#only using one room and using markers to represent doors and things of interest

[yoditorian]

lacuna- part 3

din/reader

she’s dropping early because i have no patience and i’m extremely proud of the last 2/3rds of this. thanks as always to my darling @brothersdrxke​ for being encouraging and yelling with me 💛

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swears, overuse of italics, discussion of violence including graphic injury, mentions of scars (causes not discussed), one use of ‘their’ as a pronoun for reader, usual poetic smut, 18+ no babies thanks

You didn’t think you’d be back here.

Maybe ever, but definitely not after only a couple of years, and your smile is tight as you flick the lever to lower the small freighter’s boarding ramp. You’re sure it won’t come back if you drop it. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Qin’s teeth are sharp in his own smile. 

“You’re not.”

His snarled response is cut off by Ran’s booming laugh before it starts. Your old boss claps him on the shoulder, saying something in lieu of a real greeting about how he’s missed your jokes. It’s a little tense, the way the men take you in for a moment. You didn’t wear your uniform, there’s not a thing on the ship that points any fingers towards the Rebellion, but it’s clear you’ve done well for yourself since leaving. Something they clearly have not, judging by the holes in the jacket tied around Qin’s hips.

“Thanks for letting me stay, system hopping takes a lot longer when your hyperdrive’s busted.” You relax a little, let your shoulders drop, let them think you’re more than comfortable under their scrutinizing gazes. 

“We’ve probably got something laying around here you could use. For a price, of course.” Ran grins, in that predatory way that he always has. He seems so unassuming, but you know different. You know better.

“Your prices always land me on the wrong end of a blaster. I’ll take my chances in open space, thanks.” 

He laughs heartily again, and you can breathe. At least they seem to believe you. 

Ran had offered you your old room, something you’d graciously thanked him for, and left you to it. The station seems to run the same, more or less. He hasn’t hired anyone in your place, or in Din’s for that matter, but it’s difficult to find somebody without loyalties to any one side of the war. Leaving the spots open for now is probably safer for him. You’d raised a hand in greeting to Xi’an when you passed her in the hall, she’d hissed in return but any time she didn’t threaten to cut you is always a win. So at least you’re still in somebody’s good graces here.

Still, good graces don’t last long. And neither does your patience. It’s only a few hours into the night cycle on the station when you creep out of your room and towards the main hangar. Your old workspace looks exactly the same, a few bits and pieces missing, but mostly untouched by time and sticky fingers. Good. It takes less than an hour to completely gut the bench. Every single old motivator, circuit board, gear, and valve packed up neatly in the cargo hold of the ship. There’s still larger engine pieces that the base mechanics are in desperate need of, but Shara’s working on that lead. You find a black marker lying on a nearby workbench and draw a big smiley face on the dulled metal. For good measure.

It’s with a deep breath, and a prayer you never have to return, that you maneuver your ship up and out of the station. You ease it into lightspeed, the definitely-not-busted hyperdrive humming, and disappear. 

“Did you think I don’t keep tabs on people, Mando?”

Din would rather go swimming on Mustafar, or get swallowed by a Krayt dragon, or be literally anywhere else in the galaxy than the hangar on Ran’s station. How he’d even known he’d joined the Bounty Hunters’ Guild is a mystery to him, but the call came through nonetheless. The new representative on Nevarro, a very theatrical man if their short contact was anything to go by, had popped up in the holo-com display talking about a special assignment and given him coordinates he knew all too well. Whatever it is, it isn’t good.

“You know, Xi’an’s still broken up about you leaving. Convinced herself that you and the pilot organised it, that you’re holed up somewhere together. But we both know that’s not true.”

Din says nothing. He doesn’t need to, Ran’s tone leaves nothing to be discussed. Whether he knows for sure that you went straight to the rebels or not, he has his suspicions. Xi’an can think whatever she likes, he’s just grateful he doesn’t have to deal with her trailing after him like a lost puppy anymore. 

“They said you have a job for me.” 

Ran gestures out for him to follow, leading him to a desk he knows all too well. Your workstation was always cluttered, always a tangled heap of wires and unidentifiable spare parts. Organised chaos, you said, it was about the piles. Except it’s been completely cleared out. There’s shelves underneath that he didn’t even know existed, and a big smiley face drawn carefully on the worktop. Din turns his head towards Ran, a wordless question.

“We had a visit from our old friend, a favour done out of the kindness of my heart. So imagine my surprise when we all woke up to find their room empty, and my hangar pillaged.” Ran’s laying it on thick, thicker than usual. Pillaged is a strong word, it’s clear you only touched your own bench, those parts belong to you as far as Din’s concerned. But it’s not his concern that’s the problem. 

“So, what’s the job?” He doesn’t feel like playing games anymore. He doesn’t see what any of this has to do with him anyway.

“I’m putting a bounty on that little thief, it can be yours or it can go to the Guild. Or,” Ran hesitates, watching the way Din’s shoulders tense, “You can help me out. Help me with this one thing and I’ll drop it.”

Din doesn’t even ask what he needs to do, he only nods and finds himself trying his best to tolerate Qin’s chatter from the Crest’s passenger seat while he flies. 

It should worry him, that he didn’t even consider his own safety. But something about it feels right, he’s sure he’d put anything on the line if it meant you were safe.

It’s almost boring, standing guard at the door as Qin ransacks some official’s office on a planet he’s already forgotten the name of. Ran mentioned something about a trade agreement, although given the largely illegal nature of his dealings it doesn’t take a genius to work out exactly why something like that would have been refused by any law abiding citizen. Although law in the Outer Rim is generally subjective to everyone’s personal code. 

“One more office and we’re done.” Qin assures him as he exits the upturned office, pressing a drive into Din’s gloved palm. He pockets it without question, experience has taught him that wasting time asking will only get them in trouble. 

Trouble seems to find them anyway. It always does. 

He races through the beige hallways, following the blinking dot on the display of his vambrace with Qin hot on his heels. The security guards aren’t fast, they aren’t even armed, there’s no point in shooting when the two of them so clearly have the upper hand. Until a burly Trandoshan leaps out of a doorway and tackles Qin to the ground. But Din doesn’t look back, he just presses forward to the Crest. 

Din hightails it out of there, jumping to lightspeed still in atmosphere. Just in case. And breathes his first sigh of relief since he stepped onto the station. He’s not sure what’s on the drive, honestly he doesn’t want to know, and he just hopes it’s important enough to Ran that he might overlook the tiny detail of leaving Qin to the guards. 

Ran only seems mildly annoyed that Din comes back alone, more interested in the drive dropped into his waiting hand, and agrees to forget about setting a bounty. So long as you don’t turn up on his doorstep, lie, and steal from him again. Din promises to pass on the message.

You’re on Tatooine, arguing with a scrapper in Mos Espa over the price of a rusted laser cannon, when he finds you. The scrapper quiets when he appears over your shoulder, and nods reluctantly at your suggested fifty percent of the asking price. It’s hot and you’re tired, you don’t have the patience to pretend to be surprised when you turn to see him standing behind you. 

“Help me with this?” You ask. Din watches a bead of sweat drip down your temple, tries not to wish it was his tongue instead, and nods wordlessly.

Between the two of you, you manage to haul the cannon to your docking bay and roll it up the loading ramp. Only once it’s secure in the hold do you take a moment to survey his armour, the way you did last time.

There’s no obvious new scratches, although the dust on this rock of a planet will dirty anything in a matter of seconds, but you find yourself relieved by the familiarity of his dark red armour. Nothing has been replaced since the last time you saw him, it seems. You’ve come a long way since then.

“You’re stealing from our old boss now?” Din’s voice breaks your careful study of his armour, and your brow furrows. You thought he might understand, out of everyone in the galaxy, but you don’t even know how he found out.

“We’re in a war.” 

“You’re in a war.”

Your eyes snap up to his visor, and he has to physically plant himself so he isn’t rocked back by the intensity of your stare. You find his eyes every time, you always have. But yours have never held such a cold fury for him than they do now. It’s kind of terrifying, it’s kind of beautiful. 

“This is not about me. This is so much bigger than just me. You may have grown up underground learning how to kill people with your thumbs but I grew up under imperial rule. I grew up building parts for star destroyers and running messages for rebels. All I know is this fucking war.” You’re rambling but you don’t care. He has to know, he has to understand that this is what you do now. The last couple of years have been the best of your life, you’ve found a purpose. Something that makes you want to get out of bed in the mornings and reluctant to go back to it at night, you’ve thrown yourself into the brewing fight and it feels like you were born for it. The names of all the friends you’ve lost to the Empire sit heavy on your tongue for every TIE you take down, every supply you steal, every bit of intel you scrape together. It’s for them, it’s for everyone who came before, it’s for everyone who will come after. 

Din says your name softly, but the tears are falling and you can’t stop.

“I’ve been fighting my whole life so kids in the future don’t have to live the way I have. I think a few spare parts are worth that.”

You tell him your whole story, standing there awkwardly in the belly of the freighter. You tell him about the messages you ran between workers who resisted, who rebelled, who heard whispers of uprising and felt the roar of hope in their chests. You’d started young, too young really to understand the danger of what you were doing. But what about being young on Corellia was not dangerous? You tell him how the group started to grow, branching out from your factory line to the docks and the mechanics and further. The way they started to include you more as you got older, planning and whispering in darkened corners and safehouses away from the ears of the Empire. 

Not that it did anyone any good in the end. You tell him how they stormed the house one night. No warning, no whispers. Blew the door out of the wall and started shooting. So you’d started running. Nothing but the blanket from your bed, the one you’d had since you were a child, around your shoulders and a younger girl’s hand in yours. You’d almost gotten her to the loading docks. To safety. Almost. You can still taste the blood in your mouth when the blaster bolt split her head open, but you’d left her where she fell and kept running. You tell him how you dove into the first open cargo bay you saw and hid. For days. How you’d cried when you felt it finally lift from the bay. How it had been Ran’s ship, one of his first trades. You hadn’t had the courage to leave the station until somebody had shown you it was possible.

Din doesn’t interrupt once. He only watches. Watches as the tears stop streaming, as you pull yourself back together again. He’s sure you didn’t want him, anyone, to see you so vulnerable. You’ve always had that mask of quick jokes and bright smiles, it’s only now that he realises it's a mask, and it’s oddly fascinating to watch you piece it together. You wipe at your cheeks with the sleeve of your jacket until there’s no trace of your tears and take a deep breath. In the blink of an eye, it’s as though you never cried at all. 

Even so, the bags under your eyes don’t lie. He’s sure he’s got a pair to match.

“When’s the last time you slept?” He asks quietly, and if you didn’t know better you’d swear he was concerned about you. But you do know better. 

You shoot a glance over to the freighter’s sorry excuse of a bunk. It’s even worse than the last one he took you in, although you’re not sure he’s suggesting a good fuck will get you off to sleep. It’s very pointedly not been touched, starched sheets still stretched military-tight over the mattress. Not that it’s much of a mattress. 

“Let’s find a room somewhere. I think a real bed might do us both some good.” He makes it sound like an offer, but you know it’s non-negotiable. And deep down, you really could use a good hour or two before you have to fly back to base. The pilot’s seat is definitely more comfortable than the bunk, just about. You dip into the cockpit at the last second to snag your old blanket. For comfort’s sake.

There’s not a lot in the room that an older Twi’lek woman hands you the keycard to. Only a desk with a chair, an attached refresher, and a small bed. But it’s big enough for the two of you. The suns start to dip below the horizon, and Din finally reaches out to touch you. Just barely, just a light stroke of his fingers along your shoulder. But it’s enough to convince you to take a shower, you’re sandy and sweaty and tired and it’ll take more energy to argue than it would to just take the shower. 

You’re in there for longer than you intended, zoning out as your eyes lose focus of the little square tiles on the wall, and it’s dark outside by the time you’re dried and dressed in the spare clothes you keep in your go-bag. Din’s pulled blinds shut, locked the door, and piled his armour carefully on the desk. The ancient wood creaks under the weight of the metal. The man himself is lying spreadeagled on the bed, in only his underclothes and his helmet, the dull light from the single bulb in the refresher reflects off of his visor when he turns to look at you. It might make you laugh if you weren’t so tired.

“Better?”

You nod. Of course you feel better, anyone would after scrubbing what felt like an inch thick layer of sweat and sand off of their skin. You smell of the pleasantly neutral soap from the dispenser and, for the first time in days, you think you can breathe again. Although the weight of exhaustion threatens to drag your bones through the floor. 

Din pulls himself to stand with a low groan, shoulders protesting when he rolls them, and tucks the sheet back far enough that you can get in comfortably. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s laid your blanket out beneath them, a thought that sits jagged in your throat. He approaches you slowly, carefully, as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast. But you take his hand the moment he offers it and leans around you to switch the fresher’s light off, let him lead you back to the bed, and follow him down onto it. 

There’s the barest sound of metal brushing against his hair as he pulls the helmet off and  sits up for a moment to set it down on the floor. 

“Din?” Your voice is quiet, careful not to disturb the peace that’s settled in the room, but it makes him shudder all the same. He returns to you, tucks the blankets up around you both, and tugs you into him. The Armourer’s words, the ones that swirl in his head every time he thinks of you like this, are silent. Din finds he’s not even a little bit guilty.

Warm fingers trace your body, soft over your exposed skin, light as they dip under your shirt. He says nothing, only traces the scars on your back, on your sides, along your ribs. He doesn’t ask how they got there, running his touch along the raised marks you’ve collected through your life and leaving goosebumps in his wake. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel quite so empty. 

You shift further into the warmth underneath you, a vain attempt to keep a hold of the last few dregs of sleep. But you feel rested, at least. That’s not something particularly familiar, and you bask in the feeling. A hum rumbles beneath you. Oh, that’s where you are. You’re not embarrassed, or shocked, like you thought you might be if this ever happened. If you ever thought it possible he wouldn’t leave you to wake up alone. But Din is solid under your head, under your arm, the soft fabric of his shirt clutched in your fist. He’s speaking softly, coaxing you from dreams. It’s still dark as anything when you finally open your eyes, so it can’t have been more than a few hours you spent snoozing. 

It’s his story, you realise when your brain finally kicks into gear. He’s whispering about the memories he has from before, his parents. You’d always assumed he was born and raised Mandalorian, how he carries his Way so heavily on his shoulders, but the shake in his ribs as he recounts them tells you all you need to know. Your fist tightens in his shirt when you shuffle a little closer, press your face into his shoulder, a little more over the top of him. A human blanket. 

Din likes it, the weight of you on him, your body helps him to keep focus. He never thought he’d tell anyone what happened to him. A dirty secret to be kept hidden away. But something about you pulls it out of him, something about the peace he’s created here with you in this little room makes the truth ease its way out of his throat. You’re not the only one who felt the wrath of the Empire as a child, you’re not the only one who wants it gone, he needs you to know that.

It breaks something inside you, to hear him so clearly struggle through the details of the attack and his rescue, and you can’t help but push yourself up further. Unwrap your hand from his shirt to find his cheek, press your lips to his softly, slowly. He’s suffered enough. You need him to know that you’re here, you have him. You’ll always have him. You let him lose himself in your body, and maybe your heart. He’s already made a home there anyways.

It’s careful, tentative, more so than the other times. The way you hold each other as though you’re made of glass. There’s no rush, no pressure of a goodbye, no adrenaline of a hunt. You have time. And, god, does it show. The way Din touches you is reverent, like you’re holy. You put everything you are, everything you have, behind every kiss, every touch, every whisper. It belongs to him, you’re happy to give yourself over. Just as he belongs to you, you’re sure of it. The fear that he touches someone else in the way he does you is soothed by the roughness of his voice in your ear, the way his teeth scrape against your throat, the way you hear the words without them needing to be said. Because he does, as you do.

You’re the first one to leave this time, blindly finding your clothes in the dark. You leave him a neutral comm, one you already have the pin saved for. He’ll know what it is. It connects to your personal pin without leaving a trace, and you can buzz him at any point. So long as he keeps it, you think he will. You take a moment to listen to him breathing, steadily in the dark, and raise your blanket to your nose. Din. 

There won’t be a day goes by where you don’t think of him, of that you’re certain.

TAGLIST (lmk if u want on or off the list):

@brothersdrxke​ @remmysbounty​ @aq-vetina​ @1800-fight-me​ @mandos-co​ @kesskirata​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @firstofficerwiggles​ @keeper0fthestars​

#lacuna #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star war #fic #liz does words #obligatory prayer to the tag gods that they work #smut

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Calling out stupid

"Why is there a human in my command bunker?” 

The question was the first thing Marsov spoke upon entering the room. Staff and aides looked around them in confusion as they milled about the room while guards lining the walls clenched their weapons a bit tighter. 

The human in question had been lounging in a nearby chair reading a book as the commander had entered and seemed little interested in him as he continued reading. 

“GUARDS!” Marsov’s voice boomed and as one every guard lining the dimly lit chamber brought their weapons to bear. One of them broke ranks and approached Marsov and saluted.  “Great one, he is a guest from your father.”  At the words Marsov reached out with his hand and grabbed the guard by the throat, hoisting them into the air as if they were nothing but a paper weight. “Why,” Marsov tightened his grip as the guard struggled in his grasp, “would my father have a human as a guest?”  “He would not.”  Marsov turned at the voice and saw the human put down their book and stand, straightening their black overcoat and smoothing out the wrinkles. “It would be better to say that I am more an adviser than a guest.” The human stopped and cupped their chin with one of their hands. “No, no; even that is not right.” The human walked back in forth muttering to themselves in a hushed voice as the rest of the room remained silent save for the frantic gasps of the choking guard. 

Finally throwing up their hands the human turned to Marsov. “I guess it doesn’t really matter what I am. All that is important is that your father wished me here.”  “For what purpose?” 

The human clasped their hands behind their back and let out a small grin. “Why to take command of course.” 

The sounds of a dozen inhaling breaths darted the room as all eyes darted to Marsov. His people were known as the Tugunda, a humanoid race of beings roughly standing roughly three meters in height and muscles thick as tree trunks powerful enough to smash a hole clean through three feet of reinforced steel.. Their skin bore many resemblances with snakes save for a third eye nestled just above the right one. 

Marsov pondered the human for a moment before letting out a laugh with the deepness of a roar. The laugh made several aides take two or three steps back as the guards eyed the door nervously. Marsov was from a the royal family and if he desired could kill everyone in the room without reprisal. 

Tossing the guard aside Marsov stomped towards the human, shaking his head as his laughter died down. The little fleshling didn’t even come up to his waist and yet they assumed that they could take away his command. 

“By what right do you think you can take away my command .....” Marsov paused as he realized the human had not introduced themselves. Sensing this the human put a hand to their chest and spoke. “You may call me Yuri.”

“Then please, tiny Yuri;” Marsov laughed as he turned to face the surrounding aides who joined in, “I ask again by what right do you think you can claim my command?” 

“By your father’s right of course.” Yuri said as he casually flicked a speck of dust of his coat. 

The laughter ceased immediately and Marsov rounded on Yuri. “You dare lie to me!?!” He stomped towards the human intent to strangle the life out of him when Yuri reached into his inner coat and removed a data pad and activated it. Marsov froze and those around him went instantly to one knee with their heads down. Hovering before them was the royal families crest known only to Tugunda as they never displayed it outside of their people thus making it impossible to forge. 

Marsov looked at the crest and then back down to Yuri would calmly deactivated the data pad and returned it to his coat. He looked up at Marsov, his expression still one of a faint smile but no sense of mischief behind it.

“To make the long story short as my people say, your father is not pleased with how the war here is progressing.” 

“Nonsense!” 

Marsov was now more frustrated than he had ever been since coming to this wretched world. “I progress the war with great fervor and will soon bring victory to my people AND my father!” 

Yuri shook his head and muttered something under his breath. 

“The only thing you are progressing with “great fervor” is the complete annihilation of your forces here.” 

More intakes of breath came from the onlookers as Marsov bristled. No one dared question the royal family, even if what they said defied all reason. Before he could reply Yuri picked up the book once more and removed what appeared to be a small data pad from within. 

“This is a report of the last three months of your progress on this world. I read it several times until it became so dull I began using it as a book marker for something more interesting and less sad.” 

Words became stuck in Marsov’s mouth at this tiny beings insolence but Yuri continued anyway despite the growing anger towards him.

“In the past three months you have launched eight major offenses against the enemy. Each one has used numerous armored vehicles, troop transports, artillery, aircraft, and most importantly troops. In total you have sent nearly three hundred thousand soldiers against the enemy for a gain of...” Yuri paused as he read the data file ensuring he was exact, “four meters of enemy held territory.” 

“Do not speak to me as if you understand our doctrines!” Marsov smashed his fist into a nearby console and crushed it like a tin can. 

“I don’t need to understand your doctrines to recognize an incompetent leader.” 

Marsov slowly turned from the ruined console to face Yuri. “What did you just say to me?” His every word laced with malice and murderous intent. “I said you are an incompetent leader.” Marsov couldn’t believe what the tiny creature had just said to him. As if to further confound him Yuri began walking towards Marsov, his boot heels clacking against the tilted floors like gunshots. 

“You think that if you throw enough soldiers and tanks and bombs at your enemy they will simply break. When that did not work rather than learn from it you attempt the same attack again and again. My daughter of seven, bless her tiny heart, does nothing but play video games all day long and even she would be a better tactician than you! I am here because the organization I represent has invested considerable funds and material into your families rule; material that you have pissed away into the wind to such an extent that you now risk the total collapse of your families rule over your people should the events of this war make it back to your home world.”

Yuri was standing in front of Marsov now, his smile gone as he fixed Marsov with an icy gaze. It was like looking down the barrel of an executioners gun Marsov thought. 

“Your incompetence has endangered years of hard work and were you under my command I would simply line you up against that wall,” he spoke pointing to one of the walls of the bunker, “and blow your brains out with a gun until this entire room was redecorated with whatever shit you call for a brain.” 

More gasps came as now it seemed Yuri had just openly claimed he would murder the royal family member. Guards looked between themselves as they were unsure what to do as though Marsov was of royal blood the human had come with the royal family’s crest thus giving him equal status. 

“Your father requested we lend assistance to resolve this matter quietly and thus I am here.” Yuri walked away from a still dumb looking Marsov. “I will take command of this army, deliver you a victory, have you take all the credit; and thus resolve this hell hole of a situation we now find ourselves in.” 

He looked back at Marsov as he turned on the command bunker intercom. “Now, would you kindly introduce me to my command staff?” Marsov gritted his teeth as his eyes wandered the room. He could feel them all staring at him and though they would not dare speak it aloud he knew that on some level they agree with this human. 

Yuri tapped the intercom once more. “Kindly.Introduce me, to my command staff.”   With a grunt of disgust Marsov approached the intercom. He gazed down at Yuri, his every fiber of hatred filling his stare only for Yuri to meet him unflinching. 

With a heavy heart Marsov reached down and activated the Intercom and spoke. 

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

[benjimirthursby]

Prompt #10: Avail - “Weaving the Cloaks, Forging the Dagger.” - The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor

“I never expected that our work would evade notice, rather I hoped to effect some measure of control over how it was observed, assessed, judged.”

-Benjimir Thursby, “Seven Stars to the Horizon.”

(Revised 9/21 for additional content, details, grammar, and Feng Shui.)

Officially it had no formal title, but in communique and common speech it was referred to as Company Hall.  Among the officers of the Thursby Company it was often named Tondera Hall, for reasons none would explain when asked.  Among the Scions company it was called the White Tree after the first sub-level which had been arranged into a spa by the same name.  The spa was open to the public and frequently served recuperating company members.  The first level held a service desk at which members of all companies, guests, and customers of the spa conducted business.  A crafting, engineering space, which Ossimira Miegs seemed to dwell in all hours the night and day was behind the service desk.  Scattered through the hall, in sub-levels under the main building, were quarters and rooms.  Most were in the hill abutting the hall, others in the sub-levels along the ridge overlooking the nearby streams and lake.  This afforded many rooms windows.  Collectively the design also made the hall seem deceptively small as seen from it’s courtyard.

Benjimir kept personal quarters in Company Hall.  Also, there were offices for the newly appointed business management gurus the Twinkinryker twins.  A few rooms served as backups to their Thursby Company counterparts in Ul’Dah.  Benjimir was in conference with his younger brother Bondermir in one such room.  A plaque on the door identified it as AUXFLTOPS.  The Auxiliary Fleet Operations room.  There was next to it a similar room whose focus was caravans and warehousing related.

In the far end of the room was a large map on the wall.  On the map were color coded paper icons representing company ships, convoys, anchorages and port slips.  Each was pinned to the map with a small slip of paper naming each.  Ships were labelled by class, origin, destination, mission and commander.  Strings from the icons led to each ships destination on the map. 

Two clerks, “up wellers,” Sammie and Adler, sat at the Watch Desk next to the map.  They had a small Linkpearl box in front of them.  The box was of Eorzean craft, intended to channel many links to it.  Those paired links were in boxes aboard each of the ships on the map.  As updates were received, the maps, ledgers, schedules and other information were updated there.  In Ul’Dah an identical room, larger and more elaborate, replicated the effort.  Which room actively took responsibility for “the watch” rotated.  Today “Tondera” had the watch.  Another set of rooms nearby and in Ul’Dah were similarly appointed and focused on caravans.

“Watch, Baxter.  Arriving, Kugane slip 3, FSB 1251.” a voice said over the link box.  Adler marked a log and spoke into the box.  “Baxter, Watch aye.  Time in, Fleet Standard Bell 1251.”  Adler walked to a short step ladder in front of the main map and updated the marker for the ship and moved it to Kugane.

Benjimir returned his eyes from the Watch desk to the map he and Bondermir were standing in front of.  His attention was drawn repeatedly to the older map on the opposite wall.  A few years prior it tracked Company and Maelstrom vessels and points where battles had been fought in the Dragonsong War.  None involved Company ships at that point.  In the years since the current map in front of him traced points of contact and combat, mostly with pirates and the initial engagements with the Confederacy to the present day.  Points of contact with Garlean ships were highlighted.  There had not been any fighting since the previous war and little even then.  The Imperial fleet had been scattered and unable to mass during the conflict.  

“The Alliance wants nothing to do with it, but the sentiment in the ranks isn’t solidly behind their leadership.” Bondermir said.  He pointed up at several places on the map.  “There are skirmishes all along these Imperial zones of control, Ala Mihgo, and such.” he added.  Each zone had one or more ports and shipping lanes traveled by Company ships.

“And we have business interests, caravans and Scions all over those places.” Benjimir lamented.  “If this escalates and the Alliance is drawn into a fight involving the Empire we may have a difficult time avoiding contact this time.  Our footprint is bigger now.” he said rhetorically as Bondermir knew this as well as any in the Company.

“Aye.  It is aligned with our intents and interests to oppose the Imperials.  If this continues to track along its current path the Alliance will get drawn into it.  If they are pulled into a shooting war I don’t foresee how we avoid it either.”  Bondermir said.  Benjimir nodded his head and pointed to the areas nearest to the Imperials.  The conversation paused.

At the duty desk the clerk picked up a small card and reached to another device next to the Linkbox.  It resembled a childs toy, a small keyboard with six keys and a small speaker, set in a wooden box with gold painted decorative details.  The clerk pressed a button on the linkbox which locked the transmission open then began to tap the keys on the new device. She pressed two keys like playing a musical instrument, each resulted in a different tones playing.  She repeated this six times with two different keys each then spoke into the Linkbox.  “Watch testing with Forrostar, Andustar, Baxter, Fairstar, Fairsea, Entulesse. FSB 1300.”

“We need eyes and ears out there.  And everywhere else really.  This is happening weather we or the Alliance wants it or not and we’re still treating this like a research project writ large.” Benjimir said, turning to his brother.  

“Business ledgers, passenger manifests, field reports from the Scions don’t tell us enough of what we need to know.  We have more shipping agents than intelligence agents.  We won’t avail ourselves anything by being passive here.  With the Twinkinrykers onboard now I’m naming you our Director of Strategic Information.  I need spies Bondermir, a lot of them.” Benjimir said.

At the Watch desk the Linkbox squawked with a long three tone signal, which was assigned to the Company Hall.  A voiced followed up as Sammie and Adler began to mark entries into their logs and close them.  “Tondera, Ul’Dah.  Tondera we stand ready to relieve  you.”  the voice said.  Sammie leaned forward and pressed the key to talk on the Linkbox.  “Ul’Dah, Tondera, we stand relieved.”  A moment later the voice from Ul’Dah spoke again.  “Tondera aye.  All players, all players, Ul’dah has the Watch, FSB 1305, good day!”

Bondermir cringed at the identical twin Lalafells taking up much of his work over the Thursby Company but it was something long planned.  “For both companies?” He asked.  Benjimir shook his head.  “No, only the TC.  Keep this clear of the Scions of Numenor.  We need them to keep their hands clean.  Variance from that is at my sole discretion, is that understood?” Benjimir said with a stern look.  

“Understood sir.  When should I begin?” Bondermir asked.

“At once and with haste.  I already feel a draft on our backside.  Like we are missing something.  Right now, we are the fly on the web Bondermir.  The Empire is a ruthless but professional organization.  An unambiguous risk to already know we are here or to endanger our people.  We need to know not only what is happening but to guard ourselves from those that maybe watching”  Benjimir said.

“It will be done.” Bondermir said.  He looked at the center of the room.  There sat the wargaming table.  A prized possession and training tool of commodore T’subaki.  It was a map of Haydaelyn’s Ruby Sea with an overlapping grid.  Along the side of the table, arranged in neat rows were small model ships of unique design, presented from the waterline up.  It was used to model possible engagement scenarios, plan and test responses.

“I wish there was a game for planning this sort of thing out.” Bondermir thought to himself.

*******

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxiv write #ffxivwrite2018 #ffxivwrite2019 #ffxivwrite2020 #crystal rp #FFXIV crystal #FFXIV Screenshots #ffxiv crystal dc #ffxiv rp crystal #crystal-rp-ffxiv #crystal dc #ffxiv-crystal-rp #rp-crystal-ffxiv #crystal-rp-ffixv #ffxiv balmung #ffxiv rp balmung #scionsofnumenor #sonsofnumenor #Final Fantasy #finalfantasy #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14

[growingstronglikeahighgardenrose]

‘The Holiday’ part II: sequel to the ‘Winter Wonderland Party’ but can be read as a standalone

Pairings: Esther Denham/Lord Babington, Sidney Parker/Charlotte Heywood

Prompt challenge: the near and the dear one for the ‘12 days of Sanditon’ hosted by @sanditoncreative​

Rating: T

Available on AO3

Synopsis: It was back in his third year, long before he started his current Master of Diplomacy, that he first set his eyes on Esther Denham. As a matter of fact, he could pinpoint the second he became a fool in love to the minute. Edward Denham exited a nearby bar. He knew the man didn’t possess a single good quality despite his popularity. So when he saw Esther making her way towards the man, and saw the man smile and open his arms, he closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to watch how the girl he’d taken a liking to walked straight into the arms of a man he knew could only hurt her. ‘Oh man!’ Crowe shouted. William Babington’s eyes sprang open just in time to hear an unmanly wail and see Esther’s knee coming down from where she’d planted it in his groin.

Check for notes at the end

William Babington was a fool.

It was the label he preferred above all others, because it fit him in all ways but one. He liked to act foolish with his friends, he had fooled around with girls a lot, and now he could add being a fool in love to the list of reasons why he was, in fact, a fool.

Babington liked to consider himself a smart man though. This was not only attested by the fact that he had, at present, wrapped up his first master’s degree in Politics without delay, but also by the fact that he had managed to not only keep himself, but his friends as well, out of any serious trouble despite the many, many times at least one of them should have gotten arrested or hospitalized.

He loved his friends passionately. They were always there for him: to have a good time or a quiet evening. He couldn’t comprehend how two individuals like Sidney Parker and Matthew Crowe had chosen him as their best friend: they loved sports while he didn’t, they did economics while he studied politics, and they had always been popular while he had not. But the three of them blossomed in night clubs when they left their inhibitions at the door, they all understood the burden their families could be: Sidney changing his studies to help his brothers, Crowe drinking to forget his troubles at home, and Williamhad studied politics because his father wanted him to try and enter the House of Commons, if not he was to enter the House of Lords as was his ‘birth right’, and if possible; he should try and become a leader or a speaker but no pressure of course.

