only he'd do it for Xie Guifei and not for Zitan. It does seem to fit with Daddy Emperor's general mindset. Let the others do open battle and exert all that effort, he'll just sit there, look sage and reap the benefits!

After this rather senseless and overly long prelude, let's finally get to answering your question. Mind you, those are not going to be organized, thoughtful opinions, just my subjective impressions on each and every Ma Prince.

His Imperial Spudness Ma Zilong

The not-so-little Potato that could not, but still tried! Let's start with the elephant in the room, namely his rapist tendencies or the lack thereof. See, I'm convinced that raping Awu wasn't actually in the cards, at least as far as Potato was concerned. Compromising her, sure, just lure her into an emptied palace and cry wolf. Outright raping her, no, if only because Potato is way, way too weak and soft to execute a plan this ruthless in its entirety. Besides, harming Awu to this extent would be risky as all hell and sure to provoke authentic wrath in both Daddy Emperor and Daddy Wang. The Empress is not stupid enough to give her husband the perfect excuse to do away with her son nor to alienate her main supporter in the same move. Even if she was able to force a marriage in the first place, Potato would be pretty much done for politically unless both Daddies suddenly dropped dead. The most she would be able to get would be a grandson in a privileged position, so she'd be back to square one, only with one more female to share power with. No, what Potato did and what Wanru suffered was mostly courtesy of Zilu's suspicious drugs. Not to say Potato isn't a rapist all the same, but I'd argue for diminished capacity.

As for Potato himself in his shining spuddy glory, I truly pity the man. From time to time we see glimpses of the ruler he could have become and whom he still tries to be, and it becomes clear that there was something there worth cultivating. The problem is that nobody could be bothered to even try. Daddy Emperor certainly didn't, leaving Potato pretty much to his own devices and believe me, it had nothing to do with his talents or the lack thereof. Do you remember that lovely family scene at the beginning of episode 1.? You know, the one where Awu, Zilu and Zitan lure Zilong into a trap and then leave him there to lie amidst icy rocks in the middle of winter? He could have easily hit his head and died right then and there. Or get pneumonia and die a little bit later. Does the Emperor care? No, not at all! Baby!Awu isn't that good of a liar, but even if she was, perhaps it would behoove him to actually investigate. Not from any kind of fatherly feeling, let's not expect miracles, but perhaps from political expediency? Yeah, no. And I doubt that was the only incident of this kind. Potato must have known even this early on that his father doesn't care for him, not even like an Emperor should for his eldest male scion. Moreover, there is no way Mommy Dearest wouldn't harp on about the Emperor's negligence in private, further affirming this awful truth in Potato's mind.

Mommy Dearest might care, but her care is no less toxic than Daddy Emperor's open negligence. Potato is her key to power, her only way to win the game of thrones and make all her sacrifices worthwhile... and this is exactly how she treats him. Oh, she loves him well enough as her son, clings to him in his role as Crown Prince and then Emperor, but she doesn't actually like him as a person. And oh boy, does it show! I get it, he's not this perfect shining prince that would justify her long years of suffering, but then I have this feeling she gave up on him the moment he showed himself to be perfectly average. Sure, she offers him (toxic) love and (conditional) support like nobody's business, but there's always this nasty undertone in their relationship. Mommy knows best, don't even try to think on your own, listen to me and only me. It's no wonder that Potato thinks he's perfectly useless and doesn't bother to try and better himself, if he knows that even his own mother sees him as a perfect nincompoop. Uncle Wang's open derision isn't helpful either!

And yet Potato is, deep down, a decent enough man. Better than the average Ma, I'd say. I mean, he has some scruples! They might be really, really tiny, but they're there, even as he's being subjected to a barrage of mental attacks from both his mother and his wife. Why, given proper support and a competent cabinet, he'd make a somewhat ineffective, but decent enough ruler, his handling of the flood crisis shows us this much. Potato's best quality is that he really tries. Oh, he fails, but he's no Zitan, content to sit in his room and mope while the country goes to hell. When it's important, he can make actual decisions! Which he may then go back on (or not), but it still counts. Also, he's not petty. Like, at all. He'd like nothing better than for everybody to get along and have lots and lots of plump babies. Even his decision to do away with Xiao Qi is not motivated by jealousy, no matter how hard Wanru and Mommy Dearest keep pressing on that particular button.

Is he childish? Yes. But then, he's never been given any real responsibility and for years and years languished under the care of a helicopter parent who never forced him to man up nor face actual reality, hence his disillusionment with Wanru, once she stops being this perfect smiling automaton. Is he selfish? Oh yes and it shows nowhere better than in his last will. But even so, such selfishness is pretty much par for the course when it comes to the Mas and at least Potato didn't wreck a country for the sake of personal spite, which puts him way ahead of his father, uncle Jianning and bro Zitan. And perhaps even cousin Zilu, who cared less for the country than for Huanmi.

At the end of the day, our humble root vegetable is a tragic figure. I can't help but pity him every time we see him bloom under somebody's attention. Give that man some respect and he'll pay you back with the same, weird comments about killing you nothwithstanding. And he did give us Miracle Baby, Our Lord and Saviour!

Our beloved Groomzilla, Ma Zilu

Daddy Emperor must have been stupid, high, blind or all of those in order to let Zilu and his beautiful brain slip through his fingers. He was right there, that defenseless, motherless boy and ripe for the taking too! If after years and years of being neglected and treated as an afterthought, after suffering an obvious slight of losing his love on Daddy Wang's say-so, after being allowed to supposedly run wild with no attempt at parental intervention... If after all this Zilu still craved his father's approval in whatever form he could get it, craved it so much that he allowed himself to be led into an obvious trap, then what kind of loyalty might he have offered, had somebody bothered to nurture him properly?

And it's not like his talents were easy to sweep under the rug. It's not until after he's an adult that Zilu takes up the pretense of being a never-do-well; during his adolescence he was still giving it his all, hoping in vain that his father might notice and offer him some sweet, sweet parental validation. Alas. The lack of powerful backing from his maternal family is an obstacle, but not if one actively tries to fight against consort kin clans and their influence. Or is it only the Wangs who are the enemy? Must be so, otherwise why the hell would one not see Zilu's relative independence as his greatest asset? You don't even have to make him Crown Prince to use him; just instill some sense of pride and validation, feed his need for attention and put him behind Zitan's throne. Okay, maybe don't do that last thing, deadly brotherly competition being a whole thing in palace environments, but still, use him! But no, Huanmi remained the only person to actually see and appreciate Zilu for what he was. Is it any wonder he was so absolutely loyal to her that even when it looked like she had attacked him with lethal intent, he still cared about her safety most of all?

And is it any wonder that he expedited his considerable will and brainpower solely for her benefit? I was absolutely floored when I realized that becoming an Emperor wasn't actually his ultimate goal - marrying Huanmi in the biggest, reddest wedding possible was! Even if he needed to drag the more august guests in at swordpoint. Not to say he didn't want to take the throne for his own sake; he absolutely did, but only as far as it served as a big fat fuck you to every person who kept dismissing him out of hand, so basically every person other than Huanmi. Taking the crown was a power fantasy, an idee-fixe of sorts, but for all that keeping a throne in one's basement can be seen as somewhat peculiar, there are very few - if any - signs of actual delusion in Zilu's actions. The throne is not a goal in itself, merely a way to achieve his primary goal, which is to marry the woman he loves, take revenge for Huanmi's sake as much as his own and build a life worthy of her. She's his Empress and by gods, she's going to be the real deal soon enough, no more cosplaying in private villas, however nice it might be!

Ma Zitan, the one and only Master of Mope

With every Ma Prince I become more and more convinced that there was something seriously wrong with Daddy Emperor's brain. Neglecting Potato makes some sense within the greater political picture, letting Zilu lie fallow is the height of foolishness, yet it's more a matter of criminal inaction than actively doing something wrong, but Zitan? Oh, there is no excuse for the way Daddy Emperor chose to deal with Zitan. If the Third Prince was truly his intended heir from the start and there is little reason to believe otherwise - if Wangs are to go then Potato is done for, Zilu was never even considered and Zitan remains the favourite long after showing his complete uselessness - why not try to prepare him for his future role? True, doing so openly might provoke the Wangs, but it's not like there aren't any ways to present such ruler lessons as something else, even a punishment. But no, let's just hope he turns out okay all by himself!

Now, logically reasoning, if Zitan was Daddy Emperor’s favourite and the prince he originally wanted as his heir, then Zitan should be given all possible help, right? So why wasn’t he taught any actual skills, whether in governance or in military matters? The thing is… they might have tried. In episode 61, when Zitan asks his faithful pair of retainers if he would be able to best Xiao Qi, their first answer is not that he’s the Emperor so it’s a given. Well, that too, but the first, immediate response? You studied the art of war. Which, okay, might be a reasonable guess when it comes to any prince, but those retainers are rather young and only recently-promoted. Before their soujourn at the Imperial Mausoleum they probably served somewhere within the wider imperial household, but not close enough to any great personage to be knowledgeable about what the princes might or might not have studied. Also, that answer, should Zitan’s lessons be limited to his early childhood, would make them look like idiots or bootlickers of the worst sort. But let’s say that Zitan actually studied the art of war and did so longer than his brothers. Or, alternatively, with more famous masters. That would naturally be a subject of some talk, if only within the imperial household itself. If so, then the female retainer, who seems rather astute in general, gave the best answer she could give.

Okay, so maybe somebody actually tried to help Zitan along. It still failed. Zitan at twenty or so is singularily useless and strangely unambitious, and no, calligraphy doesn't count as useful, not if one is an imperial prince and Emperor-to-be!

It's not Zitan's uselessness or even his refusal to feel any kind of reponsibility for his own people (as shown in the Huizhou arc) I have the most issue with. Although the latter is simply disgusting. And... really, really short-sighted. If Huizhou falls, as it surely must, Jianning and Co. get a clear way to the capital, leaving Xiao Qi to play deadly catch-up. Which means that Zitan's family is pretty much done for. Now, he might not care about Potato and Zilu, but surely he should feel something towards his father? Some filial piety, if not actual love? But no, screw the people of Huizhou and screw Daddy Emperor. Still, does he think that Jianning wouldn't pursue him to the ends of the earth in order to eradicate a potential claimant?

No, what really angers me is the way Zitan treats the women he claims to hold dear. And I'm not even speaking of Awu, although it's rather obvious that he cares little for her internality and rather more than is healthy for his idealized image of her. Xie Guifei dies for him, which is not his fault in the least... or is it? See, I'm pretty sure that Zitan's insistence on marrying Awu despite his mother's reservations was what provoked the Wangs to take certain... steps. Provoking a power struggle is all fine and good, if you're at least somewhat prepared for the consequences. Zitan is no fifteen year old well-bred young lady, he's an imperial prince right in the middle of a delicate balance of power, how the hell does he not know or care about possible ramifications? Naivety is theoretically not a crime, but that surely is criminal naivety. Which begs the question - how hard was that boy coddled by his mother? My guess is a lot. But Xie Guifei is but a trifle compared to the elephant in the room.

Xie Wanru. Xie Wanru, who supported Zitan as much as she could while being in a precarious situation herself. And whom he had no problems with asking for further support, going as far as to aim for the throne, disregarding her own and her children's potential interests. Xie Wanru, who didn't make the first move, even knowing Zitan to be a potential threat to her and hers. Xie Wanru, whose baby got a full portion of avuncular love in form of actual torture and was lucky to get away with his life. Xie Wanru, his sister, whose ghost must have screeched with fury upon hearing Zitan laud himself as this paragon of brotherly feelings in comparison to the well-intentioned Turnip.

Oh, and he just sat there like an offended child while the country kept sliding into chaos, simply because some evil old men didn't let him kill Cheng's entire army with his sheer incompetence. Those dastardly old bastards! Let them scramble around and let the people in the provinces keep dying; they all deserve this for not recognizing Zitan's awesomeness! I'm not saying he should have fixed everything. I'm saying he should have done the bare minimum. He killed a brother for that throne, now he should actually do something with it. Other than purposefully provoking the only guy who actually restored peace and stability simply because the man happens to be married to Zitan's first love.

I'm sorry, I cannot with Zitan. There's a lot more to be said about that twerp, much of which has already been said, but at this point refraining from plowing on it's a matter of mental hygiene.

#ask and answer #the rebel princess #no but seriously how come there are no other Ma scions in the main line #is Daddy Emperor overly careful after his own experiences with his brothers? #could be could be #Zitan oh so pretty and oh so useless #and that was the last ask in my inbox! #I can hardly believe it

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

WIP Wednesday 8/11/21

Had a writing stint where I pumped out 7K words in 3 days when I usually manage only..200-500 a week. Here’s some snippets of a WIP with my Gray-Ace Inquisitor Tallin and a very understanding Solas as they navigate her very first romantic/sexual feelings for anyone, ever (24 and never been kissed except that one time in the Fade, baby!!). She is a very nervous person by nature...

————-

Please just a crumb of feedback. A gif. An emoji. Please. I’m on my goddamn knees.

[snippet 1]

"Tell me 'no', and we can resume as we were without enmity. You are also at liberty to tell me to take my leave, in which case I hope to see you in the morning..." He stopped before her, drawn to his full height, head tilted slightly in a manner akin to a wolf intent on ascertaining a curious vision. “But if you choose for me to remain, you must decide once more. At your behest, I will gladly provide the chaste company of which you are so accustomed. We will sit. We will talk. We will read. We will retire in an exhausted fashion to bed. You will cozy up beside me like a nugling to its nestmate, content. But if you say 'yes', if you wish to learn how it is the wolves dance.." 

The light gray of his eyes suddenly darkened and his lips spread wide and sharp, rendering him impish, lupine. Tallin's heart lurched, but to her inner wonder it was not accompanied by a familiar queasy unease.  Her instincts were not screaming for her to bound away like a skittish halla from the man standing before her. Instead, the soft heat in her lower stomach flared like a bonfire given new life, its flames crawling up inside her chest, licking beneath her lungs. In the rare instances where someone looked at her in such a way--like she was something to be snatched up, like she was something edible--she retreated, recognizing that the individual had wordlessly marked her as prey.

Would it be so terrible to have him as her pursuer? That was what he was implying, wasn't he? That he had been observing her in that particular manner far longer than this emergent sense of craving.

What made it so different from the other times? What made his approach far less threatening?

The consideration, she realized. He is considerate.

If she was a halla, then he was a..a..

Her eyes flicked down momentarily in thought, landing on the dark jawbone hanging low over his chest from thin leather cords. 

And here and now, she realized she had always had her answer. He was a wolf. A wolf with a wistful man's soul.

Their method of courting until now, if it could be called that, had not been a simple 'chase'. No, the wolf had deigned not to pursue, for it recognized the halla did not wish to be hunted down. If this particular halla was ever compelled to bolt, it would not do so while also secretly relishing the idea of hot frantic breath on its heels or teeth sinking into its throat.

"..then with your blessing I will take you to your bed and claim everything you are, everything you are willing to give. I will unravel you as easily spun silk, uncover for us both your desires that remain unnamed."

He shifted and out of the corner of Tallin's eye, a shadow moved. His words had coiled her up like an Orlesian spring toy, promises that spoke of capitulation and submission and frightening loss. Her head felt hollow, her skin tight and brittle. The anxious fire in her chest roared in its hearth unabated.

Her breaths shallowed. This was happening. Everything was happening. He was describing the clumsy mental images she had been too cowardly and too embarrassed (and too confused) to acknowledge. All of this, everything, was happening too much and too fast. She knew nothing of his predilections. She knew nothing of what she wanted other than to be with him. Beyond the bare minimum for procreation, the stories of brutal violence inflicted upon elf women by peasants and nobles, and the confusing comments made in passing by the Iron Bull, she didn't know what to expect. 