It was back in his third year, long before he started his current Master of Diplomacy, that he first set his eyes on Esther Denham. As a matter of fact, he could pinpoint the second he became a fool in love to the minute.

It was at an eighties party, and he had come from a meeting. He’d still been in his jeans and clean blue button-up when he arrived at Crowe’s room where Sidney and Crowe had been playing cards and drinking beer until the hour was late enough to go to the party. There Crowe, who’d dressed up as a hip hop star, forced him to put on a t-shirt and a jeans jacket. He just narrowly avoided Crowe’s assault with a red marker, or he’d gone to the party with a David Bowie lightning bolt on his face.

It had not been when his eyes connected with her gorgeous brown ones after her curly haired friend started dancing with Sidney.

It had not been as they struck up a conversation during which he, as any good wingman, proposed to have a drink to the best girlfriend of the girl Sidney tried to score. But when he she simply rebuffed him with an ‘I can get my own drinks, thanks. Besides, I’m not going to play along with any wingman tactic. If Charlotte wants him, your friend will have no need for us hanging out together. And if I accept your drink, I am intended to work along in your scheme, which I won’t do.’, he had to admit he was at least intrigued.

But when Sidney and the curly haired girl started kissing, the girl was left alone, since her black friends had disappeared.

‘I’m William.’

‘Esther.’

‘Apparently she wants him at least a little.’

‘It does seem so’, she said while rolling her eyes as Sidney lifted the girl against the wall.

‘May I remark that you look marvellous in that aerobics outfit?’

‘You may.’ But she didn’t look either charmed or impressed by the compliment. In fact, she was completely indifferent to it.

‘So what do you study?’

‘Art History.’

‘You do? I’ve always been interested in it. Would you recommend it?’

‘Why, wanna change?’

‘No, but maybe I could do it after I’m done with my current ones.’

‘And what are the current ones?’

‘I’m in my third year of Politics.’

‘So generic’, she said with a huff. But she did smile this time.

‘I know.  It’s dull, it’s bland. It’s rumoured to be both easy and useless. I know the clichés.’ There was no use in telling her that he hadn’t chosen his studies.

‘So I’ve heard as well. And are the rumours true?’

‘All of them. I’m bored. Why do you think I’m asking about Art History?’

‘Adding another useless degree to the list does sound like something someone studying politics would do.’

‘But at least it would be interesting.’

‘It would.’

‘So, as a fellow student with a useless degree, would you mind having a drink? We’ve by now established that our friends are into each other so I’m not doing it to do my friend a favour anymore.’

‘I’d like to. But it doesn’t mean anything.’

‘I didn’t say it did, nor did I expect to.’ And so they did a shot of tequila and danced on, until she seemed to spot something in the distance and disappeared.

He didn’t fall in love with her when he saw her march past him and hit a blond girl square on the cheek. In fact: this made him second guess liking her.

His fondness of her however, increased when he spotted her sitting down on the pavement, hugging the black girl who’d disappeared half an hour earlier. She looked so sweet and worried, which was in stark contrast with the witty unimpressed attitude she’d shown while talking to him.

He observed how she supported the girl to a cab she’d called, after they’d been sitting outside for forty minutes. He was outside smoking with Crowe, a bad habit of his after he’d drunk. The cab drove away and the redhead turned around, hands moving up and down her arms to keep warm. He could see the moment her hands slowed down and her eyes sharpened.

He followed the trail of her eyes, landing on the form of Edward Denham exiting a nearby bar. He knew the jock: had to work together with him once, and had heard stories about him aplenty. He knew Edward Denham didn’t possess a single good quality despite his popularity. So when he saw Esther making her way towards the man, and saw the man smile and open his arms, he closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to watch how the girl he’d taken a liking to walked straight into the arms of a man he knew could only hurt her.

‘Oh man!’ Crowe shouted. William’s eyes sprang open just in time to hear an unmanly wail and see Esther’s knee coming down from where she’d planted it in his groin.

‘That’s for the girl in the bathroom you’ve cheated on today!’

‘That’s for everyone else!’ she hissed as she put her foot down on his. He tried to pull back, but she grabbed his arm.

He didn’t hear what she said next, but he saw her arm draw back. She was aiming for his nose next  when the curly haired friend ran out of the club with her hands in front of her eyes. Esther immediately broke off the assault, pushing Edward away and running after her crying friend.

That was the moment William Babington became a fool in love. Esther was tenderness, wit, coldness, vengefulness, protectiveness and violence wrapped in a lovely package of shiny black fabric. Why his heart decided that it was a good thing to fall for a woman who was beautifully unattainable and capable of killing him, he didn’t know, but it happened.

♦♦♦♦♦♦

He saw her a couple of times over the next few years.

As Sidney decided to campaign for an additional two years as a student representative Babington, like any good friend, spared a lot of attention to the other campaigners. Sidney and he quickly noticed how the redhead and curly haired brunette from the party were both in the running for their faculty. They were coming up together: Charlotte Heywood and Esther Denham. That got a good laugh from William. She hadn’t only attacked a random playboy, she’d attacked a family member. He didn’t know whether that made her more amazing, or more dangerous, but Sidney admitted that she had done what he’d dreamed of for years.

‘Hitting Edward Denham in the balls or lashing out at a misbehaving family member?’ William had laughed.

‘Both’, Sidney decided without the slightest trace of a smile on his face.

♦♦♦♦♦♦

The next time he saw her, was at the reception held for the campaigning students. It was the day the results would be made public, and all students in the running had assembled in the central hall of their university. The lists would be made public at 17h, and hung on a wall. The atmosphere was tense. The campaign had been overshadowed by two big campaign teams who had students running in each faculty, allowing for them to share campaign money and make big campaigns. Both teams had garnered a lot of media attention and had publicly slandered each other’s posters. Video’s had been put up on Facebook of students burning flyers from certain competitors. Both Sidney and the girls had remained unaffiliated, since the big teams had strong ties to political student unions.

Charlotte was merrily chatting with fellow candidates while Esther stood next to her in complete silence. The hand with which she held her glass was white with tension. Her hair was up in an elegant chignon, with some curls framing her face. The frilly Edwardian inspired blouse made her look like a runaway heroine from a novel. Her body had looked incredible in the aerobics outfit, but she looked unattainably gorgeous in her white blouse, black skirt and high heels.

She knocked back the remaining champagne in her glass and walked towards the bar, where he happened to be waiting as a servant was uncorking a new bottle.

‘You’re campaigning as well?’ He asked.

‘Yes, are you?’ She was surprised to be addressed and was visibly confused. Did the confusion derive from her not remembering where she’d seen him before, or from knowing all campaigns and not having seen his.

‘I’m not, but my friend Sidney is.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve seen his.’ Her mouth was tense. It hadn’t ended well between Charlotte and Sidney. His friend had admitted to having addressed her unkindly once, and afterwards she’d run away without giving a reason. She’d never approached him since, and Sidney had taken that as a sign she hadn’t wanted anything to do with him anymore.

‘The election days sure were something.’

‘Train wreck’, she huffed as she extended her glass to the bartender.

‘I think the faculty students must’ve been sick of us. We bothered them to vote for an entire week, barged in at the beginning of each class… There were over twenty candidates in Sidney’s faculty, they were a bit oversaturated.’

‘Yes, it was one of the battle grounds of Hearts against Hards, wasn’t it?’

‘It was. Lots of disappearing posters and slander campaigns.’

‘The game was dirty. According to the rules, candidates who slander and destroy campaign material are to be disqualified.’

‘If they get caught. If you don’t have proof to show that another candidate is the culprit, they can’t do anything. If a candidate asks their friend to remove a poster, the candidate goes free.’

‘The system needs to be revised’, Esther agreed.

Her face clouded as she looked over her shoulder at the gathered crowd. The big teams were all standing together, laughing and joyful. They seemed convinced of their victory already.

‘What time is it?’

‘Four minutes still.’

She shivered, looking quite unhappy about it. She gave a short nod.

‘Were there a lot of candidates in your faculty?’ He knew how many there were. Eighteen in total, running for twelve positions. It wasn’t horrible. The economy faculty had twenty students running for ten seats, which made it one of the more competitive and intense battle grounds. Meanwhile the politics faculty had five students running for eight seats, all were guaranteed to get one.

‘About average, there’ll be some who won’t get chosen.’

‘How was your campaign?’

‘We’re young. And there are many older students participating who’ve been in student unions and societies and student councils for years. There are another couple of lesser known people though, even a 70 year old History Students, which admittedly is both amusing and impressive.’

‘A very varied group.’

‘Yeah. But those older ones have already accomplished certain things, and they have a large network. We’re just relying on our friends and the strength of our program.’

‘I’m sure you’ll make it.’

‘You don’t know that… And the odds of both of us making it aren’t the greatest either. Though I’d be glad if Charlotte gets a position, she’s amazing and great with people. You don’t have to be elected to be involved, I know that, but there’s a long list of councils you can’t get into unless you’re elected.’

She was afraid of not getting chosen. And she’d already prepared for losing.

‘Well, you already look like a very serious board member of some council.’

He immediately regretted those words as soon as he said them. He’d only talked to her twice, and he’d talked about her looks both times. Exactly what women disliked. However, this time she smiled. It was a sad smile, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

‘Dress for success right? If you dress like you’re going to have it, the odds increase. Or so I like to think. Silly superstition.’

‘No, not at all. I do the same thing. I don’t allow myself to consider I’ve failed an exam until I get my scores and see that I’ve failed. Because once I start considering it…’

‘It becomes a real possibility’, she smiled, recognizing the line of thinking. ‘Yes.’

She bit her lip. Her lips were stained red, but they didn’t have a lipstick or gloss texture.

Just as he thought the conversation had ended, she sighed and talked again.

‘Though I wonder how big the odds of you failing are, since you’re studying politics after all.’

Her eyes were still staring holes in the door from which the secretary was supposed to come with the result papers. It gave him time to process his shock. She’d remembered his studies. Did that mean she’d been thinking about him as well? Or did she simply have a good memory?

‘I’ve failed one course each year. I haven’t failed anything during the first term this year though, perhaps I’ll break the circle.’

Her lips smiled before her eyes slid to him. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, the glass of champagne carefully held between three fingers as her hand pressed against her arm.

He knew there was no use in flirting. It was daytime. Her best friend and his best friend weren’t on speaking terms. She was seconds removed from a nervous breakdown and he felt way too awkward and self-aware to be anything near suave.

The door flew open. He looked at his watch.

‘It’s 16h59’, he announced.

The next breath she took was shaky, a shudder passing over her shoulders.

‘Yes.’

She walked towards her friend, retrieving her phone out of the pocket of her pencil skirt to look up the results.

He walked towards Sidney, Matthew, George and Susan.

Seconds later shouting erupted. The Hards campaigners started crying their slogans, and the Hearts started cheering. Sidney, George and Susan were all elected as well, with some of the largest number of voters of their faculties.

He congratulated his friends and immediately sought Esther out. She was hugging Charlotte, breaking apart from her as people started padding their shoulders. There was a big laugh on her face, which she covered with her hand as she looked at the ground. She was elected.

‘I’m going over to congratulate the other elected reps of my faculty’, Susan decided before walking over to Charlotte and Esther.

‘Not a bad idea’, George decided before sauntering over to a couple other Politics students. Sidney sighed. ‘Thank God the circus is over, now we can go back to doing our job again.’

♦♦♦♦♦♦

The next time he saw Esther was during his first Master’s. He had a class in her faculty and spotted her on the big steps of the main entrance. But he and George had decided to have coffee in the coffee bar across the building instead. It was ten twenty and all who had class were inside, and all who didn’t have class were elsewhere. The staircase, a place usually filled with smokers and students, was empty safe for the redhead. She was bundled up in a black coat reaching until her shins. She was on the phone crying. He wished to go to her, but he doubted he had the right.

She stood up after some time, pacing in front of the building. Her head shook, her fringe covering her eyes as her hands waved violently, she stomped her foot. Something was clearly amiss. Finally, she sank down again, apparently stopping to struggle against whatever the person on the other side of the line said. She buried her face in her hands, nodding along until she finally put away her phone. Her head tilted backwards towards the sky when someone else approached her. She started shaking her head and waving her hands again. She was laughing this time, but it was a performance, the laugh showing nothing but pure agitation and anger.

He thought of how she’d gone after the blonde girl and Edward two years earlier. He didn’t want to know what she’d do to whoever had caused her mood this time.

A week later he saw an announcement on the page of the general student council of her faculty announcing that after the sudden resignation of their president, Esther had taken over after an emergency election council.

♦♦♦♦♦♦

The next time he saw her was in November of the current year. He’d seen her at various parties over the past few years, but this was the first time they’d ended up at the bar together, waiting for their drinks. As a matter of fact, he’d been flirting with another girl that evening, but seeing her in that low cut top and corduroy miniskirt ruined it. Three years and she still held him in her clutches without even trying. He barely even knew her.

However, their best friends still avoided each other, he was two years her senior, she was in so many councils and organisations while he had accomplished awfully little in comparison, and he didn’t doubt that in her eyes, he was awfully dull.

When their eyes connected, they gave each other a short smile before he accepted his beer and left.

He was a fool after all, and only a fool gave up before even trying.

♦♦♦♦♦♦

‘You what?’

‘I brought her home and we had coffee a day after.’

‘Coffee?’ Matthew asked with raised eyebrows.

‘Coffee.’

‘Just coffee?’

‘Just coffee.’

‘But?’ James asked.

‘But we’re going for dinner next week.’

‘Well well. There’s life after Eliza after all’, Matthew laughed.

‘Shut up Crowe, we weren’t going to mention her again after the second time they dated.’

‘Second time was only because they needed to use her daddy’s law firm at a discount price.’

‘But she sure used all the time she was together with him to make him miserable.’

‘She’s asked me to come to her friendmas party’, Sidney announced.

The two friends looked at their favourite moody friend, who was staring at his phone as if he’d never held one before.

‘Does that mean a lot?’ He looked up from his phone.

‘Like hell it does’, Matthew grinned. ‘Only thing more meaningful is an actual Christmas Party with her family.’

Sidney stared at his phone for a long time. William had known his friend for a long time, yet he was puzzled by him. He couldn’t help but feel like Sidney hadn’t been honest. For years, it had seemed like his best friend had closed off his heart, and now, he had started dating Charlotte at a breakneck speed. It wasn’t like him at all, unless there had already been something there.

‘I didn’t know you two had started talking, Sidney.’

‘We hadn’t… Well we had, but only during general council meetings. We worked together on the Winter Wonderland Party.’

‘Working together is what they call it these days, ey?’

‘Watch it, Crowe’, Sidney growled. ‘We were professional. But I admit I admired her work ethics and attitude. We got off on the wrong foot a couple of years ago, but it turned out to be one big misunderstanding. However, we’re past that now.’

His phone buzzed again.

‘What’s it say?’ Matthew asked.

Sidney took a deep breath.

‘It says that my friends are invited as well, so I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.’

‘Oh, how sweet.’

♦♦♦♦♦♦

William Babington was a nervous fool that evening.

He knew that they were only invited because of Sidney. And he knew that just because Charlotte and Sidney were dating, Esther wouldn’t suddenly notice him. Yet he couldn’t help but nervously pace his room and change outfits three times. How did one have to dress for an informal Christmas dinner? Did he have to wear a Christmas sweater? He’d put one on, but then decided it looked silly and he didn’t wish to look silly. Did he have to wear a shirt and dress pants? Or was that too formal? Perhaps he had to wear a plaid shirt, a jumper and a pair of jeans? He looked like something in between a hipster and a dad in it.  And since Crowe had decided to start addressing him as the dad friend and Sidney as the uncle friend, he started feeling conscious about his wardrobe choices.

Eventually he left in a red velvet blazer with black lapels and a black jeans, which was semi dressed up and semi Christmas-y. It was less a deliberate choice and more that his time had simply run out.

Secret Santa gift in hand, he pressed the bell of the third floor room Esther lived in: the place where the Friendmas dinner was supposed to be held.

After just under a minute, the door flew open and a wide smiling Charlotte, dressed in a Christmas jumper – he’d decided on a bad outfit after all – greeted him.

‘Hi, um, William right? Sidney’s already here.’

‘Oh. Good.’

‘Come in, come in. It’s on the third floor’, she closed the door and jumped in front of him, skipping on the stairs with the grace of a gazelle.

‘Have um, many of the guests arrived yet?’

‘Oh, near all of them.’

‘Am I late?’

‘No, not at all. It’s just, well, heh, Georgie, James and I wanted to help with dinner so we arrived early. Only you, Sidney and your other friend – Matthew was it? – had to arrive.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘We’re there’, she announced, throwing open the door. The light blinded him for an instant, after climbing the stairs in relatively little light.

The smell of lavender and food greeted him as he stepped in. A popular Christmas song was playing and laughter came from each corner. On a romantic bed with a flower patterned head board sat a dark skinned girl and a curly haired man, the girl wearing a glittering pink cocktail dress and knee high pink Christmas socks and the man wore antlers on top of his head. Half obscured by a Christmas tree too large for the room sat Sidney.

‘Look who I brought in!’ Charlotte announced.

‘A person’, the other girl decided.

‘Perhaps you should introduce yourself’, Charlotte smiled as she signalled for him to take off his coat.

He took off his coat and she hung it in a closed which easily consumed a third of the wall it was standing against. The bottom was filled with all kinds of heeled shoes stacked on top of each other. However the only pair of shoes looking particularly used were a pair of old white sneakers, clearly the pair she used most. The room was almost like he’d imagined: elegant, clean, obviously well kept, but he was surprised by the softness of the Christmas tree, the framed paintings on the walls, the amount of pillows and plants. It looked incredibly cosy for a woman with so many responsibilities and such a tough attitude.

He wanted to know why a woman who always looked so fashionable used her old sneakers most. He wanted to know why she had so many plants. He wished he’d been the first to arrive, so he’d had the time to take in every detail of the room and think of what it revealed about the woman living in it.

‘Hello, I’m William Babington, I’m a friend of Sidney and I’m a Diplomacy student.’

‘What are you going to do with that?’

‘I’m probably entering politics.’

‘What party?’ the curly haired man asked as he stood upright and started walking towards another door.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do in politics.’

‘I’m James, engineering student.’

He nodded at the man who entered the adjoining room.

‘I’m Georgiana, Georgie’s fine’, the black girl announced.

‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘And I’m Charlotte, but you probably knew that already?’ The girl laughed sheepishly as she plopped down on the bed.

‘I do.’

‘You can put your gift under the tree’, Georgiana announced.

‘Glass of wine? Or something else?’

‘Wine’s fine.’

‘There are glasses and wine on the table’, Charlotte announced. He’d already noticed it of course, but was glad that he was invited to take a glass.

The lady of the house still hadn’t presented herself. He knew nobody would search anything behind him asking where she was, but to him asking for her felt like giving away his secret.

He poured himself a glass and settled down, talking with the two girls and Sidney until the bell rang. Being the closest to the door, he was the one who fetched Crowe when he finally arrived. They steadily drank their way through the first bottle of wine and ate their way through two bags of crisps until the adjacent door opened and steam floated into the room.

‘Esther, you really got to ask your house lord for a cooker hood, it’s a damn steam cabin’, Georgiana laughed.

‘It’s no use. I can send him all I want and he won’t come. There were a couple of loose tiles in the bathroom when I moved in two years ago which he said he’d fix then and he still hasn’t.’

She appeared from between the white steam, a pre-Raphaelite piece of art come alive with long curly red manes dressed in a stunning green and gold dress.

The ghost of a smile was still on her ruby red lips as she set down an oven tray.

Her long lashes fluttered. He froze as she raised her eyes, and connected with his. The black and gold around her eyes was a trap set to steal his attention and keep it there.

In his imagination, the rest of the room disappeared, until there was only them. He imagined her smiling, greeting him like an acquaintance despite that she hadn’t talked to him in two years.

‘Why did bloody nobody tell me the other guests had arrived?’

A silence fell in the room, during which the obnoxiously cheerful Christmas music felt quite out of place.

‘We kinda forgot. But you were busy!’

‘Now you’re all making me a rude host.’

She looked away from him to shoot daggers at her friends.

Crossing her arms, she looked around the room sternly before putting on a big smile.

‘Hey, nice of you to come tonight. Found it alright?’

William and Matthew nodded quickly.

‘Good. I’m Esther, Art History’, she explained, though her eyes connected with Matthew this time.

‘Enchanté mademoiselle, I’m Matthew Crowe at your service. Engineering.’

Esther nodded and turned back to him now.

James announced he was going back into the kitchen – now devoid of steam – to get the other dishes.

What to say to a girl you’d only spoken to two times, but you’d been in love with for three years. Was it alright to be familiar? Or did he have to reintroduce himself?

‘Hello again.’

‘You’ve met?’ Matthew asked with a big frown.

‘Actually we’ve all met’, Esther explained. This got the attention of James, Georgiana and Matthew.

‘We do?’

‘We met them in our first year at that 80’s party, remember? Charlotte and Sidney were being bloody inappropriate against a wall, and these two friends of his were there as well.’

Matthew sighed.

‘Again’, he mumbled beneath his breath, so low only William could hear. Throughout the years, there’d been an embarrassing amount of times where Matthew had apparently met people while drunk, who then talked to him when he met them on the street or on campus, while he didn’t remember them in any way. It was incredibly upsetting for his friend, since he was confronted with just how large his blackouts were. One time, he discovered he’d introduced himself to a certain girl on three separate occasions until, the fourth time, she’d told him they’d already met three times, and they’d even had sex the last time. After that, he wrote a note for Sidney and William, on which stood that if his friends showed him the note, he immediately had to stop drinking.

‘Oh, that night… Right. I was a bit preoccupied I’m afraid’, Georgiana mumbled.

‘Same’, James admitted as he put down two bowls.

The introduction of Esther and James stopped there as Esther looked at the table. ‘Oh, the filled apples are still in the microwave. Do sit down, I’m getting them.’

Stew, apples filled with cranberries, mashed sweet potatoes, and brussels sprouts with bacon proudly stood upon the table between bottles of white and rosé wine – apparently no one of Charlotte’s friend group was fond of red wine – and soda.

They all took place at the table, and by some freaky divine fate he ended up sitting across of Esther, which was both a curse and a blessing since it provided him ample opportunity to talk to her, but he was afraid to make a bad impression.

As he was contemplating what he could talk about, Matthew beat him to it by stealing the easiest topic there was.

‘So you do this a lot, since you clearly know how to cook?’

Of course he’d swoop in and immediately compliment the hostess and ask her about her passions at once.

Her smile at Matthew felt like he himself had failed. Matthew was a womanizer and Esther was a gorgeous woman. And while William had become increasingly bad at picking up women throughout the years – it had seemed to come much easier to him when he was younger and drank more heavily – Matthew was a suave professional, and a good deal more handsome as well.

There he sat, with dimples, gleaming blue eyes shining from underneath thick dark lazy curls, with the first few buttons of his dark blue shirt open and his sleeves rolled up, the embodiment of charm. Who wouldn’t fall for that?

‘Esther’s the best cook on earth’, Georgiana laughed. ‘She always cooks herself. I just barely manage to make some potatoes, veggies and a piece of meat but our wonderful momager makes lasagnes, Chinese food and baked pasta dishes on average weekdays’, James explained.

Esther rolled her eyes and sipped her wine, allowing the others to answer the question for her like she was used to it. Did she ever accept a compliment in a normal way? She didn’t pretend the compliment was misplaced, she didn’t shy away from getting the praise, but she didn’t accept it with gratitude either.

‘Momager?’

‘Esther’s the mom friend’, Charlotte explained.

‘But apparently I’ve got my shit together to such a degree that I’m also designated to keep their schedules, pick them up when they’re drunk, provide pep talks when they want to half-ass their school work and provide a crisis centre when one of them has some drama going on’, Esther explained.

‘She brings out the best in us, and keeps us out of trouble’, Georgiana agreed before putting a big spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

‘That’s interesting, we happen to have a dad friend’, Matthew grinned, and grinned devilishly at William.

His heart skipped a beat.

He didn’t dare to make eye contact with Esther, as Crowe’s suggestion of them being a mother and a father hung heavily in the air.

If he looked up, that meant he didn’t mind his friend’s insinuation. He didn’t want Esther to think he was chasing her. He was, but he didn’t want her to feel pushed in any way, nor did he want to ruin whatever it was they’d established in their interactions so far.

‘Come now, Crowe, that’s an unfair amount of pressure you’re putting on my shoulders. Now I feel like I can only let them down by my awful lack of dad jokes.’

The table laughed.

‘It’s fine. It’s not bad being a dad friend, now I’m the wine aunt, that’s worse’, Georgiana comforted him.

‘So you’re the drinker?’ Matthew asked with interest.

‘We all are,’ Georgiana laughed, ‘but Esther manages to hold her liquor and drink wisely. She knocks back any shot, no matter how strong it is or how fowl it tastes without blinking.’

‘How does one drink wisely?’

‘Slowly’, Esther explained. ‘I take my time finishing my glass. When I don’t drink as quickly, I don’t get another glass as fast as the rest of them. And I feel it when I’m becoming tipsy. While, say for example that one,’ she said while nodding her chin at James, ‘drinks at breakneck speed and then the alcohol hits him all at once.’

James shrugged with a grin.

The conversation broke down as Matthew started asking James for some of his drunk stories, and Charlotte, Georgiana and Sidney entered a conversation about what made Sidney and Georgiana the aunt and uncle of their respective groups.

‘So, dad friend, you had an easy time picking a Secret Santa gift?’

‘I did, did you?’

‘Yeah, I immediately knew what to get.’

‘I pity anyone who got my name though, I forgot to make a list with things I liked while almost no one here really knows me.’

‘Makes it harder for whoever has you, but it means your gift will probably be a big surprise as well. I don’t know what I’m getting, but I’m betting on it being one of the things on my list if it’s any of you guys, and two potential other things if any of my friends got my name. I’ll still be happy with my gift, but the surprise isn’t as big.’

‘True.’

He took a bite of his food, looking around the room for a potential topic when his eye fell on a painting.

‘I’ve noticed some paintings on your walls. They’re lovely, what style are they?’

‘Oh I don’t know. It’s a bit of a combination of genres.’

‘Who made them?’

‘I did.’

‘You did?’

This time, she did laugh nervously while stabbing her food.

‘Yeah. Silly hobby. I’m always bored out of mind during the exams. I always get ideas for paintings and drawings when I stare at my course material. And then I simply have to make it, otherwise the ideas won’t leave me alone.’

‘Art breathes art?’

‘It does’, she said with a smile before sighing. ‘But art ruins art.’

‘How so?’

‘It’s my friends, they discovered my paper block with some aquarelles and water paintings in it. They bought me a couple of frames and forced me to hang up a couple because they claimed they had to be seen.’

‘You don’t think they should be seen?’

‘I’m an art student’, she said while maintaining intense eye contact. ‘I’ve seen everything. And when you’ve seen as much art as I have, nothing you’ll ever create will ever satisfy you or make you proud. Because you know what’s been created and you’ll never amount to similar greatness.’

‘Well, while I agree it’s no Monet or Waterhouse, it is better than the vast majority of modern art.’

‘Ah, let me guess. You think art died somewhere around the impressionists.’

‘I think it died when they stopped caring about it being pretty.’

‘You’ll have a tough time if you’re still considering doing Art History.’

She remembered. She remembered something he’d said three years ago! His heart jumped. He couldn’t help but hope that it was because he meant something to her, despite knowing how improbable it was that two people, who’d only met on two prior occasions, happened to both remember and care for each other. Life wasn’t a Hallmark movie, you didn’t meet people once and met three years later by accident, discovering the other person had secretly always been interested in you.

‘I admit, perhaps I’m prejudiced, perhaps I know too little about modern art to appreciate it.’

‘You’ll have a tough time. But I share the sentiment. Once you’ve been forced to study Viennese Actionism and blood and faeces art, you’ll never say “Art is just a matter of perspective” ever again. There is definitely something called art, and there are definitely things that are just shit with a shitty explanation attached to it.’

He had to laugh at that.

‘I’m afraid the same goes for politics nowadays. They’re just throwing shit at each other and it still gets called politics, but I object most vehemently.’

And so they set about discussing art styles they enjoyed, discovering they loved the same styles, only she loved more because she simply knew more art styles. And then she asked him about his opinion on certain political events, and all by all, dinner passed by way too soon. Sidney, Matthew and William were banished to the kitchen to clean the dishes since the others had helped making it, and afterwards, on the insistence of Georgiana, James and Matthew, the gifts were exchanged.

Babington gave Crowe a charger – because he constantly misplaced his – and a hair oil he enjoyed. Georgiana got bath bombs from Crowe, Sidney got a book from his list from James, James got a pencil for his sketching tablet because he constantly lost his from Sidney, Charlotte got a book from some roman writer from Georgiana, Esther got a book and a peak for her Christmas tree from Charlotte and finally… He got his gift from Esther.

They’d talked about their Secret Santa’s. She said she’d had an easy job! Which meant she’d either lied about it being easy for her, or lied to him when she admitted that it would probably be hard for the person who was assigned his name to find a gift.

But she had been right about him having no clue as to what to expect.

In his hands, he held the key to Esther’s mind. This gift wasn’t based on anything he’d put in a list. Which meant that whatever was now hidden by wrapping paper, was what Esther thought he’d like based on the two interactions they’d had so far. How did she see him? He would find out soon enough.

She was smiling, but the hand clutching her wine glass was once again white because of the strong grip she had on it.

He unwrapped it, revealing a book on 19th century art with pictures.

‘It’s wonderful. Thank you so much.’

‘You like it? I didn’t know whether to get you something about politics or art or just some booze. But booze is boring and I didn’t know what you’d already read about politics. I was afraid I’d be getting you something you’d already read so I decided art was safer.’

‘No, it’s definitely perfect. It’s perfect.’

‘Mom and dad even share the same interests’, Georgiana remarked with amusement.

‘Well, mommy and daddy got together for a reason’, William sighed, finally accepting the running joke of the evening.

‘Oh, so it wasn’t my aerobics costume?’ Esther remarked with a smile.

‘Well, it certainly helped grab my attention, dearest.’

‘Eww’, Matthew groaned, playing the obvious child.

‘And it wasn’t because you enjoyed her butt rubbing against your crotch as you were dancing that first night?’ Asked Charlotte with mischievous eyes. She clearly remembered a bit more than Matthew and Georgiana.

‘Charlotte!’ cried Esther.

‘And that was how he met your mother’, grinned Sidney.

‘Big mouth for someone who was being dry humped against a wall at the same time. Was Sidney so dull you had to look at us while the two of you were busy?’ asked William which lead to Charlotte turning red and Sidney covering his face with his hand.

‘Alright, now that we’ve established how this family clicks, with mom being sarcastic and dad being a roasting bastard, Charlotte and Sidney being the annoyingly happily married aunt and uncle, me being the dysfunctional aunt and Crowe being the kid, I think we should have a family pic’, Georgiana decided before crawling off the bed and forcing everyone to gather in front of the Christmas tree.

She positioned a polaroid camera with a countdown function on the table and raced towards the tree.

The result was Georgiana and Matthew drinking from a wine bottle, Sidney and Charlotte kissing in the back, and Esther and William awkwardly sitting in the middle between the chaos, smiling throughout it all.

‘You know, I would much prefer this family to have Christmas with to my own. I’m all alone since my dad’s travelling for business’, Georgiana sighed.

‘I’m supposed to be at a big family gathering but I don’t enjoy it too much either’, admitted Sidney.

‘Nor do I’, Matthew admitted.

‘My aunt’s celebrating Christmas with some rich friends of hers, somewhere in Switzerland’, Esther admitted.

Charlotte remained quiet, apparently having no problem with celebrating Christmas at home.

‘You know, we could celebrate Christmas together. We could do it here, or at my aunt’s home…’, Esther admitted.

Babington wondered where her parents were, and why she made no mention of them, but didn’t dare ask.

‘I’ve always wanted to celebrate Christmas with friends, Georgiana admitted.

‘I always wanted to skip family Christmas’, Matthew grinned.

‘I enjoyed celebrating Christmas with you last year Charlotte, but seeing a happy family and you interact with your dad was a bit painful. I think I would prefer celebrating elsewhere.’ James had mentioned before that his dad had passed away somewhere last year.