If you speak it, you will make it real.

He raised his hand. She froze, spine taut. His expression gentled, edges shaved. The backs of his fingers stroked her cheek. "I will have you in the manner that a lover should. Gently. Sweetly."

As if he had woven a spell, Tallin gradually relaxed into the touch. It was not necessarily of her own volition, but she knew this. Nothing frightening ever came of this. This was familiar. Safe.

She heard Solas hum, thoughtful. "Yes, a gentle touch for a gentle girl. Would that please you?"

She swallowed, caught his hand and turned her head to press her lips against his hot palm. The world was silent for several moments. "W-Would you..?" She croaked. A question with many budding branches.

Would you..?

..be gentle?

..do all that you say?

..treat me kindly?

..love me?

Another step, and they were flush together. Her hand found his tunic and scrunched the material in her fist. As a precaution or an anchor she did not know.

He loomed over her fully now, both hands coming to cradle her face as if she were blown glass, gray sky eyes beholding her like Mother. Love. But now, also..

She offered no resistance when he tilted her head just so. He leaned in. His breath was scorching mint against the whorls of her ear.

"Yes. Until you can hardly stand it."

[snippet 2]

"You wish to-? Oh, 'ma'lath.." The tenderness in his voice made her eyes sting for but a moment.  The casual nature in which he extracted her hand from the half-hard presence pressing against breeches could not fully offset the surge of embarrassment she felt. As Solas busied himself with kissing the knuckles of her offending hand, she silently berated herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Tallin."

Tallin started. To her chagrin, she found Solas peering at her over her curled hand, his gaze firm and knowing. The internal self-abuse had been playing itself across her face.

She couldn't do this, she realized. She didn't know *how* to do this. He was trying to coach her through it but what if nothing stuck? What if she kept making mistakes, misreading signs? What if this was all a put-on for *her* sake? What if he didn't want her and was doing this to placate her, as he had so many other times? Lovers had to touch each other, she knew that much, and for him to except himself from this exercise, it reeked of...

"Tallin." His voice said through the dull ringing in her ears. "Tallin."

"Ir abelas." This was a mistake, a horrible mistake. She turned away, intent on rolling off the bed and..where would she go? She didn't know. The blood pounding in her ears was making it so difficult to *think*.

An arm wrapped around her waist as firm a steel band, digging into her stomach. She struggled half-heartedly, frustrated tears leaking from her eyes.

"S-Solas.." she protested.

"Tallin. Come back to me, my love." She shook her head and bit her lip to hold back a pathetic whimper. Not to deny him, but to help rid herself of the looming thoughts.

Selfish. This was selfish. 'I desire you, you desire me, but I demand that I take from you and give you nothing back.' That wasn't how it was supposed to go, was it? It didn't sound right.

But she was greedy for comfort. Always craving it.

[snippet 3]

"Shh, shh. No. You are not like most others. You were born with a heart that hungers endlessly for love, but eyes that cannot see that the source from which you drink remains full no matter how often you sip. It is your nature, but it can be tamed with practice. You can learn to ignore these pressing doubts, in time."

"I want to do this. I want to feel this burning, to learn where it might go, but.. I'm still nervous about..you, and where you..fit."

"That is not an uncommon concern, vhenan."

"So I've heard. But what if I never overcome it? What if it still..frightens me? If you accepted it--"

"--I would accept it." His tone was firm, almost indignant.

"--then it would only be me that was benefitting from this. It would only be me that was taking."

Solas barked a laugh, making Tallin jump.

When he finally settled, his grin had not abated--a full one that revealed straight white teeth and sharp canines, crinkled eyes that glowed with pure mirth.

Tallin lay there, confused and a bit put out, by her hahren's strange reaction.

"'Ma'vhenan, there is so much more to sex than that." He chuckled again, the sound decidedly doting. "You see yourself as taking advantage of me, of taking while offering nothing in return until you have used me all up, yes?" A reluctant nod. "But you have never considered to ask how I feel in all this?"

Tallin blinked.

"In matters of state you display exemplary feats of compassion and empathy, but in matters of the heart you are callous to yourself. You believe that sex is a matter of 'taking', but that is far too reductive for what this is.  Pleasure does not solely originate from taking or receiving. Giving is just as lucrative. In giving, I would be receiving your pleasure. The joy in giving a gift is to receive another's happiness, is it not?

"Y-Yes.."

"And do you not see that you are a gift to me?"

"I am?"

"Yes. Your trust that I will do right by you in this matter is a precious gift, one I will hold close to my heart. That you offer me the opportunity to teach you despite your lingering reservations is no small gesture."

[snippet 4]

"I love you." She said, muffled. "Ar lath ma."

"Lathan na. Bellanaris. Please understand that this is a request I must refuse. The time to learn of me will come later." At the familiar sight of Tallin's brow furrowing in confusion, he hummed, a serene enigmatic smile on his face as he cupped her inked cheek. He leaned in and planted an affectionate kiss upon her forehead before resting his against hers, peering into her puzzled brown eyes. "Tonight we are learning about you. This is your first experience not just with a man, but with pleasure. I will not risk overwhelming you with my wants when you have yet to determine what it is you yourself desire." Another kiss. "Slowly, 'ma'vhenan, slowly is best."

Sheepishly, "O-Okay, but I only wanted--"

He was quick to silence her with a kiss. "I know, I know, and you are so good to have offered." His voice dropped into a purr. "So good for me.." His mouth was on hers again, hot and surprisingly eager. Tallin's eyes widened, then fell closed at the familiar brush of his tongue against her lips. Thick honey-heat pooled beneath her skin; her hands found his shoulder and nape to instinctively pull him close as she obediently opened her mouth.

They clashed and fed upon each other's taste. She discovered his: sugar and..lemon. Lemon cake? It tasted good, a faint playful zing on her tongue.

Time and sense gradually slipped away with the air in her lungs. At some point he turned them both so she lay on her back. With his knees staked on either side of her, he could hover over her while avoiding making her feel trapped. Considerate, she thought with a burst of love, he is so considerate.

Solas was the first to pull away, and Tallin was only a little surprised that the soft noise of disappointment that she made at their parting didn't inspire any embarrassment in her.

What did make her blush furiously, though, was the show Solas made in how thoughtfully he licked his lips as he paused to catch his breath, grinning the whole time. "..mmh, an intriguing mystery."

Tallin didn't know if it was the lack of air or the wondrous nature of the kiss, but she couldn't connect the dots with what he was saying. "W-What?"

"The taste of you. I wonder what it could be. No, don't tell me." he clarified when she made a move to speak. He hummed to himself as his thumb rubbed the space beneath her lower lip, his grin simplifying into a satisfied smirk. Tallin felt another flare of heat radiate over her cheeks. "I will find out for myself soon enough."

And he descended upon her with his lips and tongue as fervently as before. She soon began to pant as she found herself once again suffocating on his sweet breaths. He seemed intent on fulfilling his promise. She could never have imagined a kiss to be this fierce, this hungry. He was devouring the very taste out of her mouth! And to her surprise she found she..liked it. She liked it as much as the soft and gentle kisses. Where those were affirming his devotion, these were confirmation that the desire she felt for him wasn't one-sided.

#wip wednesday #solas #tallin lavellan #solavellan #my writing #my fanfiction #gray ace #asexual #dragon age #DA:I

[anerdinallherglory]

Approaching Sun (26)

Author’s Note: Happy New Years! I realize that it has been a LONG time since I have updated this story. The school year has been an absolute killer. Not to mention that I am also working on my master’s degree and taking a ton of classes this summer.

In regards to this chapter, I ended up running out of time and decided to cut it in half due to the coherency of the story and the length. I wanted to give Satou and Isao a bit of a wrap up that does the story justice. However, the good news is that the second half will take less time to be posted. I will definitely be trying to work on this story because I have a LOT planned for it and it’s only just getting to the good parts (one coming up next chapter.) For my patient readers, this will be good news to you. For those who aren’t patient, hoping you’ll stick around to read J

Also, next to Naruto, reading and writing are my passions and my New Year’s resolution is to encourage more people to read. I created an Instagram account called read_with_rich where I will be posting about high-interest books in order to encourage non-readers to read by using the social media platform that can introduce people to books without them going to libraries or book stores (which they won’t if they don’t already read.) Give me a follow if you are interested!

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

Chapter 26: Monsters

There was a sharp mix of pungent smells permeating the air around them as Sasuke looked over Sakura’s shoulder at a particular herbalist book. His friend was sitting at a table in the center of the greenhouse, flipping through the Sunagakure plant log, scratching down a list of all the ingredients she would need to create the military ration pills.

When Sasuke commented on the smell, Sakura replied with “You get used to it.” And then she went into a detailed explanation of why plants even created all sorts of different smells--why many flowers had sweet aromas, but other plants had fouler scents. Sakura elaborated that it all had something to do with procreation. Something about bugs being attracted to them in order to spread pollination. She even went into the genetic purposes of tastes in plants. Sasuke listened with genuine interest at the wide variety of facts that she possessed.

Sasuke turned and leaned against the table as she spoke, tucking in his chin to his chest and closing his eyes. When he was sure she was distracted, Sasuke peeked at her between the lashes of his right eye. He noticed that her brow was furrowed as she searched for the plant she had written down. After a few minutes of this, she began to tap the end of the pen against her bottom lip, a subconscious behavior many people did while thinking. Sasuke couldn’t help but realize that he hadn’t paid much attention to anyone’s small habitual behaviors in the past few years except for in battle scenarios. To watch the cogs spinning in Sakura’s mind, had Sasuke feeling like he had missed out on much in the last several years.

After another few seconds, Sakura explained her concern: “I’m going to have to find a substitute plant for the medicinal aspects of the pills. Sunagakure doesn’t grow Tikasia in abundance here. The amount that I would need would deplete their entire reserve.”

Sasuke considered her word for a few seconds before his eyes narrowed a fraction when the door of the greenhouse opened. A white-coated man with sandy colored hair beamed hugely and raised his hand in greeting as he entered. “There you are, Sakura-san. I’ve been looking for you!”

Sakura broke from her deep concentration and turned from the table as she picked up on the calling. Sasuke raised his eyebrows slightly at the familiar tone the young man used. This must be a staff member from the hospital, a colleague that was working closely with Sakura while she was here. His presumption was confirmed when Sakura returned both the smile and call.

“Sorry Mako! Hope you haven’t been looking for too long.”

Mako?What-- are they on a first name basis or something? Sasuke pondered with a frown of disapproval.Sakura barely knew him, or at least, that’s what Sasuke thought. At least Makohad the decency to add the proper honorific to her name. Not that Sasuke could be the one to lecture on the topic.

The young physician made his way over to them and immediately offered a respectful bow to the both of them. Sasuke was never very good at returning these customs of respect, but after a minute of awkward staring, the Uchiha nodded his acknowledgement in a very uncaring sort of way. After bowing, the medic immediately turned to Sakura and glanced at her work on the table.

“Are you creating another medicine?” Mako asked, crossing his hands behind him in consideration, boldly reading the list she had compiled next to the herbal catalog.

Seeing her co-medic’s interest, Sakura picked it up and handed it to him while simultaneously pushing the book in his direction, an invitation for his opinion.

“You’re just the person I need right now actually.” She explained to Mako how she was creating a batch of military ration pills, a notion at which the male medic’s facial expression turned to one of surprise. Sasuke understood his disbelief; not many people knew how to make such a desired sustenance that tipped the scale in favor of those who consumed it in battle. When bringing up the topic of the ingredients she needed, he raised his thumb and forefinger to his chin, pinching it in contemplation.

Sasuke stiffened slightly when the young man pulled up a seat to sit beside her, pulling the book closer so they could both look at it together. “What about Ashuwa?” he offered, flipping to a plant towards the front of the book. Sasuke peeked over towards the illustration and noticed a shrubby little plant with bright yellow flowers.

“Ashuwa?” Sakura questioned, frowning down at the picture. “That belongs to the nightshade family, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he informed, “but it’s not fatal like many of its other relatives. It’s actually quite safe to consume unless the patient has some sort of allergic reaction to it.”

“That’s interesting. I’m not very familiar with it. What are its properties?”

“It’s a little stronger than Tikasia but more acclimated to our desert climate, so we have plenty of it here. Its primary effect is a boost in brain function. However, we have observed an increase in energy and muscle mass along with it. Some ninja even claim that after consuming it, it relieves them of stress.”

“All that?” Sakura pondered, dropping her jaw.

Sasuke raised an inquisitive brow as well. With benefits like that, it was a wonder they didn’t add it to every meal here. There had to be missing information obviously…

Sakura must have been thinking the same thing Sasuke had, because she immediately responded with. “What are the negative effects?”

Mako smiled at her insight. “Just like Tikasia, you crash and suffer chakra depletion as a result. You have to take far less of it than Tikasia. Like I said earlier, many people have severe allergic reactions to the plant which is why we don’t use it often.”

Sasuke couldn’t help but frown at the pair of doctors who discussed plants so casually with one another. Mako had a sort of charisma about him, and Sasuke could tell why Sakura would rely on him while she was here. The young man’s temperament sort of reminded Sasuke of their old schoolteacher, Iruka-sensei. However, Mako’s knowledge was so thorough that he almost reminded Sasuke of Kabuto; Sasuke had witnessed many in-depth medical conversations between Orochimaru and he.

Still leaning against the table, Sasuke closed his eyes, adopting an uninterested guise to go with the frown. Seeing them together, discussing their common interests, reminded Sasuke of something despite his epiphany last night. Watching her familiarity with this person reminded Sasuke that just because he had finally admitted to himself that loved her, didn’t mean that he should do anything about it. Sakura had told him firmly that she would only ever choose him and to not assume that if he left her alone, she would fall in love with someone else. Sasuke truly believed his female teammate about this. But seeing her cheerfully interact with Mako made Sasuke want to believe otherwise. Even though it stung him to think about Sakura loving someone else and another man being a part of her daily life, waking up beside her and hearing a confession from her lips, Sasuke knew it was what she deserved. He could never be that sort of man for her, especially not in the near future.

But now that Sasuke was certain of his feelings, would he be able to only ever be a close friend to her? Would he be able to watch someone else come into her life and become the person Sakura swooned over and built a family with? He would, Sasuke told himself. He hadto. Sasuke had already chosen in his heart to be the Itachi of this time and make the sacrifice for the greater good so that his loved ones like Sakura even had a future. He had to keep reminding himself of this.

Without meaning to, he let a low exhale of self-defeat escape his mouth. Realizing he had done so, Sasuke quickly glanced to his right to make sure no one noticed.  Sakura, who Sasuke now noticed had stopped what she was doing, was now watching him despite the fact that Mako was still flipping through the book and explaining something to her.

His kunoichi teammate locked gazes with him, furrowed her eyebrows, and tilted her head in silent question. Sasuke broke their eye-contact immediately and Sakura returned her attention to Mako. It’s for the best, he thought to her.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Mako lead Sakura across the greenhouse to the white-labeled bushel of Ashu that he had spoken to her about. She measured out the amount she would need and began cutting it carefully with his assistance. Sakura had been surprised at this substitute that Mako had offered with certainty at its effectiveness. She pinched a sizable piece of it and placed it on her tongue and began to chew. With it being a nightshade after all, she wanted to be certain that it wasn’t toxic. Nightshades were highly cultivated by humans and most were safe to consume like Mako said, but since she had never heard of this plant and it was unfamiliar to her, she wanted to double-check Mako’s claim. Besides, he said it could cause allergic reactions.

Just so Mako’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt by her taste-testing, Sakura simply announced, “This actually tastes quite yummy. Much better than the bitter Tikasia.” Then she called out loud enough for Sasuke—who had been casually leaning against the table since their arrival—to hear, “You’re in luck, Sasuke. Maybe these pills won’t taste like ‘mudballs’ this time like Sai famously calls them.”