Charlotte nodded and looked at Sidney.

‘It’s a bit weird for me to go if you aren’t going. And I think it’s a bit too soon for me to join your family for Christmas.’

‘It would be fine, Sidney. I wouldn’t mind’, Esther said gently. ‘Besides, Matthew just said he’d be more than eager to join. So if we’d go, you wouldn’t just be amongst recent friends.’

‘What do you say, Babs?’ Sidney asked.

‘I- I don’t know… I mean, if we’re welcome. I’m supposed to celebrate Christmas at one of dad’s friends from the House.’

‘The house?’ James asked.

‘House of Lords. Babbers family has been in the house of lords for ages. Matter of fact, he’s a lord himself’, Matthew explained.

The reactions were instantaneous. They started shouting, all incredulous and amazed. Esther looked thoughtful for a second, but it was her question he answered instead of everyone else’s.

‘Do you mind celebrating Christmas there?’

‘Actually, I do. I don’t enjoy it at all, dad’s got a horrible taste in friends.’

‘And would you wish to celebrate it with us?’ Georgiana asked.

He looked around. He did feel unsure, but at the same time quite eager, to celebrate Christmas in the presence of these people. They just clicked together in the best kind of way.

‘Actually I would. And I have another proposal in fact. If anyone would be interested. We happen to have a house somewhere in Scotland. It’s surrounded by woods, and only a fifteen minute walk away from a town and a loch. It’s quite lovely in the wintertime.’

And within a matter of minutes, it was decided that they’d all be going to Scotland for Christmas.

He’d have his dear Esther right near him during the festive season. He’d see her each day for over a week. No years of waiting in between conversations. And though he wouldn’t push her, he would definitely try to endear himself to her. 

TBC Notes:

- There’s some bashing on studying Politics. This is meant only in gest, it’s something that’s done a lotttt in my university, and Politics students are even in on the game and playing along. My faculty (containing Philosophy, Art History, Archaeology, Languages and so on) is equally called useless and a ‘soon to be unemployed’ faculty and we’re equally in on the jokes and stereotypes. Please don’t get offended :p

- Names:

Matthew Crowe: Because Matthew is the first name of the actor who plays Crowe and it kind of fits him in my opinion. I researched the name and it was used a lot in the regency era. Though this is a modern AU I like to keep the names in the regency period as well.

William Babington: I’m a strong believer that Babington’s first name is James, it was a very common name and fit the character. But because I always go with that name I wanted to vary this time. Other popular regency names didn’t quite fit and after a 15 minute search I decided that a part of Mr. Darcy’s first name fit perfectly: William, which comes from the Germanic name Willahelm meaning "will protect", composed of the elements wil "will, desire" and helm "helmet, protection". Babington is a natural protector: he constantly checks in on Sidney, worries over Crowe and protects Esther from her brother in the final episode but also desires to protect and treasure her even when he can’t yet.

George: the Prince Regent

#12 days of sanditon

[itsstickball]

Can you please write more of the rivalry thing? It’s soooo good. I would love to see Neil’s teams reaction

I didn’t forget you, I promise!! Here is Rivalry pt. 3: All Star Week 

(pt.1 pt. 2)

Three days before the start of All Star week, Neil makes the mistake of posting the kitten video he meant to send as a private message directly to his twitter feed. In the clip, a kitten bats away a ball a few times before missing three in a row. The final attempt, the ball goes directly over its head and the kitten topples backwards trying to stop it. By the time he figured out that it hadn’t gone directly to Andrew, there were several hundred likes already. Rather than try to find the tutorial again on how to delete a twitter post, he tags Andrew in a comment instead and adds #shootout.

He doesn’t realize the magnitude of his mistake until he’s sitting in front of a camera, geared up for the shoot-out event, with a microphone two inches from his face and an excited looking reporter.

They’ve made it through the general questions. How does it feel to be called an All Star after only three years in the professional league? (Satisfying, but not as good as being signed to Court last spring). Which event is he looking forward to the most? (The final game, obviously) Does he have any tricks up his sleeve for the shootout? (We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?) The sudden gleam in the reporter’s eyes should have tipped Neil off that things were about to go a bit sideways, but he was running on an Exy high and so dismissed it as fervor for the sport he loved.

Looking back, he can practically hear Andrew’s voice in his head: “Junkie.”

“Speaking of the shootout, we can’t help but wonder; most guys -”

“- And girls.”

“Right, most guys and gals treat this week as a celebration of talent, putting aside rivalries and bad blood to just enjoy the sport, but it fans seem to think from your recent social media postings that this might not be the case for you.”

Neil tried to think about which post, in particular, the reporter is referring to. The only person he can remember roasting recently is Nicky, and he’s in Germany doing – well, Neil doesn’t actually know what he’s doing (Erik aside). Thankfully, the reporter had taken his blank look in stride and then exposed more on the situation. Truthfully though, Neil didn’t hear much more than “Minyard” and “kitten.” His expression flattened further as the lightbulb in his head went off. He still didn’t get the merit of his so called rivalry with Andrew, but apparently it made for good media coverage and the blonde hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping it or setting the record straight, so Neil didn’t fight it either.

He shrugged at the reporter.

“Someone told me once that life imitated art. So I guess we’ll just have to see if that’s true or not. With no plays to analyze, Andrew will have to actually put some effort in to protect his goal today.”

Unfortunately – or fortunately, really, for the media. Andrew did not imitate the cat video and stopped roughly 80% of the shots. Of Neil’s, he missed one and blocked the other.

After that, the goalie sat and watched as the rest of the players took part in passing, aim, trick shots, speed, and one-on-one competitions – most of which kept Neil busy.

When it came time for the one-on-one, Neil grinned when he saw who his first opposing backliner would be. Jean seemed less than enthused, but Neil was more than used to that by now. Just because Jean wasn’t smiling didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying himself. If anything, his resting bitch face was just as famous as Andrew’s – maybe more.

The backliner turned his head when Neil called out his name and a greeting in French, his expression flattening when he realized who was talking to him. Annoyance was easily Jean’s most common reaction to Neil’s presence, but he put up with him nonetheless.

“Ah, so you’ve come to antagonize someone other than the midget for once.”

He answered in French. Neil faked shock with a hand to his chest as he jogged over to where Jean stood, but let out a laugh.

“I’m wounded that you think so little of me, Jean, really.”

“Yes, little.” Jean replied, icily looking down at Neil. Their height difference was supremely pronounced now that they stood next to each other. Neil gave him a wry look for that one, but Jean had a point. Instead he tugged on the corner of Jean’s sleeve.

“How about instead of insulting my mother’s genes, we talk about your new team. Please tell me you switched for the captain, not for the color scheme.”

The Sacramento Sentinels were a relatively new team, with only one full season under their belt. They also chose the colors gold and black to represent them – both of which Jean wore at some point during his college career. Neil was far more interested in Jean’s reunion with exy’s golden boy Jeremy Knox than any homage to the backliner’s former teams. He watched with a grin as Jean’s eyes involuntarily sought Jeremy out among the players. He scowled when he looked back down and saw Neil’s amused expression.

“Just for that, I’m not letting you get twenty feet from the goal, ma puce!”

Neil laughed as Jean pushed him to the bench with a large hand on his face and then stalked away. His grin only grew when he saw that Jean was, in fact, heading over to where Jeremy was talking with their coach for the game at the end of the week.

True to his word, Jean kept Neil well away from any easy close shots on goal, forcing the striker to resort to a strange trick-shot hail-mary that made it in more on luck than skill. Jean snorted and shook his head when Neil cheered at the goal, but he accepted Neil’s handshake-turned-hug nonetheless.

The rest of the week was a blur of exy and stolen moments with Andrew in the locker room or hotel. Andrew’s transfer to Denver at the end of last season put him in the same division as Neil, meaning they’d have to play and practice on the same team for the All Star game. The increased proximity brought great joy to the striker, even if Andrew continued to glare as he batted Neil’s shots away or look bored as they sailed past him.

Neil could feel the measured looks and camera focus whenever the team practiced for the game at the end of the week.

On Wednesday, after the sixth shot that Andrew had rebounded with just enough force that the strikers had to sprint to rebound it, their All Star coach called for a break. Neil removed his helmet and turned to face Andrew from half court.

“Are you going to shut Kevin out like that on Saturday?” He called out in Russian, not bothering to keep his voice down. From what he knew, none of the others on their team spoke the language. Andrew followed suit, taking his gear off and letting everything but his helmet and stick fall carelessly to the floor.

“What will you give me in return?”

Andrew tossed back. He sounded bored, but just the fact that he was replying at all told Neil he was interested in the deal.

“What, the sheer satisfaction of denying Kevin doesn’t do it for you anymore?”

He shot back, earning one of Andrew’s arm guards thrown at his face. Aware of the eyes watching them from the outer court and the open door, Neil grinned and put as many expletives in his answer as possible.

Andrew rolled his eyes, finally coming up to where Neil stood waiting. He grabbed his glove from the red-head’s grip and pointed it menacingly at him. In English, he said.

“Someone ought to wash that mouth of yours out before it gets you in trouble.”

Only when Andrew stomped past them did Neil take note of the reporters who had paused in their interview of a Dallas backliner to watch their little interaction. His smile turned a little less genuine and slightly sharper until they went back to what they were doing. He didn’t bother to collect any of Andrew’s gear, but hummed to himself as he fetched his water-bottle and then sat down to chat with his fellow strikers.

Andrew hadn’t said no.

He did, however, put fuck all effort into guarding his goal in the preliminary game against the Pacific division on Friday though. Neil flicked him off when he realized what Andrew was doing, grateful that he would only be playing one half. Because the goalie was putting zero effort in, it meant that Neil and the other strikers who played first half had to double theirs in order to keep the goal differential down.

“I fucking hate you.”

Neil wheezed, gasping for breath as they headed back to the locker room afterward. He’d never cared much for the shows that supposedly big stars put on during the halftime breaks at professional games, and he especially didn’t care about whatever spectacle they had planned between the preliminary games and the final All-Star match. No, after clinching a 10-9 win, all he wanted to do was rest until he had to get up and do it all again against the Eastern teams.

Andrew, lumbering ahead of him and quite unaffected by it all, didn’t even have the good graces to wait for him.

“No, Junkie, that’s my line. Or did all that running finally scramble your brain?”

“Ugh. Always.”

Neil groaned and though the look Andrew shot him for it was lethal, he was willing to bit it tugged into a smile as he shouldered through the doorway into the locker rooms. A few of his teammates tried to talk to him about the game, how it went well, all things considered and such things, but he mostly tuned them out as he grabbed his water bottle and joined the string of people disbanding into the locker room.

They played first, so the Central team had over an hour to sit and mingle. Neil smiled when he saw a couple of his teammates and members of the Pacific team walking around with their jersey and a marker. When the first one got to him, he asked what it was for. Laila Dermott grinned down at him, making sure that he took the items and started signing as she spoke.

“Some of the players just keep them as souvenirs – a cool way to remember all of the people they played with that year. A couple of us auction them off for charity. This year the proceeds are going to Stand Up For Kids. It’s an organization working to help homeless kids and those out on the streets.”

“Oh, cool.”

Neil said, a bit stunned by the generosity. He knew from Nicky’s ranting how much a normal jersey worn by a professional athlete could go for, let alone one signed by this many of them.

“Ah yes, gotta keep them off the streets,” Andrew piped up. Somehow, Neil had missed him coming up beside them. “Wouldn’t want them to get into anything dangerous.”

Laila frowned, but Neil didn’t think trying to engage Andrew on some social justice issue was worth the risk. He cut her off by handing her the jersey and marker back and replying himself.

“Don’t be a dick, Andrew.”

The blonde made a show of plucking the Jersey out of his fellow goalie’s hands and signing his name in the largest space available. He flicked his gaze back up to Neil even as he held the shirt and marker back out to Dermott.

“Who said I was?”

Neil let out a huff and stood, grateful that he’d brought slides to wear between games rather than his usual running shoes.

“I’m not doing this here.”

He said. He gave Laila a brief smile and then headed for the hallway. Hopefully most of the reporters would have returned to the outer court to watch the Eastern and Southern division teams play. At the very least, he could find an open office somewhere. Behind him, he heard the noise from the locker room crescendo as someone opened the door behind him. As it swung shut, he faintly heard someone asking if they should stop Minyard from following him. Neil sincerely hoped they didn’t – for everyone’s sake.

When Andrew closed the office door behind them, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the world, Neil felt something settle. Of course, just because he was more comfortable this way didn’t mean he wasn’t cross with Andrew still. The blonde seemed unimpressed as he turned to see how Neil was leaning up against the desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Are you going to spit it out, or waste my time staring?”

“I’m not mad about the comments to Dermott.” He clarified, mostly because he knew Andrew would be entirely uninterested if he thought that was what had Neil bothered. Then again, he probably wouldn’t like the actual topic of his ire either. Neil sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit of frustration he’d picked up from Matt.

“You couldn’t have blocked…I don’t know, half of the shots?”

He asked exasperatedly. True to form, Andrew’s expression flattened.

“That,” He enunciated with great boredom and disdain. “Wasn’t our deal.”

Four words. All it took was four words for Neil to be simultaneously filled with petty ire and a huge sense of relief and satisfaction. Because when Andrew implied that something wasn’t a part of a deal, it meant that there was something else that was.

“Oh.”

Neil breathed, letting all of his anxiety wash out with it.

Andrew looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. He stepped into Neil’s space.

“Yes, or no?”

Neil’s eyes were drawn to the curve of Andrew’s neck, the golden sheen of his eyes in the dimly lit room, the way his lips were slightly damp from licking them. Compulsively, he licked his own lips, but his eyes strayed to the clock on the far wall.

“We don’t have a lot of time before we have to get back, someone’s bound to notice us missing for too long.”

The dead look Andrew gave him said he’d wait for an actual answer. Neil heeded his own observation, however, and didn’t waste time talking. Instead, he leaned forward the last few inches and aligned his lips with Andrew’s.

Later, the final buzzer sounded and Neil whirled to face the scoreboard with a grin. He always had the goals running in his head, but it was indescribably satisfying to have the numbers glowing down at him from the jumbotron. Central 6, Eastern 5. They’d won. Even if it was only by the one point, Neil felt the victory singing in his veins. His teammates yelled and jumped off of each other like they hadn’t just run their legs out for the past twenty minutes. Neil joined them briefly before turning his attention to the goal.

Andrew never joined his teams in celebrations - not once he was sober, and no one ever tried to include him. It was a bit of a shock then to see him leaning casually on his stick talking to another player. The surprise mitigated significantly, however, when he realized that the other player was Kevin. Judging by his stance, he didn’t seem to be picking a fight, but with Kevin and Andrew that was always just a breath away from changing.

Neil excused himself with a slap on the back from the huddle of players to jog over to them. As he joined them, he caught the tail end of Kevin’s sentence.

“…tell me it wasn’t worth it.”

“Mmm,” Andrew mused, taking a moment like he actually had to think about his answer. Neil almost felt bad for how Kevin fell for it every damn time.

“Not quite.” He said, to Kevin’s vocal dismay. Then his eyes slid over to where Neil stood just behind Kevin’s shoulder. “Not yet.”

Kevin made another half-squawk as he turned around to follow Andrew’s gaze, but his expression narrowed when he saw it was just Neil.

“Of course.” He muttered, running a gloved hand down his face. He gave Neil a disapproving look.

“If I were to take his neck guard off, how many hickies would I see?”

Neil grinned wolfishly, but it was Andrew who replied.

“Why don’t you come try to find out for yourself, Kev?”

The taller striker shot a fearful glance behind him and then physically shook it off.

“God you two were meant for each other. How anybody thinks you’re rivals is blind to the most blatant sexual tension I’ve ever seen.”

He grumbled, removing his gloves and clearly getting ready to leave the court. Neil didn’t mind dragging their conversation out, but Kevin seemed to have a sixth sense for how long a private conversation could be before it drew unwanted media attention.

“It was a good game!” Neil called out after him, earning a sharp grin and a wave from Kevin, even if he didn’t stop walking away.

Andrew caught his attention again my poking him in the chest with his racquet. Neil lifted his eyebrows in question.

“Go shower before the exy stench sinks even further into you.” He said in Russian. Neil mirrored the grin he’d given Kevin.

“And here I thought it was too late for that.”

Andrew didn’t respond to that, just pushed Neil towards the locker room again with the giant head of his racquet.

When he was ten steps away, Andrew called out again from behind him.

“And don’t antagonize any fucking reporters. You have a deal to uphold!”

At this, Neil just laughed and flicked Andrew off behind his back.

Unsurprisingly, someone got a great picture of it to plaster across exy news and fan sites alike in the morning. Neil saved it to his phone and then rolled back over into the warm spot Andrew left when he got up to pee.

#aftg #tfc #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #minyard-josten rivalry #the rivalry #all for the game #Jean moreau #Kevin day #blink and you miss it jerejean #can you tell I follow hockey? #this was way longer than I thought when I was writing it #mkkd2611 #you are my first ask and I will cherish you forever

[defleurtradingco]

The Merry Month of Mirth- Plea

(Previous: Leaves , Next: Eyes)

“Huh, I don’t think I been into THIS neck of the woods before...Almost literally! Who knew it got so woodsy around the Big Apple!” Ben had his face plastered against the passenger window, staring at all the passing trees as they drove up the road. “I would not exactly say ALL parts are like this so close to Manhattan, but the further you get away from the city,” Solaina slowed down so she could make the turn.

“I guess! Melville, didn’t even know about this place.” “Remember to disguise yourself. And try not to say much just incase.” The moth-man sighed and his form shimmered into something more human (well, totally human in comparison.) “How’s this?” “Good enough. We are his coworker and boss.”

“WHAT? I- well...ok.” The car slowed to a stop in front of a house with a large front yard. All of them had large front yards. To be fair, the house with THIS front yard was red for some reason or another. A roomy two-story slightly hidden away by the trees growing near everywhere in the neighborhood.

“Oh this is cute,”

“Come on.” The two stepped out of the car and headed up the walkway lined by flowers and garden gnomes and other cute but odd looking garden statuary. Flamingos, cats, rabbits, more gnomes (those were debatable the worse.) On the other side of the lawn they could see the garage and driveway, with a well-used SUV parked behind another SUV.

“Soccer mom car, watch out,” Ben whispered as they arrived at the front door.

“Shh.” Solaina rung the doorbell.

They weren’t waiting long.

Ben made a small shrill sound at the sight of the woman who answered the door. By all means she looked plain. But a special brand of it. Shoulder length and obviously-dyed-to-hell-platinum-blonde-hair, blue-eyes, nearly hot pink lipstick and overdone mascara, an outfit of only solid colors and the intense need for moisturizer. The crow’s feet and the wrinkles were at that point where they were starting to become VERY noticeable.

And legwarmers...in summer?? Also hot pink.

“Can I help you?” She seemed confident at least. “I’m not interested in buyin’ anything honey-” Solaina interrupted her. “Hello, you must be Mrs. Turner I assume. My name is Solaina DeFleur and I am your son’s new boss, I wanted to stop by to tell him more about his new position at my company over on Staten Island-” Immediately the woman’s face lit up. “THE DeFleur?? Oh I never heard about you before! I always thought that big ol’ super model Adrian DeFleur owned the place! I am SO glad t’ hear that a WOMAN is in charge...that’ll teach the boys a thing or two won’t it? Come in come in I was just about to pop my chocolate chip cookies into the oven! They’re vegan by the way-”

Ben gave Solaina a questioning look as they were led inside.

The interior looked like any soccer mom’s house, or maybe a vegan mom’s house… or maybe both. Overwhelming, photos of kids everywhere (well, one kid) and the rest of the family- a well kept and well loved house no doubt but- still.

“You know I had no idea he’d gone out and gotten work! He hasn’t told me a single thing about anything- always so secretive up there with his whacky experiments and all that video game stuff and the uh- the board game with the little wizards and knights,”

“Dungeons and Dragons??” Ben chirped timidly.

“Yeah somethin’ like that… Sit down sit down! You, Ms. DeFleur are gonna LOVE these cookies, I have the recipe right on the fridge if you were maybe interested in-” “Ah- maybe another time. I would like to speak with your son. Is he here at the moment?” “Oh yes, he’s upstairs, I’ll get him for you.”

As she moved past them and to the bottom of the staircase. And instead of going all the way up, she called out to her son instead. “FRANKLIN! YOUR NEW BOSS YOU DIDN’T TELL ME A THING ABOUT IS HERE! COME ON DOWNSTAIRS!”

The sound of muffled yelling replied back to her but no one could make out what was even said.

“He’ll be down in a minute.”

Ben squinted and gave Solaina another look. Solaina shook her head and kept relatively calm. This woman had more energy than the Energizer bunny.

The sound of a door roughly being thrown open came next, followed by stomping coming down the stairs. Before the culprit of the sounds even hit the middle of the staircase, they panicked and ran back upstairs, slamming the door.

Mrs. Turner looked up from her spot at the kitchen sink while she washed the dishes. “FRANKLIN RIGHT NOW!!”

Ben giggled. “Franklin.” Solaina shushed him.

Another minute later, the door upstairs blasted open again and the footsteps came practically FLYING down the steps.

The figure slid to a stop at the top of the first half of the stairs, dark cape swishing behind him ominously.

“And JUST WHO ALLOWED YOU INTO THE MASTER’S NEW PLACE OF RESIDENCE?!” Fabio’s voice boomed through the house. Although his appearance at the moment was the least threatening he’d ever looked.

He had the mask and the cloak still. But a two-piece pajama set wasn’t going to fool anybody. Nor were slippers. In the middle of the afternoon no less.

Ben clapped his hands over his mouth as Solaina merely raised a brow.

“Oh Franklin- c’mon now this is serious! What with the costume and the voice- you need to take this more seriously!! Especially if you’re gonna be working somewhere high profile now! Have some class!!” Mrs. Turner chided.

Fabio’s hands turned into claw-shapes as he let out a sound of frustration. “MOTHER! NOT NOW!!”

“Now don’t you MOTHER NOT NOW ME young man, go back up there and actually get dressed! It’s already past noon! You can’t stay up there in the dark all day! Oh and open the windows while you’re at i-” “YOU TWO, we will discuss this matter PRIVATELY UPSTAIRS.” He pointed at Solaina and Ben, before whisking away out of sight.

Solaina sighed. No part of this would ever be easy. “Not to worry Mrs. Turner, I am well prepared for just about any situation. I would like to respect his privacy.” “Well if you say so honey!”

With that they headed up the stairs and to the far end of the hallway, to the only door with all sorts of creepy things either drawn on it with marker, painted on, or scratched into it. Runes and all sorts of pictures of other things magic related taped to it or glued to it- it didn’t matter. Compared to the rest of the house, you’d think something evil was kept locked away behind such a door.

“You think it is that one?” Solaina asked Ben, with a note of humor in her voice.

Ben stood behind her and let her go first. “Ha...haha yeah...Yeah that’s it.” They both made their way to the door. It shot open by itself, and they were greeted with darkness.

..The kind of darkness only blackout  curtains could get you. There was a red light illuminating everything coming from a statue on a shelf in there, giving everything an overly evil and ominous look straight from a horror movie.

“ENTER.”

They stepped in, and the door shut.

The inside of the room should have come as no surprise. From the walls to the ceilings there were runes and words and all sorts of scribbles crossed out or circled- almost like the cell of some deranged man who’d been given writing implements (that he somehow didn’t kill himself with.)

Books were jammed into a bookshelf ranging from all sorts of interesting topics like, religion, and cults, and magic and dark magic and witchcraft, angels and demons, ghosts, folklore- just about everything you could ever want.

Rocks, gems, beads, trinkets and charms, scrolls-

Ben was rattled by the amount of conflicting energy in here. “W-wow...you sure like uh..DND huh?”

“You simpleton, TIS NOT D-N-D. Tis the results of many a failed path before I stepped forth unto the Master’s! Reminders of my failures in the times before!!”

Solaina sighed again. Louder this time. “I have come to speak with your master. Are you able to call him?”

“HAH, CALL him?? Fool, he resides within me now, for after events at the Vatican- albeit failed ultimately, he has found me WORTHY as his newest vessel!-”

“Solaina?” A whispering voice asked from out of nowhere.

Fabio immediately silenced himself and looked around as though he himself didn’t know where it was coming from. “Master these HOOLIGANS wish to speak with you about-” He looked back at the two questioningly.

Before anyone could answer, dark smoke began to well out of a spot on the floor. The smoke solidified and turned into a dark thick liquid that rose upwards and grew into the form of a person. A person in long, black robes with his hands firmly yet peacefully folded in front of him, just barely poking out of the sleeves.

That smile and those half-lidded red eyes that always seemed to be tired, beneath a mop of wavey dark hair.

“Hello Solaina DeFleur.”

“Hello, Hedous.”

“THAT’S MASTER TO Y-” Hedous held up a hand and Fabio silenced himself once more. But he grumbled about it.

“I trust you have been working on that sanctuary you promised me and my children. How is it coming along?”

Solaina swallowed, “It is coming along well, however I have come into a spot of trouble lately. Or potential trouble. And I wish to dispel it before it gets out of hand.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

From there she explained everything that happened. The Jesters, the fae magic being thrown into the public, the subtle threats, the increase in their presence, all of it.

The angel listened silently until she finished. “Creatures like these, I had kept at bay for many, many years. To prevent this sort of trouble from ever happening in the first place. They don’t like us, you know.”

“Like who? Humans?” “My children. The dead. Other angels. You see,” He held a hand up and a line of light manifested wherever he moved his finger to. He drew shapes in the air. A chart, more like.

“This is where you are.” He explained as he drew a circle in the middle. “The fae were the inhabitants of this world long before any of us arrived.” At the bottom, was the crude shape of a humanoid ...thing with wings to represent the fae. At the top, many eyes were drawn instead.

Angels.

“Over time the fae grew considerably weaker and weaker as more turned to… other means of worship. They do love to play tricks on humans, unfortunately. The were-curse being one of the biggest ones of all.”

“I do not know what they are up to but I believe they may be looking for an opening, now that you are gone.” Solaina said quickly, before realizing she’d sort of interrupted him.

Hedous seemed to take no offense however. “That is likely. I am not exactly at the height of my full power to fend them off, even if I am free now. That much will take time...Time we may not have, essentially.” He waved the glowing ‘chart’ he’d drawn away. “I will help you, because you asked.”

“And you’d BETTER appreciate it.” Fabio grumbled from his computer desk chair.

“Rest easy, Fabio. All this to better the world...You know that…” The angel glanced over at his consort briefly. Ben almost let out a laugh and clapped his hands over his mouth again.

Hedous turned to look at Solaina again. “Return to your home. We will come to you when we are ready.”

Solaina nodded. “Thank you. Your help means a lot.” “I am glad to hear it.” The angel smiled before his form began to break down and turn to smoke once more. Then he was gone.

Fabio crossed his arms, huffing. “Well?? Go then! The Master has heard your plea and we will arrive when we do!! And DO NOT speak to my...mother, about ANY of this. UNDERSTAND?” He threatened.

“Sure thing haha,” Ben almost muttered that.

“We will not.” Solaina reassured him, pulling Ben with her as she made her way out of the bedroom. The door slammed loudly behind them.

“Well THAT was sure pleasant. What a grouch!” Ben straightened his shirt out once Solaina had let go of him. “What now?” “We return back home of course. There is nothing else we can do here.”

“I guess...”

They went back down the stairs only to be stopped by Mrs. Turner yet again, and after being nearly assaulted with free cookies, they took one each and excused themselves, speed walking back to the car.

“His mom though is craaazy.” “Crazy? I do not think so at all.”

“Dude she’s TOTAL VEGAN SLASH SOCCER MOM it’s SCARY- she’s the Karen they always talk about on reddit! I’ve seen the threads, I know!! I’m amazed she didn’t kill us or something- but I guess that’s why you barely said anything huh?? Better to give ‘em nothin’ to latch onto!!”

Solaina rolled her eyes as she chewed on her cookie. It was surprisingly good. Not that all vegan food was bad. She wasn’t vegan. What did SHE know?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up just as she opened the car door on the driver’s side.

She paused, glancing around and then upwards towards the trees.

Nothing.

“Hey! C’mon let’s gooooo!” Ben rolled down the window.

“I know. I know.” She got into the car, and they drove back west.

#mirth

[sleepymarmot]

ESO: MW - beginning of the main quest + Balmora and the outskirts

Very nice of them to apparently restrict the bookshelves to the chapter's books. The office in Seyda Neen immediately provides a lot of regional info.

Some galaxy-brained outlander book writer: Night Mother is Mephala actually! Me, who has never interacted with the Dark Brotherhood beyond fighting them: okay... sounds fake but okay...

It's so funny how Azura just hijacks a random person for a few seconds. She doesn't even say anything particularly important! Only picks up some poor woman like a ragdoll, says hi and leaves.

Ohh now I recognize this tomb from Morrowind! When I first played ESO, I stumbled here blindly after the quest marker, but now I could follow the familiar road and there it was.

At first I wondered why the dialogue with Canon Llevule used a wide camera angle instead of a usual close-up... Then I saw the dog in the background.

The tomb interior is so detailed and pretty.

Dunmer meditate in their ancestors' tombs, as I just learned.

Why are there skulls on spikes in the ashpits? Seems disrespectful...

That poor ancestor is like "No, no, that comes later... Have you really summoned me to talk about the wrong game?"

I had to do it. Before meeting Vivec for real, I had to equip all my Jester's getup for old times' sake. I didn't do the whole April Fools routine, just the bow. That throne room scene was surreal to witness again after I sat through it a dozen times months ago...

"On Moving Ebonheart" continues to be stupid.

The Archcanon's quarters look lovely... And he has not even one but two musical instruments! I'm jealous!

Omg the divination ritual looked really cool! I didn't expect this thing in the middle of the room just rotate and turn into a pool! Or for the tiny yellow stones in the images of Almalexia and Sotha Sil to actually act as their representatives/vessels of their power!

I'm sorry, "Balmora" is pronounced LIKE THAT? "BALL-mora"?! I guess it makes sense, they pronounce "Molag Bal" in a similar way, but I'm pretty sure it sounded very different in Morrowind! Well, let's write this off as language changing over the centuries...

Aw, the library is so pretty!

Is it just me, or is the face quality better than in the base game? I stare at every other NPC I talk to because they're all so handsome! (Except Vivec, lol)

I still don't like the decision to make Balmora a Redoran territory... I understand that it make sense that the land distribution is different from 800 years into the future. But it just make sense that the House with the bug as its symbol lives in bug-shell houses! They didn't take the fungal towers from Telvanni! (Even if they, inexplicably, made them look more like disgusting flesh growths than mushrooms or vines)

Oh, and just after writing out this complaint, I pick up a letter that says that Suran and Balmora actually do use "Hlaalu architecture when the contract clearly called for the utilization of a more dignified Redoran design". So at least that one wasn't retconned... And it explains why this territory eventually came into Hlaalu's possession. Got outsmarted, didn't you, meatheads... :D

Lmao does the Redoran councilor really have the same voice as about 80% of male Nords? Hello again, Shalidor...

Ashur is handsome and has a pleasant and well-acted voice. Is he popular with the fandom?

Heh, I can wager a guess on who Veya's mentor is...

Vestige, taking a mental note: Wait, is this the woman who helped me escape a slaver ship a year or so ago? She seems to know me better than I know her. Hmm, I really need to take Meridia's offer of time travel...

Um, why am I just naming Naryu to this councilor? Didn't I just get lectured about how she values keeping her identity secret?

I got discovered immediately after stealing the quest item. I am a big fat orc who summons hurricanes and wears a hat with bells on it! As you can guess, stealth isn't my forte!

The questline in Balmora is interesting, but I keep thinking about how my Dunmer characters would see it, as opposed to the Orc who has no loyalties at stake. The Ashlander would be happy to have an opportunity to help her people, but it happens in the middle of the quest, and at the beginning it's about helping a House councilor, which she is not interested in. On the other hand, the moderately traditionalist Redoran would be uncomfortable at keeping things from his councilor, even if it's for his daughter, and would agree with him on the land dispute.

Lol Naryu is like an anime character. "You thought you fooled me but I actually expected it all along" over and over again

A bigoted brute who took the framed man's job turned out to be guilty? You don't say!

"Blessed Almalexia's Fables for Morning" might be even more depressing than the original. It's surprising this nation isn't MORE fucked up!

Ooh, this final choice is going to be difficult for my Dunmer dude if I ever get to this quest with him... I'm afraid he would go for the cruel option. But Veya appears in Summerset regardless, I've heard?

A cynic's summary of this quest line: "Dear diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count".

The Balmora temple is pretty but so underwhelming as a religious building. It looks more like a library - and not a serious one at that! There are only three shrines, very tiny and brown. I'm sure many player homes have more ritual objects than this! Strange, especially considering how strict and religious this country is. You'd think a temple would not look so secular.

The Memory Stone quest has ABSOLUTELY ATROCIOUS writing and acting. I can't believe this is the quest that people on Reddit mentioned as something that made them cry! And it's hard to believe that it can exist right near something so complex as the Releth questline.

Balmora leaves me with mixed feelings. It's beautiful, and the main quest is good. But most of the doors are locked, and there's nobody to talk to. It feels empty, and so did Seyda Neen; I didn't get this feeling in the base game or Orsinium, and the Imperial City is supposed to be a wasteland.

The moon sugar delve quest has a difficult choice :/ I took pity on the Khajit, but I feel bad for the addict ex-cop. Even if this guy only grows the moon sugar for himself, we just saw how easily the crop can be taken over by real skooma dealers. I'd turn him and his notes in... but I shudder to imagine what Dunmer cops might do to a prisoner - especially to a Khajit.

#eso #blah blah blah

[thestudentarchitect]

Tips for Existing Conditions Surveys

Tips for Existing Conditions Surveys

By Chelsea Weibust 04/23/2019

Each project is totally different, from the information available, scope of work, schedule, etc. It's important to know the purpose of your site visit before you head out to the site. 

Sometimes when you have a site visit you'll have access to detailed existing drawings. They may be just printed drawing sets or PDF's, or ideally they'd be CAD or Revit drawings. Other times you won't be given any information at all. In the latter case, it's a good idea to check out Google Maps and Tax Assessor information to get an idea of the size, shape, materiality, aesthetic, context, etc. of the building before your visit.

You may need to sketch the plans and elevations on site so be sure to bring a clipboard and graph paper for sketching and notes.

Another consideration is the scope of the project. If the project focus is strictly on interior work then you shouldn’t spend too much time documenting exterior conditions - just stick to the basics. The same is true to strictly exterior projects. If you're working on a deck renovation then documenting a ton of interior information will be a waste of time, unless of course it’s related to the project. [Full disclosure: some of the links below are affiliate links.]

Here are some tips and tricks I’ve picked up from doing existing conditions surveys.

General Survey Information:

Make sure to write the date, location, and project name of the site visit on each sheet in case there's any question in the future about when the existing conditions survey was taken or what project the drawings are from. Also, write what each drawing shows, i.e. first floor plan, exterior dimensions, section through living room, etc. It may also be helpful in some cases to write the names of the people at the site visit for future reference.

Color Coding:

Sometimes existing conditions surveys will have a ridiculous amount of information and it can be tough to decipher between vertical dimensions, horizontal dimensions, opening dimensions, structural elements, etc. For this reason I like to use color and thickness variations for distinctions. For example, I like to switch between a thick black pen/marker* and a multicolored pen* to make it easy to switch between colors quickly. You can color code your notes however you like but you may want to make a legend so anyone who might look at your drawings will understand them. Here’s how I color code my surveys:

Black marker/pen: exterior walls

Black pen: horizontal dimensions, general notes, interior walls, cabinets and fixtures

Green pen: vertical dimensions (heights), spot elevations

Blue pen: window and door types, overall dimensions

Red pen: center line dimensions, mechanical elements, structural elements

Dimensions:

Write dimensions perpendicular to the dimension string in areas where you have a cluster of dimensions so you can fit all of the information.

Units:

Be consistent with how you're writing dimensions and make sure if using a laser measuring* tool that it's set to the same units you've been using. Most of the time I find it's best to write in only inches. Other times I like to write in feet and inches but when I use these units I'm careful not to use ticks for feet and inches (1' - 3 1/2") because the ticks could be mistaken for numbers. Instead, I like to keep it simple and write them like: 1 - 3.5 (0 - 4.75 if no feet) so that there's no confusion with ticks or fractions being misinterpreted.

Vertical Dimensions:

It's easy to remember to take horizontal dimensions to get wall placements and openings but something that can easily be forgotten are vertical dimensions. Ceiling heights, soffits, window sill and header heights, door heights, openings, floors, etc. can easily be overlooked until you're at your desk modeling the building.

Continue reading below

Do you have all of these helpful tools for doing existing conditions surveys?

Sections, Elevations & 3D Views:

Don’t limit yourself to drawing in plan. Some information is better represented in section like roof/ceiling slopes, floor to floor heights, soffit heights, stairs, bump outs, etc. You might also find a quick 3D sketch or elevation can be helpful too.

Storyboard:

If you're short on time or are looking to get a set of dimensions that don't have to be totally accurate you can take a picture of a storyboard to get accurate enough information. To do this, hold the tape measure against whatever it is you want to dimension and take a picture of it. Try to set the camera as parallel to the tape as possible so you don't distort the image.

In the image shown you can see we wanted to quickly get the dimensions of an existing railing on a roof deck. You can see clearly the center lines of the pipes, the diameter of the pipes, and the overall height of the railing.

Topography:

Pay attention to the topography and make note of the elevation of the ground in relation to the bottom of siding material at each corner of the building, at the very least.

Material Dimensions:

Note materials and dimensions - if masonry, measure and make note of the size of the blocks used. If lap siding, shingle siding, etc. make note of the reveal and material. This will be really helpful if you need to figure out heights if you forget to measure something or just want to verify dimensions. Since reveals can vary on each course, a handy tricks is to measure the height of 10 courses and divide that number by 10 to get a more accurate gauge.

You can see from the photo that 10 courses of this siding is 27 1/8” which is roughly a 2 3/4” reveal per course.

Photos:

Often one of my biggest frustrations when reviewing site visit information is not having enough photos. Anytime I'm on a site visit, I'll leave with hundreds of photos and somehow it's still not enough! There's always some wonky condition that I didn't get a great photo of or I needed a picture just 4 inches to the right. Go out of your way to take more photos than you might think you need from different angles, perspectives, and distances. Nowadays we have awesome smartphones that are capable of high quality photos, panoramas, and even videos! Videos can be especially helpful when walking through the building with an owner or consultant (with permission) so you can take note of what was discussed so you don’t have to take as many notes! I personally prefer to use my iPhone or a small point and shoot* that’s not too heavy and can be easily tucked away when not in use. I once had a project where we had to survey hundreds of windows for a renovation project and most windows were totally different conditions. We needed multiple detail photos of each window. This would've been an almost impossible task to keep track of each individual window but luckily I had a Samsung Note phone with a pen so I was able to take a photo of each window, take a screenshot, and make a note on each photo which window it was. I'm not sure what we would've done otherwise but I was so thankful to have that phone at that moment! We also had a google docs spreadsheet open on my iPad to document information about the windows rather than writing it on paper so we wouldn't have to duplicate our work in transferring written notes to the computer. So in short, I guess I'm saying to make the most of your technology!

Locate Photos:

Mark interesting things on your plans that will make it easier for you or someone else to orient themselves while looking through the photos later. Maybe it's a painting on a wall, a red sweatshirt hanging on a pipe, a stain on the ceiling, etc. but it should be something distinct that will help place tricky conditions in photos on the plans. If you're taking detail photos, remember to step back and take context photos so you can locate them later.

The photo below shows a steel rod tied to the roof rafters which was holding up the 2nd floor of a old home. This was both fascinating and terrifying (since the house needed significant repair) but we needed to be sure to mark the locations of these rods on the plans. This picture is great to see the detail of how the tensile system works but doesn’t help at all in telling us where this rod is located. So on the floor plan I made a note on the plan with a star and a cone (<) showing the direction of the photo, saying something like “steel rod tied to roof structure, tension wheel” and this was really helpful because none of the other pictures of the rods showed the wheel or tensile system and now we knew exactly where it was and what direction we were looking.

Locating pictures on plans is really only necessary in tricky areas like basements, attics, eaves, or in monotonous buildings where a lot of spaces look exactly the alike, so try not to go overboard with this.

BONUS: Tips for You

Backpack:

I recommend carrying a small bag with you while on site visits to hold extra tools and whatever else you may have. I suggest using a small backpack* rather than something like a messenger bag since it wont get in the way.

Snacks:

Maybe I'm the only one who thinks about food constantly, but I always find it's a good idea to keep a couple snacks with me on a site visit. Sometimes things take longer than expected and you don't want to be famished, trying to rush through your survey so you can get a bite to eat. It can't hurt to throw a couple granola bars and a water in your bag, right?

Dress Appropriately:

If it's the middle of winter and you're surveying a building without heat, you're going to want to dress in lot's of warm layers. Be sure to check the weather beforehand so you know if it's supposed to rain (and will need rain gear and umbrella), if it's going to be brutally cold (and need hats, gloves, scarves, lots of layers, etc.), if it's going to be windy (and you need a windbreaker and extra clips to attach papers to your clipboard)... you get the idea

Shoes:

Two things you need to consider about footwear are safety and comfort. You should never wear open toed shoes or high heels to a site visit, there are just too many things that could go wrong. You're probably going to be walking around for hours, sometimes crawling around in icky places, and potentially walking on unstable surfaces or trekking through the mud. Opt for comfortable sneakers or boots.

Good luck on future surveys!

- Chelsea

More posts you might like:

#architecture #survey #existing conditions survey #existing conditions #tips and tricks #tools #measuring tools #architecture tools #building survey #dimensions #design #architecture supplies #thestudentarchitect #the student architect

[ahrorha]

Flame of Winter

Bloody Orlesians. As much I find the quest in the Winter Palace brilliant, the whole concept of nobles playing the 'Game' makes me wanna kick them.

In this chapter, Ryan is back to his charming self (some of you commented he had a moment in the previous chapter, fear not he is back XD ). I had a hard time to figure out how to describe decorations, clothing and the judging atmosphere without repeating some words over and over again.

This has become a very long chapter. So much is happening before and during the ball, that I didn't want to cut in two. Also, I didn't want to rush to the last part of this chapter, because finally, the moment has arrived for some SMUT. I give out a warning if you are not comfortable with reading the details don't read the part between the double lines, but I think most of you will look forward to it.

Enjoy ;)

Chapter 17

Skyhold was buzzing with activity on their return. The actions of the Inquisition in the Dales had resulted in a flood of correspondence, visitors and delegates from all over Orlais. This together with the preparations for the ball at the Winter Palace, had Josephine running from one meeting to the next. She even had made schedules for everyone with lessons in etiquette, dancing and court politics. Everything was being checked and planned, from their luggage to their individual roles at the ball. It were hectic days, but considering their objective, it was no wonder Josephine was going the extra mile.

A few days before they would leave Eirlana and Solas were called to Josephine's office. Eirlana groaned. “I swear, if I have to hear one more time how to correctly hold a glass, I will turn all the drinks into ice.” Solas chuckled, he was happy she was her usual self again and that she had forgiven him. They had talked a lot during their journey back to Skyhold, and he had shared with her how important Wisdom was to him and why he had reacted the way he did. Of course, he had been careful not to tell too much, he couldn't afford another slip-up, like before. He even had made amends with Varric and Iron Bull, and he was grateful they had watched over Eirlana in his absence. When they told him about the attack on her, he was horrified. He carefully confronted Eirlana about what had happened to her afterwards. She shrugged it off as if it wasn't a big deal, but Solas could see at her whole demeanour that it was an act. She was trying to push it aside, as he suspected she did with many things. Until deep in the night they talked, slowly and with patience she opened up to him. With her buried against his chest, he listened to some of the things she had endured. His heart ached hearing details from her past, wishing he could take some of her pain away. He kept holding her, murmuring sweet words and encouragements, knowing he could do nothing more than be there for her. He promised himself that night, he would do anything in his power to protect her, to keep her safe, and if he could make her happy.

“Aren't you tired off all these lessons?” Amused by Eirlana's unusual reluctance to learn something new Solas smirked. “Not really.” She looked sceptical at him. “You can't tell me you prefer them over burying your nose in some dusty old tome.” “But my Lady.” he opened the door for her and made a grand bow towards her. “How else would I learn how to properly treat you with the respect you deserve.” Seeing his smirk on his face, she giggled; clearly, he was mocking the lessons they had received. With another ridiculous bow, he opened the next door leading to Josephine's office. She elbowed him playfully on his arm when they entered. Josephine looked up from the different stacks of letters before her. “Ah, you have come. I am happy to report your request for access to the University of Orlais has been granted. Sadly due to our busy schedule, you won't be able to ride for Val Royeaux at the moment, instead the University has provided an inventory of their library. You can compile a list of titles you want to study, and we will arrange for them to be sent to Skyhold. It may also be of interest to you that you have permission to visit the Royal Libraries during our stay at the Winter Palace, courtesy of Grand Duke Gaspard.” She sorted through the letters and pulled out a few. “We have also received several letters inquiring about you miss Eirlana. Your efforts in the Dales has gained the attention of some smaller but influential families. The University of Orlais has requested information about your healing methods and has extended a formal invitation for you to visit them. You will be able to speak with some representatives at the Winter Palace. Judging from the nature of the letters they may offer you a place among them. Of course, you are free to choose to follow another path, but know that everyone in the Inquisition greatly appreciates you and your skills.” Eirlana didn't know what to say. In her mind, she had done nothing special, only that what she thought was right as a healer. It made her happy to hear that some of her efforts were recognised, but she didn't know what to think of the invitation from the University. Her experiences in Orlais made her sceptical about their intentions. Though having access to their medical knowledge could be beneficial for her, the other healers of the Inquisition and most importantly the patients. . “Solas, Eirlana, there you are.” Leliana entered Josephine's office with Ryan, Iron Bull and Dorian in tow. “Please follow us to the war room if you have finished.” They thanked Josephine and followed them, Leliana came immediately to the point. “We have received new reports about the movements of the Venatori. According to my informants, they keep searching and digging in old ruins, especially if they are of elven origin. They have been sighted in these locations.” she pinned several markers on the giant map lying across the table. “As for what they are looking for we still don't know.” Solas was relieved to see that the places they were searching weren't crucial to his plans, but it was still vexing that they were looking in the first place. “If I have to guess they are looking for something that could help them in their goals. With the orb being ancient elven magic, they may be searching for more of such items and other forgotten magic. Judging by their locations, it is hard to tell if they are looking randomly, chasing rumours or have specific targets.” Leliana nodded. “We will be keeping an eye on them. I have also gathered more information about their leader. It is a mage named Calpernia, she has taken over the leadership of the Venatori. We know only a little about her earlier life. She is a former slave of a magister Erasthenes. As far as I can determine, the magister disappeared several months ago, together with her. ” “Erasth....” Dorian brushed his moustache. “I know him. He is an old geezer, more interested in his tomes and books than anything else. He is renowned in the Imperium for his knowledge of the Old Gods and has written many long and dull papers about them.” “This isn't much information we have about this Calpernia.” Ryan stated, his forehead wrinkled as he scanned the various reports. “Say Eirlana you were once a slave.” Most of the room went silent and stared at him for his blunt remark. Solas felt bile coming up, furious he glared at him. Eirlana put her hand on his, signalling it was alright. “Yes, I once was a slave.” “Why would she join Corypheus and do his bidding? Would she be loyal to this new master?” Wondering if he also questioned her own loyalty to their cause, she pondered about his question. “I think, it is safe to say, with Calpernia now in a leading position of the Venatori, that Corypheus had a hand in the disappearance of the magister. As for her loyalty, I don't know. What I can tell you from experience is being freed isn't something that any slave would take lightly. I will never forget that day in my life, and I will always be grateful towards Solas, but that doesn't mean I would follow his every wish or decision. I have a mind of my own, and so does this Calpernia. She must have her own plans and reasons why she is helping him, but judging by Corypheus actions so far, I doubt they have the same agenda. He must have offered her something that she wants. I can't tell you what it is, but I can tell you she must be a capable woman. Leading people is not an easy matter as you know by own experience.” Several people around the table smirked, knowing Eirlana's remark wasn't meant as a compliment. Solas was proud of her, but his heart also tightened when she mentioned him. It was bittersweet to know she wouldn't follow his every wish or decision. Even he himself wouldn't, but there hadn't been any other way, and now there was no other choice. He couldn't change what had happened or what was to come, he had to finish what he had set in motion so many millennia ago. . It was already late in the morning when Varric entered the Herald's rest. He knew he shouldn't have stayed so long at the game of Wicked Grace last night, but it had been the last opportunity before they would head to the dreaded Winter Palace. Ordering a late breakfast with lots of strong coffee, he joined Iron Bull and Blackwall at a table. “How is your head tiny? You look like you haven't slept at all.” Iron Bull only grunted and continued to devour his big serving of bacon and eggs. Dorian joined them a few minutes later, like always well groomed and impeccably dressed, but he moved and sat down awkwardly. “You all right Sparkles?” “Expect from the headache from that horrible ale you served me last night, I am fine thank you.” “You didn't have to drink it.” “What? And miss out on all the fun to drink something that tastes like it was brewed in the Fallow Mire at the bottom of a tar barrel. I can still taste it on the back of my tongue.” “Is that what you taste?” Iron Bull grinned at Dorian and received a deadly glare in return. Varric was more awake in an instant, he obviously had missed something when he went to bed last night. Before he could ask any further, they were all distracted by Eirlana walking briskly into the inn. She ignored them entirely and marched straight to Cabot, the bartender. “Cabot, have our supplies arrived?” The dwarf nodded. “I will get them for you.” “Everything okay Snowflake?” She turned around and was surprised she had walked past them. Varric motioned for her to join them and poured her a cup of thee from one of the pots on the table. “Here, you look like you have been running around all morning.” With a sigh she sat down, thankful she could take a short break.

“So who got on your nerves?” Warming her hands around the mug, Eirlana let out another sign. “Ryan.” This peeked everyone's interest around the table. “I tried to talk with him about moving the infirmary. There is room here in the fortress, but he wants to create more housing space for the templars and new training grounds.” frustrated she kept going. “How does he expect for people to do their jobs or fight when they can't even recover decently. The clinic is still outside in large tents. We can barely keep them warm and not to mention it isn't exactly peaceful being next to the huge training grounds we already have. Our patients can't even get a good rest with the constant yelling, shouting and weapons clanging.” Dorian looked bleary-eyed at her and groaned. “How can be so awake and full of energy after last night?” “Maybe I need to come up with a new nickname.” Varric joked. Eirlana only noticed now that they were all nursing severe hangovers, especially Dorian, who grunted and tried to find a more comfortable position to sit. “You sure you are alright Sparkles?” Eirlana saw he was in pain. “Are you not feeling well?” “I am fine.” he groaned. “Please go bother someone else.” “Oh yeah, Dorian about last night...” Iron Bull grinned at him from across the other side of the table. Dorian facepalmed himself. “Discretion isn't your thing, is it?” “I was just wondering if you want your silky underthings back? Found them after you slipped out this morning. Did you leave them as a token? Or wait, did you 'forget' them so you'd have an excuse to come back?” Blackwall almost chocked in his coffee, and Varric froze, his fork full of sausage halfway to his mouth. “If you choose to leave your door unlocked like some savage, I may or may not come.” “Oh, you came. Three times if I remember correctly.” “WHAT?!” came Sera's voice from upstairs, dangling upside down at her feet over the railing. Dorian groaned now he was sure that everyone would know about his little tryst with Iron Bull by noon. Varric had already pulled out his notes and was writing feverishly, mumbling. “This is getting better and better.” Contemplating if it would be wiser to go back to bed, he noticed Eirlana scooting closer to him. Discretely she hovered her hand over his lower back. The pleasant tingle of her healing magic spread over him, taking away the edge. Letting out a sigh of relief Dorian muttered. “Thank you.” Outside the midday bell was ringing, Varric put away his notes and took one last bite. “We better get packing, or I promise you Josephine will watch us do it, and I for one don't want a lesson in how to properly fold clothes.” With everyone leaving Eirlana took the bottles of alcohol from Cabot and walked back to the clinic, she had a lot to finish before they would leave the next morning. . Restless Eirlana put her book away for the fourth time, she couldn't get used to being at the Winter Palace. They had been housed in one of the many guest buildings, that was a smaller version of the Palace itself. The decadence of the place irked her, everything was lustrous marble, heavy brocade, inlaid and embroidered with gold and silver. There was nothing personal to be found, everything was polished and enriched to show off the power and opulence of the Orlesian Empire. She was anxious about tonight's ball, not that she hadn't prepared for anything imaginable, but her past experiences with nobles weren't the best. Tired of wandering through her own room, she slipped into Solas' through the small discrete door of their adjoined chambers. Solas sat comfortably in a lounge chair, reading in front of the open balcony doors. The room had changed in the two days that had been here. He had moved some of the furniture around, and an extra table had been brought in. On it, several books were spread out, opened and marked at various passages, his written notes lying scattered among them. The clothes he had worn lay discarded on a sofa, next to his open clothing-chest that was rummaged through. Looking around, Eirlana couldn't help but laugh, even surrounded by all this display of wealth and glitter he was acting like he was at home. Solas raised his eyes up from the book he was reading. “Something amuses you, vhenan?” “It seems like you have made yourself at home here.” She began to fold and put away his clothes, shaking her head at how much he had managed to get the room in disarray in such a short time. She wondered how a man, who was so precise and careful in his studies and paintings, could have such a hard time doing the most simple mundane tasks. It struck her how relaxed he was, as if he belonged here, not a stranger to the overbearing riches surrounding them. His presence calmed her down, and she was relieved he would be at her side tonight. Having finished tidying up a little, she took a cushion and sat down at his feet, leaning against his legs. Solas continued to read, but his hand reached out to her, softly stroking her head and neck. Enjoying the simple gesture, Eirlana stole loving glances at him. It was comforting he was acting like this was any other place, he hadn't wavered even once since they had arrived. With a confidence out of this world, he walked around as if he had visited the Winter Palace countless times before. She took his hand and let her lips glide over the back of it. Exhaling Solas looked down at her. Seeing his warm gaze made her heart flutter. Making occasional eye contact, she slowly kissed along his hand, his nostrils flared when she reached his fingertips. “Careful vhenan, you are playing with fire.” he growled. After the Dales, Eirlana felt more comfortable at being intimate, knowing that she could trust him made her more confident. Teasingly she scraped her teeth over his fingertip, making him groan. It was somehow empowering that she could do this to him, that she alone could so easily chip his masks away. He showed her parts of himself only she knew. She squealed when he suddenly pulled her up and onto his lap. His book fell forgotten to the ground. Laughing she tried to escape from his entrapping arms. “I have warned you.” he hummed and started to peck her on her nose and face. Suddenly he gasped when she touched him with an ice-cold hand. “I think I can handle fire.” she smiled at him challenging, biting playfully in his nose. “You little...” before he could finish his sentence they were kissing. . There was a knock at the door. “Excuse me Sir, but do you know... Oh, I beg your pardon.” It was Rosie one of the elven servants within the Inquisition. “Sorry for the interruption, but I have been looking for you, Miss. Your bath is ready.” She had been appointed to them for a couple of weeks now. At first, Eirlana had been reluctant to have a servant, but Rosie's charming open personality had made quick work of any objections she had. “Don't worry Miss, you have your job, and I have mine. Mine just happens to be to make your life a little easier.” she had said when she introduced herself to them. Trapped in Solas' arms Eirlana flustered “My bath? But the ball isn't until tonight.” “And we have to get you ready. There is so much to do. After the bath, we must prepare and curl your hair, manicure your feet and hands. I have some...” Rolling her eyes Eirlana groaned. “All right, I am coming.” Amused Solas listened, he was glad that they were getting along, especially because Rosie was one of his spies. Under those blond curls, rosy cheeks and friendly smile lay a natural snoop and a woman who could take care of herself. She had the critical task to listen in to the whispers behind their backs and warn him if anyone tried to pry around, especially when they were gone. His secrets were well hidden, but it was good to know who was interested in them. It was also a reassuring thought someone was looking after Eirlana when he was away. Eirlana leaned against him before she slipped from his arms with a sigh. Reluctantly he let go of her. He was thrilled that she was becoming more comfortable in her own skin, but especially on days like these, when she was exploring her own comfort zone, it was difficult for him to pull back. It took him a while, after they had left, before he could focus on his reading again. . Checking himself in the mirror one last time, Solas couldn't help but smirk. They may introduce him as a servant tonight, but no one in their right mind would believe it. He was wearing a set of tight dark brown leather leggings, his foot-wrappings, made from the same material, were wrapped in a criss-cross pattern halfway up his calves. His long, high collared, sleeveless vest, was made from heavy brocade. The dark brown fabric was richly embroidered with golden leaves and branches, with deep red and black details. The vest had a split in the back, and a cuff of dark fur attached over his right shoulder, decorated with a pin of the Inquisition. Around his waist, a tan leather belt embellished with golden leaves was bound. Under the vest, he wore a tailored white silken shirt with slightly billowing sleeves. As a finishing touch, he put on a pair of dark brown leather gloves, with an elven leaf pattern stitched onto them. Pleased with himself he took the elongated jewellery box that lay ready and went to the hall to join the others. Noticing his change in appearance a few eyebrows were raised. “Well, you will certainly ruffle some feathers tonight.” Dorian commented. “Hmph.” Vivienne huffed clad in a golden and red evening gown with one of her signature wide standing collars and headdresses. She was clearly not impressed with his non-hedge-mage appearance. “Oh, my.” Dorian said, and Solas turned to where he was looking. “Maker's breath.” Cullen whispered, and Varric whistled softly when Eirlana came down the stairs. Lost for words Solas could only stare at her, it was a sight he would remember forever. Where he and the others had chosen for heavy fabrics, golden and bold colours, she was a breath of fresh air. She wore a gown with a tight white bodice, a high neckline and a white chocker. An oval opening on her chest showed a little of her skin. The white sleeves were elongated over the back of her hand and attached to her middle finger. A long skirt started at her hips and was made of several layers of a very light fabric. They were cut diagonal at different lengths and dyed in various shades of blue and white. They moved beautifully with every step she took. Over her bodice, she wore a low cut tight jacket, in a rich darker blue tone. From its shoulders fell long open flared sleeves, that were bound together in intervals along her upper arms. The fabric was silvery embroidered with an old elven leaf-pattern. When she walked, her bare toes slipped from under her skirt. Her hair was partially pinned up in an elegant updo of several loose braids and twisted tresses. The rest hang loose in a long waterfall of curls and waves. Expect for a silver pin of the Inquisition, she wore only one piece of jewellery. A single silver earpiece, depicting an elfroot plant that curled along and around her ear. Tiny silver chains hung down at the tip of her ear, emphasising she was elven. A hint of make-up adorned her lips and eyes. Joining the others, Eirlana walked towards Solas. “You look beautiful.” she smiled at him and blushed lightly, surprised at her own comment. Solas chuckled. “That would be my line, my Lady.” He bowed before her and gave her a courtesy kiss on her hand. Then he leaned towards her and whispered. “Vhenan, you are a vision. You take my breath away.” making her blush a shade deeper. Ryan was the last to join them, with everyone gathered they got to the carriages and horses. An honour guard was waiting to accompany the Inquisitor to the main entrance of the Winter Palace. Solas had chosen to ride his hart for the short trip, giving him the opportunity to leave if he needed to. With everyone moving he held onto Eirlana's hand and waited. “Vhenan, I have a gift for you.” he handed her the jewellery box. Surprised she stared at it and him before she stammered. “Solas. I... Thank you.” Carefully she opened it. On a cushion lay a beautiful necklace composed of strings of small silver snowflakes, some of them embedded with tiny blue stones. At its centre was a silver pendant, depicting a wolf asleep in the snow. With its head resting on its tail it lay protectively curled around a bright blue crystal. “It is lovely.” Carefully she touched it with her fingertips, she was amazed at the level of detail of the engravings down to the wolfs fur. “Here let me.” Solas took the necklace and stepped behind her. Her heart was beating wildly when she lifted her hair, so he could secure it around her neck.