Sasuke peeked open his right eye at her, clearly not grasping a word of what she was referencing. Mako, on the other hand, laughed at her statement.

“Tikasia israther bitter. Is Sai a friend back home? Your friend really called them ‘mudballs’ to your face?” Mako laughed.

Sakura chuckled to herself a bit, returning her full attention to Mako. “Sai is a sort of special friend. He’s brutally honest; always has been.”

“Sometimes we need friends like that,” Mako said reassuringly, helping her pluck the stems and flowers of the plant and wrapping it up in paper.

Sakura nodded in agreement and instantly recalled many of her friends back home and a sort of homesickness radiated in her chest at the thought of them. She wondered how all of them were doing. She also thought of the hospital and Lady Tsunade in that moment too, and made a mental note to write a letter to check in on them.

She glanced up at Sasuke for the twentieth time that day, and her homesickness disappeared. When he was absent, she was always sick with longing for him. It suddenly surprised Sakura that she had never felt more at home than when she was with this man. She had confessed this to him before, but when he was gone, it felt as if she was alone. Sakura would fall asleep with thoughts of him and miss him just as much the following morning. That feeling had disappeared on her journey and this was the first time the kunoichi had missed someone else since she had picked up her bag and followed Sasuke down the cobbled street that night a few weeks ago.

Mako’s statement returned her to the present moment from her thoughts. “Isao slept well last night. After you left with Gaara, he was distraught and restless after what happened. We ended up giving him your dosage of the sleeping medicine and he didn’t experience any sleep terrors.”

“That’s terrific!” she exclaimed, almost jumping for joy in her excitement. This was exciting news. If they could eliminate the terrors, then Isao would be okay. Maybe he could stop taking the medicine once his body adjusted.

“Satou, his father, however,” Mako began as they made their way back towards the center table towards Sasuke. “Well—he’s a bit hysterical in the hospital. The man definitely needs to be there, but we are not quite sure what to do for him. He’s actually the reason I came looking for you. I figure you might be the only one able to talk to him.”

Sakura nodded as they came to a stop and she set her items down. “I see.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Sasuke had been thoroughly pissed when Sakura had announced to him her plans and handed him the bundle of paper-wrapped yellow flowers. “Will you grind these up for me while I quickly check-in on a patient? They should be dry enough on their own. We need to mix this in with the rest of our batch as soon as possible.”

The Uchiha nodded with a “hm” but had half a mind to shove the flowers and grinder toward Mako since he was inclined to be so damn helpful.

Apparently, she was duty-bound to go see some hospital patient with an attitude problem and Sasuke had guessed easily who it was. After seeing the bruises on her chest last night, it was hard not to think about this patient of hers. It settled like a knife between Sasuke’s shoulder blades as he began to pulverize the flowers in the mortar with the stone pestle. He glowered after the two medics as the door to the greenhouse swung to a shut behind them.

Sasuke knew that Sakura was aware of his eagerness to get the pills so he could return to his mission. And because she predicted this, Sasuke knew without a doubt that Sakura had played him. She had given him this little job to keep him occupied for a few minutes because he couldn’t put the task off. But what shedidn’t know was that it certainly wouldn’t take him as long as she hoped. Sasuke removed another heap of flowers from the paper and began to smash them forcefully.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Sakura had managed to come up with a small plan in the few seconds after Mako had informed her about Satou, Isao’s hysterical father, whom Sakura and Gaara had placed under the care of the hospital yesterday. The first and most necessary part of her plan was to keep Sasuke busy and away from her patient. After seeing her teammate’s reaction to the small bruises on her chest last night, she didn’t want the two ninja to have the least bit of interaction.

The second part was to ensure that Isao was kept far, faraway from his father. If the child was showing any progress at all after having distance from him, then Sakura would be damned if Satou meant to screw that up. Trailing closely behind her, Mako confirmed her hope that Isao remained at the mental health children’s clinic and was being strictly supervised.

Finally, the last rocky bit of her plan was to try her best to remain calm and civil with Satou despite what she predicted his treatment of her would be. Sakura anticipated every bit of an angry temper and possibly aggression.

Having Mako with her made Sakura feel more reassured. In the back of Sakura’s mind, she knew she didn’t have anything to worry about because she could rely on her abilities as a ninja, not his, but it was still a comfort to have him with her as a steady, supportive presence.

When they finally reached Satou’s hospital room and they entered, Sakura gasped. Apparently, Satou had considered this place a prison cell rather than a patient room. The bed was tipped, and the curtain torn from the rod above the windows. The massive punched out crevices in the walls around them were threatening portraits of warning. Sakura heard Mako echo her surprise. Sensing their presence, Satou turned from the window and glowered at them.

“Glad to see my warden has finally come to see me,” the man spat viciously.

While Mako’s expression was one of disbelief, Sakura erased the emotion from her own, slipping on a blank pretense. Forget step three of her plan, then. It was obvious what kind of man Satou was. He had no respect or care in the world for anyone and her kindness would be seen as a weakness to bully her for. Pretending to be civil would be an entire waste of her time because Sakura recognized the hate in Satou’s eyes, glassy pools that reflected the darkness in his heart. How bitter it made Sakura—to see Sasuke’s formal self in one of her patients; how hopeless this conversation would be even though he was the one person who needed it the most.

Sakura believed this man deserved her gentlest persona, but Sakura had tried playing this game before and failed miserably with Sasuke. If Sakura—a former teammate and close friend—couldn’t have reached into the depth of Sasuke’s darkness and rip him from it, then how could she expect to be successful with an absolute stranger? She thought of Naruto and Gaara and how they might approach this. Adopting Naruto’s methods before, Sakurahad fought Sasuke to knock some sense into him, but Sakura couldn’t just go starting fights with her patients.

Confidence then. Sakura crossed her arms behind her back and raised her chin. “I’m not your warden; just someone who is trying to help you and your son.”

He began to laugh—that psychotic pitch that set Sakura’s heart racing. It frightened her to see that this man was more lost than she had thought. This wasn’t just a man who had taken his anger out on his son. “That’s what pisses me off the most about you leaf village filth. You think you have the right to march in and do as you please.”

Mako responded before Sakura could silence him, “Be careful what you say. Haruno-san is an honored guest of the Lord Kazekage and he asked for her assistance at the hospital.”

Well half true. I did invite myself here I suppose. Sakura didn’t correct Mako; Satou was completely prejudiced toward Konoha and its citizens.  She reminded herself to steer clear of the political past between their two villages. Satou’s next comment brought an immediate halt to Sakura’a analytical approach to reasoning with him.

“You’d think the Kazekage wouldn’t give his whores a false sense of entitlement in village they don’t belong in.”

It was hard to contain her inner voice at that moment, who happened to be screaming loudly. WHO THE HELL DOES THIS BASTARD THINK HE IS?

Sakura let out a calming breath and put hand on Mako’s arm who was surprisingly doing a good enough job for the both of them at giving this terrifying ninja a piece of his mind despite the aptitude gap.

Before she could respond, the door opened and someone stepped in. Seeing Sasuke momentarily took her aback because that powder job should have taken him at least 45 minutes to complete, yet here he was a mere 10 minutes after being assigned the task. He must have a question.

And then Sakura saw his face. A red and purple combination flashed towards Satou and Sakura’s stomach dropped to her feet. Had he just heard what Satou called her?

When Sakura reached him and placed a hand on his arm, his gaze snapped from Satou and landed on her. “Did you need something?” she asked kindly, assessing the situation and deciding to act casually. Maybe if she came off as unaffected by Satou’s comment, then Sasuke wouldn’t feel the need to react.

“Here,” he responded gruffly after recovering some composure, shoving the mortar she had given him earlier towards the space between them. “You said you needed this quickly didn’t you? Go on ahead and make the batch. I’ll talk to this guy.”

Sakura briefly savored the startled look on Satou’s face before turning her body towards Sasuke so she could whisper in private with her teammate. “Sasuke, I don’t think that’s—”

“It’s fine,” he softened his murmur to match her whisper. As he said this, his sharingan faded and his emotionless mask slipped back on. “Just a talk between ninja.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” came Mako’s eager voice behind her, “I’ll stay too. You go on ahead and make that batch before time runs out.”

Sakura snapped her head towards him, shaking her head with large eyes in silent begging, but Sasuke was the one who spoke. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You can leave too.”

“He stays,” Sakura volunteered, to which Sasuke glowered at her for. “A doctor must be present during an exam, after all.” This was most definitely not professional, but Sakura had used a “time” excuse to keep Sasuke busy earlier. Mako knew as well as she did that it didn’t matter what time the Ashuwa was added to the mixture, and he was using her lie against her. She didn’t know her friend of a medic could be manipulative like that. Mako knew she didn’t want to tell Sasuke that she had fibbed about it.

Grabbing the mortar, Sakura peered up into the Uchiha’s eyes, reconsidering her fear of the two ninja meeting. If Naruto or Gaara weren’t here, maybe Sasuke was the next best person to talk to him. Now that he had come back to the light, perhaps Sasuke could reach Satou in a way that Sakura wouldn’t be able to. Sometimes people who had experienced trauma would only listen to someone who had shared a similar pain. And it had been proven to her throughout the years that sometimes only monsters could understand monsters.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke waited until Sakura’s footsteps receded far enough down the hall before his eyes locked onto Satou for the second time.

“Uchiha. Uchiha Sasuke isn’t it?” Satou inquired, daring to speak first. “I never would have guessed I’d ever see your face again after the war.”

“Good. You know me.” Sasuke announced, fully entering the space and leaning against the right-most wall, just fifteen feet away from Satou in this small room. “Then you’re aware of the terrible things that I have done to better men than you.” To be honest, Sasuke hated to play the reputation card—in fact, he wanted to get as far from his past as possible, but he needed this bastard to know just exactly what he could still do to someone that pushed him far enough.

He noticed Mako shift excitedly at the left of the entrance. Apparently Mako was hoping for a show. Good, Sasuke thought, he needed to hear this too if the male physician had future plans to stay next to his friend.

Sasuke got straight to it. “The truth is that you’re not going to listen to anyone, so this is going to be a waste of time and breath.” Sasuke knew because he had been in this exact same frame of mind before.

“So why bother staying?” the man spat, rage leaking from his mouth like saliva from a rabid beast. Sasuke was correct in his analogy. Like Sasuke himself had once been, Satou was nothing more than a creature that there was no hope left for, and it needed to be taken out of this world. That’s what Gaara had practically told Naruto to do—take Sasuke out and do the right thing as his friend. It’s what Sakura had tried to do and failed.

But Naruto had done the impossible. With memories of his friend in his heart, Sasuke sighed and willed himself to put at least a little bit of effort into this for his friends’ benefit.

“For the sake of the woman you just called a whore. I care more about her and her goal than the few minutes I could be doing something more beneficial than talking to you.”  Of course, he would never tell her that.

Sasuke felt like there was no point in beating around the bush. His voice would give out if he continued talking at this rate. He reminded himself that he didn’t owe any explanation, any psychological nonsense, just the cold truth that Satou needed to hear. Despite how hard he might try, Sasuke wouldn’t be able to pull this off like Naruto. Naruto would have marched up to him like a bull, grabbed his collar, proceed to threaten him for saying such a thing to Sakura, and then somehow miraculously convince this man to change.

Sasuke on the other hand, was less predictable. Depending on which part of his life you looked at, Sasuke could have had several reactions to Satou’s comment. The Sasuke before Orochimaru would have been angry but level-headed, at most offering the man an analytical glare. Sasuke immediately post-cursemark would have gutted him in the same mania he had broken that sound ninja’s arms in the Forest of Death. Vengeance-bent Sasuke would have completely not cared at all. But the Sasuke he was now? Even though he was on his path of redemption now, something in him had become honed again, sharpened along with the internal acknowledgement that he had feelings for Sakura. Despite his accepting of the truth, Sasuke hadn’t anticipated feeling this defensive and this is what scared Sasuke the most about himself—his unpredictability.

When Sasuke had tried to sever his bonds, it was to eliminate the feelings that came with them. He had seen it as a weakness. If his attachments were few, then Sasuke could remain loyal to a way of life he hoped for, one of peace. But having Sakura near again and feeling responsible for her had Sasuke fearing for the worst about his character. He had relayed this concern to Naruto before he left the village several weeks ago. “What will keep me from the darkness? From choosing the path of revenge?” “I will,” Naruto had responded. “I’ll stop you.” If men like this were regular in Sakura’s life, how could Naruto guarantee that Sasuke wouldn’t snap one day and kill every single person who threatened to do her harm? What if one of them succeeded? Could Naruto prevent everything? Stop, Sasuke told himself. Stop thinking like that.

Satou didn’t laugh again for the entire conversation. He remained standing by the window, narrowing his eyes at Sasuke in wary consideration since the Uchiha had arrived—not scared necessarily, but an enemy weighing his odds and deciding to avoid major triggers. Smart, Sasuke thought. Not completely brain dead then.

As Sasuke was consumed in silent thought, Mako stepped in for him. It was the first time all day Sasuke liked the medic. “We know that your wife died. Is that the reason you are abusing your son?”

Unlike with Sasuke, Satou revealed his temper, like a bomb going off without warning. “WHAT I DO WITH MY SON IS NOBODY’S DAMN BUSINESS BUT MY OWN.”

Unaffected by the sudden rise in volume, Sasuke surveyed the damaged room around them. Satou sure made it look like he was being held against his will, but the truth was, Sasuke realized, that if Satou had truly wanted to leave, he would have. There was nobody physically stopping him from leaving. The only thing really holding him here was Gaara’s command. Ah, so that was it. Badmouth the Kazekage all he wanted, Satou still respected one thing and that was power.

Sasuke tested the theory with, “The Kazekage believes it is his business.”

“Everything is apparently his damn business,” Satou growled in his direction.

Sasuke immediately noted that this was not a shouted response like he did when Mako spoke. Sasuke deduced that Satou held enough respect for the people he feared. That included himself. Damn. How annoying; Sasuke was going to have to do all the talking after all. To be honest, Sasuke had just wanted to remove Sakura from the situation and came up with the “talking” part to get Sakura to leave. Now, he supposed he would have to deliver.

Mako tried reasoning with him again: “Does the child remind you of your wife? Is that the reason you mistreat him?”

Satou’s eyes grew wide at Mako’s question. “HOW DARE YOU-“

Forget it. Talking like this was getting them nowhere. Sasuke’s visual prowess was nowhere near restored, but what Sasuke planned to do wouldn’t take up much chakra anyway. This wasn’t his typical style, but trying to talk with this man sure as hell wasn’t his style either. Sasuke revealed the black tomoes of his right Sharingan, instantly immobilizing the man where he stood.

“What are you doing?” Mako asked with concern, walking up beside him. “You’re not going to use a genjutsu?!”

“Just shut up and stay out of it,” Sasuke announced in annoyance. “I am getting the answers.”

Satou’s mind was a black, fiery wasteland that Sasuke stepped out on. The ninja’s memories appeared before him like colorless corpses rising from the grave. Sasuke walked forward toward the past surveying memories in order from most recent to oldest. The first memory that shaped in the air before him had Sasuke considering deactivating the jutsu. Whether he had subconsciously looking for this memory or not, Sasuke didn’t know, but he watched it play out before him. His pink-haired teammate was standing her ground, glaring up into the face of the man whose memories Sasuke violated. Sasuke frowned in hatred at the image of his fingers jabbing into her chest. Satou was looking down at her with a ferocity that he had yet to display towards anyone else. Why?