Touching the pendant, she smiled shyly at him. “Thank you, it is wonderful.” A warmth spread through him, he had designed the necklace especially for her, the wolf meaning so much more to him than the old elven sign of protection. It was his symbol, a part of his name, a part of who he was, but it was also a representation of how he felt about her and how she affected him. Hoping that one day he could tell her the truth about himself he lifted her on his hart and rode after the others. . The ball was drenched in all the flaunting and boasting Solas expected. They had spared no expense for the peace-talks. Grant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, shining their glittering light on the polished marble floors, and the golden surfaces of the pillars, statues, furniture or even the simple door handles. Draperies of blue satin and brocade decorated the halls and walls, and a heavy scent of incense and perfumes hung in the air. Servants in elegant uniforms and simple royal masks walked around, their trays filled with countless small artworks of dishes, and crystal glasses filled with the best wines Orlais could offer, all eagerly consumed by the many guests. Everyone with a shimmer of a title had come to witness the outcome of tonight and to steal a glimpse at the fabled Inquisitor. Dressed to impress they tried to outshine each other, in huge gowns, puffed sleeves, ruffles, grand hats, masks heavily inlaid with jewels, tightly tied corsets and colourful fans. If you walked around, you wouldn't suspect that the country was at war, not to mention suffering from the aftermath of the Breach and the rifts. Nothing had changed Solas thought, even after thousands of years had passed, the people in power still fought and played their silly pitiful games, never satisfied, always wanting more. Hidden behind their masks, they were slaves to their prestige, wealth and titles, thinking that they were more important than any other being on earth. Attached from what was really important they fought like hens and roosters in a henhouse, always trying to better their status. With some amusement, Solas noticed that more than one pair of eyes behind the masks was directed at him and Eirlana, as they made their way to their designated area. Whispers followed them through the halls. “Even the Inquisitor has brought elves.” “Tsss, I would watch your jewellery, if I were you.” “Is this even allowed?” “Celene's orders my dear.” “Never seen one like that.” “Where can I get one of those?” They clearly didn't know what to make of them. He felt Eirlana tensing up next to him; clearly, a little overwhelmed by all the people and whispers around them. Leaning closer to her ear he spoke softly in elven so no one could understand them. Don't worry vhenan. Remember under those masks they are just people. If it helps imagine, them in Vivienne's dress.” “Solas.” she gasped, a little shocked by his boldness, but she smiled imagining just that. . Iron Bull watched the two elves with renewed interest, especially Solas. His whole demeanour had transformed, something that couldn't just be explained away by his change of clothes. He knew that there was very little that could rattle the quiet apostate, but he didn't expect him to be this calm and composed. He stood out. He was walking around with an ease and confidence, like he was used to these gathering. It was as if he were of noble birth himself, something that wasn't possible. Bull had to grin when Solas talked softly to Eirlana, his eyes and movements telling everyone who watched them that she was his and that they shared an intimacy no one could touch. A couple of noble ladies even blushed and started to whisper behind their fans, as if they had seen something private and forbidden. As amusing as it was Iron Bull couldn't help but feel something was off. He had spent some time to discover more about them after the tip-off form Dalish but found nothing. They both were very diligent in their work and helping the Inquisition, almost a little too diligent in his opinion. Nothing had jumped out apart from their unique views on magic, and the occasional disagreement with Ryan. Making a mental note to dig a little more into their pasts he directed his attention back to the nobles and servants, every single one of them liars, spies and schemers, it would be hard to find out who was lying about what. . The ball soon turned into the bloody and twisted affair they all had feared. Solas found it almost disturbing how Ryan was handling the nobles and the Game with an alarming ease. Whenever the ball permitted it he, Ryan, Cassandra and Blackwall slipped away to uncover the secrets and plots behind the scenes. It didn't come as a shock to Solas to see that the servants and guards had paid with their lives for this pity feud within the royal family. Like always the common people were paying the price, just like the People had paid his. As expected the Venatori had infiltrated the palace, the challenge was to find out who amongst the more influential people was colluding with them. The runs behind the scenes were always short and quick, so they would be back before the Inquisitor would be missed. After checking himself for dirt and blood, Solas walked around, before returning to his post in one of the side wings. With growing interest, he studied the people around him and was surprised at how he was soaking up the dense layer of intrigue, plays of power, danger and sex. It was a silent pleasure he hadn't indulged in for so long, the open secrets, the fainted interests and amazement, the little well placed accidental touches, fake giggles and subtle whispers. It reminded him of the feasts of Elvhenan, of what once was his home, though with far less magic, boasting and obsequious flattery. Everyone was acting, watching, faking, no one was bold enough to be themselves. Even he was playing a role, though he was showing more of his true nature then he originally had planned. An elven servant tried her best to look seductively at him, as she filled his glass again. Solas noticed he was enjoying the attention he was getting, the stolen glances of the nobles, the elves watching him with interest. It was just like everyone used to watch him back in Arlathan. He was the wild card, dangerous, trusted and feared by everyone. Even when his world had been rotten to the core, it also had its beauty, freedom and unlimited potential. His ears twitched when he heard another demeaning remark about the elves. It was repulsive how the nobles saw them as nothing more like objects, lesser beings, mere sub-humans to do their bidding. Officially there was no slavery in Orlais, but he knew that most elves toiled for meagre wages. There were exceptions of course, highly trained entertainers and bards that were kept by the nobles like prized pets or possessions. Strolling through the halls, Solas got sight of Briala. He already had a brief encounter with her, hunting down some Venatori. In her short chat with the Inquisitor, she gave him the impression she was a capable and very calculating woman. In just the few months she possessed the key to part of the eluvian network, she had used it very efficiently to rally the elves of Orlais. Seeing the hardened woman giving polite smiles if need be, he was reminded of Felassans companionship towards her. Solas knew he had to approach Briala someday, to get the key he needed to rewrite and take control of the eluvians. Observing her a while, he wondered how Felassan could have seen her in Briala. Even when he now saw she was resourceful and brave to stand up for her people. It was a far cry from what she had done and the way she had changed him. His eyes wandered to Eirlana, who was talking with Josephine to some nobles, wondering who was changing him more. His stomach fluttered seeing Eirlana standing amongst them, she was one of the most kind-hearted, strongest, loving, beautiful and intelligent people he had ever known. He shook his head, she had been right, he hadn't known what love was, that is until now. He noticed a group of nobles whispering and pointing towards Eirlana. One of them, an older man, Solas recognised, the Lord of Val Colline, nicknamed the Pig of Colline, a man with a horrible reputation, with a distinct taste for elves according to the reports. To some extent, Solas didn't mind the growing attention Eirlana was receiving, but seeing the openly lusty stares, especially from such a man, as if she was some trophy to conquer and posses, had him on edge. . It was over, more blood had been spilt, another scheme completed and a new puppet sat on the throne. Solas took a sip of his glass, he could have guessed that Ryan would choose to support Gaspard. It was another military victory for the Inquisition, who now would have the full support of Orlais to fight Corypheus. It would be interesting to see what their powerful allies would do once the Inquisitions usefulness would disappear. For now, there was a macabre sort of cheerfulness in the air, after all the Queen had just been assassinated by the sister of the new designated ruler. Ryan's choices tonight would have repercussions for years to come. Leaning against a pillar, Solas continued to observe the nobles and their games. The sweetness of the wine lingered on his tongue, indulging himself he took another glass, knowing he already drank more then he should. Finally free from Josephine, Eirlana searched for Solas. Josephine hadn't lied when she told her that several families in Orlais had taken an interest in her. Her jaw ached from the forced polite smiles, and her head was swimming from all the small talk she had endured. To her relief most nobles she had been introduced to, were polite and friendly, they were family members of people she had saved, she even recognised some of them from the battlefields. Sadly most of the other nobles acted like she expected and their stares and whispers made her very uncomfortable. Now she was just tired and hoping she could leave soon. Solas noticed Eirlana, with a smile he gazed at her. She looked so fair this evening, it made his heart beat faster. He didn't miss the dark look she gave Ryan when she passed him; clearly, she was not pleased he had sent her out of the ballroom just before the assassination happened. The Inquisitor had shown he had mastered the Game this night, calculating and manipulating everything to his best advantage. “There you are.” Eirlana was relieved she finally found Solas. “Do you want to get some air?” She looked hopeful at him. He nodded and escorted her to one of the more quieter gardens. The laughter and music grew more distant as they made their way along the winding paths leading through the artful trimmed bushes. The night was pleasantly cool, and the air was filled with the honey-sweet scent of blooming flowers. Small lanterns had been lighted, and benches placed in alcoves occupied by a few couples trying to steal a private moment. “It feels good to be out here.” Eirlana stretched her back, glad the end of the ball was in sight. “I had the feeling I was watched the whole time and that someone was always waiting for me to make a mistake. I can't imagine anyone is enjoying themselves tonight.” “I noticed Vivienne had an extra thick layer of importance and snugness around her.” Eirlana giggled, Solas' opinion about Vivienne had taken a more cynical form ever since she lectured them both about proper court magic. “What about you? You looked more at ease here than I would have thought.” “The costumes may have changed, but the powerful have always acted the same as you well know. Empires come and go with the flow of time, with only their memories remaining in the Fade. Tonight was no exception.” “Seen is not the same as walking amongst them.” “True.” Solas said after a while, he didn't know what else to say. Every excuse he could think of sounded to fake or was one he didn't want to tell her. They came to a small square surrounded by bushes of roses in different shades and lighted by several lanterns. Turning towards him, Eirlana lightly took hold of his hands and intertwined their fingers. “I wish it were just the two of us tonight.” she spoke softly. Standing close together they both relished this short moment of peace. Solas leaned forward to kiss her, but she stepped away from him. Still holding his right hand, she turned her body and with a twinkle in her eye, she smiled at him knowingly. Solas recognised the way she moved her body, he was very familiar with that stance. “How do you?” “You are not the only one who has wandered the Fade and seen things.” Eirlana locked her eyes with his. She looked so beautiful, it took Solas breath away. Her eyes drew him in, as if she was leading him to a new world, one she created and only she knew the secret to. A peaceful world full of wonders, where to old and new were in harmony. He gladly stepped into it, but in his heart, he knew it was a dream that would never come to pass. He matched her stance, and they began to dance to the faint distant music. It was an ancient elven dance, one the world hadn't seen for thousands of years. Having only practised the dance a few times in the Fade, Eirlana missed a few steps, but soon she followed Solas' lead, and they glided over their private little square. Gradually the music changed its rhythm and slowed down, staying in tune they began to dance slower, more intimate. With grace, Solas moved behind her, stepping closer to her. Pressing his chest against her back, he leaned into her, curling his arms around her waist. Eirlana could feel his heat through their clothes, swaying to the music she leaned back, letting her head rest against his. Resting her arms on his she closed her eyes, she lost herself in the moment, a pleasant shiver spread through her feeling his warm breath brushing her ear. . “Eh, ehm” Iron Bull coughed. “Sorry guys, but the boss is asking for you.” Solas sighed as reality came crashing back, he wanted nothing more than to disappear at that moment. To take Eirlana far away so he could have her all to himself, without any annoying disturbances. He didn't miss Iron Bull's subtle gesture that something was amiss. Holding onto Eirlana more firmly he kissed her temple. “Stay here, I will be right back vhenan.” “But he said...” “I will see what he wants, wait for me here.” He followed Iron Bull back inside. “Sorry I had to barge in, but you know...” Solas motioned that it was all right, it wasn't as if it was the first time someone walked into them. He had a bad feeling what he would find after Iron Bull's gestures, his instincts warning him to be cautious. It was worse than he expected, the Inquisitor was drunk from the wine and intoxicated by his successes of the night. As the victor, he was surrounded by several nobles showering him with praise and flattery, hoping to get on his good side. Like a plague, they clung to him, sneaky and selfishly attempting to gain the most out of the spoils after the bloodshed. What was most alarming to Solas was to see the Pig of Colline among them, as well as other nobles with a more questionable reputation. “Solass, there you are.” Ryan's voice slurred a little from the wine. “I was jusst trying to explain to these fine people how you do your... your thingss.” “It is most fascinating to hear the grand deeds of the Inquisition by Andraste's Champion himself.” the Lord of Val Colline stepped in, looking with interest at Solas, his eyes searching the room behind him. “May I ask, where is your lovely companion of this evening?” Seeing the disgusting leering look in the man's eyes made Solas sick. Fighting down the urge to set him on fire and strike him down, Solas knew right then that he needed to remove this monster. From his spies he knew Briala was planning to make her move against the Pig, he needed to contact his agents to assist her. Maybe this was the opportunity to help her and gain her trust, all was it a little faster than planned. “My apologies but she already left, it has been a long and trying night.” Solas answered politely. “Can I be of any further assistance Inquisitor?”

Seeing Ryan was already talking with someone else he made a small courtesy bow and left, after all, he was playing the role of a manservant. On his way back he spotted Josephine, quickly he stepped towards her. “The Inquisitor is trying hard to make the wrong kind of friends.” he said to her discretely. To his relief her eyes went big and searched immediately for Ryan, seeing him she thanked Solas and went to him. Trusting she would sort things out Solas resumed his way, it was high time to leave this ball. He needed to get Eirlana away from here fast. Angry at Ryan's ignorance and stupidity he walked back into the gardens. His ears twitched when he picked up Eirlana's giggle from afar, unwittingly he quickened his pace through the winding hedges. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her and Cullen sitting on a bench under a magnificent climbing rose. Cullen was brushing his neck, smiling fondly at Eirlana, who giggled about something he said. Already agitated and the wine running through his veins Solas briskly walked towards them. “Solas.” Eirlana greeted him cheerfully. He forced himself to calm down. “Vhenan, if you wish, we have permission to leave.” Noticing something was off, she nodded and turned towards Cullen. “Good night Cullen.” Cullen opened his mouth, but froze a moment, before he mumbled. “Good night.”

For a while Cullen stared after them, he already had received some not so friendly looks from Solas, but this was the most hostile one yet. His message was clear, back off she is mine. Not that Cullen didn't know that, but smothering his own feelings was sometimes tricky, especially in moments like these. He had come to the gardens to escape the annoying nobles that had pestered him all night long. It was a pleasant surprise when he came upon Eirlana, she looked so beautiful, and before he knew it, he approached her. They ended up talking on the bench, both complaining and laughing about the ridiculousness of the nobles. It made him happy that so much had changed between them, ever since the day she and Solas had stumbled into Haven. She made him smile, and he couldn't help that he sometimes wished for a future together with her. It was an impossible dream of a future free of the order, free of the pain, a future in which he was living happily with her at his side in a simple house in Fereldan. Cullen shook his head, knowing that it would never happen, it would be a miracle if he managed only one of those things. He didn't blame Solas' reaction, in part he could understand him, especially tonight. Eirlana kept silent until she and Solas rode away from the palace. She saw he was struggling, something had happened that put him on edge. “Solas what is wrong?” He kept riding without answering, not trusting his emotions. The desire to take her away and protect her from all that was wrong in this world had never been stronger. He wanted to lock her away in one of his created realms, hidden away, guarded and cared for by people he could trust. It was a selfish desire, one that would put her back in a cage. Even when it would be a golden one, it would still be a cage. “Solas!” she took hold of his face forcing him to look at her. He swallowed hard, fighting his own impulses. “I am sorry vhenan. I couldn't stand those nobles and the Inquisitor any longer. I needed to get you away from there.” . Entering her room, Eirlana let out a sigh. She felt like she could breathe again. Solas followed her, and with a flick of his wrist, he lit the candles in her room. To her relief, he had calmed down a little, but something had rattled him, and a strange tension was lingering between them. Not knowing how she should act she started to pull some of the pins out of her hair. Looking in the mirror she caught him staring at her with an intense burning gaze that made her shiver, and her heart beat faster. Watching him, she opened her jacket and let it slip off, revealing her laced up back. Suddenly Solas averted his eyes and walked away, opening the door separating their rooms. Confused she spun around. “Solas.” The word was out of her mouth before she could make up her mind what to do. She knew only one thing, she didn't want him to leave. He looked at her questioningly, and she turned and pulled her hair over her shoulder to the front. “Can you help me open this?” “Of course vhenan.” his voice sounded strained. Her breath hitched when he stepped closer and touched her. He had taken off his gloves, and his warm hand brushed along her neck before his nimble fingers started to unlace her. The tension she felt intensified with every single touch on her skin. Solas tried to focus on the task she requested with difficulty. His desire for her was set aflame by the wine and the events of the evening, seeing her back slowly unveiling added only more fuel to the fire burning within him. This was getting dangerous, he needed to leave before he did something inexcusable. For a moment his hand hovered over her naked skin before he pulled it back. Clenching his fist he abruptly turned around, “Good night, sleep well.” and with a few paces, he was through the door. Eirlana stared at the closed door, she could guess why he had left, his burning stare told her enough. Now alone, a sadness spread through her. Reaching over her shoulder, she touched her back still heated from his touch. What should she do? Alone in his room Solas ripped off his vest and opened his shirt, a few buttons flew off in the process. He flung open the balcony doors to let the night air in, he needed to cool off. His eyes caught sight of a flagon of wine, and he poured himself a glass. After he took a big gulp, he filled it back up again. His blood was boiling, fuelled by the alcohol and the jealousy he felt thinking back at all the men that had paid Eirlana to much attention during the night. A part of him was pushing him to give in, to stake his claim, to take her and let the world know she was his. He felt disgusted with himself to have these thoughts, they were part of the selfish monster he thought he had left behind. It made him sick that his dark, selfish side was so easily resurfacing by a few greedy stares of a couple of shemlen. His emotions in turmoil he noticed the candles going out in her room. Letting out a deep sigh he closed his eyes, this would have been so much easier if he had listened to himself and buried his feelings. He laughed at himself, when had he ever chosen the easy road. No, even when he had many regrets in his life, he would never regret meeting her, she was his light in a dark time, a blessing he didn't deserve. In a big swig, he emptied the glass cursing his own desires, cursing his past and his task. Letting out another sigh, he reached out for the flagon once more, knowing he would regret drinking so much in the morning. . “Solas?” Solas froze, he hadn't heard Eirlana come in, slowly he turned around and swallowed. Clad in only a sleeveless nightgown and a shawl she stood behind him, her hair loosely pinned up. The moonlight pouring through the windows engulfed her in a surreal light, and for a moment Solas thought he was dreaming, that she was an illusion. Why was she here? He didn't move, frightened to chase her away, scared that she would disappear at any moment. She stepped closer and reached out to him. He took in a sharp breath when her fingers touched his bare chest feather-lightly. Slowly she brushed her lips against his, kissing him tenderly. His resolve was wearing very thin, he had to stop this, he couldn't... “Vhenan?” he broke away from her. “I want to spend the night with you.”

Solas couldn't believe what she just said, she couldn't possibly want to... Eirlana's eyes drew him in, she looked so beautiful, slowly she let her shawl slip from her shoulders. Stunned he watched her, his body already reacting to her presence. Suddenly the dream was shattered when her hand went to his groin, taking it with a delightful pressure, his manhood responding immediately. With a strangled grown he quickly pushed her back. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” startled by his reaction, she panicked, she had done something wrong. Taking a deep breath to calm himself Solas tried to recover, never would he have expected that from her, it was the total opposite of her otherwise shy and hesitant demeanour. Seeing her reaction only affirmed what he already knew. Everyone had always taken from her, demanded from her, used her. No one had ever loved her, cared for her, showed her what it meant to be together. “No, vhenan.” Solas said a little out of breath. He closed the balcony doors, giving himself a few moments to realise that this was reality. He stepped towards her and saw she was rattled, her mind searching where she had gone wrong. He had scared her and at that moment all of his objections and reason were not important. Softly he caressed her cheek, he wanted nothing more than to banish all of her bad memories. Slowly he started to kiss her and mumbled: “Just let us go a little slower.” His hands stroked her bare arms. Tentative Eirlana raised her hands to touch his chest. Solas could tell she was now questioning every move she made. He didn't want this, he wanted her to enjoy every moment, to receive her touch because she wanted to, not because she felt obliged to. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips placing sweet kisses on it. . Slower, it was easier said than done Eirlana thought. She didn't know what to do, she felt hesitant to touch him. Not that she was a stranger to sex, but for her, it had always been connected with shame, disgust and pain. She knew it shouldn't be like that. She wanted to be with Solas, to feel his love and touch, and to give him pleasure in return, but now there was a growing knot in the pit of her stomach, fearing she would do something wrong again or spoil the mood. With her insecurities returning, she questioned all she knew. She was afraid to touch him, afraid she wouldn't touch him enough, afraid to disappoint him. Inhaling sharply, her thoughts were disrupted when Solas started to suck and lick at the delicate skin of her inner wrist. A pleasant shiver ran along her spine when he continued to kiss up her arm, leaving a wet trail that cooled in the night air. Like in their dance, he stepped behind her and leaned into her. Concentrating on him she began to relax again. His lips feathered over her collarbone, and her breath hitched when he reached her sensitive spot. His breath brushed hot against her skin, kissing and nipping her, it made her tingle in delight. Sighing she moved her head to the side, giving in to his touch, his warmth. This is what she wanted, this is why she had chosen to come here. There was nothing to be afraid off, there was nothing she could do wrong. Her confidence returning, Eirlana slipped away from him. Watching him she moved slowly backwards to the bed, pulling her hairpins loose. Seeing him staring at her with admiration and desire empowered her. Smiling at him, she tugged at the straps of her nightgown, leisurely loosening them. Solas had to swallow when her nightgown fluttered down, after briefly resting on her hips it pooled at her feet. Standing naked before him, she looked like a vision, with her delicate developing curves, small breasts, her skin almost translucent in the moonlight and her hair a shimmering fall of waves. For a moment he could only stare at her taking in every detail of her, she was so lovely and yet so vulnerable. Mesmerised Solas stepped towards her, his vest hitting the ground with a thud. “You are so beautiful.” he whispered before capturing her lips, his fingers gliding over her arms. He shuddered in delight when he felt her hands move with confidence over his chest, slipping his shirt off his shoulders. Stopping for a moment, he pressed his forehead against hers. He needed to know. “Are you sure?” Eirlana brushed her nose against his, before kissing him tenderly. “Yes and no.” she smiled. It was the truth, there was a strange mixture of want, desire, fear and anticipation inside of her. “And you?” “Yes and no.” Solas confessed, he wanted nothing more than to love her, to touch and feel her, but he was also still keeping the truth from her. Who he was, what he had done and must do in the future. They both laughed nervously, as if they were lovestruck teenagers, getting intimate for the first time. . Sitting down on the bed, Solas slowly pulled Eirlana back, so they were both lying down. He was careful not to lean too much over her, so she had room to retreat if she needed to. They kissed again, and his hands began to wander over her, exploring her sides and stomach, caressing her softly. Leaving her lips, he kissed down her neck and collarbone, before travelling down on her chest. He could hear she was holding her breath when he almost reached her breasts. He skimmed the edge of them, brushing his nose along the soft rising mounts, before moving lower to her ribs. She tensed when he started to lightly kiss her there, dragging his inner part of his upper lip along the exposed skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps that spread over her body. His hands moved all along her figure, cherishing every part of her skin. He kept her on the edge of tickling, caressing her with his lips and tongue until her breath sped up and her stomach began to pulse under his every touch. Only then he moved back up towards her breasts. Taking his time he gently stroked his thumbs along them and placed soft kisses on the tender flesh. Her breath hitched when he finally reached her nipple and took it into his mouth, gently sucking it. He smiled hearing her beautiful moan when his tongue began to lick and roll around. Cupping her breasts more firmly he began to knead them, alternating between them with his fingers, mouth and tongue, teasing her nipples until they turned into stiff peaks. “Solas.” Eirlana panted, she was not sure what she should do. This was so different from what she knew. His hands were on a journey to explore and cherish every part of her, her body was reacting in ways she had never felt before. Afraid of these new sensations and afraid she wasn't doing enough, she desperately took hold of his arms. Solas halted and kissed her on her lips again, looking deep into her eyes. “Shh, don't worry. Just do what feels good for you.” he gave her another heart-throbbing kiss. “I won't stop until I have tasted every part of you.” Her stomach fluttered hearing his low heated voice and seeing his burning but reassuring gaze. Stroking and kissing her, Solas kept his attention on her upper body, giving Eirlana time to relax again. He wanted to show her there was nothing to fear and give her pleasures she had never experienced before. He wished for her to come undone by his touch, to burn her past away and replace it with all the love, tenderness and sweetness he could bestow upon her. . Eirlana felt a strange tension spread through her, but it wasn't an unpleasant one, rather a wonderful anticipation for what was to come. It was as if a burden was disappearing from her shoulders, taking away her doubt, her fear and her shame, all that was left was Solas and his love. Slowly her hands began to move again. She wanted to feel more of him, to explore his body in turn, she loved him with all her heart and wanted him to feel the same pleasure as he gave her. Giving in to her instincts she began to move, her touches and kisses becoming more confident. Her fingers traced and caressed his muscular body and moving her legs she glided them along his, making Solas hum. His mouth began his journey again, after giving her breast some more attention he continued downwards. Her stomach clenched, and she let out a breathing laugh when his lips fluttered lower than before, teasing her taunt sensitive muscles. Gradually Solas let his body slip off the bed until he was on his knees. A little out of breath Eirlana sat up leaning on her elbows, wondering why he moved to the floor. Her breath hitched when he took her feet and pressed a kiss on them and started to work his way up her legs, kissing, caressing, kneading, tasting, worshipping every inch of her skin. Solas was careful when he slowly parted her legs, knowing that it could make her uncomfortable. He watched her closely when he began to stroke her inner thighs. Eirlana held her breath, her first reaction was to close her legs, but by now her mind and body were in a heated haze of anticipation and pleasure. As much as she feared to be touched there, she also wanted it. Seeing how tense she was Solas got up. After kissing her, he pulled several thick cushions towards them, arranging them so she could lie more upright and see what he was about to do. “You are wonderful.” he whispered in her ear. With care, he parted her legs again, kneeling down between them. Not stopping caressing her, he stared at her most intimate parts, even here her hair was white. The sparse soft curls started on her mound of Venus and covered her nether lips leading to her pink folds. Kissing her on her stomach, he slowly made his way to her mound. He could hear her holding her breath again when he started to kiss, lick and suck gently at this soft part of her body, gradually he moved lower until he almost had reached her outer lips. “Solas don't.” Eirlana reached for his face and pushed it away, her voice a heady mix of uncertainty and desire. He looked at her, his eyes filled with love, lust and promise. Pressing her hand against his cheek, he looked her deep in the eyes. “I said I wanted to taste every part of you.” Not breaking eye-contact he turned his head slightly and scraped his teeth over her fingers, nipping softly at her fingertips. Eirlana shuddered and slowly let go of his head and sunk back into the cushions. Solas started to kiss her mound again, slowly moving lower. He could smell her heavy scent of sex, and he couldn't wait to let her drown in ecstasy. Carefully he licked and kissed her outer folds before he parted them. Seeing the gleam of her arousal heightened his own. Eagerly he let his tongue roll over her inner folds and moaned loudly being finally able to taste her. Grabbing the sheets to prevent herself from pushing him back again, Eirlana trembled when she saw him staring in fascination at her most intimate parts. She inhaled sharply when his tongue suddenly moved all over her, the sensation and the vibrations of his voice overwhelming her senses. Her heartbeat sped even more as he kept going, flooding her with sweet pleasure. She wanted to touch something of him, but his body was out of her reach, desperately her hand went for his head again but this time not to push him away. Feeling her stroke his head Solas started to kiss and lick her more intensely, with intervals he looked up at her. She looked gorgeous with her lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed and her eyes half hooded. Her whole expression telling him she enjoyed every move he made. With his thumbs massaging her mound of Venus he slowly kissed and licked her deeper, time and time again he moved up and teased her on and around her pearl, sucking it gently. Gradually Eirlana's soft moans became louder and more intense, her nails scraping lightly over his scalp. He pulled at her nether lips with his mouth, cherishing and loving every part of her, eating her out more and more. He had to moan when she finally let go completely and parted her legs even more for him, he could taste her heightened arousal. Slowly he let one finger enter her, she was so warm and moist. He felt her stiffen at the intrusion, but he kept licking and kissing her until she relaxed again. With care he began to move his finger, adding one more after a while, massaging her soft passage from within. “ Solas.” Eirlana panted, her body felt like it was on fire from the pleasure he brought her. Whatever he was doing she didn't want him to stop. She groaned and arched her back when he suddenly reached a particular spot within her. He growled, knowing he was the one who did this to her, wanting to give her more he kept moving his fingers, his tongue licking and rolling all over and around her throbbing pearl. He felt her inner walls twitch, not stopping he kept going, knowing she wasn't far from her climax. He curled his fingers inside of her, teasing her spot again. Suddenly she pressed his face against her core, closing her legs around him in her peak. It was exhilarating to feel her clamping onto him, her inner walls pulsing around his fingers. With skilled hands he kept touching and caressing her, drawing out her peak. . Getting back at his feet Solas smiled at Eirlana, her pupils blown wide apart by her arousal, her whole body glowing with pleasure. Letting her catch her breath, he stripped off his last clothes. He sighed, when his throbbing member hit the crisp air, finally free from its confinement. Ignoring the urge to touch himself, he sat down next to her. Recovering from her orgasm Eirlana moved upright and leaned against him. Wanting to have her all the control and freedom she needed, he pulled her on his lap, making sure his member was securely trapped between their stomachs. Lovingly Eirlana straddled him, embracing him she pressed herself against his warm body. Coming down from her high she lazily kissed him tasting herself on him. Solas groaned when her tongue slipped over his lips, opening his mouth they entwined their tongues together. It was wonderful to feel her heated body against his, he brushed aside her hair and raked his nails teasingly over her spine. She arched her back beautifully to his touch, pushing her breast forward with her nipples still hard and sensitive from his earlier ministrations. Eagerly he took them into his mouth, rolling his tongue over them. Her hands grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him back. Moaning Solas let go, thrilled she was taking control. With lust filled eyes Eirlana kissed him desperately. This was so different, this felt so right. In the past, she had learned to quickly finish the job so she would be left alone again. Never had she enjoyed to give pleasure to someone else. Now she was fascinated how Solas responded to her every touch, how his breath hitched and his muscles flexed under her exploring fingers. She let her hands glide over his body, kneading him, scraping her nails over his skin and could feel his trapped member throbbing against her stomach. Grabbing his head, she pulled it to the side giving her access to his neck. Her lips roamed along it, licking, and scraping her teeth against his muscle. When she bit down on him, she could feel him shiver, thrilled she bit him harder, sucking and rolling her tongue over his flesh. Feeling him grab her more tightly at her hips, she experimentally rolled her hips, pressing her heated centre against the base of his member. The moans that escaped Solas made her smile, and she continued her journey, revelling in the pleasure she brought him, wondering how he would react to what touch. Solas had to force himself to keep his hands still, to give her time to explore him at her own pace. It was exhilarating to feel her move freely against him seeking out her and his pleasure. When she tried to grip his head, he wished he had still his hair, so he could feel her pull it. With closed eyes and parted lips, he gave in to her, moving as she wanted, his body shivering when he felt her kissing and licking his neck. A thrill went through him when he felt her biting him, knowing she was leaving a mark for the world to see. When she rolled her lips, he couldn't help but to grab her and push her more against him. He shuddered when she licked him up his neck until her hot breath brushed against his ear, letting him moan again when she traced it with her tongue and bit down lightly at his sensitive ear-tip. His heart almost pounded out of his chest when she whispered. “I want you.” her voice full of want and desire. “Ma lath.” Hearing Solas slightly out of breath and his deep voice loaded with promise and longing made her shiver. Her pounding heart skipped a beat when his words sunk in. Lost for words she kissed him, and hugged him tightly, knowing that he meant every letter from the bottom of his heart. . A little hesitant Eirlana raised her hips, releasing his member that was trapped between them. Solas' hands were resting on her hips, but he was not guiding or pushing her. Looking into his eyes, she guided him to her core and slowly slid down on him. In union their lips parted, breathing in each other's moans, until he was fully seated inside of her. Holding still she leaned against him, her eyes closed. She could feel her walls clenching around him, stretching her, filling her. Solas didn't move. He grasped her waist more tightly, feeling her finally around him, her heat engulfing him. It was almost too much. The feeling was overwhelming for both of them, to be finally connected. “Ar lath ma” her breath brushed along his upper lip. He grasped her waist more tightly, groaning “Ma lath” once again.

They kissed each other long and passionately until they couldn't resist the urge to move any longer. With her arms resting around her shoulder Eirlana rolled her hips, feeling him shift inside her. With her movement Solas slid his hands to her behind, grabbing her cheeks to encourage her. They began at a torturous slow rhythm, that had them both on edge, their bodies wanting more and don't wanting to stop at the same time. She moved her beautifully against him, and teasingly nipped his under lip only to pull away when he tried to kiss her. They both laughed and revelled in their intimacy. Slowly they bodies heated up, making their movements growing bolder and more profound. Eirlana could see Solas was keeping himself back, wanting him to enjoy it as much as she did she stroked his fingers along his ear, knowing what it would do to him. With a muffled groan he trusted up into her, sheeting himself deeper within her. She gasped and smiled against his lips, breathing in his pleasure. They sped up, moving more strongly, smiling at each other, drinking in their shared love and passion. He felt her fingers curling around his head, pulling and pushing him against her neck. His lips brushed against her fast beating pulse, not able to resist the temptation he hungrily bit her there. Hearing her moan his name he feverishly sucked and worried her skin, leaving his mark on her. She began to lose her rhythm and desperately held on to him. Grabbing her hips firmly he took over, guiding her to her release. He could feel her core throbbing around him, telling him she was close. “Solas, please.” she moaned. “Come for me vhenan.” letting go of her, he moved one hand between their bodies and rubbed his finger against her pearl. She shattered around him, her body shivering and throbbing from her second orgasm. Solas buried his fingers into her hips and bit his tongue, to not follow her. He wanted to pleasure her even more and wished this night would never end. He groaned loudly when he felt her pulsing around him, his name on her lips like the sweetest spell. Her fingers dug into his scalp, pressing her body against his as if she wanted for them to melt together. Out of breath and overwhelmed she went limp in his arms. He kissed her shoulder and held her until she caught her breath, his member throbbing within her, urging him to move. Gently Solas lifted Eirlana, hissing when he slipped out of her, slick and wet from her release. He helped her onto the bed, making sure she lay comfortably against the cushions. Moving between her legs he rubbed himself against her opening, scooping up more of her nectar before he entered her again. “Vhenan.” Breathing heavily he waited, making sure she would be alright with him on top of her. He half closed his eyes when he felt her muscles still flutter from her orgasm. When her arms came around him, welcoming him, he groaned. He wanted to move slowly, but her heat and his need made it impossible. Lifting her leg, he changed his angle, and he began to trust, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. His heart soared when her hands grabbed his butt and wrapped her body around his, meeting his thrusts. She was his, and he was hers. His movements were getting deeper and harder. He wanted to bury himself her, wanted to drink every moan and pant from her parted lips. His hunger and pent-up need was taking over as he sped up. He would never forget this moment, he would never get enough of her. Desperately he moved, kissing her feverishly. Eirlana's mind was going blank, her whole world had shrunken to just them. Her body was melting from the heat of their slick skins moving together. Sweat dripped from him onto her body, tickling her skin as it rolled down. His body was moving fluently under her fingers, his muscles were moving in harmony with his trusts. Overtaken by the sensation she dug her nails into him.

Uttering a wild-sounding growl Solas tried to press himself even deeper inside of her, with even more fever he moved even faster, he was so close, so close. Wanting desperately for them to come together he moved his hand and pressed his fingers against her pearl again. Her reaction was almost immediately, her walls clenching around on him, begging for him to let go. With a deep throaty moan, he came, releasing himself deeply inside of her.

With the build-up suddenly gone Solas' body collapsed, sweaty and heated he lay on her, holding her tightly. Catching his breath, he managed to roll off her with some effort, his body shaking from the high he experienced. They both lay still beside each other panting, unable to say a word. Lazily Solas rolled to his side and put his arm on her waist, her skin hot and sticky with perspiration. He started to place a long slow kiss on the first patch of skin he could reach. Eirlana rolled herself against him, unable to believe what she had just experienced. Smiling and out of breath, she snuggled up against him. With their naked bodies entangled, Solas managed to drag one of the sheets across them, after a few long slow kisses they drifted away, both content and sleepy they dozed off, Solas holding her possessively in his arms. . Already half asleep, Solas' ears twitch. Slowly he opened his eyes, seeing Eirlana curled up next to him he snuggled himself against her, closing his eyes again. “Shuffle.” There was that noise again, it sounded like it was coming from just outside his room. Solas was immediately wide awake, carefully he sat upright, listening intensely. There were people on the move outside on the balcony. Silently he moved out of the bed, wanting to reach his staff. Eirlana stirred, waking up by his movements. “Sol...” quickly he covered her mouth. “Shhh.” and motioned towards the door leading to her room. Alarmed by hearing the clear sound of people moving and muffled voices, she also slipped out of bed. Suddenly they saw the door slowly being opened. With a few quick strides Solas had reached his staff, whoever it was next door, their intentions couldn't be good. He felt Eirlana's magic around him as she erected a barrier. The door swung open and armed masked men stepped through it. “There! Capture the elf! Kill the other one.” Solas could see the leader of the men pointing at him and with their blades drawn the men immediately began to attack him. With staff in hand, he shot out his fade fist, sending the first men flying back. Ice shards and lightning flew through the air, killing the next who came through the door. Solas was alarmed, they were here with a purpose. More men poured into the room, stepping over their fallen comrades, Solas tried his best to hold them back when Iron Bull came storming through the door swinging his battle-axe. Other people were moving in the hall, hastening to come to their aid, the noise of the fight had woken quite a few people. With the odds now against them, the leader and a few of his men escaped over the balcony into the night. In just a few moments everything was over. “What happened here?” Cassandra asked, clad in simple linens. “Someone check on the Inquisitor!” “We had a nightly visit.” Solas replied, still naked he picked up his shirt and helped Eirlana cover herself. She was visibly shaken and looked questioning at him, knowing that this was not a random attack. He was also troubled by the leaders call. “Vints, when do these bastards finally learn.” Iron Bull grumbled, then he turned around and started to laugh. “Look that's what a true warrior is like, always ready to fight, even in his birthday-suit. I should have done that.” “Please don't.” Dorian groaned. Putting on a legging, Solas went over the events. This had been the second attack where they targetted him and Eirlana, and their instructions had been clear, capture one, discard the other. His eyes shot for a second to Eirlana, wondering again if it was him or her they wanted. Who had value to them? There was no doubt the Venatori had their spies within the Inquisition, the same as he had, the Qunari, the Orlesian court, Ferelden and no doubt others. It was a miracle that there was not more bloodshed in the halls of Skyhold. Could it be that Corypheus had discovered who he was? Not that wasn't possible, it was far more logical that they knew what the Inquisition knew, and that was that she is a healer and he an expert in elven lore and the Fade. He would be the more logical target. Why had they come into her room? He had entered hers, before moving to his. Had they assumed he was in there? Had they entered the wrong room? He looked again at Eirlana, no it had to be him they were looking for, she had no connection to anything except her role in the Inquisition as a mage and a healer. She would be of no interest to them. They must have discovered his knowledge of the orb, maybe they needed him in the hopes of unlocking it further. Could he use this to lure them out? Still looking at Eirlana he dismissed it immediately, it was too dangerous, they had called for the death of her. A chill went through him, what would have happened had they succeeded in overpowering him. No, he wouldn't risk her well-being, he had to find another way to get to his orb. “They properly went in here to get revenge for tonight. Thank the Maker they failed.” Cassandra sighed before barking more orders to the guards to double their patrols and be on the lookout for those who had fled. . Soon Solas and Eirlana found themselves in Dorian room, who had 'other' arrangements. “Solas?”

He looked at her while he pulled back the sheets so they could finally get some sleep. “Those men they were looking for someone.” She had kept quiet, not knowing why Solas hadn't said something. “I know vhenan.” “Why didn't you tell them?” After some consideration, he answered. “Because I don't want them to put any guards on us. I don't know why or who of us they were targetting. As far as I know, the only person of interest to them is Ryan. If the others knew they were looking for one of us, they would look even more over our shoulders. They would ask questions about what we are doing and why. Being in the Inquisition is hard enough at it is, and I want to continue my work to fight against Corypheus in peace. I don't see the need to worry them even more.” He took her hand and hated himself for manipulating her. “I know it is frightening to be suddenly attacked, but we are safe here. Besides we are both more than capable of defending ourselves and we are protected by the others. Of course, you can share what you have heard with Cassandra, Ryan or the others. I won't ask you to keep silent on my behalf.” She was silent for a moment and then nodded. He embraced her, regretting there was yet another secret she was keeping for him. “I am sorry.” he murmured. It was already getting light, exhausted Eirlana slipped into bed. After casting a ward to make sure they wouldn't be surprised again and shedding his leggings, Solas followed her. Lying down he possessively took her in his arms, she turned her head towards him, and they shared a long lazy kiss. Slipping his hand under the shirt, she was wearing he softly caressed her stomach. ““Ar lath ma”” he whispered and held her tightly, his heart soared when he heard her whisper. “Ma lath” .

With difficulty, Solas woke up. He had far to little sleep, and his head reminded him of his excessive wine consumption of last night. He frowned when he tried to open his eyes, and the sun was greeting him with her bright light. Not wanting to wake up he buried himself back into the cushions. His legs brushed against Eirlana's, and he hummed as the memories of last night came back to him. Snuggling against her he pulled her more into his arms. Awoken by his movements she stretched herself lazily, she smiled at him, mumbling. “Morning.” and kissed him. Sadly their cuddly morning didn't last long. Too soon they had to get up and pack their belonging. It was strange that all their weeks of preparation was packed up in a few hours to return to Skyhold. “Vhenan.” Eirlana turned towards Solas, she had just closed up her clothing chest. She was surprised to see him with another jewellery box in his hand, although this was a smaller one. In it lay another version of the necklace he had given her. It was a simpler version, attached to a couple of leather cords was a silver pendant. It depicted the same sleeping wolf, but the crystal at its centre was smaller and rougher. “I knew you couldn't wear the other one on a daily basis, so I ordered a second one, one you can always wear.” “Oh Solas, it is wonderful.” she hugged him. “Thank you.” . “Solas, did you pack everything?” Iron Bull grinned at him. “Didn't know elves were carrying that much.” They stood with the carriages and horses, waiting for Ryan. Eirlana started to blush at his remark, and Solas decided to just ignore this one. Dorian groaned and slapped Iron Bull on his back. “Enough you savage.” “Hmm savage? Want me to conquer you again?” he closed in on Dorian, trapping him between his chest and one of the carriages. “Erh erhm.” Cassandra rasped her throat. “If you are finished we have to get moving.” “Yes, Mam.” Iron Bull stepped back from a furiously blushing Dorian. Solas shook his head but had to grin at the exchange.

Ma lath – my love

Ar lath ma – I love you

#flame of winter #Solas #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age solas #eirlana #fanfic #solas romance #solas x oc

[konnoutagoewa]

Referential

A soft rain started pouring outside, yet Gaber didn't notice. Head down, hands twitching occasionally, she used her power to control countless symbols, flickering, flying around, disappearing and reappearing again, grouping themselves in unfathomable shapes, and, eventually, after having endured her merciless judgment, landing on an empty page in the flattering tomes laid before her on the old, oaken table in the room. The room was dark, shaded by the rainy clouds, and the light from her sigils surrounded her like a cloud of fireflies, giving her an almost saintly-like appearance in the dark room.

"I don't know these ones," said Elisa, having watched the magician from the door.

"Just a moment," Gaber answered. Unnoticeably at first, the glyphs stopped appearing, growing scarcer and scarcer until eventually, even the last one landed on the page and left its dark imprint. She then carefully laid the silken marker onto the page and closed the tome, putting it atop the others. "You were saying?"

"I said you were working on something new this time," answered the guest. Gaber carefully stood up from her armchair and looked around, seemingly very tired.

"Yes, I might need something to cool my head off . . ."

"A walk?"

"Elisa, you hate rain."

Elisa nodded. As Gaber's power was maths, hers was fire. And they both disliked their opposites - while Elisa's room was chaotic and rarely occupied, this one was ordered as if in a blueprint. The mathematician dropped herself upon the sofa that was positioned in one end of the rectangular room, and beckoned her friend aside her, to which she complied.

"I'm probably digging my own grave here, but what are you, the mighty Al-Gaber, working on, that tires even you?"

"Pff," Gaber started, "axiomatic systems. Some Hofstader wrote a book, and I thought I'd have a go at it. Not that it's important, but I find it interesting."

"It's important to you, then. Care to explain further?"

Gaber thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Do you know what formal systems are?"

"Not a clue."

"Okay, so we have a set of symbols . . ."

She waved her hand, and three glyphs appeared, corresponding to `p`, `q`, and `-`.

" . . . and an axiom . . . "

The glyphs duplicated and spiraled each other to produce `-p-q--` a few inches below the original three.

" . . . and a rule."

This time, four new ones joined them, to form `xpyqz -> xpy-qz-` and `xpyqz -> x-pyqz-`, arranged in two rows below, much closer to each other than to the others.

"So far so good?"

"Do I need to understand why we're doing that, or just that we are doing it?"

"I'll explain now."

"Go ahead."

"A formal system's purpose is to determine whether a certain string can be produced from its rules. In this case-"

"Wait, what's a string?"

"Any series of symbols."

"Like that with the `x`es and the `p`es there?"

"For example."

"Oh, okay. And how do we produce them?"

"Just a moment of patience, please. In this case, we have the axiom `-p-q--`," she pointed to the one in question, "which means we automatically know that one to be true for this system."

"And how do we produce them?"

"Well, take a look at the rules. `x`, `y` and `z` stand for an arbitrary number of `-`s, so if we know that `-p-q--` is a valid theorem, we can-"

"And what's a theorem?"

"Any string which can be produced by the system is called a theorem of the system in question, or a nontheorem if it can't be produced."

"Go on."

"So if we plug our axiom `-p-q--` in the first rule, we get `-p--q---`, which we then know to also be a theorem of our little system." Mostly symbolically, she spun the glyphs accordingly, ending up with `-p--q---` floating to the right of the others.

"And axioms are?"

"Rules allow us to create new axioms from already existing ones. The axioms are the starting theorems we assume to be true."

"Oh."

"So you understand it so far?"

"I guess?"

"Then, is `ppq` a theorem or not?"

"No, because it has two `p`s and no dashes."

"And `----p----q---`?"

"No - too few dashes at the end."

"`----p----q------` has more."

Elisa stared at the glowing letters for a while.

"No, four plus four is not six."

Gaber suppressed a smile - an easy task in the dark room. Her student's wit surprised her.

"I never told you to add them."

"The number of dashes before the `q` is always equal to the number of dashes after it. The `p` just separates it in two summands. It's just a complicated way of doing addition."

"Yet a very rigid one."

"What do you mean?"

"Is the sum of 134.217.726 and 387.420.489 equal to 521.638.217?"

" . . . I'll need some paper for that."

"What will you do with your paper?"

"Write it down and calculate it?"

"How will you calculate it?"

Elisa was getting more and more confused.

"By adding the two numbers?"

"So you'll write them down, separated by a `+` and a `=`, and then you will tell me whether that's a valid theorem of addition?"

Elisa was baffled. It was indeed a simple comparison.

"So . . . so you just create complicated systems like that and then manipulate your symbols because it's lazier than writing it down?"

"That's a matter of taste. I'd be doing the same operations if I were to write them down, yet my glyphs are easier to manage with fewer symbols. Thus instead of the numbers `0` to `9`, I use dashes."

"You don't loose count of them?"

Gaber gave her a sideways glance. She never lost count.

"And even if I did, There'd still be glyphs left."

"That's smart. Is that how your magic works?"

"It's a fraction of it - the most convenient one, to be fair, but certainly not the most powerful."

Elisa stared at the symbols for another while.

"But what good is addition? I doubt you were just trying to add numbers all the time."

"Quick question before that - is `--p--p--q------` a theorem?"

Elisa took but a glance at the new string before her.

"Yes, three times two is six- no, wait. There are two `p`s."

"Although my systems - and formal ones in general - usually have a meaningful interpretation, you are not allowed to forget that the system itself is not the interpretation, but just a means of getting there."

"What happens if you do?"

"You've been drunk more often than me, you describe it."

"Ugh."

"Interesting choice of words."

"But answer my question, were you adding numbers this whole time?"

Gaber waved her hands, and the glyphs disappeared with a faint glow. "I wasn't," she answered, and started inscribing new ones - many, many new ones. "Addition is the foundation of number theory, so I took it as an example. This is the system I usually work with. I took it over from that book - Hofstader called it TNT. It can prove almost any statement of number theory."

In front of them glowed the row `a0S' ()+* =<>?!^v [] $@:.`, followed by multiple rows of rules and axioms that Gaber was still expanding upon.

"Okay, I doubt I'll understand all that. What does this one do?" asked Elisa with a worried voice.

"Number theory is a branch of mathematics that deals with properties of natural numbers. Simply put, you take zero, add one however many times you want, and then use number theory to figure out whether the resulting number satisfies some equation or not."

"Like 'Is 2+3=5'?"

"Or 'Does (3^2+4^2)^.5 equal five', yes. Any equation."

"But how do you plug in the numbers? It doesn't have numerals."

"As I said, you take the `0` and add however many `S`s you want before it to represent your number."

"Oh, that's smart."

"You can also encapsulate statements, which is quite important." Gaber had finished writing the rules and axioms, and took a book from nearby, searching through it for something.

"You can do what now?"

"You can express things like 'if 3+4 is indeed 5, then 5 is not 2*3'."

"And how pray tell does that work?"

Gaber dashed her hand before them, forming `<SSS0+SSSS0=SSSSS0>?!<SSSSS0=SS0*SSS0>`.

"What's the exclamation mark for?"

"Logical negation. If `<a>` is true, then `!<a>` is not, and vice versa."

"So instead of asking 'is a true', you ask 'is the opposite of a false'."

"The 'negation' of 'a', but yes."

"Fair enough. Why do you need the `pq` one, then?"

"I don't, but you did in order to understand it."

"Oh. So you can translate between the two?"

Gaber smiled again - not at Elisa's wit, but at her own plan for the lesson.

"Yes, in both a boring and an interesting one."

"Let me guess - the boring one is to translate the dashes into `S`s, the `p`s into `+`s, and the `q`s into `=`s?"

"And append `0`s, yes."

"What's the interesting one?"

Having found what she looked for, Gaber pushed the current system aside to free some space, and summoned the old `p q -`. A few rows underneath it, she wrote `--p--q----`.

"Let's say that's the string we want to translate."

"`SS0+SS0=SSSS0`?"

"Exactly, but this time, we are not allowed to directly use the symbols - we can only mention them."

"How so?"

"First, we substitute all symbols for numbers . . ."

Between the two rows, she wrote `0 1 2`, and rewrote the last line as `2202212222`.

"Oh! You just substitute each symbol from the first row for the number in the second!"

"And append them to each other, exactly. Thus, we end up with the number 2.202.212.222."

"Yes," nodded Elisa, trying to figure out where this was headed after her realization.

"Which represents the string we had before."

"Yes."

"Which has the property that it is a theorem of our system of addition."

"Yes." She was getting slightly bored of the redundancy.

"TNT proves properties of numbers."

Elisa jumped up from her seat. "You can make a formula that proves whether a number is a valid theorem in a different system!" she exclaimed, having finally realized Gaber's intention.

Gaber made a throwing motion with the book. A cascade of glyphs emerged from among the pages, forming increasingly more complex theorems until eventually, one gigantic string emerged, spanning halfway across the room and shining so brightly that even the pyromaniac Elisa had to avert her eyes.

"Substitute the unmarked `a` for your number, and this theorem would yield its theoremhood."

"Please put it back."

With another swing, Gaber put the monster back in its cage. Elisa rubbed her eyes, looked around to make sure no other surprises were lurking for her, waiting for her to calm down, and sat herself next to her friend again.

"There's one detail you missed, however," stated the older woman.

"Which is?"

"You said you can make a formula in TNT that tells you whether such a number is a theorem of another system."

"And the detail is?"

"It needs not be another system. Since it covers all of number theory, it can also make statements about itself."

"So you'll have a theorem to decide whether it's a theorem? That seems useless."

"That theorem is in the second tome on my desk, and I've been working with it quite a lot. Let's call it 'G'."

"And?"

"Then we could define 'G(G)', which would then be 'if I plugged this formula into itself, would it be true?'."

"That's the most stupid thing ever."

"Considering the effort, I agree."

"Then why do it?"

"To add an exclamation mark."

"Because it's so frustrating to make that string?"

"Not that," Gaber chuckled. "Literally add an exclamation mark in front of it."

Elisa thought. It was a complicated theorem, and she had not completely grasped it. The answer as well seemed elusive - it fled her mental grasp, always so close and logical yet ever too far away to understand . . .

"Then . . . wouldn't 'G' be asserting its own nontheoremhood . . . or something? I don't get it."

"Forget the words, try to just understand what it means."

" . . . how?"

"Translate it into English, for example."

"'If G is plugged into G, it would not be a theorem' . . . ?"

"Yet that very sentence is 'G' itself, thus . . . ?"

" . . . 'this sentence is wrong'?"

"Precisely. The single statement TNT cannot possibly prove is the one asserting its own truth."

" . . . isn't that a paradox?"

"Yes."

"Then, can't you just rewrite TNT to avoid that?"

"You don't even know how TNT works, yet still you can see it is inconsistent from the very ground up. It is not a paradox that can simply be solved, be it with rewriting of the rules or changing the system entirely."

" . . . then is it a problem with maths itself?"

"Indeed. The single, most rigorous thing mathematics can do is to prove it can't do anything at all."

" . . . and you just accept that? You, Al-Gaber, the greatest mathematician?"

Gaber sighed. Her reputation seemed to get in her way more often than it helped her.

"Remember how I got here?"

"Bella found you at the Icy Fingers when you were trying to kill- . . . oh."

"It was a hard blow to learn that the single most organized and logical thing I knew and always relied upon enforced its own meaninglessness. Eventually, I learned to see it as just another property of it that I had to adjust to, but I can't say where I'd be if it wasn't for Bella's helping words."

"Well, yeah, she's the oldest one here. She knows how to help people."

Elisa shook her head - everyone in the Fraternity has their share of issues.

"But you didn't answer my question!"

"Which was?"

"What were you doing when I came in?"

"Oh. Well. You know how every object has a sound frequency which it resonates with and eventually breaks when that frequency is too loud?"

"Like the opera singers shattering glass?"

"Exactly. Well, Hofstader compares formal systems to gramophones." She pointed to one of the players, stuck comfortably in the corner of her room. "This one would break at somewhere above a few thousand Hertz, yet it cannot possibly play such high tones. The one in the Royal Music Hall in Jakehaven, for example, could, and it managed to break itself weeks after it was installed."

"I've heard of that. The metal was so bent they couldn't even reassemble it afterwards."

"Formal systems are the same. Some, like the addition one, are too weak to assert theorems about themselves, others - like TNT - can, and are able to break themselves."

" . . . and what were you doing?"

Gaber smiled her widest smile so far, grabbing Elisa's arm and pulling her towards her. Loosing balance, the girl fell on her and into her embrace.

"I was just trying to figure out precisely what rules a system needed to have to be able to break itself and nothing more. Thank you for the patience."

"So, like a loudspeaker than can only play one frequency, and it's exactly the one that breaks it?"

"Exactly."

"Wooow. Couldn't you have just told me that?"

"And how pray tell would I tell you that?"

"Well, you could have started with some simple example for a formal system, then maybe expanded upon it to compare its structure to something more meaningful, then you'd have presented that TNT . . . um . . . "

Elisa did something unusual for her - she blushed. Gaber booped her.

"Cutie, you still have a lot to learn to be a teacher."

"Oh, come on . . ."

"But it was fun, right?"

Elisa, done blushing, burrowed her head against Gaber's warm chest.

"It's always fun with you . . ."

"Tee hee hee . . ."

#geb #godel escher bach #writers of tumblr #puns #math stuff #but like #high math

[the-house-of-the-nine]

The Void Forge: Fortune Part 3

Days after the meeting of the Council. . .

“Planning is everything Rayne.”  Lazarius whispered calmly as his soothing voice echoed from the rafters of the war room.

A large drafting table had been pushed against a duplicate; with several charts and maps strewn across its face.  Constructed from what appeared to be a makeshift paper mache’ model was the entrance to Grim Batol.  Several chess pawns were placed in various locations at the base of the mountain, with larger pieces there to no doubt represent the commanding generals.

“And this?” exclaimed the young girl as she moved her hand over to the area with several bishops that had been painted red in a crude, yet effective manner.

Lazarius turned his attention to where she was indicating, and swiftly drew the extension pole from the side of the table.  It had a flat end looking like a gardening rake, but wooden and smooth.  He would use it to push the pieces across the battlefield.  The dow would bump into the red markers and group them into a cluster as he pushed.

“Red Dragons you fool!” hissed the young lord who popped his head up over the edge of the war table pointing with an eager smile; Raith was being honest. “Right Papa? We should capture them and bend them to our will!” 

“Papa already attempted this; let us just leave it at that.  Results were. . .”  Asphodel was not far behind the prince.  Her watchful hand would sweep across his shoulder; edged nails gently curling around the bone as she moved to pull him away from the table so as not to ruin her Inquisitors ‘toys’. “Less than satisfactory to say the least, would you not agree Inquisitor?”

Lazarius remained silent, but to much dismay; Rayne had other thoughts on the matter.  Her eyes widened as she looked toward the man who’d been questioned. “You attempted to corrupt a red dragon?”

“To-be-completely-fair. . .” Lazarius replied almost instantaneously with a beat by beat response. “I was only trying to gain a sample of his blood.”

“You were ‘trying’ to infuse his genetics with void energy to see if you could correct the Twilight imperfections. . .Don’t avoid the truth Lazarius, own what you accomplished.” Asphodel said without missing a beat of her own.  Raith still stood in front of her, both of her hands now resting on his shoulders so as to keep him close. 

“I take it things did not work out to your favor then, Inquisitor?” Rayne was swift to the point, after learning a bit about their past.

Lazarius was less than pleased, and would in turn nod his head to her. “Nearly complete but the complications resulting from the attack on the Bastille separated the Nine.  Everything was lost in the rubble, the drake fled.  Most who survived returned, but he did not. . . thus the experiment was abandoned.”

“Postponed. . .”  Asphodel added, smiling to the man.

Lazarius pushed his gaze upward.  Two glowing black orbs locking on the woman as he in turn would welcome her clever remark and reciprocate with a smile of his own.

It was about this time that the young lord would stand on his tip-toes trying to glance over the map once more.  His fingers edging across the ruffled lip of the maps border while his lips curled over into a smile.

“Papa. . .”  he would hiss, glancing up to the Inquisitor with the fanged smile. “When I can hunt with you. . . will you let me plan like this?  I want to learn how to control the battle like you. . .”

Asphodel instinctively brought a hand upward to her lips, covering the open mouth she’d made at the question.  How oddly curious that both adoptive parents found it to be adorable when the hell spawn was showing interest in their dark ways.  Fostering the ideas that popped into his head, when most would be truly frightened.  How was it that both she and Lazarius were enamored by thoughts of their son coordinating battles and laying waste to their enemies.  It had brought a boisterous chuckle to the Inquisitor, who was nodding his head.

“I would expect nothing less from you Raith . . . and I look forward to the day that I am following your battle plan.” Lazarius may not have been the ideal candidate to foster a child.  In fact, anyone within their right mind would have known not to give him the opportunity to see to the well being and care for another life form.  But, Raith was actually thriving here.   Not only was he becoming more intelligent by the day, but his abilities were coming out.  He was functioning and producing.  It was as if he’d finally found his home all along, it had just taken a while to get there. 

The boy on the other hand, nearly squealed with delight at the comment made by his adoptive father.  He whirled around with a glance trying to find Asphodel in his sights, and when he had, the smile on his face could have even melted the Frozen Throne itself.  He was hopping like a tiny rabbit, looking at her with that childish grin; despite it all, he was still a youth.  Things like his fathers admiration and respect were one thing, but acknowledging that one day they could be doing this together; Gods that may have been the push that turned him into a tiny Lazarius. 

Regardless, it seemed to be a comment that even lightened the tone enough that the group had forgotten what they were doing.  The genocide of two factions standing in their way?  It was clearly evident that the only person here still focused on the task at hand was the menacing demon standing in the doorway of the war room.

“Inquisitor. . . “ Koltun snarled, roughly ten or so meters from the drafting tables.  His shoulder leaning in against the frame of the large double door.  One leg was crooked against the other, as if just lounging against it while he waited.  His arms were crossed over his chest, pulled in tightly against the bare scaled flesh he so openly exposed.  And on his belt, dangling in the flickering torchlight entering in behind him was a large brown burlap sack, moist around the bulk of its contents and dripping onto the stone floor.  “If you’ve a minute.”

The four inhabitants of the war room would turn to notice the demon standing there.  But it was Lazarius who would usher him in.  Lofting his hand upward and beckoning him over.

“Koltun!”  he exclaimed with a bit of enthusiasm. “I knew you were swift but, quite the time you’ve made.”

Rayne had met Koltun, but still seemed a bit concerned of his abilities and appearance.  After all, he was a demon.  She would move not an inch though, choosing to stand to her convictions and hold her position at the drafting table.  But it would be Aconite who would approach the child and take him from the care of the Speaker.  Asphodel was thankful, and gave the prince a gentle kiss on his forehead as he was no doubt moved to go find Sylas to torment.

Koltun stood there for just a moment more, his nostrils flared as he snorted just a little scoff at the comment.  He was still leaning there.  His persona was rock solid, unflappable.  There was something about him that Lazarius did find appealing, perhaps it was that ego they shared.  But just as he pushed off the frame of the door to enter, the ghostly steward suddenly appeared beside him in a cloud of smoke breaking the tension.

“You’ve left a trail from the window you entered in the Lady Kash’ebahls bed chamber, down my granite walkway, across my Uldum embersilk rugs, through my saronite tile kitchen. . . and now here. . . clean up your messes, Master Ancientveil.”  Kross, the master of timing snarled, wiping up the stained red liquid from the ground, flipping the rag each time he did so.

“Gods be scorned!”  Koltun yelped nearly letting out a laugh, but choosing to growl instead. “I hate it when he does that!”  He shouted as he thumbed in the direction of the steward, calling into the group and then turning back toward Kross with a calmer voice after letting out a ‘phew’. “I hate it when you do that.“

Kross slowly rose once more, flipping the red stained rag several times over. “That is not the first time I have been told that, Master Ancientveil.”   And with that, the steward tossed the dirty rag against the demons chest, thrust him into the war room and gently shut the doors behind them.

Koltun found a laugh in this, it was nice to actually be in a place so elegant and yet the morbidity pulsating throughout, just felt so fitting; he smiled.  His cloven hooves clicked against the hard stone as he walked toward the table and its denizens.  That echo once more, caving in around them as he made his way right up to the Inquisitor.

“What have you found.” Lazarius questioned as Koltun moved to stand before him.

“Well. . .” the demon began.  “Wheres your stick. . . “  He said noticing it and reaching across the table to grab the rod with the push end.  He would begin to aggressively shove the pieces around.

“That drastic?”  Lazarius spoke softly, watching him.

“For starters, wild hammers aren’t occupying the foothold at the base of the mountain.”  The tool would move several of the pieces around to the first cliffface up from the lower portion. “As of now, three camps on the western edge.  Two on the eastern face, and one occupying the northern ridge.”

“They’ve doubled their numbers since we were last there.” Asphodel remarked, watching him shift the battle plan.

Lazarius nodded, at both but mainly to agree with the Speaker. “I don’t suppose you got a count on ho. . “

“Five hundred and eleven, not counting commanders or any of the reserves still holding the line against the Dragonmaw Orcs bolstering the fields below.  The advantage is still ours.”  Koltun moved several pieces that were colored blue to the open pass leading out into the fields of the Highlands. “If we block off this entrance.”

“But t-those are actually the ah. . .Twilight Hammer.”  Lazarius quickly added correcting the mistake. “We are purple. . .ones.”

Koltun reacted as such, fumbling and moving the pieces back but faltering as he did a double take and questioned . “Wait W-Why aren’t they purple?”

“Raith was doing the coloring and felt too much purple would be confusing; it angered him, and Lazarius wouldn’t concede on giving up his color, so they became blue.” Asphodel groaned, rolling her eyes at the comment.

“The Nine have always been purple.  I wasn’t about the just give that up for the sake of demonstration.” Lazarius chimed in, defending his case.

“You could have done gold or silver.”  The speaker retorted.

“You’re right, maybe purple for them and purple with a gold trim for us.”  he added again.

“Yeah but now that is just confusing, I look at purple and think Twilight Hammer. . . why didn’t you just avoid all of this and use hammers to represent the twili. . . .gods why am I even bothering with this!”  He got wrapped up in the discussion and shouted, then forced the right pieces into position and giving the war room table a good slap with the rod. “If -we -hold -this- pass. . . we can cut off their reinforcements from aiding them and catch them in the pincer.”

“So you’re saying that the plan will stand as it is.” Rayne added, trying to get them all back on track.

Koltun was all to happy to oblige, and swirled the end of the rod around the portion he just moved. “If we can cut off this pass, then yes.”

Lazarius had refocused himself, and looked at the maps where he was indicating. “Well then that is where we’ll have the Confessor hold the line.  Once the assault begins and we’re certain they will flee.  They can hold that position and prevent their escape.  While simultaneously keeping their runners at bay.”

“Precisely my thoughts Inquisitor.” Koltun added.

“And what of the Hammer?” Asphodel reminded him, pointing to the area where the blue pieces were.

Koltun whirled around, nearly forgetting but grabbing them and placing them at the base of the entrance.

“They’re surrounded and securing the main gate.  One large frontal force, they’re taking heavy losses from the Wildhammer every so often, but it seems for the moment the battles are being waged away from their encampment.” the demon would respond, finally seeing the field as it was while he was there.

“And you thoughts Koltun?” Lazarius said as he finished.  Choosing to allow him this opportunity to voice his own opinion.

“My thoughts?” Koltun almost seemed amazed by the action,so much so he needed a moment to collect them. “The linchpin is as you said in the initial plan.  The disruption of the cultists.  If we can cause this distraction it will allow us the time and ability to set up our own forces.”

“So that will be the key to victory then.” Lazarius motioned toward the blue pawns sitting at the gate of the crude model. “We’ll shatter them from within to draw the attention of the dwarves, and take possession of their camps during the commotion.  While also simultaneously positioning the Confessor at the entrance to the pass to keep them contained.  Raise the corpses of the dead to do the majority of the work, and allow you and the Harbinger to cut a swath through the ones that remain standing.”

“Did you happen to locate a position the Inquisitor can set up to begin sowing whispers into their ranks.” Asphodel poised, clearly probing to see how thorough a job the hunter had done scouting.

“Yes.  On the southern cropping just over this ridge here there is a cavern tunnel that lets out just below the fjord in the valley.  We’ll position several guards to keep anyone from disturbing them.  But they can get a clear view of the camp and whisper all they want. . .”  Koltun stated aggressively, knowing he’d done his job to the letter.

“No that is quite alright.  Sennaris and I are used to working alone.  I’ll have Rash’jahla nearby.  Should anything alert her, I will know about it.  Keep our forces together.” Lazarius waved his hand at the thought.  And Koltun would nod to him.

“I will inform your sister then.” Koltun had responded. “Dismissed?”

Lazarius gave a hearty chuckle at the comment, nodding his head. “You are dismissed Ancientveil.”  He grinned.

As he turned to leave, Koltun suddenly was reminded of the dripping bag on his belt loop, and it prompted him to pluck it from its place and draw back the tie. “I almost forgot, a gift I brought back for you, Inquisitor.”

“A gift. . .for me?” Lazarius said with a confusing, yet almost cheerful squeal.

As he began to unravel the looped ties holding it shut, he moved his fingers to open the bag wide enough for the dark male to look inside.  When he did, there in the bottom of the bag was the face of a dwarf peering back up at him.  A face of pure confusion mixed with absolute terror.  Painful. 