On cue, another memory emerged, connected to this one and providing Sasuke with the answer he wanted. It was during the war and Satou was immobilized on a cot, bandaged and regaining consciousness. Pink hair came into the ninja’s vision as he tried to roll to the side. “Miss,” he called toward the female ninja. “Where am I?”

“Stay still,” Sakura ordered him, pushing him back down on the cot. “Your leg is severely injured and needs to remain immobile.” She began giving orders to her assistants when a boom suddenly sounded somewhere nearby. Satou watched as she got to her feet and headed in that direction as someone began screaming her name.

“My wife,” he croaked, trying again to rise. This time, no one stopped him as he began to fumble towards the line of patients, some unconscious, others screaming. “Rina,” he sobbed, searching the faces of the incapacitated. “Where are you?”

He finally found her in the back row and he began limping faster toward her. “Rina!” he screamed, falling to his knees beside the woman who was bloody almost beyond recognition. Sasuke looked away from the memory as Satou began searching with hands for the wound on her body. Somehow the woman had reopened her injury and was now bleeding through the bandaging.  When Satou found it, he began to moan. Satou clutched onto his broken wife and lifted her despite his leg. He was barely able to support her as he began limping back toward the medical professionals. “Haruno!” he tried to shout after the woman who had disappeared in the rising clouds of debris and dust. “Haruno!”

When a medic finally arrived to assist him, it wasn’t the one Satou had hoped for. “Please,” he begged them. “She’s dying—bleeding out!”

Sasuke saw the man’s world shatter on his face when the medic began to shake his head after checking the woman’s pulse. “I am sorry sir. She’s already gone.”

“No!” he began to scream, picking up his wife again and limping after the woman he believed could still save her. The memory ended after Satou disappeared into the rubble screaming after someone he clearly never found.

So that was it, Sasuke realized, stepping toward a new memory that materialized in the swirling darkness. He blamed Sakura for his wife’s death.

The next memory Sasuke played was Satou returning from the war and staring into the face of the child he and his wife had left behind. Sasuke was shocked at the resemblance the child held of Rina; Sasuke witnessed Satou experience the blow of pain that came at seeing the same likeness. When the child reached for him with tears in his eyes, Satou turned away from him, covering his anguished face and stepping past the threshold. Isao’s current caretaker reached for him to relieve his father’s neglect.

Sasuke felt like he had ashes in his mouth. He was more familiar with grief than anyone, but grief affected people in different ways. Sasuke both understood and didn’t understand. He didn’t dare go further; Sasuke knew what happened next concerning the child and didn’t want to see it for himself.

Deactivating his Sharingan, Sasuke withdrew from the black backdrop of Satou’s mind.

“What did you just do?” Satou asked, sinking to the floor on his knees and holding his head, an aftereffect that had Mako looking between the two ninja in fearful concern.

Sasuke saw no point in explaining to either of them. Satou was more than aware of what just happened. “I could erase a couple of those memories,” Sasuke explained to the whimpering man on the floor who gazed up at him in anger. “Is that what you want?”

Satou hesitated before saying, “You could really do that?”

“Is that what you really want?” Sasuke asked bitterly, “for someone to reach into your mind and take away all memory of your wife or child? To dishonor the both of them?”

“No,” Satou declared at that. “Not if it will remove them from my memory. The pain— just take that away.”

“Pain is a part of life and not something I can tamper with,” Sasuke deadpanned. “If you let it, your pain will turn into darkness, consume you, and taint every aspect of your life. Your son is the only thing you have left of your wife. You should value that and cling to that as your light.”

Sasuke understood what Sakura meant earlier when she told Sasuke her conversation with Gaara about the past generation affecting the next with their toxicity. Satou didn’t repond and Sasuke didn’t say anything else. He had said what he needed to although it left the Uchiha feeling like a hypocrite.

Turning to Mako, Sasuke declared, “Send the son to the Leaf’s mental health clinic; get him as far away as you can. The child needs to be in a different environment, or he will turn out like father. It’ll give Satou some time to reconsider what’s important to him.”

Opening the door, Sasuke thought twice before exiting. “Also,” he remarked to the man who began to sob on the ground. “The next time you lay your hands on my friend, you’ll have me to deal with, not the Kazekage.”

Satou began to scream in anger, throwing things against the walls again. The door swung shut behind Sasuke and Mako, closing the prisoner in his self-made cell.

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[phooka-animation]

2009 - 2019 Art

A little bit late, but I thought it would be fun to look back on my art! I deactivated my original deviantart account last year so I lost all my digital art up to 2012 (don’t worry I don’t regret it) but I’ll talk about each piece and what I was up to (this will be a long post).

2009

(Age 15) I still mostly drew traditionally. I was obsessed with nature and animals so that’s what I would draw. I remember that I would get home from work on a Sunday and draw one page of my webcomic (which I drew in MS Paint using a mouse).

2010

(Age 16) I was still really into rp groups and neopets. I had progressed from colour pencils (lol) and was drawing in marker pens and fineliners. This meant I couldn’t use printer paper to draw on anymore so I would steal scraps of wallpaper and draw on that.

2011

(Age 17) I finally started to try and draw humans! I started to write stories about cool girls who were edgy and that meant I had to learn to draw them. As you can see, this is around when I was REALLY into vocaloid.

2012

(Age 18) This was a really sad time for me. My sweet friend sister and pup, Meggie had died. I drew a lot of dogs and made a short comic about them.

2013

(Age 19) I finally had a graphics tablet! A friend gave me a cheeky free version of Paint Tool SAI (thanks Rhiannon) and I loved it!

2014

(Age 20) I was in uni and loving life. I felt indestructible. I filled a lot of sketchbooks. I was trying to draw with cleaner lines and use shading and texture for digital work.

2015

(Age 21) I was managing to make decent money from commissions for the first time. A lot of the things I drew I’m not proud of but I loved drawing peoples pets. I also took a lot of requests which I found often led to paid work (sorry, I know).

2016

(Age 22) I was more obsessed with magical girls than ever and most of what I drew outside of uni work was magical girl designs. I also drew a lot in Adobe Flash for some bizarre reason.

2017

(Age 23) After a mental breakdown fuelled by being bullied at my first studio job and being in an abusive relationship, I took hold of myself and decided to only ever do things that make me happy. I bought a cintiq after my bamboo bit the dust and made the short film, Ocean Magic. My art improved quickly with the cintiq!

2018

(Age 24) My art improved drastically this year! I was drawing more art than ever before, I completed my first Inktober and I made a lot of new friends that inspired me to always try and do better. I had also been getting more and more freelance work that helped to boost my confidence.

2019

(Age 25) I got an ipad pro and apple pencil and started working in Procreate! I was drawing even more, as the freedom of being able to sit however I liked mitigated the pain from car accident injuries and the convenience of taking it wherever I went. I’m working on my MA in Animation and I completed another full Inktober! I also got my first TV credit for animation. I’m more confident now than ever, not just because I’ve improved, but because I now see the fun in learning and making mistakes. Thank you! :)

#phookadrawsstuff #2009 - 2019 #art review #long post

[relucant]

i am legit so terrified my mother is going to give herself a stroke before i escape in a week. and because she cares about nothing except her own anxiety and the cat, despite my begging her in literal tears to help put a plan in place for what happens to my father if that does happen, to the shock of no one, she has done zero to make that happen even a little.

i mean, the cat is sick, which obviously puts her even more on edge than always -- i love the cat more than life itself and i would take a bullet for him in an instant, but he is pretty much her therapy animal and the only thing keeping her even remotely tethered to this earth. and he’s 11, and has liver problems, so yeah. it’s scary. but like, it’s also basically textbook UTI -- which last week at the vet, even before he started feeling sick, the vet was like “i’m going to go ahead and test him for a UTI, i think it might be possible.” i hate it when people are like “oh, it’s okay, he’ll be fine!” because maybe he won’t be, and that’s terrifying, but also like... the cat’s having some intestinal ickiness and doesn’t feel good isn’t quite apocalyptic yet.

and my father is garbage to be in the same room as, absolutely, but like... there’s also ways to cope somewhat with him, and she just is in such a constant spiral of literally paralytic anxiety that she just... won’t do absolutely anything to make her life slightly less miserable even it requires changing her behavior even a tiny bit.

“he just... he just came in here earlier, and just, i had all the magazines stacked up on the chair, and he just picked them up and threw them on the bed!” okay yeah, because he’s an asshole with dementia, but like, can you tell him not to do that? “stop attacking me!”

having a full-on panic attack, sucking in breaths, finally gasping out, “he- he came in here, and he said he was going to do laundry!” while bursting into full sobbing. “he- he can’t do his laundry! he doesn’t use bleach, and he- he just throws his underwear full of shit into the laundry!” yeah dude, that’s fucking awful. but erupting in earsplitting shrieks of “NO YOU CAN’T FUCKING WASH YOUR UNDERWEAR YOU HAVE A PAIR BECAUSE I JUST FUCKING CHECKED” well, have you considered, “no, don’t, they need to be bleached, i’ll do it tomorrow.” 

obviously, “calm down” has never made any situation better in the entire history of anything, ever. and her situation sucks. mine is probably worse in the immediate, because i have two parents who don’t know or care that, like, i’m a human being and not their maid/emotional support punching bag, respectively, but i have a way out, and she doesn’t, so that’s awful. and it’s going to be awful, at least until he dies, but again, like, it doesn’t have to be absolutely, intentionally as horrifying awful as it can possibly be, because making anything a little better would require her, like, doing something.

i keep trying to get on her case about looking into, like, actually getting treatment for her crippling anxiety disorder, even though i’ve been on this futile merrygoround for at least a decade and the circle never changes, because she’s so wrapped up in her cocoon of anxiety i don’t think she wants it to change.

every single time i bring up the possibility of just talking to someone about how bad it is -- like, i dunno, her shrink to start with, who it’s a miracle i even finally got her to go to that even, and i am dubious she’ll continue after i leave, even though she likes her shrink and also her shrink will come to the house, or even just her GP, who she also likes -- she just immediately reverts into, like, “well, maybe i should just start taking my xanax every day again.” no like, dude, that’s like... not a treatment for chronic anxiety. “well it says anxiety on the bottle.” yes. for like... a plane trip.

this exact back and forth has happened probably 50+ times, and she just deletes it and reuses it over and over.

“but -- but i don’t want to quit drinking! i can’t, not right now with what’s going on!” like honestly fair enough, that train has left the station. so like... okay, don’t. if you go to a doctor who refuses to treat you unless you quit drinking, like... go to a different doctor. i asked my shrink, and she’s kinda like yeah, obviously, drinking isn’t great on psych meds, but for most anxiety meds, it mostly just decreases their effectiveness (and don’t drive, which she doesn’t anyway), not kill you, and still probably better than nothing.

and then after the xanax response, and then the drinking response, she just shuts down any further attempt at the conversation and starts crying about whatever asshole thing my father last did, which she completely did not in any way at any time ask or tell him to, like, not do that. until she’s so upset she starts banshee shrieking at him for doing a thing she never once told him not to do. (or vice versa)

and i realized the other night that what gets to me so much (among a million other things) is like... the exact shitty ways he behaviors towards her, and that she comes sobbing to me about, are like... unsettlingly similar to ways she behaviors towards me, if in different ways.

like, come into her room, sit down, talk blankly at her about stupid shit and then get annoyed when she tries to actually respond? kiiinda like every time she comes into my room, sits down, complains to me about the exact same thing she complained about last night, and then gets upset when i try to have a back and forth conversation.

“he just -- he just says the same thing, over and over! five times in the last two days if we have money for the gardener! he’s asked me twice today what the baby’s name is! he told me three times he’s going to go get the mail! it’s like talking to a r*tarded toddler!” (excuse that word, not sure how to rephrase)

yes mom, and that’s the 10th time this week you’ve said it’s like talking to a toddler, and i’ve said yes, it is like talking to a toddler, because he has dementia, he cannot form new memories, and two minutes later you just wail that it’s like talking to a toddler, again.

and the cycle continues, because i know perfectly well it’s as pointless to think there’s any chance of her making any significant changes in her behavior or grasp on her mental health, any more so than my father whose brain is nearly chewed up and spat out by now. but she’s still in there just enough that i can’t help feeling like i could almost get through to her if i could figure out how. and when she’s not near my father, like when we were up in new jersey with my brother and sister in law and baby nephew, her anxiety abated to the point that lke, yeah, she still had a meltdown when faced with like, a single step, despite being surrounded by three able-bodied adult humans, but overall, mentally, was like at like 70% a fairly normal elderly woman, kinda dotty but doting on her grandchild and puppies and basking in at least one of her children turning out with an apple pie life (about 15 years later, but still pretty perfect). and so i’m haunted by all the what-ifs, what if she can just survive until my father dies and she’ll be okay, so maybe i can still help, so maybe i should keep trying, even though i know, i know, i know.

and i try to keep in mind that it’s also easier for me because, like, my father more or less likes me, as a person -- i don’t think he’s ever loved me, or is capable of love (except for our pets, which honestly is a fairly big redeeming factor, i suppose) but he thinks i’m interesting, and my brother, and that if he was manipulated into having kids by whatever the hell he used to do, his resentment of our existence is tempered somewhat by the fact that he’s kinda pleased with how we turned out, and i have one or two pleasant memories of sitting on the trunk of his old car as a small child pointing out the pleiades, or drunkenly reciting ts eliot on the kitchen floor. my mother does not get that leeway; he thinks (or acts, at least) that since he did his duty and got married and procreated, her entire existence should be devoted to his convenience -- not even comfort, just convenience, and making herself exist as little as possible.

which plays into the cycle again because then i, unfairly, resent my mother for that more than him, because it genuinely did not occur to me even as a precocious kid that fathers were supposed to, like, love their children until i was at least in middle school if not later; it still jars me sometimes, bitterly, when i see dads who are just like in love with their kids. but my mom was my mom, so as it became clear that she never actually wanted to, like, parent anyone either, she’s the one my hurt and pissiness channels to.

anyway if anyone actually read all of this, i know i say the same shit over and over about this, but it’s so complicated not many of the few people i talk to one on one know what’s going, and i don’t want to over-vent, but i feel like i’m about to claw my skin off with the anger and frustration and regret, so thanks.

in a funny-scary sign-off, so i finally convinced my mother to get a mini-freezer so i can stock it full of real food before i bounce to eurasia next week, and it came today; instructions said to let it sit for a few hours after getting it in place before plugging it in, so i hauled it into a convenient dining room corner and forgot it. fast forward i come out to the kitchen to check on the huge vat of minestone soup i’m making and my father is lumbering triumphantly out of the kitchen pantry with a frayed probably 40 year old extension cord in his hand.

i blink at him, immediately concerned. he’s like, “i think i’ll go ahead and hook up that new... thing-a-ma-jig! ‘cause the thing on the plug, it’s got the three things [prongs], but the things in the walls, they’ve only got the two things! so i’m gonna just go ahead and plug it in here!”

i’m like, “NONONONONONONO!” because like (a) common sense and (b) the manual was specifically like do not do NOT use an extension cord, and if you MUST make ABSOLUTELY SURE it has these EXACT SPECIFICATIONS and is IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM SOME DECREPIT CORD-SNAKE YOU DUG OUT OF THE DUSTY BOWELS OF YOUR KITCHEN PANTRY (i may have exaggerated that last bit). he’s like what?? i explain that to him, in fewer words, and that i in fact have an adapter specifically to convert two-prong to three-prong.

he’s mystified, demands explanation of how that works; i try to elaborate, that i put the two prong end in the wall and plug the freezer into the three-prong end, and just blank looks. “well i don’t think that’s going to work, i think we should just use this.” i just kinda take it, tell him i’ve got it under control, ignore his aggrieved hissing, and walk away.

i go to tell my mom this, because like gallows humor or gtfo i guess -- she’s like jesus even i realize that’s not a good idea -- and only then do i realize that the extension cord he had so proudly produced was in fact a two prong... to a two prong. so either he didn’t notice that, or more likely, just intended to jam the two prongs into the extension cord and just leave the third prong kinda just... out.

and it’s sad as hell, because dude was an electrical engineer who worked at the absolute cutting-edge of the aerospace industry, like literally worked on apollo 11 at cape canaveral and dementia has eaten his brain to the point he doesn’t understand plugs. but. sometimes you take the laughs where you can get it.

anyway one week one day from right now my plane takes off so please can just like (a) my cat (b) my mother and (c) my father hang on that long (in that order) until i have enough distance to get my fucking head on straight again for a tiny little bit.

#not spn #personal #long long rant #family #dementia #anxiety #alcoholism #am trying not to punch a thing

[mellicose]

That Woman Over There - Chapter 24

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: Teen, for some mature themes

Word count: 3323

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 |

He looked at Connie with adoration.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one passing out after sex?” he whispered in her ear, then kissed her cheek.

“Stereotype,” she muttered, and rolled over to lay her head on his chest. Soon, she was snoring.

He gently inserted her mouthguard, and went down the stairs to the kitchen. He wondered whether he should make them a romantic dinner. He looked in his fridge for something to cook, but there wasn’t much in there. He’d been busy in the last week, and grocery shopping was the furthest thing from his mind.

He poured himself a glass of almond milk and squirted chocolate in it. It was one of his favorite tea time treats. As he savored it, he noticed the light on in Olivia’s kitchen. His sense told him not to bother her. But he couldn’t avoid her like she was the one who had done something wrong. Also, he missed Monty.

He ran across the back yard. He knocked on her door, bracing himself for possible verbal abuse. She wasn’t that type of woman usually, but maybe he deserved it.

She saw him and opened the door. She was silent, but her energy wasn’t negative.

“Hey, John. We're getting our things together. We’re going to gran’s house, aren’t we?” she said to Monty, who whizzed by in his walker.

“JUN!” He yelled, and waved his hands to be picked up.

“You’re going to your ma’s?” he said. He bounced Monty in his arms, and the baby tucked his head into his neck and smacked a kiss there.

“Sweet boy,” he said, and kissed the top of his head. “Have you had foods yet?” he whispered to him. He was a bit low energy.

“I haven’t had time to properly feed him something when he woke from his nap,” Olivia said. She folded clean laundry and put it into a large wheelie suitcase.

“How about some spaghetti?” he said to the baby. “With butter?” Monty didn’t like tomatoes.

The baby pursed up his mouth. “Mmmmm.” He looked exactly like Liv.

“Mmmmm,” he repeated, and nuzzled him. “Yum.”

He confidently went into the cupboards for the pasta and the pot, and put the water on the stove to boil. He carried the baby into the living room and sat down.

“Thanks for feeding Monty,” she said, folding a blouse and shoving it into her overstuffed suitcase.

“Have you eaten today?” he said.

Her mouth was in a straight line, and she was entirely too pale. “Now that I think about it, not really. Just tea and cigarettes.”

“Let me make you something before you go. It doesn’t have to be pasta.” Monty crawled out of his lap and to his toys on the corner.

She gave him a bruised look. He stood up to check on the water, and she threw down the pair of jeans she was folding and put her arms arounds him, hard. He gasped. It was the first time she had ever hugged so hard.

“Livvie,” he said, using the nickname he rarely used. She sniffed into his chest, and her shoulders shook. Even her tears were quiet. He held her closer.

“It’s over, John. She’s gone,” she said.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said. She pulled away, and patted his chest.

“I’ve cried so much in the last few hours my eyes hurt,” she said. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t know what I’m going to do, though. It’s terrifying.”

“What’s happening at your parent’s?” he said. He went to put the pasta in the boiling water.

“Closure, I think.” She sat down. “I’ll have to bite the bullet since they told me I rushed into things-”

He chuckled. “If 10 months is rushing it, I’m going light speed,” he said. “Anyway, please continue.”

Olivia bit her lip. “She told me I should’ve let her go the first time, when I was pregnant. They offered to let me stay there until I was ready to get back to work, but I refused their help. Then, of course, there was that nosy weirdo coming around to bother me all the time,” she said, and gave him a crooked smile.

“Any old excuse to visit a posh house,” he said.

Monty threw something that made a discordant tinkling sound. He wanted attention. John held out his arms for him, but instead of crawling, he pulled himself up by a large stuffed animal and stood there, staring at him intently.

“Uh-oh. You doing a dirty?” he said, and chuckled. The boy huffed as if insulted he would poop in such an august position.

“Don’t you be posh about it. If you gotta go, you gotta go,” John said.

“Tak,” Monty said indignantly. It was a nonsense word, but it felt a lot like hush. He pooched out his lips and flexed his chubby toes.

“You’ll make sure Alex is okay when she comes back and doesn’t see me?” Olivia said. He sighed. She bit her lip. “She told me what happened today.”

He crossed his legs and remained silent.

“She also told me what you said,” she said, searching his face. “About Monty and I.” He curled into himself. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know we meant that much to you.”

“Of course you do,” he said, taking her hand. “You’re like family. I love both of you.” She let him hold her hand. After such a horrible day, it felt good. She remembered again that men provide a different kind of warmth than women, but it was no less necessary. She discovered it young with her father, but since she wasn’t attracted to men, it had slipped her mind. She squeezed back. “You changed my life.”

“You keep saying that, but I fail to see how,” she said. Her tone was gentle.

“I was a sad, lonely involuntary bachelor. Knowing you reset my mentality about what relationships with women could be.”

She sighed and looked away. He ran away to take the pasta off the boil. “Are you sure you don’t want anything, Liv? You should eat something. You’re feeding Monty.”

“A tomato sandwich, then?” she said, walking into the kitchen. He smiled.

“How does Monty hate tomatoes so much? You eat them like apples.”

“I suppose the father isn’t partial,” she said, and shrugged. “It’s so strange I don’t know things like that. I know his IQ and what hereditary diseases don’t run in his family, but not whether he bites his tongue when he’s concentrating. It’s a mystery.”

He drained the mushy noodles, and cut them into bite-sized pieces. “Would it be rude if I asked how it goes?”

“How what goes?”

“The process,” he whispered. He put a pat of butter on the hot noodles. Monty wobbled by on unsteady legs.

“Are you asking about a biology lesson?” Olivia said, suppressing a smile.

“No – I mean, I know how everything works, in nature. But do they bring a cup of … you know what and shoot it up there?” Monty fell on his bottom, and quietly pulled himself up with a kitchen chair.

“More or less. With insemination, the magic of procreation happens in an aseptic examination room with a deep breath, a prayer to your deity of choice, and a turkey baster.”

“Romantic,” he said, stirring the butter into the pasta. With a grunt, Monty pushed off and walked to his high chair.

“And you did it all alone,” he said, shaking his head.

“Does a doctor count? They suggested that I bring a partner to help make the way easier for the swimmers,” she said. “But that was a no-go.”

“Eh?” John said.”Make the way?”

“You know,” she said. “Fool around. Apparently, arousal ups the chances of conception.”

“Oh,” he said. He went into the refrigerator, and found some mashed squash for the boy. He dumped it in the still-hot pasta pot. “If I add some fried sage, you’d be eating as well as a prince,” he said. It was too silent.

“Where’d you go, boy?” he said.

He made a sound from the living room. When they looked, he stood by the window, holding the sill. He held his head high.

“Jun,” he said with finality. And he took a few perfect steps to the desk.

Olivia and John looked at each other, eyes narrowed.

“In the kitchen,” John said. He walked his fingers across his palm.

“Did we miss his first steps while talking about insemination?” she said incredulously.

Monty screamed to get their attention back. Then, he bit his little tongue, and walked to the sofa.

“Uh?” he said, looking at them. They started to laugh.

“My sweet, clever boy!” she said. She knelt to hug and kiss him. “Walking around like the lord of the manor. Do it again for mum,” she said. Both of them pulled their phones out. Olivia walked by the door. “Walk to mummy,” she said. He smiled, squared up, and took the wobbling steps to her legs.

They burst into fresh cheers. Monty squealed along. They kissed him until his cheeks were rose, and Olivia posted the short video on her Facebook.

“You’re gonna have to baby proof everything at your parent’s house now,” he said as he put the baby in his high chair.

“Why does he wait until you’re around to do these things?” she said, smiling. “You’re a good luck charm.”

“It’s chance,” he said. “This has been a week of milestones.”

“He really loves you. You’ll come to visit the house, right?”

He put down Monty’s food and held her hand again. “Of course. You’ll have cream tea ready for me on the patio?”

“You’re insufferable,” she said, smiling.

His smile faded. “I hope you know that regardless of what happened, you can count on me. For anything. You say the word, and it’s done.”

Just a year ago, she would’ve slapped him silly, thinking him a disingenuous twat. But so much had changed.

“I know,” she said. One last question pricked at her. He sat down and blew gently on the squash. Monty slapped the tray, eager to eat.

“John…” She sat down beside him. “You loved her,” she said, searching his gaze. “Alex. I knew it, since I love her.”

He tied the giant plastic bib and handed Monty his special spoon. “Do your worst, mate,” he said. Monty giggled and dug in. He rose to get him his sippy cup. Olivia wondered whether he would say something. When Monty had his juice, he sat closer to her.

“My love was selfish,” he said.

“Isn’t most love, though?” Olivia said.

“I don’t know. It’s jealous, sometimes. Selfishness hints at something else.”

“You said at mother’s that you loved her, at first sight. Although it felt like a punch to the chest, I recognized the feeling in myself. That’s how I knew it was real.”

“After 13 years of Mara, my perceptions were a bit skewed,” he said. He opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“At this point, you can’t hurt me much more,” she said. “Speak.”

“She shines. It’s something about the way she doesn’t care about what anyone thinks. Being around her is like getting carte blanche to be yourself too. It’s addictive,” he said.

“I suppose,” she said. He made a good point. It was also the first thing she noticed about her. At first, it was charming. As time passed, it grated on her nerves, since it started to feel like callousness.

“After a decade of being cowed into misery, it was a change,” he said. “There’s no silence with her. No mystery. Everything’s right there in the open.”

“Yeah,” she said.

Monty coughed, and they both turned to him. He took a deep drink of his sippy cup and kept working on his noodles.

“I wanted her, Olivia. I was honest with you about that. Really honest. I knew you were together, but it didn’t matter to me. And when the opportunity presented itself, I took what I could get.” She sniffed. He wiped squash from Monty’s cheeks. “I wasn’t always that kind of man. It’s not what I was taught, but I was angry at all the world and I didn’t care who I hurt to get what I felt I deserved.”

“Her and I weren’t married,” Olivia said. 

“I don’t mean to sound like a jerk, but it wasn’t about you two. It never was. It was about me, and what I wanted.”

“That’s love,” she said.

He tilted his head.”I hate to quote Holy Writ, but love is selfless. Sometimes to a fault. Like, irritatingly so,” he said, thinking back on all he endured for Mara. And, given the opportunity, all he would endure for Connie.

“I dunno,” she said. “I think the first symptom of love is clinging on to what you love, no matter the cost.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think it counts if the person you love isn’t clinging just as hard to you,” he said. “That only counts if you’re battling together against outside circumstances. Not if, internally, your desires are at odds.”

She gave him a surprised look. He was much wiser than he let on.

“I wanted her,” he repeated. “But when I got to know all of you, the selfishness faded into something real.”

“I don’t understand how it works,” she said. She knew she was possibly being obtuse, but she had to know.

“It’s almost as if you’re upset I rejected her,” he said, his brow high.

She shrugged. “You won. After all this time, she chose you.”

“She wants me, yes,” he said. Monty threw his sippy cup to the floor and whimpered. He was done. “Are you sensing a pattern?” John’s face began to transform. There was hurt there now, clear as day. “I got a taste of my own medicine, and it was mighty bitter,” he said.

Olivia took off Monty’s bib and cleaned him with a wet wipe.

“I don’t get it.” She went upstairs to prepare a bath for Monty. He stared from the landing. “You can come up,” she said. He followed her like a wraith to the bathroom. Monty squealed. He loved bath time. She started a bath, and threw in the little ducky with the thermometer on it. The baby stood by the tub and did his bath dance, beautifully oblivious of what was going on around him. John sat on the lip of the tub and patted his head.

“I recognized the look, even before she told me,” he said. “It was the same eyes you and I had for her.”

She pulled off Monty’s clothes. He sighed happily when she took off his diaper. He rubbed his bare bottom pensively and waited for the water to be ready.

It took a couple of beats for what he said to sink in. She sighed.

“You get me now?” he said gently. She put her hands in the water and swirled some baby soap into it. Monty raised his arms, and she put him in the bath seat. He giggled and splashed around. She handed him a cup printed with cartoon sea animals. He put it under the water, then poured it over his own head. He took a whooping breath, then laughed.

She washed his hair, working the berry-scented suds through hair nearly as pale as the bubbles. He cooed with irritation, but didn’t fidget. John walked to the stairs.

“Don’t go. We’ll be right down,” she said. She put her hand over his eyes and rinsed his hair. He went into the kitchen and began to clean up. As he scraped the remains of the spaghetti into the trash, he realized how much things were going to change. The idyll was over.

His bedroom light came on, and the blinds shivered. Connie stuck out her tongue at him. 

He texted her. I’m fixing things with Olivia. I’ll be there in a moment.

His phone buzzed. You actually wrote all those words out? Ilysm

I don’t do the omg brb roflcopter thing.

Yr fingers r gonna b sore then 

She disappeared from the window.

I can’t wait. Have a drink on me until I text you. We’re almost done.

K

She appeared at his kitchen window, wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. She waved a beer bottle at him. He blew her a kiss. She bit her lip, then lifted up the shirt and jiggled for him. He put his hand over his heart.

Saucy wench.

For you always 

She pressed the cold bottle to her nipple.

That’s gorgeous. 

He leaned over the sink and blew her a kiss.

“Anyone walking by can see you two,” Olivia said.

“Holy mother of balls,” he said, twisting around. Connie dipped out of view. Monty was brushed, sweet smelling, and in his pajamas. He sat down quickly to hide his semi, but he still blushed. “Sorry.”

Olivia shrugged. “I’m leaving. I don’t care about what the neighbors think anymore. I was watching out for you.” She sat down. “What about my sandwich?”

“Of course,” he said, bursting into action.

She put Monty in the walker, and he began to run back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. He found a crusty loaf in the bread box, but she stopped him. “It has to be soft bread, or it will crush the tomato when I bite into it and make a mess.”

“Ah,” he said, and grabbed the pan loaf bread that Alex preferred. “Butter or mayonnaise?”

“Mayonnaise. Butter’s not terribly good cold,” she said. He let himself be directed. “Cut the tomato thick. The slices have to have some body.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He felt traces of Connie in her.

“Spread both slices of bread with the mayo,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “And after, cover them with very thin slices of cheddar. Last goes the tomato, with generous grind of black pepper and salt.”

He went through the steps, then cut the crusts from the bread. “Do you prefer squares or triangles?” he said.

“Triangles, remember?” she said.

He put the plate in front of her and sat down. She bit into a corner and sighed. Monty ran by and giggled. She picked up a small plushie on the tray of Monty’s walker, and threw it at the kitchen window.

“Eh?” he said as it flew over his shoulder.

“Connie’s making funny faces at me,” she said, and smiled.

He turned and blew her a kiss. She pointed at Olivia, then mimicked biting into a sandwich. She pulled up her shirt and sucked in her belly until the slats of her ribs showed. Hungry. Olivia stuck out her tongue and took another bite. Her eyes focused on John.