“Well doesn’t he look cheerful. . .” Lazarius quipped while letting out a chuckle as he waved to the head in the back. “Koltun you shouldn’t have. . . “

The demon swirled the bag in a clockwise manner, tying it back off and dropping it at the Inquisitors feet.  His eyeless gaze peered back at the man. “Wildhammer general, on guard duty. . . figured one less in our way.  Don’t worry, the other six in his battalion were taken down as well.  Needed two hammer cultists also. . . looked like a battle, well enough. . . took the head.” 

“A thoughtful gift, and a wise plan.” Asphodel added listening to the infiltrator go over his attack. “Good to cover your tracks while hunting. . . that will only galvanize our assault, they’re already suspicious of Hammer cultists taking down their scouts.”

“I always cover my tracks.” Koltun added as he started toward the exit of the room,  he’d been standing in the pool of blood this entire time.  Each step he took would be accompanied by a squishing, squashing sound.  To his dismay, it seemed his previous statement clashed against his current action of quite literally ‘leaving tracks”.  He reached the door, and as his lengthy nails curled around the latch he sighed. “Except these tracks. . . you know, most of my tracks, but these ones happen to j.. . .” 

He just groaned, silently opening the door only to find Kross standing there with a frown on his grizzled face.  This caused him to yell again, caught completely off guard by the specter.

“Dammit Kross stop doing that!”  He snarled, shoving past him and growling down the hallway toward the lair of the Harbinger.

“Clean up your messes Master Ancientveil!” exclaimed the steward as he too, followed in suit fading into the shadows in a cloud of white vaporous smoke.

Asphodel, Lazarius and Rayne would share a laugh at the expense of the demon and the spirit accosting him.  All three seemed to find a smile shortly after.  Times like these were scarce.  And soon, given the circumstances; it was clearly evident that some or all of them, may not come back alive.  So to find humor in something so innocent was rather peaceful. 

This would not last though.  The facade that all was not what it seemed would be broken when Lazarius shattered the veil and motioned to the map once more.

“I have a few more things I need to finalize.  If you would both leave me to it. Oh, and have Abbigael send for Sennaris and The Confessor. I’d like to go over the plan once more with them.”

To be continued in Part 4. . . 

@lyvraynefloralis

@pyravari

@corrupted-priestess

@thebladeitself

@profound-amateur

[beardycarrot]

Completely lacking in action elements, The Dark Spire is a great game to play while dog-walking. There’s also very little text to read outside of standard battle stuff, so it’s podcast-friendly as well! The game is a dungeon crawler pretty similar to Etrian Odyssey, but draws HEAVILY on D&D. Like, you can use magic a single-digit number of times before having to return to town to rest, the weapons have no visible stats, and behind the scenes, the game is doing things like rolling 2D6 for your damage.

According to my 3DS, I played it for about have an hour in 2013, before ultimately deciding it wasn’t the kind of game I was in the mood for and playing through Magical Starsign instead. I thought I would compare the characters I made then to the ones I made now, just because I find it interesting. How much have my sensibilities changed in eight years?

Unlike Etrian Odyssey, you can’t pick out portraits to represent your characters, so any physical characteristics they have are all in your mind. In 2013, I ended up making...

Rodrig, Lawful Dwarf Warrior (male)

Tikka, Neutral Halfling Thief (female)

Rhys, Lawful Human Priest (male)

Soliel, Neutral Elf Mage (nonbinary)

...I almost definitely wouldn’t have used the term “nonbinary” back then, but yeah, the way I name characters hasn’t changed at all. Y’know what else hasn’t changed? How I assign classes to these fantasy races, apparently.

Not that it matters at all, but the order the characters are listed in is the order that I created them, which is in turn the order that I came up with names I liked.

Dobbin, Neutral Halfling Thief (male)

Ethalia, Neutral Elf Mage (female)

Niels, Lawful Human Priest (male)

Ashbeard, Lawful Dwarf Warrior (nonbinary)

Somehow, it feels like all the names I chose this time could be race-appropriate surnames for the characters I created in 2013. Tikka Dobbin, Rodrig Ashbeard, Rhys Niels, Soliel Ethalia... or maybe Ethalia Soliel is better. Warriors and priests being lawful while mages and thieves are neutral is apparently a firm stance in my mind, even eight years later.

The game itself is okay. Playing it just makes me want to play Etrian Odyssey so I can add my own markers to the map and have a bit of an easier time in battle, but there’s also a certain charm to it that you don’t really see in modern games. There’s no way of knowing what lies ahead and the only way out is retracing your steps, so you have to be well-prepared and move cautiously. You come across a lot of empty rooms (the game only renders the walls and floor), so you have to examine everything, which really reminds me of old NES and PC dungeon crawlers. Unfortunately, the game is a bit on the difficult side, and is so stacked against you that you have to save every couple minutes just in case you open a door and there are fifteen goblins on the other side.

It’s not a game I would want to sit on the couch and play for hours at a time, but one hour a day while walking JT and listening to a podcast? It’s pretty great for that.

#the dark spire

[ambrosiaswhispers]

Snowed-In Like A Hallmark Movie

AU - the characters in an another world. I think Karen and Frank sound solid, but I'm not so sure about Jessica and Trish. Just a fun holiday piece. Nothing serious at all.

So stop me if you heard this one before... two people, who aren't big on Christmas rent a cabin in the mountains to get out of the city, but the cabin's been double booked with two people looking to enjoy the holiday. Fluffy-silly Hallmark level of the snowed-in troupe. AO3 Link: Here

Snowed-In Like A Hallmark Movie

The truck lurched as the right side tires dropped into a pothole and Jessica’s head slammed against the glass. “Geeze Castle, are you trying to give me a freaking concussion?”

Frank shook his head, “Didn’t even realize you were sleepin’, Jones. Might as well stay awake we’ll be at this place in about five minutes.”

“Finally; even with the drive, I think this is the best plan you’ve had in a long time.” She squinted as she looked out the window. “How much snow did they get up here?”

“About two feet or so and we’re supposed to get another two before tomorrow night. So once we get to this cabin we’re gonna be stuck there for a few days.”

“Music to my ears. If we can’t get out then no one can get in. It’ll be nice not to have to deal with all the holiday horseshit.” Jessica stretched in her seat. “As long as you brought the booze that’s all I need.”

“I got your back, Jones, don’t sweat it.” He corrected the truck as it fishtailed slightly. “No one going in or out in this shit-storm.”

“Is there any cell service up here?” She snagged her coffee cup and sipped from it, the bitter black liquid warming her a bit.

He chuckled, “Guy who owns it said as long as there’s power there’s decent wifi. So you’ll be able to chat with your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Jessica growled, “I just play that damn word game with her that Micro’s wife got us all playing. And what the hell does it matter? She just started the damn chat thing with me first, because of the stupid name I picked.”

“You could have let the app pick you a name.”

“It did and it was, Hero6934, no thank you. I just typed WhiskeyOverWine and it was completely random she started playing with me. And she started chatting with me, not the other way around.”

“But you’ve been chattin’ her up for three months. You being social voluntarily… that says something.” He sipped from his own coffee cup.

“Says that you’re too damn nosey. Stay out of it.”

“Alright, alright, easy does it.” He shoved her shoulder. “You do you, Jones, just trying to help you get some Christmas cheer.”

“The only cheer I need is in liquid form and you’re one to talk; you’re celibate as a monk.”

He grunted and corrected the truck again.

“Thought that would shut you up.” She lifted her coffee cup, “Here’s to a quiet no BS Christmas.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

.:.

“Oh my god those smell amazing. How did you have time to make cookie batter and get them in the oven in the forty minutes I was in the tub?” Trish walker was toweling her hair as she walked into the cabin’s kitchen, where Karen Page was pulling a cookie sheet from the oven.

The other blond laughed, “I didn’t; Rosie from accounting found out that I was going on this trip and made me cookie dough for my secret Santa gift. It was in the cooler. How’s the tub?”

“A gift from God.” Trish pulled the open bottle of wine from the fridge and motioned to Karen’s glass, “You want me to top you off?”

“Please.” Karen smiled and looked at the living room, “You think the tree’s too much?”

“No! This is exactly the Christmas I’ve wanted since I was a little girl: a big tree that I got to decorate myself, all the snow outside, the music, and a good friend to watch cheesy holiday movies with.” Trish beamed at her friend, “I still can’t believe Ellison let you off the hook.”

“I kept bringing him stories about how the holidays are nothing but profiteering markers for big corporations. After the fifth one, I got the, ‘Karen, I’ll give you this holiday off if when you come back your off your moral high horse’ speech.” She laughed as Trish’s phone chirped out and she picked it up.

“Can I see it?” Trish held out her hand.

Karen unlocked the screen, “We agreed that I have your phone and you have mine so we actually enjoy this weekend. I just need to make sure it isn’t…” Karen snickered as she teased, “It’s your Words-With-Friends friend.”

“Give it over.” Trish dashed around the kitchen island and snagged the phone away from Karen. “Looks like she had the same holiday plans we did, spending the weekend in a cabin with her friend to get out of the city.”

Karen sipped from her wine glass, “You should have invited her. I could have stayed in the city; this could have been your own little cheesy holiday movie.”

“Stop. You’re absolutely ridiculous. I don’t even really know her or if she’d be interested in me or if I’d be interested in her if we were face to face.” Trish bit her lip as she looked at her phone playing her word and typed a message to the other player.

Karen bumped her with her hip, “Lip bite.”

“Huh?”

“You bite your lip like that when you’re interested in someone and you do it every time you answer her.” Karen teased, “I couldn’t write a twist of fate better. You hit pick a random opponent and get the reverse name of your WineOverWhiskey name and then she’s sarcastic as hell when you chatted her up. It’s like a classic cheesy holiday movie… Oh like You’ve Got Mail!”

“We’re so not watching that one.” Trish handed her phone back to Karen, “I don’t know what your thing is with Meg Ryan.”

“She’s my girl-crush. Everyone has one. Yours just happens to have an unknown face.” Karen opened the fridge, “I don’t feel like cooking past finish up those gingerbread cookies. You want to crackers and cheese it tonight?”

“Yes. As long as there’s more wine.”

“I brought ten bottles of wine and fifth of whiskey in case we want to get crazy. I’m planning on being, at minimum, moderately buzzed most of this weekend.” Karen shooed Trish away from the kitchen, “Pick a movie. I’ll get it around while I finish the cookies.”

Trish ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass, “She might not even like women like that. Like… I mean… you know what I mean.”

“Maybe you should ask.” Karen set the cheese on the cutting board and started looking for a knife. “What could hurt to ask? Then you’d know at least, or is that what you’re afraid of? Her being interested.” She accepted the knife that Trish found in one of the drawers.

“It would just be complicated.” Trish took a long gulp of her wine, “If she was interested and if something started I’m in the spotlight for something that I don’t feel like I am. I can read the headlines now: former child-star now a lesbian. I don’t want to be the representation of something I’m not.”

“What do you consider yourself?” Karen started looking for a plate to put the food on.

Trish opened the crackers, “I’ve had good, meaningful relationships with men, so I guess…I mean I’m attracted to the connection that I feel to her not her gender. I feel more bisexual then anything and…” She sighed and finished off her glass of wine, purposefully ignoring Karen’s smirk. “There’s not a lot of media personalities that are openly bisexual, which means I’d be a representative for a group of people and I don’t think I’m good…”

Karen hugged Trish suddenly, cutting off her potentially self-destructive rant, “I think a successful child-actress turned self-made radio personality in New York is a great personality for people to look up to. The only person you really have to worry about is your mother.”

“Don’t remind me.” Trish groaned, before hugging her friend back. “Thank you, Karen, really.”

“No problem. Now go pick a movie, I put in my Netflix login while you were soaking.”

Trish refilled her wine glass and grabbed the remote, noting the last show in the queue with a snort.

“What now?” Karen opened the box of crackers. “I’m sorry it’s not all national geographic docs and rom-coms.”

“Oh it’s not that, it’s the fact that Sense8 is the last thing you watched, again.”

Karen rinsed off the knife before putting in the sink, “I like Wolfgang.”

“You and your murder-cupcakes.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve got a type, Karen, and it’s dark and dangerous with that heart of gold.”

“Listen…” Karen trailed off as lights flashed in the driveway.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s here.”

.:.

“No I don’t want a fucking refund. I want to be the only person in this cabin that I paid for in advance! You double booked it, ‘cause the Barbie twins batted their eyelashes and it’s bullshit.” Jessica was snarling into the phone as Frank winced, glancing back at the unimpressed blonds.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry, she doesn’t really deal with…with um…”

“Human error? A simple mistake? Because we paid in advance for this cabin as well and over the phone, so the eyelashes were not a factor.” Karen folded her arms over her chest.

Frank chuckled and ignored the look Jones shot him as she stomped out onto the porch, slamming the door behind her. “Sorry, we’re getting off on the wrong foot here. She’s Jessica Jones and I’m Frank Castle.”

The other blond offered her hand first, “I’m Trish Walker and this is Karen Page. We really had no idea that you and your girlfriend…”

“Whoa, No. Jones and I are partners. We work at a security firm together.” He corrected quickly.

“Security firm?” Karen questioned.

“Yes, Ma’am. Anvil Security based out of Manhattan.” He pulled the stocking cap off his head. “I think I can talk her into leaving, but the road up here was rough. Anyway, I could trouble you for a cup of coffee.”

“I can start a pot.” Trish offered, making her way into the kitchen.

“Appreciate it.” He nodded to Trish.

Karen shook her head, “Why don’t you relax for a bit? Warm up at least while it’s brewing.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He stomped off his boots before unlacing them.

“What branch?”

“Hmm?”

“What branch of the military did you serve in? You’re ‘Ma’am’ is too second nature and you don’t sound southern, so you’ve got to be ex-military.” She was glad she sounded casual because the black t-shirt he was wearing was practically painted on him.

“Guilty as charged. I was in the Marines, but I guess I should have known better then try to get something by the woman who wrote ‘Everyday Heroes’.” He hung up his coat on one of the free hooks on the wall.

Karen felt herself blush; damn-it she was not a high schooler; she was grown adult woman with an apartment in New York and a regular column in a successful paper. “You’ve read my work?”

“Loyal subscriber to The Bulletin, Miss Page.” He had this half-smile and she was sure that if he’d been wearing a ball cap he would have tipped it at her.

Maybe she did have a thing for manners? Karen offered her hand to him. “Karen’s fine.”

“Karen then.” He shook her hand back and hers felt embarrassingly small, cool, and dainty in comparison to the heat and calluses of his larger one. “Jones, is gonna be damned embarrassed when she gets back in here and figures out who you are, Miss Walker.” He craned his neck to catch Trish’s eye.

“Oh, Trish is fine, Frank. But why would she be embarrassed?” Trish arched her eyebrow.

“Outburst aside. She’s quite a fan of your Trish Talk show. We listen to it every day, she’s very insistent about it.” He sniffed the air and glanced around the open room. “Sorry about interrupting your Christmas together.”

“Oh, we’re just ducking all our media personality responsibilities together. Karen and I have been best friends since college.” Trish volunteered quickly as Karen shot her a look at that would have sent comic book villains running for the hills.

“Could you excuse us, Frank?” Karen grabbed Trish’s arm and dragged her into the hallway. “What are you doing?!?” She hissed at her friend.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” Trish smirked and failed miserably to feign innocence. “Oh come on he’s so your type: dark, dangerous, and military manners. You practically drooled when he called you Miss Page.”

“I did not.” Karen snipped back.

Trish rolled her eyes, “Let’s just be friendly. They aren’t gonna be here long. But for god-sakes get his number.”

“Cause he strikes me as such a phone guy.”

“I bet he could give good phone with that low gravel he’s got.” Trish quickstepped her way back into the kitchen with Karen hot on her heels. “So Frank, how about a drink before that coffee?” Trish asked as Jessica let herself back into the cabin, “You strike me as a whiskey over wine kinda guy.”

Jessica’s eyes widened and Frank shot his partner a look before he answered Trish, “Much as it would be appreciated. Best not since we’re gonna be driving back I have a feeling.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Jessica was still eying Trish cautiously as she explained. “He’s refunding both of us, but we’re not going anywhere. The storm closed the road. We’re here until Monday, at least.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, “So I guess we’re…” She looked around the cabin, “I just need somewhere to lay down.”

“Jones.” Frank clipped.

“What? I’m freaking tired and the whole point of this weekend was to rest. I just want a bottle of my whiskey and a bed.” Jessica rubbed her temples.

“Well, there are three bedrooms. Trish and I can share and you two can have the other two.” Karen volunteered.

“Sure.” “No.” Jessica and Frank responded respectively. Frank seemed to recover quicker, “I’m not putting either of you ladies out of a bed. I can sleep out here on the couch, no trouble.”

Karen was going to protest, but Jessica cut her off, “Good plan; I’m gonna grab my stuff. I’m assuming one of the rooms is empty.” She marched out the door.

“I’ll go help her. Sorry, I think I woke her up from her nap too soon.” He smirked at Karen who let out a little laugh as he slipped on his boots and coat to help his friend.

“Maybe he could bunk with you.” Trish bumped Karen with her hip.

“You need to get yourself laid and stop worrying about me.” Karen huffed.

.:.

Frank walked around the back of the truck and caught Jessica’s arm, “Can you cool down some?”

She took a swig from a bottle of whiskey and sighed, “Yeah. It’s like Martha Stewart’s living room in there. I just wanted to get away from all the artificial holiday cheer shit.”

“For what it’s worth, I think those two actually have the Christmas spirit.”

“Spirits is more like it. I saw two empty bottles of wine.”

He snatched the fifth from her and took a swig, “Then they should be your kind of company, even if they are wine over whiskey kinda girls.”

“Caught that huh?” Jessica made a face.

“I did. Coincidence?” He offered.

She pulled her bag out of the back of the truck and yanked the cooler to the edge of the tailgate. “This ain’t Hallmark, Castle. That whole meeting-by-fate shit doesn’t happen.”

Frank shouldered his bag and helped her with the cooler. “Let’s throw this on the back porch. That’ll keep the alcohol cold enough and I’ll get the food inside while you take a nap.”

“Shut-it.” They stumbled in the deepening snow, “You know that Karen’s kinda cute.”

He stopped dead in his tracks so suddenly that it jerked Jessica back towards him since they were at either end of the cooler. “There a point to that statement?”

“She’s your type.”

“Oh is she now? You know my type.”

“I do.” Jessica cocked her eyebrow at him, “Doe-eyes, take no shit, and legs for days, hell if she’s pro-gun, I’ll bet you an even hundred you don’t sleep on the couch alone.”

He grunted, “I shoulda told them you were my girlfriend.”

Jessica laughed out loud, “You couldn’t handle me in the sack, Castle.”

“Keep it moving, Jones. You need to finish your damn nap so you can act civil.”

“You need to get laid, man.” She barked out a laugh as she started walking again.

.:.

Karen was sitting on the couch with Frank, since Trish had decided, very vocally, that she wanted the recliner. She was going to kill her friend for this later. Jessica had retreated upstairs with a bottle of whiskey and her bag over her shoulder stating that a shower, half of that bottle, and a nap were her plans for the night. The snow was still coming down heavy, in fact, Frank had gone out and shoveled the patio earlier and brought in firewood, but his footprints were hardly visible now. “The Holiday” was just finishing up and if the romantic comedy bothered Frank he didn’t say anything, but he had started a pot of chili on the stove and Karen felt her stomach growl as the smell of it filled the air. She should have slowed down on the wine, she was buzzed and wine always wound her up. Trish’s phone went off in her pocket and she pulled it out, glancing at it before tossing it to her friend.

Frank said nothing, but shot Karen a questioning look, “I have her phone and she has mine, it’s so we don’t work over this weekend.”

“But she gets it back…” Frank started to stay something, but Trish leaped up from the recliner and raced up the stairs without a word to either of the pair sitting on the couch. “Did I miss something?”

Karen was still looking behind the couch, “I have no idea. It was just an alert from this word game she’s been playing. She’s been chatting with this other player…”

“Whiskey over wine.” Frank offered.

Karen turned back to Frank sharply, “How did you know that?”

He let out a real laugh, a genuine one, and it made Karen smile. He had a good laugh. “That’s Jessica’s screen name.”

Karen slapped her hands over her mouth. “You’re kidding me!”

“Nope. Been telling her to try and meet up with that girl for weeks.” He pushed off the couch and went to check the chili.

Karen scrambled up behind him. “So Jessica is…” She motioned with her hands, it felt so inappropriate to question someone’s sexuality without them being present.

“Never really asked, but I know that she actually smiles when she’s chatting with your friend and she doesn’t do that too often.” Frank stirred the chili and tasted it, before offering the spoon to Karen, “Whatcha think?”

It was beyond good, Karen nodded to him. “It’s great. Did you learn to cook when you were in the service?”

“I was married once before.” He opened the cupboard and pulled down a pair of bowls.

“It didn’t work out?” Karen watched him dish out the chili, handing her a bowl and glancing around for utensils, “Drawer to the left of the sink.”

“Thank you.” He was quiet. He handed her a spoon wordlessly and took a bite of his own chili before admitting softly, “Lost her and the rest of my family to a drunk driver a few years ago.”

“Oh Frank, I’m so sorry.” Before she could stop herself she covered his hand with hers.

He shrugged, “It is what it is. I miss them every day, but can’t quit living not how life works. Sorry, an awful somber thing to bring up around this time of year.”

“I’m a good listener.” She offered.

“Bet you are.” He grabbed a beer out of the fridge.

“Can I have one of those?” She requested.

Frank pulled out a second bottle and popped the caps off, before handing her one, “Not a wine girl either?”

“It’ll do in a pinch.” She smiled taking a drink. “Truth be told Trish likes wine more than I do, but fewer bottles to pack if we stuck with wine.”

“I can drink to that.” He clinked his bottle to hers and they settled into a comfortable silence as they ate their chili. “Wonder how they’re getting along up there.”

Karen nearly snorted out the drink of beer she’d just taken. “You’re terrible.”

He shrugged, “Been accused of that a time or two. Let’s find another movie to torture me with.”

“You should pick the next one, less torture for you that way.”

“Fair enough. I’ll go outside, grab a couple more logs for the fire. You wanna grab us another pair of beers for after we finish these?” He shouldered his coat on and slipped back into his boots.

“Okay.” Karen popped the caps off the pair of beers and sat down on the couch scrolling through the holiday movie selections. She was just thinking Frank had been gone too long when the back door opened again. “I was starting to think you froze… holy shit! Frank?”

“It’s nothing; log slipped and hit me in the head, just a little blood.” He set the logs by the fireplace and slumped down on the couch.

“There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom, hang on.” Karen retrieved it and sat on the couch next to Frank, turning his chin so they were facing each other.

“It’s fi..”

“Just let me help.” Karen hushed him, wiping the alcohol pad over the cut and Frank winced. “Why is it that all the tough guys don’t mind the pain of injury, but whine about the treatment?”

His dark brown eyes were fixed on her as she worked. “It’s the adrenalin. Don’t feel it until after.” He smirked up at her. “That and we like the sympathy from a pretty girl.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Not if it’s not working.” He traced the side of her face with his finger, “I’m a bit out of practice.”

“I think you’re doing fine. The blood was a little extreme, I think being snowed in, in a cabin was enough.” She shifted and set the used cleaning pad on top of the first aid kit. She let Frank frame the side of her face with his hand and turn her back to face him. She was too buzzed for this, but she couldn't bring herself to care. There was something about the nervousness of his flirtation that made it even more irresistible.

“All part of the master plan, Miss Page.” He pulled her to him but paused for a moment waiting for her nod, before he claimed her mouth.

Claimed was an understatement. He tasted like chili and beer and heat…How does someone taste like heat? He cupped the back of her head deepened their kiss as she gripped at his forearms. She pulled herself over his lap and moaned into his mouth, he was already hard under her. His hands were strong, even if they were shaking a bit as he slipped them under her top, growling as he found her bare flesh.

“How are you so damn soft? We should…I mean I should…” He stuttered as his mouth found her neck and his free hand massaged down the line of her spine.

“My bedroom’s on the other side of the living room.”  She breathed out into his hair. She barely finished her sentence when he stood up with her like she weighed nothing. She tightened her legs around his middle and moaned as he bumped her back into the door.

“Sorry.” He apologized.

“I’m good. Just don’t stop.” She pleaded as he fumbled the door opened and slammed it closed behind them.

.:.

Jessica was on her back in the very soft bed, hair braided, but still wet from her shower. She took a long draw from her bottle of whiskey. Content to let Frank entertain the other two downstairs, especially since she’d made an asshole of herself in front of something she actually respected. Trish Walker was prettier in person then she was in her pictures and it made Jessica’s hands twitch. She wasn’t this girl, she didn’t pine, ever. If she wanted to get laid, she went and found someone, scratched that itch and moved on, she didn’t ache for tall blonds with sparkling eyes and joyful laughs.

She groaned and picked up her phone, noticing that her favorite player and taken her turn. The embedded chat message:

WineOverWhiskey: I think you’re gonna have to concede this one. I’ve got it in the bag. If I’m slow to respond, I actually did go away for the weekend with my friend and the receptions not the greatest.

WhiskeyOverWine: I’m in the same boat. That cabin I rented with my partner from work is in the middle of a blizzard and just my luck it’s double booked with a pair of blonds who are all holiday happy like you. Craziest thing one of them is Trish from Trish Talk.

She played her word, but this game was a lost cause there was no way that she was gonna pull off a comeback from this deficit. She closed her eyes and had just started to relax when her door went flying open.

“You ever heard of knocking?” Jessica threw a blanket over her bare legs since she was just in a t-shirt and underwear.

“Is this you?” Trish’s eyes were wild as she held her own phone to Jessica’s face.

Jessica blinked focusing on the screen, “Is what m…holy shit!” She was staring the text she’d just sent. Her dark eyes darted from the screen the blond, who was clearly as surprised as she was.

“You didn’t know this was me?”

Jessica put her hands on her hips, “How could I possibly know that was you?!? And for the record I don’t even know you, we just met. Could you turn around so I could put on some damn pants?”

“Right sorry.” Trish turned her back to the other woman and listened to Jessica rustle through her bag. “You know we’ve been talking for months.”

“Texts are just texts. Anyone can make stuff up on the internet.” She grumbled.

Trish pocketed her phone and fidgeted with her hands. “I wasn’t making any of that stuff up. Were you?”

“No. I’m not really a make shit up kinda person. What you see, er read I guess; is what you get.” Jessica zipped her jeans and flopped back on the bed. “You’re good.”

“Sorry about barging in. The situation just took me off guard; it’s kinda unbelievable when you think about it. What are the odds?” Trish turned around and looked around the comfortable little room. “Us both ending up here at the same time.”

Jessica shifted her legs on the bed, “You can sit if you want.” She took a long swig from her whiskey suddenly feeling like she needed it.

“Thanks. So you run away from the holiday and get stuck with me, who is all happy about it.” Trish sat down on the foot of the bed and picked absent-mindedly at the quilt on the bed.

“You’re not so bad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but if you start singing carols I’m gonna walk out on the porch and voluntarily freeze to death.” Jessica snorted.

Trish arched her eyebrow, “You don’t strike me as the suicidal type.”

Jessica chuckled, “I’m not, but don’t ask my liver, it’ll tell you a different story. This the one I was telling you about, the one that’s got honey in it.” She offered the bottle to Trish. “If you don’t mind my germs.”

“I don’t.” Trish uncorked the bottle and took a drink coughing slightly. “That’s strong.”

“It’s decent.”

“Remind me to have Karen write your eulogy when your liver calls it quits.” Trish chuckled.

Jessica took another drink from the bottle, “You know all of my secrets.”

“Oh do I?” The blond wondered aloud.

“All the ones that matter.” Jessica glanced up and found Trish staring at her it made her warm all over and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. So she started to ramble and she didn’t normally ramble, but it was just… “I mean I don’t talk a lot, don’t really have a lot to say normally, and I’m not a feelings person. That touchy-feely crap is a bunch of bullshit, not that I don’t feel anything and I enjoyed chatting with you. I don’t normally connect with people and it’s weird to say we have a connection because we’ve never been in the same room until a few hours ago. I just don’t want you to feel like you need…”

Trish was suddenly in her space pressing her lips to hers, soft and chase, just enough to stop her runaway mouth. “I like you too.”

Jessica huffed, but she kissed her back but wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands until Trish tangled her hands in Jessica’s dark hair and deepened the kiss. It was different kissing her, the other woman was soft, but she had a faint bite from whiskey on her tongue. Despite the oddity and suddenness of all of this, it felt good, it felt like this was how it was supposed to be. Oh god, she was turning into a sap from a couple of kisses; fuck her sideways.

There was a bang and both women jumped. Jessica snickered, “That’s Castle; him and your friend must be getting along.”

Trish felt her cheeks get hot, “Really?”

“Educated guess that he’s a wall guy.” Jessica rolled her eyes.

“What about you? What kind of gal are you?” Trish bit down on her lip.

“I mean you’ve already got me in bed.”

.:.

“How is it that I’m the only one who knows how to cook out of the four of us?” Frank questioned as he fried the eggs in the pan.

Jessica snorted from the couch where she was sitting with Trish leaning against her, “Trying to imply it’s woman’s work?”

“No Jones, I’m saying that by the law of averages more than one of us should know how to cook.” He smiled at Karen, who was perched on the kitchen island clutching a coffee cup. She held it out to him and he took a sip before handing it back. “How do you survive on a daily basis?”

“Takeout.” Came the answer from the three women.

He shook his head and went back to what he was doing. He glanced up at Jones who was absent-mindedly running her finger down Trish’s arm as the two watched the sappy holiday movie.

“What are you thinking?” Karen questioned drawing his attention back to her.

He clicked off the stove and moved into her space, a smile on his face as he stole a kiss from her. “Merry Christmas, Miss Page.”

She rolled her eyes but kissed him back. “Merry Christmas, Frank.”

“No sex in the kitchen, I’m gonna eat in there later,” Jessica warned.

“Jess!”

#Kastle AU #Trish/Jess AU #snowed-in troupe #no one asked for this and yet here it is #holiday silliness #so corny #silly silly fluff #I feel like Karen and Frank are solid but I'm sure about Jess and Trish #Apparently all of my holiday pieces are gonna be AU #open to thoughts on this one #what have I done... lol

[no6secretsanta]

Hi, @spyed10! I hope this fulfilled your hurt/comfort request, I decided to take it in a bit of a different direction! Happy Holidays! -From @silver-eyes-hair-ties

Nezumi was having a hard time getting used to the new No.6.

Not that he didn’t enjoy it.  He rather liked the mishmash of eclectic buildings which ringed the Old Quarter, markers of the place where the wall once stood.  Several beautification programs later, the brick and stone homes were painted with murals, inset with mosaics, and home to pastel birdhouses.  This area was meant to represent the marriage of No.6 proper and the West Block; supposedly the two were more beautiful for having been joined, but Nezumi had his reservations, naturally.

The grocery bag on his arm was weighing him down considerably, and he hefted it to his other shoulder.  Shion just had to have all of these canned things, he thought, but he soldiered on to Shion’s third-story apartment.

He made it to the door and jiggled his key in the lock--Shion was supposed to be in meetings about the placement of the new memorial park until late at night.  Nezumi was used to their new, tentative routine: Nezumi took care of the shopping, oftentimes picking up around the house while Shion was away. He made dinner for when he was off at the theater and Shion came home from work, overworked and too exhausted to cook himself a meal, then set out for work himself.  

He’d been back in No.6 for only a month, but the theater in the West Block was more than happy to have him back (and at a higher pay rate).  Shion didn’t really ask him about his travels, but he figured he would open up in time. The small apartment wasn’t built for two, but Shion insisted that Nezumi take the futon, at least until he could apply for housing through the city, and Nezumi gladly took him up on his offer.  And so they continued.

Nezumi toed off his boots at the doormat, but a pair of worn brown leather shoes were already placed haphazardly against the wall.  Nezumi furrowed his brow and set the groceries on the counter.  

He padded into the living room, assessing his surroundings.  Maybe he’d taken his work home with him; it was unlikely that Shion would take a day off, and it wasn’t unusual for Nezumi to find him with files and folders splayed all over the coffee table.  Shion, however, wasn’t at his usual workspace.  It was then that Nezumi heard gasping breaths from the direction of the bedroom.  

Oh no.