“You’re right,” she said finally. “I held on too tight. I suppose I wouldn’t have had to hold on at all if it was right.” She put her hand over his. “I’m sorry. For vilifying you.”

“I was a twat for a bit. I don’t blame you.”

“But you’re not one anymore. Most days,” she said, and smiled at him. “We’ll drive out tomorrow after Connie’s taxi. I will send a van for the desk. Will you watch the house if Alex decides to stay with her mum?”

The corners of his lips trembled. It was all too real. He hugged her tight.

“Alright, alright. We won’t be far. In any case, it’s looking like I’m just the first to move on,” she said, patting his back. When he pointed up, Connie was looking at them through the door. Olivia waved her in. John opened his arms to her, but she walked by and stole the other half of the sandwich.

“Nice,” John said.

“What? I love you, but I’m starving,” she said through a squishy mouthful of bread.

“John, can I order a couple more?” Olivia said.

“Coming right up,” he said, and stood with a smile.

#that woman over there #you me and him #David Tennant #fan fiction #Olivia/John #who would've thought they'd be such friends #be still my heart #I want a group hug with these characters #I think I'll really need one by the end

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Crackverse 10: How Harry Met Sa... Part 1

This is a trip down the memory lane. Pretty much the ‘how the hell did they get together?’ and a part of ‘why are there that many Smurfs references in this whole fic?’. Sadly, there are no ugly-ass sweaters this time. The second part will include ‘there was only one bed *gasp*’.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3Part 4 Part 5Part 6 Part 7 Xmas New Year Part 8 Soulmate AU Part 9 

One wired jaw later Gabriel realized he was in love.

To say that Gabriel was utterly unimpressed with Jack Morrison upon their first meeting was an understatement. The man was big, blonde, blue-eyed, had well-pronounced cheekbones and a chin you could cut yourself on, and in general appeared as if he just walked out of White Power rally, or maybe even worse, stepped out of Wehrmacht propaganda where he had been used as an example of a perfect Aryan. His carefree cockiness also radiated the textbook case of jock, whose idea of a fun night out was cow tipping. And then, the blonde wasn’t even his type, he preferred them a bit shorter and quieter.

However, not unlike the Autobots, there was much more going under that hood than met the eye.

Yes, Gabriel Reyes was a nerd.

*

One of the first qualities that could be observed about Jack Morrison was his apparent death wish. No matter the circumstances, be it sparring, training, or war games, the man was like a rabid wolverine. Literally. Or a rabid honey badger because ratels were scary as shit on their own, but add to that rabies…

Which was many roundabout words to describe the fact that the blonde would take on someone twice his size without looking back, might die fighting his opponent, but, sure as hell, he was taking said opponent down with him. And then he would seemingly resurrect like in those documentaries, all with that demented toothy smile of his plastered on his bloodied lips. And Gabriel was not beyond appreciating that kind of dedication (or craziness).

Yes, Gabriel Reyes was a nerd who not only watched old cartoons – he relaxed with Animal Planet on.

*

Another characteristic of Jack Morrison was not letting any kind of bullshit fly by him, which more often than not ended with a brawl.

“That fucking filthy chink,” Beckson muttered one day in the gym, loud enough for everyone to hear. Jack only smiled that deranged smile of his and put the water bottle down on the bench. Then he almost flew at the man.

Later, with tissue paper stuffed up his nose, still smiling, Jack shrugged at Gabriel’s question of what the fuck was wrong with him.

“I’m not fucking going to let the motherfucker insult my siblings, am I?”

Somehow, Gabriel thought the grin accompanying the blonde’s answer was, in fact, a teeny bit attractive. He pegged it as cabin fever.

*

All of the above made Jack Morrison tolerable, but not someone you would spend your time with or talk to. Until the Smurfs Incident.

“What the fuck are you watching? Are those fucking Smurfs?” Gabriel sighed, exasperated, ready to either tell Jack to kindly fuck off or to make up some lame excuse. “Wow, and that’s the shitty racist episode. You know they were fucking black in the original version?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel grunted when Jack wriggled himself onto the bunk to sit by his side and elbowed him to move the screen so he could watch too. “How do you even know that?”

“Hyung was fucking obsessed with this shit, had to dress up for fucking Halloween, twice as Gargamel and once as fucking Smurfette.” Gabriel snorted trying to imagine Jack in a white skirt. “What? I think I made a fucking fine Smurfette!”

“Pictures or it didn’t happen.”

“I’ll get Ma to send me some. Ha, get them, Azrael!”

It got the ball rolling. In the end, they were both kind of nerdy, although each in his own way.

*

Thing was, Ma and Pa Morrison were the God-fearing sort, Catholics, and firmly believed in procreation and populating the God-given Earth, so Jack was the middle child out of ten total, with four sisters and five brothers – all nine of them adopted.

Gabriel didn’t even try to remember the names the blonde gleefully rattled off showing him the pictures, especially since few of them sounded like something nigh unpronounceable. And yes, he had to concede Jack made a damn fine Smurfette, especially considering he had shaved his legs for the occasion. Though, a definitely manly Smurfette.

“Oh my fucking god, that fucking itched like shit regrowing, should have gone with fucking stockings,” the blonde groaned when Gabriel just tapped his finger on the aforementioned photographic evidence. “It got me five beers and a fucking date, on a positive note. And a shit-ton of sweets to divide later.”

“Dated a cheerleader?” Gabriel swiped to another photo where the blonde posed with a trophy. Jack, for a brief moment, looked maybe a bit angry, but then just shrugged.

“Arsehole. Yeah, I did. Went to prom, fucked under the bleachers, almost gave him a shiner week later when he fucking broke up with me because he had said he fucking felt he was obliged to give me a pity fuck before.”

Right. Gabriel knew a thing or two about computers, and it helped the school had no security to speak of. The yearbook had a page titled ‘The Kings of the Prom’.

He was in deep shit now.

*

With the restricted access to the outside world and a very shallow dating pool - not to mention close living quarters that made tempers run short - it was almost inevitable, Gabriel surmised in retrospect, that he had developed a bit of infatuation. The first time it happened, he had been cussing Jack out for keeping his boot-clad feet on the bunk.

“My fucking ass is not moving from the fucking bed,” Jack shot back while turning another page of a worn out book. Gabriel added what he would do to that ass under his breath in Spanish, and froze when he had realized what exactly left his mouth. Thanks to whatever deity that decided to listen, Jack casually looked up at him. “Yeah, fuck you and your little dog too.”

The second time it happened was during sparring when he had finally gotten the upper hand on Jack. The blonde narrowed his eyes, snarled something incomprehensible back, and then used Gabriel’s confusion to twist and elbow him hard just below the ribs.

“Puto!”

“Skurwysyn!”

“Vodka!” Someone called from the benches, laughing.

After that, it became a casual thing with Jack obviously not understanding a word except some most common profanities and answering in kind. Gabriel wasn’t really proud of that, but hey, it helped to relieve some tension.

It all came to a screeching halt two months later when a new supervisor was inducted into the program. The woman, almost unnaturally tall and lanky, with a skin nearly glowing with a shade of violet and raised decorative lines of scars on her forehead, was waiting for them just outside of the showers.

“Mister Morrison.” Jack stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights, his expression somewhere between pure shock and utter terror. “I get invited to evaluate and supervise the super secret enhancement program and while reviewing the personnel files who do I see enrolled?”

“Achan!” The blonde lost one of his flip-flops when he launched himself at her, engulfing her in a hug.

“Hello, little brother.” Well, Gabriel did comment on that. The little part, not the brother thing. “And here, Ma and Pa are thinking you are doing top secret ranger missions.”

“Oh, fuck, you aren’t going to snitch?”

“And what? Tell them their boy might drop dead any moment because of complex chemicals pumped into his body as opposed to being shred to bits by omnics?”

“Fucking touché,” Jack released her, laughing. “So I won’t fucking snitch you’re not working on your fucking grant, sis.”

“It was enough you weren’t home for Christmas, Jack.” The blonde groaned. “You are coming back for Easter, and, as a gift for the whole family, you can bring your friend.” Achan poked his forehead and Jack tsked, looking back for a second.

“That’s not really fucking good idea, sis. They’re going to start getting fucking ideas.”

Well, Gabriel had some choice words about fucking but seeing Achan’s brows rise made him realize that maybe, maybe, he had made a grave tactical error.

“I’m going to look the other way now,” the new supervisor smirked at Jack as if she were daring him to say ‘hold my beer’. The blonde shuffled on his feet and then turned around rapidly. The punch was solid, but not undeserved, Gabriel admitted to himself from the floor. Jack loomed over him.

“You want to tap that fucking ass, fucking ask.”

Well, it was definitely not his most shining moment. Honestly, it was as far as it got from the most shining moment. It topped even vomiting blood at three-months mark into the program. Gabriel resigned to it and went with the flow.

“Wanna fuck?”

“Sure, why not?” Jack shrugged. “Coming for Easter?”

“Possibly.”

“And call me a butterfly again and you’ll need a proctologist to get that boot outta your arse.”

“I hope this is the last time I’m playing your wingman, little brother.”

One wired jaw later Gabriel realized he was in love. The revelation had not been welcome. He urgently hoped it would pass soon. It still didn’t make the rest of the day any less awkward than it was already.

#sometimes I write #r76 #reaper76 #what is this even #crack it's crack #proper part #This memory lane trip is pretty much headcanons for crackverse #everybody is permitted to be a young moron #i promise we will get eventually to the 'home movie' #aka 'THE sex tape' #and Widowmaker date #oh yeah #the butterfly thing #since he picked up slang from different people #gabe didn't mean it that way #if you know what i mean #the ugly-ass sweaters will come back #and Hana will indeed be the lesser shark in the see #and yeah #the 'boyfriends' thing will return #tho #this is a slightly tweaked version to what has been posted before #I guess #since the halloween secial been scrapped #there will be still an explanation for other Smurf references

[1-800-jikooks]

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood || I

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Warning: smut, swearing, drugs and alcohol abuse

Word Count: 5.3k

Prologue - Chapters - Next

The smell of food drew Yoongi out of his bed and into his dining room. He quickly took a seat as his roommate finished making his breakfast. The night before slowly started to sink in, him being thrown out of the wedding, meeting her, talking about things he’s never said out loud before. If he was being honest with himself he never felt this good with some one before, and it scared him.

“Morning,” said Jungkook. Yoongi ignored him and took out his phone checking for new notifications. “So, I’ve been thinking about a way to fix my problems,” Jungkook said bringing Yoongi a plate of food. “You’ve finally found a solution to move out my house?” Yoongi asked taking  a bite from his plate. “No, I mean my real problems, like the nightmares and how I wanna do heroin all the time,” Jungkook said like it was a normal thing. Yoongi looked at him weirdly. Jungkook was usually the quiet type but when he spoke it amazed Yoongi how blunt he was sometimes. They have been friends for a while, even though he would never admit, Jungkook was one of the only people he cared about, in his own way. “So, anyways, I think I should-” “Hey, why did you let me sleep so late?” Y/N interrupted Jungkook, yawning. Her platinum blonde hair was messy and she only wore Yoongi’s shirt from the night before. She started to notice details of the house that she hadn’t the night before. The house was bigger than she remembered. It was a big open space, you could see the living room, the dining table and the kitchen from the top of the  of the wooden staircase that led to Yoongi’s room down in the basement. She approached the table and reached for Yoongi’s plate taking it from him, “God, I’m so hungry.” Jungkook and Yoongi stared at her weirdly, nobody ever spent the night. “What?” she asked. They both shook their head and continued what they were doing. “I’m Y/N by the way and this food is awesome.” “Thanks,” the raven haired boy said quietly. “How did you guys meet?” She asked taking another bite. “We met in college,” Jungkook said “No, we didn’t.” Yoongi responded to him. “He was in college and I sold stuff to the students,” he looked at his plate and moved to the table. “He gave me CD’s and music sheet books because he saw potential in me.” “I gave you CD’s I stole from a music store because I couldn’t afford the weed you sold.” Jungkook shrugged at his comment and happily continued eating. “Yeah, well, heard his music?” Jungkook asked. Yoongi shot him a glare, he knew how much he hated when people pointed out his music career, yet Jungkook still did it all the time. “No, not really,” she paused for a moment, “Wait, now I know where I’ve seen you before! Didn’t you sing in that really catchy song last year with um, what’s his name? Kim Seokjin? He is a really good singer-song writer.” “I rapped and wrote it.” Yoongi mumbled. “How come I haven’t heard anything new from you?” She asked him. “I’m working on stuff, it takes time to write good music.” he grumbled. The truth was, he wasn’t writing at all. In fact he was completely tired of everyone he talks to asks when was he going to release a complete album, he would always have the same answer. In reality, he had absolutely nothing. He couldn’t write anything. He stayed up every night he wasn’t in a bar locked up in his room trying to produce something but nothing came to his mind. “Cool,” she said. “So, who’s giving me a ride to work?” “I don’t have a car, I’m too poor,” Jungkook said picking up the plates. “Min, you’re up.” “My car is at the reception. We took a cab, remember?” he said rolling his eyes. “Shit, well, I’ll call somebody,” she said looking for her phone then she called the only person who would be willing to pick her up.

“I cannot believe you slept with Min Yoongi!” Jimin scolded her. He couldn’t believe how reckless she was, she knew what an asshole he was and she still did it. “Drive faster, I’m late for work,” Y/N said ignoring her best friend’s scolds “He dated my sister!” Jimin continued, “And you slept with him on her wedding night!” “Apparently,” She laughed. “Why are you crawling up my ass about this Jiminie?” “You know what an asshole he is. I tell you all the time about how he swallowed her up, she disappeared her life into his and was never the same.” “Yeah, but that’s because Jeongae didn’t have a personality to begin with.” “Well, that’s true,” Jimin agreed smiling. “Ugh, Yoongi is the worst. You’re not gonna see him again, are you?” “No way,” Y/N answered. She was never the type of person who had a relationship with someone, not a serious one at least. The liberty to fuck whoever she wanted, party whenever she wanted, drink before 10 am and just enjoy life all together was more of her thing. Relationships only limited the possibility of fun, she told herself. But she couldn’t help but notice a weird feeling forming in her chest at the thought of Yoongi. “We did have fun though.” What if Yoongi thought they had too much fun last night? What if he… if he,asked her out? Y/N shivered in disgust at the thought, and put her feet on top of the dashboard, “Oh god, I hope he doesn’t think last night was a thing.” “Yeah, I hope.” Jimin said, “Hey! Take your feet off the dashboard!” “Stop the car,” She said annoyed “What?” “I said, stop the car.” she demanded, Jimin stopped the car and looked at her with disbelief. “You’re gonna judge me for having sex with a guy at a wedding, how many guys did you blow at our 5 year reunion?” Jimin looked down at his feet, “Four.” “Four?!” She said surprised, “You told me three.” “I might have left out Kim Min Ho,” he said smiling. “Ew, so gross,” Y/n laughed. “We used to have so much fun.” “Yeah, we did. Why did you have to get married?” You pouted. Jimin’s smiled faded away. You quickly realized what she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to bring it up to hurt me.” Jimin had been married for a year to Lee Ma Ri now, and she was a nightmare. Not to mention Jimin was gay. The marriage had been arranged since Jimin started college, his parents decided that if he was going to inherit their company they couldn’t have a soiled reputation because of Jimin’s “bad habits”. Jimin shrugged it off proceeded to drive. He hasn’t been the same since that wedding, he was usually a giggly happy-go-lucky type of guy but now he snaps from time to time and gets annoyed easily. He was truly unhappy. She couldn’t do anything but feel bad for her best friend.

“Great, just great!” Yoongi said when he opened yet another letter from the entertainment company. The company that worked with him for his first single with Kim Seok Jin kept nagging at him to write an album. They knew he was good and that he would make them a lot of money so they kept bothering him instead of dropping him like they would with anybody else. He took the cigarette that rested behind his ear and put it between his lips. “Hey, I’m Oon Jong Joon,” Yoongi turned around to see a little boy standing in his driveway. The kid’s head reached Yoongi’s shoulder. He was a bit chubby, had dark black hair and his face was squished down like he had hit a brick wall. A bit like pug. Yoongi thought. “What?” he said with a grimace. “I just moved in,” he pointed at the house in front of his. “Right over there.” “Of course you did,” Yoongi grumbled annoyed and lighted his cigarette. “Why do you say that?” “Because the death of any interesting neighbourhood is caused by the influx of procreators,” He replied rolling his eyes. “Oh, that’s cool. My nutritionist is gay, too.” “I’m not gay, I’m a musician.” “What’s that?” Yoongi let out a sigh bothered by the presence of the child and his insistence to talk to him. “A letter of instigation from an entertainment company. You know- ” “You wanna hang out sometime?” The kid interrupted. “What?” Yoongi grimaced. “What are you even talking about? I’m an adult. Do you know what that means?” The kid stared at him blank look on his face. Not that bright, Yoongi noted. “It means that I am attacked at all times by a tsunami of complex thoughts and struggles, deeply aware of my own mortality and able to contemplate the futility of everything and yet still rage against the dying light. So, do you see how monumentally stupid, you a child, asking me, an adult, if I want to hang out?” “My dad designs videogames, we get all the new ones early.” The kid shrugged. “Come over around 8,” Taehyung stated turning around and entering his house.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Y/N screamed while hitting her office’s door. Famous actress Moon Sye Ho laid face down on the couch. Y/N has received a call in Jimin’s car about how if the main actress didn’t show up the show would be cancelled. She couldn’t have this show cancelled. “I said I’m not coming out!” Sye Ho shouted throwing something at the door, making Y/N jump back. “We have to finish filming this episode today, we’re already three days behind!” “I’m not doing shit until that bastard apologises!” She threw another thing around the room. Fuck, she’s gonna break everything! “Who? Bong Sang Mo?” Y/N asked with a compassionate tone rolling her eyes, every goddamn day the main stars of the TV drama she wrote fought and she was the only one that could reason with them from the whole staff. They were more dramatic than they characters she created. Fellow co-workers stood around and looked above their desktops to see the drama unfold some of them were even taping. Y/N hace them a weak sarcastic smile and they turned away.  “Do you want to let me in and talk about it?” “No.” she pouted. “Come on, Sye Ho. Let’s try to fix this, you don’t want to disappoint your fans by not finishing filming now, do you?”  She gritted through her teeth. The door was unlocked and slowly opened. Sye Ho slowly, crept out of the room, and closed the door behind her. “What did he do now?” She asked. Moon Sye Ho and Bong Sang Mo were the most famous celebrity couple in Korea, people found them profoundly entertaining because of their on and off dynamic and rumors of cheating. Their life was drama. Sye Ho went on and on about how Bong Sang Mo was dancing with some other girl at a club and something about burning his 2017 autumn collection in his backyard She quickly spaced out of the conversation due to the fact that it was unbearably boring. This is exactly why she didn’t like the whole relationship thing. It brought too many problems and conflicts. It’s easier to stay away from them. She did a simple no strings attached one night stand the night before, there were no complications or issues afterwards. Why can’t more people do that? Yoongi, at least understood. She still couldn’t believe that she told him all those things. Some of them she swore she would take to her grave. What surprised her the most was the way he reacted to them, he laughed and went along with it. If it was someone else they would have probably thrown her out of the house. He probably didn’t because he’s just as terrible as her. She felt arms wrap around her, taking her back to reality. Sye ho was clearing her face of tears and backed away from the hug. “So you’ll do it for me?” “Sure, sure. Whatever you need, sweetie.” Y/N said pretending she paid attention smiling. Sye Ho jumped with joy and clapped her hands. “You’re the best!” She explained, walking towards the elevator. People made space for her to pass, a lot of them were afraid. “I’ll go back to work now! Don’t forget, I’ll be expecting it tomorrow or I’ll have your ass fired!” Y/N watched her get back into the studio skipping and shook her head. She spotted an employee that was probably standing there all along and approached him. “Um, what exactly do I have to get so I don’t end up jobless?” She whispered. “Apparently some cocaine,” he shrugged. Fuck. Where the hell would I find cocaine? She thought. She knew of someone but she would do anything to avoid him right now. “Do you know where to find some?” She asked him, looking around, people weren’t paying attention anymore. “Not my problem,” he said plainly. She shot him glare. “You’re rude,” she shot. “Yeah, well I don’t care,” he said turning around. She grabbed his shoulder. “Hey! Don’t turn your back on me!” He let out a sigh and turned to face her. “What’s your name?” “Kim Taehyung,” he shrugged and pushed past her. She followed him with her eyes shooting daggers at him. What’s his problem?

She decides to relax in her office for a while, maybe steal some food from her co-workers and then buy a bottle of beer at the American themed diner across the street. Today had been stressful enough.

She entered her now half destroyed office and sat on the tear stained couch. She looked around the disaster and almost screamed with excitement when she saw the half of the donut she started eating the day before. She quickly ran to it and shoved it in her mouth. Finally something good today!

After some light work she decided she was bored. She looked for her purse to head out but it was nowhere to be found. She was pretty sure Sye Ho wouldn’t touch a fake Louis Vuitton purse even if her life was at risk so that ruled her out. She realized that  she didn’t have it when she was in Jimin’s car… Oh no… no no no no… fuck. She left a his house. Shit, he’s gonna think I want more if I go back! She groaned and sat down again in the blue sofa. Calm down. She told herself and took out her phone ordering an Uber. He might understand, if not you can do your usual speech. Yeah, the speech.

“I got your car towed back here!” Jungkook said entering the front door. Yoongi sat on the red  couch on his living room tea in one hand and the company's letter in the other. “Look who I found getting out of an Uber.”

“Hey,” Y/N said awkwardly stepping inside the house. She waved at him quickly and smiled. Yoongi tore his eyes off the letter just for a second ant took a quick glance at her. He turned back on her and ignored her presence. Y/N smacked her lips and let out an awkward laugh.

“Don’t worry. I forgot my purse. Not on purpose or anything ” She waved her arms around. She paused for a moment to see if he would react to her words. It was like she wasn’t even there. Jungkook scratched the back of his head and slowly backed away.

“Imma leave you two alone,” and he disappeared into the house.

“Um, he’s sweet.” She said approaching him a bit. God, this was way too awkward. She just wanted to get this over with and leave.

“You know your purse had food in it,” he stated, finally acknowledging her presence. He glared at her giving her a judgemental look. “It was covered in ants. Who keeps food in their purse?”

“Woah, what’s your problem?” She folded her arms. He took a deep breath.

“Well, I’ve had a shitty day and then I come home to find that my goddamn bedroom is like a 50’s sci-fi movie,” he scolded her, “Why did you stay over, huh? That’s amateur hour.”

Y/N couldn’t believe him, here she was standing in the middle of her one night stand’s living room being scolded like a child and then lecture on how she should handle her ditching phase one she slept with someone?

“Here, I was worried that you were going to get the wrong idea about last night,” she dropped her arm hitting her legs. “So, thank you for saving me the speech.”

“You were gonna make a speech?” He mocked. She scoffed and turned around to leave the house.

“Forget it.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Save your breath!” She halted at his response and scoffed. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? She stumped back to the living room.

“I don’t know what planet you are from but on my planet, someone like you does not get someone like me,” she moved her arms around her body to accentuate the point. “So, congratulations you bagged a weakened gazelle. That’s right, I’m still stupidly hooked up on someone else who is eons away from you in the evolutionary scale in all categories except maybe an unearned ego!”

Yoongi looked at her more amused than angry at her reaction. Never in his life had he heard someone talk to him like that. Well, he has heard a few insults… more than a few, but there was something about the way she was spitting those word with acid that amazed him.

“What? You so value honesty, you had to chew a bride out on her wedding day in the name of it? Well, why don’t you face this giant hunk of truth, Min Yoongi?!” His smiled dropped instantly. “There is a big fat asterisk next to my name on your skank-ridden little bone list saying ‘She probably would’ve gone home with anybody that night’! So, thank you! Thank you for my wake up call, Yoongi! You are officially my bottom.”

Yoongi watched her pick up her purse and before he could say anything back she left. He stood there dumbfounded. What the fuck just happened?

She currently stood in front of the house of the other. She was a aware how stupid and embarrassing it was but she needed cocaine. She climbed the wooden to the black steel door. It was already the middle of the night, they front of the house was dimly lit but enough to see the extensive garden that surrounded her. The house was massive, modern and minimalistic. Exactly the opposite of her small apartment. She rang the doorbell and in a few seconds she could hear his steps coming down the stairs.  The door turned instead of opening like a normal door revealing Gong Yeong Woon, dressed in his sleepwear. He was a renounced movie and television director in Korea. He had so much money and he was kinda sexy. She thought of him as some sort of sugar daddy, it was occasional and from time to time he would take her to fancy events. She loved that fancy shit, the food, the drinks, the parties. “Hey you.” she said giving him a sultry smile. “Kiddo,” he exclaimed, “What a surprise.” “I was just in the neighbourhood, I figured why not drop by.” “I have an early call time but… yeah, come in. Last time you said you were coming over you never showed, I thought you’d grown sick of me.” “Nah, you’re alright.” She said smirking. She had been here countless of times before, but somehow she felt a bit awkward tonight. Like if something was wrong. She shook her head erasing the thought. “You’re so beautiful,” he said placing his hands on her jaw  and pulling her in for a sloppy kiss. At first Y/N Kissed back, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. She opened her eyes and grimaced a bit at his touch. She slowly backed away from the kissed and gave her a kiss in her temple. She gave him polite smile and walked inside. She couldn’t get that annoying fuck out of her head. How could she even go home with him? Well, she was drunk and he was kinda hot. It was so irritating. “Oh- fantastic!” She heard Yeong Woon moan. She found herself bobbing her head down on his cock underneath the white sheets of his king sized bed. She tried to enjoy what she was doing but all she could think of is stupid Min Yoongi with his stupid attitude.

Yoongi took a gulp of his whiskey and return to the video game he had been playing for at least two hours now. The sounds of guns and explosions tore through the house while hip hop music played in the background. Besides him, the kid from earlier sat on the floor so he wouldn’t damage the clean couch, playing as well.

“Hi,” Jungkook said giving the kid a strange look, but quickly turning to his friend. “You busy, Yoon?”

“Yup,” Yoongi answered, eyes glued to the screen.

“Well, would you like pause it for a second?” Jungkook asked a bit annoyed by Yoongi’s attitude.

“Nope.” He simply replied. Jungkook walked to him and took away his remote. Yoongi turned his attention to him.

“What’s wrong with you dude? Give me the controller,” he demanded extending his arm. Yoongi had a shitty day and didn’t want to deal with Jungkook’s shit right now, so he launched himself at Jungkook in an attempt to get back his controller.

“I’ve watched you for two years,” he started pushing Yoongi back onto the couch. “Two year now, getting girls to come home with you and they’re always gone in the morning.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it if she refused to leave!” Yoongi shot at him. “Now, give me my controller.”

“No.”

“Fine,” Yoongi said taking the other controller from the chubby kid. Jungkook let out a scoff and rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry I have to do this,” he said before putting Yoongi under a chokehold. “Now, I don’t mind you being jerky with me because I know you care-”

“What the- No I don’t!” Yoongi exclaimed gasping for air. He felt the blood rushing and the air escaping him. Of all the mistakes he had made in his life the one he regretted the most right now was letting thing crazy junkie live in his house.

“Yes, you do.”

“Your an animal, there’s a fucking wild animal living in my fucking house!” Yoongi started to trash around trying to get out. When the hell did Jeon fucking Jungkook get so strong?!

“But Y/N stayed, Yoon, she stayed.” Jungkook continued. “You say she forced you, but we both know there’s not a single person on this planet that’s ever had a good outcome trying to force you to do anything. She stayed, man! And that means something, whether you like it or not. Imma let you go now.”

He’s right. Those words tore inside Yoongi’s brain. He stumbled back. No, it doesn’t mean anything. She doesn’t mean anything. He’s wrong. “Why the fuck would I listen to you? You’re a mental case. You’re like a million medications that all say ‘Take for bat shit craziness’!”

“My family was killed in front of me,” Jungkook muttered, The elder’s words stabbing him like knives.

“So?! People die every goddamn day. And you were like fucking eight!” Yoongi kept spitting.

“Mental illness is not a joke Yoongi, a lot of people suffer from them and just because I suffer from one doesn’t mean you get to tear me down for it.” Jungkook answered calmed down.

“That is the most intelligent thing you have ever said to me.” Yoongi pointed out.

“Thanks,” Jungkook smiled

“You’re still a lunatic,” he said walking away.

“Hey, wait. Come one man!” Yoongi ignored him, he needed to get out. He need space to think.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook called out.

“To a bar,” Yoongi turned around, “where I can drink in peace. “Come one, Oon Jong Joon!”

“I’m 14,” the kid pointed out. Yoongi let out a groan and walked out slamming the door. Jungkook quickly took the controller he had dropped on the floor and started to play happily, he had done his job as a friend. Yoongi was an asshole but he listened even if he pretended not to.

“Call the police,” Yoongi said walking back to the house. “Someone stole my car.”

“Nah, Y/N took it,” Jungkook said moving forward to concentrate better on the game

“Sorry, Y/N took my car?” he said with disbelief.

“Yeah, I saw her driving it away earlier. I figured you loaned it to her.” He paused for a second. “Now that I think about it, it was kind of weird.”

“She doesn’t have a license!”

“Huh,” Jungkook chuckled. “She must have stolen your keys from the counter. You have to admit, it’s kind of a baller move.”

Yoongi let out a sigh, and dropped himself on the couch besides Jungkook. What a fucking day.

“You guys are fun,” the chubby kid, that was still there for Yoongi’s surprisement, said nodding to himself.

Yeong Woon let out a deep grunt as he slipped inside her repeatedly.  Y/N pressed her lips together awkwardly, this was not working out. “Um, hey.”

He lowered himself down so his face would be centimetres away from hers “Yes, Y/N?”

“Can we take a little break?”

“Sure,” he nuzzled their noses together and got off of her. They both stared at the ceiling for a while. Y/N cleared her throat breaking the silence.

“So, what’s the worst thing you have done?” She asked turning to him. He gave her a disappointed look.

“You know I don’t dwell on negativity, since India.” He simply responded.

“Ok, then…” she said before the room fell silent again. She decided to look around  the room but quickly got bored. “I once started a fire at school to get out of a math test.”

“That’s terrible.” He said giving her a weird disapproving glare. “Why would you tell me that?”

“Nevermind, just kidding.” She tried to save the dying conversation but found it to be unsuccessful. “Do you still have cocaine?”

“It’s in the bathroom, third drawer to the right,“  He answered waving her away. She quickly ran out of the bedroom and found herself in the bathroom closing the door behind her. She slides to the marble tiled floor, covering her face with her hands. She groaned and turned to the drawer beside her. Right in the middle of it stood a small yet beautifully carved wooden box. She took it out of the drawer and put it on her lap so she could study her surroundings. It was his take on the millionaire’s modern house decor. The entrance  of the bathroom had a white toilet with a mirror and a countertop made out of dark wood to contrast the white marble, the size of a regular guest bathroom. The main room however, was the size of her apartment. A white Bathtub stood in the middle of the room and had  the size of a hot tub. Most of the room was exposed to the neighbourhood  due to the walls being made out of glass with a door leading to a one of the balconies. She slowly stepped into the bathtub putting the little box on the border. She opened it and revealed a at least 8 ounces of cocaine. She quickly slipped some in a plastic bag and put it in a pocket of her hoodie. She stared at the box for a few seconds before taking the small blade inside, pouring a small amount on the border of the bathtub preparing it into a perfect line. Pressing down the left side of her nose she inhaled the line and felt a slight burn in her nostril. She jumped and the sudden sound of her ringtone going off. “Um, hello?” She answered wiping her nose

“Hey,” Yoongi said taking Y/N by surprise. “What are you up to?”