“Shion? Shion!!” Nezumi called, and he sped toward the sound of Shion’s distress.  The first thing he saw was a mound underneath the blankets on the bed, with a barely concealed tuft of white hair peeking from the top.  He rushed to the bed, grabbing hold of Shion’s shaking shoulders.  

“What is it, what’s wrong?” he barked, then winced at the harshness of his own voice.  His fear was too raw, too loud for the space.  

Shion just pulled the blankets more tightly around himself and kept his back turned.  Nezumi could hear the shaking breaths with their shallow inhales and forced exhales.  He hissed helplessly through his teeth, then vaulted up over Shion, hands on either side of his covered head.  

“Hey!” one hand gripped Shion’s shoulder, hard, and he felt the body below him flinch.  Then, a pair of red-rimmed eyes peered up at him.

Nezumi immediately pulled his hand back, but stayed hovering above Shion, who quickly wrestled himself from the blankets. He grabbed Nezumi, pulling him down on top of him and burying his face in his neck.  Nezumi felt telltale wetness soak his collar and immediately softened.  

“Shion?” he asked again, and this time he received a sniffle in response.  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Shion quickly shook his head, and Nezumi felt the tendrils constricting his heart and lungs loosen slightly.  Shion’s death-grip around him was worrying, to say the least, but he could handle it if he knew there was no physical injury to tend to.  He had no leverage in this position, and his arms were pinned to his sides by Shion’s hold.

“Could we, um… Maybe re-situate? I won’t go anywhere, I promise.” Nezumi whispered, nervous about breaking the near-silence when Shion’s breathing was beginning to slow. Shion’s vice-like grip retreated, and Nezumi nestled himself underneath the covers with him.  He was surprised to find Shion’s dress shirt, pants, and tie still on.  He held Shion’s trembling hands in his own, trying hard to meet his shifting eyes.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Nezumi asked, and when Shion’s brows furrowed, he ran his thumbs over Shion’s hands.  

Shion’s voice was a hoarse croak.  “I’ve been doing better, Nezumi, I really have, but today I just--” his voice cracked and the floodgates flew open. “It could be anything, a noise or a smell or a phrase and all of a sudden I’m back there, in the Correctional Facility.”  Shion bit down on his lip, hard.  Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.

Nezumi waited for Shion to continue; things like this couldn’t be rushed, and he knew that as well as anyone.  The feeling of sinking, of suffocating on something you thought you’d put behind you, was all too familiar.  Nezumi had hoped Shion would never feel that way, but after all he’d been through it only made sense.  No one escaped unscathed, not even Shion. He couldn’t protect him.

“It was the sound of the air in the vents.  Something about it reminded me of that time, when I almost lost you and I panicked.  I felt like I was there, and I was trying to keep you alive all over again.”  Shion pulled Nezumi in close, grabbing at any part of Nezumi he could reach.  Nezumi rubbed his back in slow circles, allowing the close contact.  

“I’m here now, Shion.  You can feel me, I’m safe and whole.  And so are you.”

Despite Nezumi’s words he still had a crease between his brows.  Nezumi leaned in closer, waiting for some kind of resistance, and when he found none he kissed the offending spot. Shion looked surprised at this gesture, but his cheeks reddened just the way Nezumi thought they would.

Predictable Shion, he mused, and he brushed his cheek with the back of his hand.  He noted the contrast between Shion’s pale scar and the blush painting his cheeks with subdued interest.  Now wasn’t the time to rekindle past flames, he chided himself.

“Here, give me your hand,” Nezumi murmured, then took Shion’s hand in his, pressing Shion’s open palm to his own chest. Shion looked at him quizzically.

“You can feel it, can’t you?”

“Of course… It’s pounding, Nezumi, are you alright?”

Nezumi didn’t expect Shion to be so perceptive; he tried in vain to will the flush from his face.  

“I’m fine, Shion,” he muttered.  He could feel Shion’s eyes boring into his face in the near-dark. “And I’m here.  My heart is beating, and I’m not hurt.  I’m not going anywhere.”

A stray tear slalomed between Shion’s nose and his cheek, and before Nezumi could get carried away and kiss it, he allowed his voice to flutter into the space between them.

“What helps, usually?”

Shion had stopped trembling, and now he was taking deep, purposeful breaths.  “Just… Breathing? Sometimes a bath, if I’m not feeling too out of myself…”

Nezumi smiled reassuringly.  “Want me to go get one ready?”  He immediately noticed the set of Shion’s shoulders, the tightening of his mouth.  

“Could you, um… Stay for a bit, actually?” he asked.  His voice was small, weaker than Nezumi remembered ever hearing it.  His arms circled Shion protectively, instinctively.

The change in Shion was instant.  He melted into Nezumi, and his steady breaths puffed against Nezumi’s cheek.  He tried to gain access to Shion’s skin to maybe soothe him further, but he huffed at the buttons and tie in his way.  Nezumi deftly worked the offending necktie off, then began on the buttons of Shion’s dress shirt.

Nezumi could feel Shion’s gaze.  “Just relax, your Majesty.” he cooed.  He pressed his fingertips into Shion’s tense shoulders, and he tutted when he found them full of knots.  “You don’t take very good care of your body, you know.”

Shion harrumphed.  “I’m doing important work for the city, I can’t always afford to.”

“And what if you dropped dead from overwork?”

“Nezumi, that doesn’t happen--”

“But if you did? I’m sure you’d be rolling in your grave for all the work you still had ahead of you.  You have the time, Shion, you can take care of the city and yourself, too.”

Nezumi had Shion’s shirt thrown on the floor and was beginning to slide the belt from his hips.  Shion stayed his hands. “What?”

Shion’s look of befuddlement was endearing.  “I’m, um, not exactly sure what you need my pants off for…”

Nezumi rolled his eyes.  “If your Majesty permits it, I would like to tend to these poor muscles. Including your back and legs, which I’m sure you neglect to stretch sitting at your desk.”

Shion blinked up at Nezumi owlishly.  “Oh, um… Sure.” He wriggled his hips and let Nezumi get him down to just his briefs.  Nezumi rolled Shion onto his stomach so he could straddle his legs and stroke his lower back and sides.  The muscles fluttered under his hands, and methodically he probed into knots and pockets of tension until they were all but dissolved.  Some of the problem areas had Shion squirming, but soon the hard work was done and Nezumi paid particular attention to gently relaxing his shoulders and neck.  

“Mm…” Shion sighed into the pillow under his head.  Nezumi noted this with pride; he knew he had skill intuiting peoples’ bodies, but this talent was one he hadn’t had the time to practice.  

“That’s much better,” Nezumi purred, and at last leaned back onto his knees.  He waited for Shion’s replay, but none came.  Just as he leaned forward to shake Shion’s shoulder, ask him if he was alright, he heard a distinct snore. He chuckled behind his hand.

“Silly little princeling…” he whispered, and laid a kiss indulgently at the nape of Shion’s neck, just below his hair and over top of his snakelike scar.  Upon inspection of the bedside clock, he decided he had enough time to catch a quick nap before starting dinner, so he curled up on Shion’s side and let himself drift off.

#no. 6 #no6 #no.6 #nezushi #spyed10 #silver eyes hair ties #silver-eyes-hair-ties

[sherrybaby14]

Who Am I? Part 9

tSummary:  My take on A/B/O with Marvel.  You open up to one and open up for another.  

Warnings:  Smut, light non/Con

Pairing:  Bucky x Reader (light this chapter) Steve x Reader

Words: 3100 

Tags: @divadinag @ariwolff14 @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @marauderice @el-bucky @kellyn1604 @negan--is--god @theariel85

               The bubbles were starting to fizzle out and the warm soapy water had eased aches you didn’t realize you had.  

               “It took a long time, but I never would have been able to come back from what HYDRA did to me if it wasn’t for Steve.”  James ran his fingers up and down your arm as your back laid against his chest.  

                 Your heart was breaking for the poor Alpha. There was no way anyone should have to endure such horrors.  

                 “That’s why my room is so…dungeon like,” James continued. “I haven’t had the chance to update it yet.”

                 “Why it locks from the outside?” You remembered being locked in with him and not seeing a keyhole on the inside.

                 “It’s soundproof too, I did a lot of yelling, nothing in there to break easily.”  He let out a sigh.  “It’s been better for about a year now, I really should redecorate.  Maybe you could help?”

                 You looked over your shoulder and saw your Alpha smiling down at you, your mouth let out a sigh and you didn’t close it as you took in his face.  He just explained the tragedy that was his life and still managed to have a positive outlook.  

                 “I’m at peace with everything that was done to me, everything that I’ve done.”  He stroked your hair. “It led me back to Steve, who is closer to me than any blood family member, and now it led us to you.  A little wayward Omega who needs help, just like I did.”

                 You couldn’t believe he didn’t hate you.  His reprogramming was done against his will by mad scientists while you chose to reprogram yourself.  You lowered your eyes in shame.  James rolled you onto your side, so your legs were between his still, but your head was nestled on his chest.  

                 “Neither of us blame you, nobody blames you.” He continued to pet your head. “Stop blaming yourself, I know it’s hard, but it’s part of moving forward.”

                 You swore the James’ heart was so large you could see it glowing beneath his skin.  The bathwater had cooled, but you wanted to spend the rest of the day in here with the man you just met, but felt like knew you better than anyone.

                 “When I was fourteen and they came for my sister, I was terrified.” You had only given him the basics of your life story thus far. “She turned sixteen and I knew something was off.  My dad was a Beta, my mom an Alpha, so it was a possibility. My dad was happy for her, but my mom, she was almost disappointed. She wouldn’t come out and say it, but I could see the look in her eye.”

                 James continued to stroke your hair.

                 “She was a chemist, taught at a large school, lots of grants and awards. A woman I wanted to be like.” Memories of your mother were always tough to reimagine. “She tried to raise me and my sister to be strong, independent, focus on science and math. Creativity was secondary, facts were important, grades were important.  Both of us idolized her.”

                 You realized you were getting off track.

                 “My sister, Margery, she presented and my parents called the agency.  We had less than an hour to say goodbye.  She was confused and scared, my mom and dad comforted her and told her it was for the best. That this way she would have the life suited for her. By the time her escorts came the fear was gone, it was like she was excited.”  You practically blocked that memory. “She hugged each of us goodbye and left right away.  A representative talked to my parents and filled out paperwork for about an hour, left us with a pamphlet about where Margery would be staying and visiting rules.”

                 The hurt that your relationship with your sister was reduced to so little so fast still stung.  

                 “I asked my parents if that would happen to me? Would I be an Omega too?”  The pleading in your voice carried through from the past. “My mom told me, Y/N, it’s not if you will be an Omega, its if you are an Omega, and only time will tell.”

                 The matter-of-fact way your mother delivered the sentence was typical to her, but you remember wanting some compassion at that point, some reassurance.  

                 “A month later we went to visit Margery.” You needed to continue on with your story. “She was a different person. Dropped all math and science, said she found them silly and a waste of her talents now.  She was taking art courses and was about to start life courses, at least that’s what she called them, but essentially it was about Alphas and courting rules.”

                 You went quiet, thinking about the look on your sister’s face.

                 “Was she unhappy?” James asked.

                 “No. Not at all.  She was excited.  The girl I grew up with, who was much more adept at chemistry than I was, who’s dream was to be an astronaut, who was more interested in mapping stars than dreaming on them abandoned everything and was happy about it.”  You still felt like that confused teenager. “She was a different person. I came up with every excuse in the book not to visit her again. I think I saw her two more times over the years. Then right after she turned eighteen she found a match, got claimed, and moved across  the country. She’s essentially a name on a Christmas card list.”

                 “Maybe she always wanted to be an artist, maybe she just focused on the other aspects to please your mother.” James’ chimed in. “Especially if she was an Alpha.”

                 “It’s possible.” That thought had crossed your mind over the years. “But I couldn’t know that, and I genuinely loved science. I was terrified of presenting as Omega and losing myself.”

                 “How did you know?” If James was getting upset by your story he was hiding it well. “If you started the pills at fifteen, how did you know?”

                 “I didn’t.” You shrugged. “But I took some of Margery’s hair from her brush, and confiscated her old tooth brush.  I had access to my mother’s lab on campus all summer and made up a profile.  Then I looked for similar markers in my own.  I couldn’t find any, but I made my first creation based off of Margery.  As I got closer to sixteen I decided to take it, just to be safe.

                 “Then when I turned sixteen, I knew.  I knew right away, but nobody else did.” You smiled. “My parents celebrated my birthday without any phone calls to government agencies, my friends at school got me little gifts, my teachers continued to call on me.  The pill had worked. Over the years I adapted  and perfected it, realizing it never would have worked in the first place if me and my sister weren’t related.  The gene profile is very unique.  There’s no way this thing could be mass produced and distributed, every Omega would require a special formula.”  

                 “Now that you’re off of it, outside of obvious changes do you feel differently about anything?” James asked.

                 “Not really.” You shook your head. “I wish I would have paid more attention to Omega biology, instead of the chemical side of it. You and Steve obviously have some Alpha tricks.  My emotions are all over the place, but I still love science. I don’t have any desire to take up a new field.”

                 “Do you want to talk to your sister?”  James sat up a little. “Would that make you feel better? To have another Omega to guide you?”

                 “No.” You pushed off of his chest and looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t trust anyone.  She would turn to her Alpha and there would be cars to come get me in a second. I would have to explain my age and how I hid for so long, and you and Steve would be arrested, maybe Tony and Bruce too.”

                 “Shhhh.”  James pulled your back against him. “Steve and I will help you.  Nobody else has to know.  When you’re claimed we will come up with an alternate explanation.”

                  You thought back to Bruce’s earlier question about dual claims.  Could both of them claim you?  Or would it just be Steve?  You felt a headache coming on and closed your eyes.  There was enough to worry about at the moment and the two of them would figure out what was best for you.  

                 “Alright Doll, let’s get you out of the tub.” James sat forward and swirled you around as he stood in a single motion.  

                 The water dripped off of your bodies as he stepped onto the tile.  You took some initiative and reached out, grabbing the towel and throwing it around his shoulders.   The Terry cloth was almost as large as the tub was and James repositioned it so it draped over your shoulders as well.  A yawn escaped your mouth as he left the bathroom and went out into his bedroom.  

                 “Get some sleep little Omega.  Everything will be okay.”  He laid you down on the bed.  

                 You didn’t want to sleep, but your body had other ideas. The sun was still up in the sky, but the blackout blinds were starting to lower.  They stopped before the room went completely black.

                 “I don’t want you to worry about a thing.” James’ kissed your foreheaed. “Let Steve and I take care of you.”

                 He ended his sentence with a slight purr and your heart warmed.  A smile crossed your lips and you were asleep before he even closed the door.

~~~  

               The door creaked open and your eyelids fluttered. Even surrounded by James’ sheets you could smell it was Steve.  The smile you fell asleep with returned.  Your Omega traits were getting stronger by the day.  

                 “Sorry to wake you.”  Steve sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed your leg that was sticking out from the sheet. “Do you want something to eat?”

                 “I’m fine.” You sat up in bed and let out a yawn, really hoping that this sleep BS would end. “Still no appetite.”

                 “Bucky mentioned how sore you are.”  The light from the open door flooded the room and Steve moved closer, running his hand up your thigh. “Do you want to take a break?”

                 “I would rather be sore then the alternative.” You bit your lip and shook your head, remembering how you behaved like an animal, screaming and threatening them.

                 “Maybe we could try something else.” Steve stood up and offered you a hand.

                 You realized he was holding a T-shirt and you pulled it over your head before standing.  It was grey and came to your upper thigh, just long enough that if you raised your hands in the air it would still expose nothing. You debated on asking Steve for your stuff, but didn’t want to come off ungrateful for his t-shirt, so you stayed silent as you slipped your palm into his and let him guide you out of James’ bedroom.

                 “What time is it?” You hated the disorientation that came with sleeping all the time.

                 “Almost four.” Steve didn’t hesitate to respond. “I’ll get you a watch.”

                 “Maybe a calendar too?” The days were starting to blur into one.  It was just last night you met James, right? It was hard to tell because your heart and body felt like you had known both of these men your whole life.

                 “No cellphone?” Steve smiled over his shoulder at you. “I thought Bucky and I were ole fashion, even we have those now.”  

                 “I have a cellphone, had I guess.” You remember it being taken away from you the first night your nature was discovered. “It wasn’t a smart phone though.”

                 “Well.” Steve got to the bottom step and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you against his chest and into the air, you responded by putting your arms around his neck. “We’ll have to fix that.”

                 “You’re getting me a phone?” You thought about being able to text him when he wasn’t around or maybe challenge him to one of those games your colleagues were always playing.

                 “Soon.”  Steve pressed his forehead to yours.  His eyes went serious and you realized both of yours mistake.  He lowered you to the ground and placed a soft kiss on your lips before you were too short for him. You felt so small that Steve looked taller than before. “In the meantime I will get you your calendar and a watch.”

                 “Thank you.”  You smiled at him, not wanting him to think you were disappointed.  It wasn’t safe for you to have a phone, in the event you relapsed you would put them all in danger.  

                 “If there is anything you want, just ask.” Steve led you towards the couches. “I’d bring you the moon if I could.”

                 “Maybe some of my clothes?” You tugged the bottom of the t-shirt. “And Bruce got me a tablet, I’d like that back too.”

                 Steve’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.

                 “Oh, it’s not a big deal if you can’t.” You regretted asking. “I understand.”  

                 You didn’t.

                 “I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”  Steve sat down and pulled you next to him, his arm over your shoulders. “Tony is treating your old apartment like a quarantined zone.  He said you didn’t own much?”

                 “I have a storage unit back home.” You shook your head. “That has the family photos and the heirlooms.  I travel light.”

                 The implication was too obvious. It was in case someone found you out and you had to run.  Steve didn’t comment about your use of the word travel since that was a bend in the truth too.  Your time working for Dr. Banner was indefinite.  

                 “Not anymore.”  Steve pushed your hair back. “I’d like to see those family photos someday. You can take me on a tour of your home town.”

                 “I’d like that very much.”  You move your face closer to his and kiss him.  It surprises you as much as it seems to surprise him since his body tenses up.  

                 A second later he relaxes and grabs onto your shoulder as his lips part.  You let out a soft moan of instant appreciation as your tongues dance and the tingles return.  The T-shirt starts to feel like too much, fuck your old clothes and any others, all you want is skin-to-skin.  You reach for the hem, when Steve pulls back.  His hands are on yours, pushing your shirt down.   Confusion spreads over your face. Why is he stopping?

                 “Your sore.” Steve turns you back so your sitting next to him. “Your body needs a break.”

                 Any aches you were feeling vanished when you started to kiss.  You turn back towards Steve and start kissing his neck.

                 “Trust me, there’s only one thing I’m feeling right now and it’s not sore.” You nip at his ear.

                 “You’re making this hard.”  Steve turned his face towards yours.

                 “Good.”  You smash your lips against his and let your hand press against his chest.  

                 As you make-out you slide your hand down, over his t-shirt and then over his jeans.  It doesn’t take long to find the outline of his cock and you grip it, your heart flaring, feeling like it’s been too long since it was with Steve. God you wanted him.  

                 “Stop.”  Steve breaks the kiss, his hands are gently pushing you away as he stands up.  

                 You whimper and pull your legs under you on the couch, any injuries you may have been facing cleared up with the hot bath and the nap.  Steve wouldn’t turn you down.  

                 “Please.” You grab his hand. “I need you.”  

                 It wasn’t a lie.  You physically needed him.

                 “And I want you.”  Your eyes flashed at him.

                 He squinted his shut and bit the inside of his cheeks.  Then he shook his head and jumped over the couch.  You watched as he practically ran to the kitchen area.  He returned with a plastic cup and wondered what it was.

                 “As your Alpha, I won’t risk harm coming to you again.”  Steve walked down the steps and then back over to you. “I want you as badly as you want me, but your health is more important than anything in the universe.”

                 “But...what about my mental health?” Your gut wrenched thinking about lapsing.

                 “Here.” Steve handed you the cup.  

                 You looked inside and then back up to him several times, with a pretty good idea of what was in the cup.

                 “Bucky and I came up with the idea.” Steve was dead serious. “If you drink it, it will have the same effect, but then your body can take a break.”

                 The deposit in the cup clearly came from Bucky. You were unsure if you should be flattered or insulted.  

                 “That won’t work.” Without laughing you set the cup on the coffee table and shook your head.

                 “You don’t know that.”  Steve rubbed your arms. “I know it’s more pleasurable the old fashioned way, but you’re still ingesting DNA.”

                 “I appreciate the effort.”  Your hands went to Steve’s fly. “And the thought that went into it,  but the only way that would work would be if it was under a minute old.”

                 You undo his zipper and tug at his pants.

                 “I would love to explain the science to you, but if you think I need to ingest cum another way, I’d prefer it came directly from the source.”  Steve didn’t stop you as you pulled his jeans down, his cock springing forward.

                 You took a breath and dropped to your knees between his legs.  You let out a breath and examined his dick, you had felt it inside you enough over the last week or so, but this was the first time you got a close up view. It looked as large as it felt.  There was no doubt it was getting bigger as your eyes took it in.  

                 “You can touch it.”  Steve’s voice drew your eyes up.  

                 There was a hunger on his face, one that told you he wasn’t expecting this, truthfully neither were you.  Your hand reached out and your fingertips traced the underside, you slid your fingers around, gripping it with your palm and felt it pulse, making you drop it immediately.

                 “I may have talked a bigger game than I’m capable of.” You swallowed hard and looked up at him. “I don’t know what to do.”

                 “It’s alright.”  Steve put his hand under your chin.

                 You started to stand up when his hand slides to the back of your head.  He is not forcing you, but there is enough pressure to let you know he doesn’t want you to move.

                 “I’ll help you.” Steve slid his hand away. “If that cup won’t work it’s either this or lock you in Bucky’s room until you’ve had time to heal.”

                 Your heart broke.  Steve thought you didn’t want to; your six hours must have almost been up.

                 “It’s not that.” You licked your lips. “I’m scared I won’t make you feel good.”

                 “Baby you only make me feel good.” He seemed to relax. “If you get uncomfortable, just stop and we will figure something else out.”

                 You nod and your eyes go back to his cock.  You glance back up at him and return to your knees, awaiting instruction.

                 “Kiss the tip.” Steve’s eyes lock onto yours.

                 You don’t look away, wanting to see appreciation in his gaze. Your lips brush the top, then you pull away a centimeter before puckering again.  The skin of his dick is soft against your mouth.  You lick your lips again and then place them down.  His eyes flash and you realize your first lesson.  Wet is better.

                 You open your mouth and trace your tongue in a circle around his head. His chest lets out a low rumble, one almost inaudible and you repeat the action a few times.  

                 “Use your whole mouth.” Steve’s voice is encouraging.  You appreciate the instructions as well as the tone.

                 Your lips lower taking the entire helmet into your mouth.  Your tongue circles up to the tip.

                 “That feels great.”  Steve squeezes your shoulder. “Keep your mouth wet, don’t be afraid to suck.”

                 You let saliva pool and make small sucking motions with your mouth.  Steve’s expression lets you know he is enjoying this.  A taste hits your tongue and you stop all motions and break eye contact.

                 “Don’t stop.” Steve grabs your hand. “Do the same thing, but bob up and down, trying to take more in each time.”

                 You ignore him.  Your tongue retraces it’s steps and again the taste explodes.  It’s coming from his tip.  You flick your tongue back and forth across.  Words cannot come to your mind to describe how good the taste is.  It’s like all your favorite foods mixed with rainbows, or whatever your brain thinks rainbows might taste like.  You lick it all away and your tongue flickers back, there isn’t anymore.

                 “That was a little precum.” Steve lightly touches the back of your head. “It’s not enough for you.”

                 You debated on hitting his hand away, but truthfully you only had one thing on your mind.  Getting more.  You started sucking harder this time, your mouth salivating over the memory of that taste. It was like eating a hamburger and being able to taste the grass the cow had ate the day it was born.  The first meal it had ever had. Maybe it was more like eating a berry and being able to taste the sunshine it had absorbed.

                 Either way it didn’t matter.  You gulped and swallowed as a small amount of the taste came back.

                 “Y/N.”  Steve let out a groan. “I thought you said you didn’t know what you were doing.”

                 You whined, but it came out as more of a hum when the small amount disappeared.   You started lapping at his cock as you continued to suck and move your head up and down.  You weren’t doing this action because Steve requested it, you were doing it on instinct now, as if his cock contained serum and it was your job to coax it out.  

                 Spit was running down his shaft and you relaxed your throat and opened your mouth wider than you thought possible and took more of him in.  Noises and bits of praise came from Steve, but you didn’t care.  You weren’t doing this for him, you were doing it for you.  

                 When your attempts at swallowing him whole didn’t work, he was just too large, you let out a moan and went back to bobbing, sucking, and licking. Then you felt it coming, like his cock grew harder for a few seconds.  A vibration came from your mouth and then deliciousness hit you everywhere. You sealed your lips around him, scared that you were going to waste a single drop.  

                 Your breath was heavy and you refused to slide your mouth off of him, rubbing your tongue up and down, making sure you got all of his cum.  When it started to settle tingles went through out your entire body.  A feeling of Euphoria.  You felt like you were floating, but it was just an action by Steve. Soon you were in his place and he was between your legs.  

                 “Don’t worry.”  He pushed your shirt up. “I’m only going to focus on your clit, won’t hurt you at all.”

                 You had no objection as it became painful aware that you were soaking wet.  His mouth attached to you and the first orgasm hit almost instantly.  You gasped for breath as he flicked his tongue against you, wondering if you tasted as good to him as he had to you.  You hoped the answer was yes, because you wanted Steve to feel as good as you had going down on him.    

#fanfiction #smut #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #steve x reader #stucky x reader #alpha beta omega #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #omegaverse

[likeadove]

(fic) we could plant a house, we could build a tree (4/?)

Summary:  Seven-year-old Rey decides it’s her duty to annoy the crap out of Ben Solo every single day she’s alive. Modern-day AU.

Rating: M

Chapters: 1, 2 , 3

FFN  AO3

That weekend proved to be particularly stressful. 

Rey isn’t sure why keeping her action figures and Pound Puppies stored in the closet instead of on the floor by her bed is imperative to the Senator having a smooth visit, but she obeys.

Maz looks frazzled enough.

On Monday Rey waits outside the home with the other children, watching with a frown as a sleek black car pulls into the long driveway. She hasn’t forgotten what Luke said the other night, about the senator being his sister. And she wonders, if she’s Luke’s sister, if that makes her—

Rey’s suspicions are confirmed as soon as Senator Leia Organa steps out of the car. Rey recognizes Ben in the way this woman carries herself, in the way her warm brown gaze sweeps over the sight in front of her and takes note of her surroundings. In the way the corner of her mouth pulls into an almost smile. Maz walks out to greet her and the two women shake hands.

The next couple of hours are incredibly boring, considering all the hullabaloo that lead up to them. Rey isn’t overly impressed with who she suspects is Ben’s mom. All the senator does is walk around, talk, and ask questions. Rey distracts herself by staring at Organa’s bodyguard and the gun holstered to his hip. It looks kinda cool, and Rey commits herself to trying to draw him later. Ben might think it’s interesting.

She is so deep in her thoughts (markers would be fun for this project but pencils would be more precise for lines) that Senator Organa has to tap her shoulder to get her attention. She bends down so that she’s looking Rey eye-to-eye and holds out her hand, introducing herself.

Maz’s furious look from over the senator’s shoulder prompts Rey to shake it. Leia smiles. “You must be Rey. I’ve heard so much about you.” She leans in a little closer. “I hear you’re a family friend.”

Rey’s mouth drops open a little bit and suddenly she feels incredibly shy. This only makes Leia smile more fondly. “Luke showed me some of your drawings earlier today. You’re quite talented.”

Rey only remembers to say ‘thank you’ because Maz is mouthing it frantically over Leia’s shoulder.

**

Rey is spreading her Pound Puppies back out across her side of the room where they belong when she stills, mind puzzling over her odd day. If the senator is Ben’s mom, then she’s sent her son away. And maybe that means Ben was left behind just like her

**

Tuesdays are painting days.

Rey isn’t sure how she feels yet about painting. She prefers bending over a sketch pad with markers or charcoal or pencils—less messy. Besides, whatever she manages to paint always seem to pale in comparison to what Ben can do. He may denounce colors and their use, but with them he creates portraits of places Rey would love to adventure off to.

Today she settles herself in their usual corner. She pulls out the small set of paints that Maz had gotten her for Christmas the year before and waits for Ben to slide onto his stool next to her.

But he never comes, and soon Luke is clearing his throat at the front of the classroom, the other students quieting and giving him their attention. Rey bites her bottom lip and peers around, because Ben has never missed a class in the whole year that Rey has been coming here—

Something is wrong.

She shoves her paint set back into her backpack and softly exits the classroom, not noticing Luke’s eyes swivel in her direction when the door closes behind her.

She checks the kitchen-office first, because maybe he’s making a pot of coffee and lost track of the time, or maybe he has his headphones on and didn’t hear Luke tell him class was starting soon—

But he’s not there.

Feeling herself grow antsy, she marches room to room and thoroughly checks each of them. Ben isn’t in any of them, of course, and Rey realizes with a sinking feeling where he must be. She wanders to the bottom of the staircase that leads to the upper level. The level she’s never been in, has had no reason to go in.

She squares her shoulders and places a small hand on the railing, pulled forward by some feeling of protectiveness. She needs to find Ben Solo and draw him pictures of puppies swearing, or Beavis and Butthead, or—

Rey reaches the top of the stairs and looks around, taking in the small living room with its entertainment center and a TV that’s playing the local news. There are art projects everywhere, half finished sculptures and drying paintings representing a smorgasbord of Luke and Ben’s work. Before Rey can get too distracted, she hears music.

Following the music will mean finding Ben. Hitching her backpack up her shoulder, she walks through the living room and into a hallway on the right. There are three doors. She guesses one leads to Luke’s bedroom, one leads to the bathroom he must share with Ben, and the other…the other is slightly cracked with soft light shining from underneath.

She gently pushes it open and is reminded starkly of pushing open another door a year ago. Except she doesn’t find Ben flinging paint at a bedsheet, but stretched across his own bed, lying face down.

His room smells like teenage boy. She’s been around enough of them by now to recognize that particular musk. In one corner a red lava lamp sits on the floor, casting an eerie glow about the rest of the room. There’s a massive Doom poster stretching across one wall and a Stephen King novel sitting on his bedside table. A stereo sits on a bookshelf, much nicer then the paint splattered one he keeps downstairs. Melancholy music pours out of it.

She glances back to Ben. There’s a fist sized hole in the wall right next to his bedpost. And on the bedside table, next to the Stephen King novel, is a small framed photo of what must have once been a happy family. A much younger Ben smiles out at her, teeth missing, with a handsome couple standing behind him. Rey has never seen the man in the photo, but she instantly recognizes the fond smile and warm brown gaze of Senator Organa.

So he was left behind, just like her.

Rey looks back at his face and jumps, realizing that his eyes are open, watching her. He raises his head enough to mutter, “Fuck off, kid.” But there’s no real malice in his voice.

She stands still for a long moment before dropping her backpack and sitting cross-legged on the floor. She pulls out a sketchpad and a black marker, tilting the paper toward the lava lamp in order to take advantage of its light. She’s not sure how long she sits there, drawing and listening to the music.

She draws a tree. A black hulking tree with two figures sitting in its shade.

When she is done she looks back up at Ben and notices that he’s fallen asleep, his head cradled on his arm and facing her. As if he’d been watching her.

When she’s finished she silently puts her things away and stands, determined not to wake him. She also likes to just go to sleep when she’s sad, sometimes.

She places the drawing in front of the framed picture of a broken family and creeps from his room, footsteps silent.

**

A life is time, they teach you growing up The seconds ticking killed us all A million years before the fall You ride the waves and don’t ask where they go

“Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand” by Primitive Radio Gods

**

A/N: Once again, thanks everyone for reading and commenting! Would love to hear everyone’s thoughts on this chapter, I know it was more angst then fluff this time. Poor Ben and Rey :( This is it for ‘98. See y'all again in '99! We’ll be meeting some more of our beloved characters next time as well!

#bethany writes #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #Reylo #Ben Solo/Kylo Ren #Rey #Star Wars