“Uh, nothing,” she replied shifting nervously on the tub. Why is he calling? “Just.. um.. reading.”

“Well, my car got stolen today,”

Fuck. “Wow, that’s terrible Yoongi.” she said biting her lip.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to report it to the police. You know, to make sure that they catch the person…”

“Um, I may have borrowed it earlier today,” she laughed nervously.

“I know,” he replied

“Oh. well, sorry. I told you, I’m the worst.”

“No, actually you said that I was the worst and that I was lucky to get you.”

“Yeah, about that-”

“No, don’t apologize,” he stated, “It was a great speech. It was funny and true and mean. My favourite kind.”

“I set my school on fire to get out a math test,” she blurted out, the laughter that filled the other end of the line made her smile.

“That’s genius. Oh, and… I… lied to you,” he started.

“Yeah?”

“I do have a foot thing,”

“Seriously?” she asked trying not to laugh.

“Yeah. In fact, I was just trying to find the right clip online.. so you know.. s-so that I could, um fall asleep. But… nothing’s quite right.”

She let out a quiet laugh, “Oh, do you want me to try?”

“What?” He asked sounding surprised.

“Shh,” she said getting out of the bathtub and walking to the balcony, “Let me think.”

Yoongi got out of his bed and started walking up the stairs. “Come one, this is stupid,”

“Shut up,” She ordered him, making smile grow on his face. “I have been walking around all day in these new shoes, and they are just so… hot and tight.”

He reached upstairs and slowly walked to the quiet and messy living room. Yoongi stopped in front of the wide window that stretched to the other side of the room. The dark sky was illuminated by small stars, he could observe the city from here. All the glimmering lights of the buildings shining through the night.

“Yeah,” He responded, she let out another quiet laugh separating the phone from her face.

“And my socks are so… sweaty.” She made a grimace. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Was that even right?

“That happens.”

“I think I might just have to take them off,” she turned around to face the pool. She could see the whole city from there as well.

“You do that.” he said enthusiastically. “Hey, you’re, uh… very nice for doing this.”

“I am very nice,” she replied. They stayed quiet for a minute, taking it all in. There was no way of evading it now. “Yoongi, I’m scared of this shit, you know? I don’t like it.”

“Well, um, I don’t believe in it anymore, so…”

“What’s the harm, right?” She said, in that moment she thought she had fucked up. “I mean, if we both know that it can’t work, then there’s no problem… right?”

The line went silent for a minute. A short yet eternal minute. Why did I speak? Of course he wouldn’t go for it. Fuck, why would I even suggest it, I hate dating in the first place. She balanced herself on her toes and swung her arms around while mentally scolding herself.

“Right,” he finally muttered.

And in that moment they both smiled. This can only end one way. They it would go down engulfed in flames destroying everything around them, but right now they didn’t mind.

“So what kind of socks?” Yoongi asked abruptly. She let out a laugh.

“Mmm… knee-high basketball socks. Orange and green stripes,”

“You’re amazing, you’re 19 types of trouble but… amazing.”

“Yeah, so are you. 19 types,” she cleared her throat, “Well, it’s late. Did you finish?”

“I think the moment’s gone.”

“Ok, well, have a goodnight,” she said, “Call me.”

“I will.”

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#min yoongi #min yoongi scenarios #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #min yoongi angst #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi fanfiction #bts #bts suga #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts smut #bts min yoongi #bts kim taehyung #bts taehyung #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #bts jeongguk #bts jimin #bts park jimin #park jimin #jimin

[spyvstailor]

Here you are, chapter two of that Dragon Age thing. Uh, there’s a guest appearance. Hope I did them justice.

Chapter Two

“Hold on! Lothering caught fire ten years ago!”

Wenceslaus paused as one of the dense looking highwaymen spoke up from his spot nearby.

“You couldn't haf bin wanderin' that forest fer ten years,” the leader added, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Offering the men a broad grin, flashing that silver capped fang of his, Wenceslaus moved on smoothly. “Why, gentlemen and...lady?” He eyed the rat toothed woman, before quirking a brow and explaining, “haven't you ever heard of poetic license?”

“Yer too well spoken fer a horseman's son,” another highwayman argued.

“Elocution lessons, my mother saved up for them for an entire year, put the coins in an old--”

The highwayman leader cleared his throat sternly and folded his arms. “Kill 'em.”

“Alright, fine!” Wenceslaus said, holding his hands up before him. “I am the elocution tutor. I was raised in Orlais and my accent is impeccable, my latest charges--” a sword was aimed at his chest and Wenceslaus immediately ground to a halt.

“I fink,” the leader growled, “yer a nobleman.”

Laughing jovially, Wenceslaus prepared to continue his arguing, but his mind was quick, like an iron trap.

“Very well, gentlemen, you are too sharp for me.” He laughed nervously. “I...” the words fell dead on his tongue.

“Maybe we'll ask yer Elf,” the rat toothed woman gloated, moving up tight against the Dalish Elf.

The creature remained marmoreal on his log throne.

“He...doesn't speak our language, he's simple.”

As the rag was removed from his mouth, the Elf wet his lips, before hissing, “may I set some truths free from the trap of his lies?” He asked in a soft, deep, lilted tone.

Wenceslaus jerked his chin to his chest, affronted at the beast.

“Why not?” The highwayman leader sighed. “We have no where to be and you die at dawn. Speak, Elf.”

“It did begin in the Brecilian Forest,” the Elf began calmly. “But it was not darkspawn the woman with the book was running from, nor was she met with such able bodied help from the seth'lin.”

There was such a calm beauty to the Brecilian Forest.

Despite the Sylvan and the old ghosts of Werewolves that haunted the mists and shadows of the woods, the forest was peaceful.

For an entire night and part of the following day, Vaelyn had sat up in the trees, guarding over the ruins he had only just come upon in his hunt.

There was a small, merry fire that crackled at the entryway and a bedroll unfurled beside it.

In the middle of the ruin, with her head bowed to a book, a shemlen woman sat completely unaware of the wild nature of the woods surrounding her, so lost was she in her book, that Vaelyn watched her for an entire night and part of a day and still she was unaware that he was there.

He wasn't even trying to hide himself in the tree, standing on the thick branch, gazing down at her with curious eyes.

His clan had kept far from the humans and the cities, they preferred the wilds and the forests, so humans to him were like a golden halla. Rare and almost mythical.

And this bold shemlen just sat there, reading her book, munching on a ripe fruit and every now and then stoking her fire.

Part of him wanted to kill her, just to end this torment of endless watching, but another part of him wanted to approach her, to see what she was like up close, to catch the wafting scent of a human in his nostrils.

Gazing across the ruins to where he knew his young sister would be in her own tree, he wondered if she wasn't getting as impatient as he was. She was kinder than him and many years younger, so he knew she wouldn't be wanting blood just yet.

Raising his head, he caught the dead silence of the birds in the woods and realized something was coming upon them all. Easing down into a crouch on the limb, he reached for his bow, pulling it from his back. In the woods he used a bow because the dual daggers he usually used in combat were worse than useless.

With his eyes darting everywhere, he waited for whatever was approaching to show itself.

And then from the mouth of the ruin entrance a figure darted.

Vaelyn loaded his arrow and took aim, waiting to register the creature as friend or foe before firing.

As the figure approached the shemlen, he prepared to release the arrow, but stopped with a small gasp.

The blood smeared across the features of the Dalish Elf gave him cause to both reel in shock and worry for his brother.

Hurredly, he slipped from his spot in the tree, as the human finally noticed the Elf approaching her and jumped to her feet.

Racing towards the ruins, Vaelyn skidded under a low hanging branch and took aim again with his bow, as the shemlen raced past him, the bloodied Elf after her,sword drawn.

This Elf was not one of his people, she bore strange markings on her face.

“Ma banal las halamshir var vhen, lethallan,” Vaelyn commanded, getting between his Elvhain sister and the fleeing shemlen.

The Elvhain woman turned hard, glittering eyes on him and swung her sword at him.

Vaelyn ducked the blow and tumbled away, jumping up to find her sword embedded where his neck might have been.

“Atisha!” He barked, raising his hands. “Tel garas solasan.”

From out of the ruins came a handful more of blood covered Elvhain women and Vaelyn was hastily joined by his sister, who gripped his wrist and tugged him from the ruins.

“Garas, Vaelyn!” His sister ordered.

With hesitation, he followed her through the woods, the blood soaked women at their heels, arrows from some of their archer's bow's zipping into the forest behind them.

Who were these strange Elvhain women? What form of blood magic ritual were they performing? Which clan did they hail from?

“Wait, what's wif the blood soaked bints?” The highwayman leader interrupted just as Wenceslaus demanded.

“Your name is Vaelyn?!”

The tight mouthed Elf blinked.

Feeling a little betrayed, Wenceslaus sniffed. “Yes, well, good luck hearing my story now.”

“The Dalish have a legend, it's more of a story told to misbehaving children of the Din'an Asha, the Death Women,” Vaelyn – so called – explained. “It was these that you saw, not darkspawn.”

“Yeah, well...they looked terrifyingly like darkspawn.”

Vaelyn was silent, eyes closing.

“Death Wommin? Sounds like a good go, what do they do den? Bugger you to death?” The rat toothed woman asked.

Wenceslaus thought about dying that way, before he shook his head to clear the shivers. “No, that's not how I imagined it.”

“They steal the girl children from out of their nests,” Vaelyn explained. “And they take the boy children and dash their skulls against the rocks, bathing in their blood to gain the strength of ten men before feasting on their flesh.”

“Is that what you saw?” One of the highwayman asked. “These Death Women?”

Vaelyn was quiet, contemplative, before he nodded. “Yes.”

The men of the gang began to whisper among themselves, tightening their grips on their weapons.

“My Keeper used to tell me a tale of his brother, who met with these women. They left him alive, but took his ability to procreate. They stuck it over an open flame and consumed it right there before him.”

Several looks were cast to the woods around them, even Wenceslaus spared the trees a quick glance.

“What do they look like?”

“Blood soaked maidens,” Vaelyn said. “A woman like any other, only soaked in the blood of men, their breath reeking of rotten flesh. And once they get the scent of you, you’re hunted and good as dead.”

A twig snapped in the woods to the right of the camp and it had most of the highwaymen jumping to their feet.

From out of the darkness to their left a woman stepped into the light cast by the campfire, the blood coating her face and gown shining black.

“Death woman!” One of the highwaymen shouted and half of them fled, the other half giving pause.

The Death Woman produced a blade from the strap on her back and shrieked.

It was such a wailing, rage filled shriek that even Wenceslaus' instincts to run kicked in.

“Have 'em!” The leader of the highwayman declared, running off with his men.

The camp was cleared right out save for the Death Woman and the prisoner's.

Stalking around the camp for a bit with her blade drawn, the Death Woman seemed to be claiming the camp as hers, before she approached Vaelyn, the blade slicing  down through the ropes that tied his wrists.

“You sly Elves,” Wenceslaus teased after a few minutes of silence, as the 'Death Woman' untied him. Reaching up, he cleaned away some nug blood from the young Elf woman's face. “Was it all an act?”

“I was merely playing off of the lies you wove, lethallin. I knew Orphael would return from her morning hunt soon enough and simply set about spooking the shem with old Elvhain spirit stories.”

Kneeling, Vaelyn released Wynona from the sack she was hiding in and stood up to eye the woods around them, his sister, still coated in blood, moved to join him in their vigilant watch.

“We shouldn't stay here,” Wynona suggested. “In case they find their courage to return.”

“You don't have to point out the high road to me, darling.”

“You really need to brush up on your history,” Wynona added, as she scooped up her precious book. “That almost got you killed.”

“Not me,” he replied easily. “I'm too charming. Maybe the Elf would have died. Think that ratty one liked him though so it was more likely he was about to become a husband to a rodent. Come along, we're almost to Redcliffe.”

The Redcliffe tavern was quiet when they entered, the group looking like a bunch of corpses walking, the smell of the dried blood on Vaelyn's younger sister beginning to turn Wenceslaus' stomach.

As the women headed up to their room to clean up, Wenceslaus eased down at a table with a couple of random strangers and helped himself to some bread and cheese.

The group eyed him angrily.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he returned cheerfully. “What's the news from out of Skyhold? Anything new on the whole, 'world isn't ending anymore' front?”

“Do we know you?” One of the men demanded.

“You may have heard of me,” he said. “Alistair Theirin? Ring a bell?”

The men looked amongst themselves, before they burst out laughing.

“Pull the other one!” One of them declared. “You're half knife-ear!”

Drawing a deep gulp from the man's mug, Wenceslaus grinned. “So I am.”

The laughter faltered and the men looked amongst themselves.

“The Grey Warden?”

“That's me.”

Everyone at the table stilled and eyed him warily.

“Now that is an amazing lie,” someone purred from the corner of the quiet tavern.

Wenceslaus watched as a pretty Tevinter magister stood up and approached them with an easy swagger. “I met Alistair, actually, in Crestwood. And you look nothing like him.”

“That sounds like a lie,” Wenceslaus insisted.

“And that sounds like someone who's an easy liar would say,” the magister went on smoothly, brushing his magnificent facial hair with an elegant finger.

Opening his mouth to protest, Wenceslaus shut it quickly and stood up. “You're right, buy me a drink?”

“I only buy drinks if I know the night's going to end well,” the magister shot back. “As it is, I see nothing in it for me.”

“Pretty cocksure for a 'vint far from home,” Wenceslaus said.

The man chuckled. “I am, aren't I?”

Narrowing his eyes slightly at the man, Wenceslaus was about to leave the tavern entirely, when the Tevinter said, “well, what could one drink harm?”

“As long as it's not attached to some blood ritual...” Wenceslaus replied, walking with the man towards the bar.

As the two bellied up, the 'vint cleared his throat regally and said, “nothing like a sip of ale from a dirty mug to make one question the life choices which lead them here to this moment.”

Clinking the mug against the magister's Wenceslaus agreed.

“Wenceslaus,” he introduced himself.

“Ah, introductions, good,” the magister said. “I'm Dorian.”

“And what brings you here to Thedas, Dorian?”

“Easy access to warm blood,” the 'vint teased with a small glimmer in his eye.

“That is a dark sense of humour, my friend.”

“Am I being funny? I certainly didn't mean to come off that way.”

Wenceslaus chuckled into his ale.

“And where is it that you're heading?”

“Skyhold.”

Dorian's eyes lit up. “Oh! As am I. And what does Skyhold have that you seek?”

“High walls. Yourself?”

“There's a chair in the library of Skyhold, think I'll tuck myself up there and read until I die,” Dorian replied.

“You're heading home?”

“Yes.”

Wenceslaus was quiet for a moment, before asking, “have you...ever met this Herald?”

Dorian sipped his ale with all the mien of a King, before saying, “yes.”

“What's he like?”

“He's just a Dalish Elf, like any other.”

Wenceslaus was quiet for a moment, before saying, “good.”

“Say, I'm heading there this morning with my traveling companions,” Dorian said. “How would you like to come with us? There's safety in numbers on these roads.”

#there you have it #enjoy? #I dunno i can't tell you what to do