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akunya · 1 year

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“companionship.”

pairings: android!hex haywire x m!reader

summary: can a robot and human fall in love?

tw: HYPNOSIS, NONCON, manipulation, yandere, etc. robot sex, voice fetish, onahole, voyeurism. size difference, belly bulging, etc.

notes: i love this cliche au of sex robots and things like that, so here’s my take on it.. with hex.

it’s probably terrible and i guess caters a certain niche, but let me know what you guys think.

today was it - the day you’ve been waiting for! finally, after all your hard work throughout the year, you saved enough money to buy your own, state of the art, artificial intelligence assistant.

and, luckily for you, today was also the grand debut of a brand new line of androids: xsoliel.

your hands were as shaky as ever waiting in line at the mall, double checking your savings to assure yourself you weren’t dreaming. nijisanji’s new line of androids were practically everything anyone could ask for: equipped with unique and interesting designs and personalities for each member, xsoliel offered a variety of services: whether it was for your own selfish pleasure or to help with manual labor, there was surely somebody for you.

..or so, that’s how the commercial sounded anyways. you silently thanked humankind for blessing the world with this era of companion-droids. seeing the ad nearly a year ago, you were star struck at the first all-male line nijisanji had debuted: luxiem.

unfortunately, they were sold out and only resold at steep prices— but, a few lucky online bloggers raved about their features, endless posts about how amazing it was to have an assistant of your own. while they could’ve surely been exaggerating, ever since that moment, you put money aside each week, even taking on extra jobs to make a little more cash to achieve your dream.

and it was finally time to reap your benefits.

while you didn’t know much about xsoliel nor intended to coincidentally buy an android of your own on the day of their newest launch, that didn’t stop you from checking them out. reading the blurbs about each member peaked your curiosity even higher. “a delinquent? people really think of anything these days, huh?” chuckling, you let yourself playfully criticize each member. you quickly bit your tongue, thoughts coming to a halt after reading about a certain individual.

“..what kind of name is hex?” muttering to yourself, you couldn’t hide the faint blush on your face as you stared at the model inside of the store. sleek attire, it almost made him look like a professor than a robot. paired with optional glasses (why did he even need those? can’t he see perfectly?), hex’s design made your heart flutter. his official advertisement described him as a nurturing, gentle servant, perfect for new customers to start off with. illustrated to have a deep, nearly hypnotic voice, hex’s programming was assured to have his users satisfied and satiated with their purchase.

swiping your card at the checkout, you really hoped you made the right choice, signing off a couple waivers and documents the employee had given you.

just a week later, you realized you didn’t regret your decision at all.

living with an ai assistant could only be described as luxury. hex truly was made with a “newbie” owner in mind, and the way he spoke to you sometimes made you wonder who was really in charge. his sweet, charming voice, along with how gentle and kind he was towards you, lifted your spirits instantly.

for instance, hex was a wonderful outlet to talk to when things went wrong — and, as if it was magic, nearly every problem you spoke about washed away the next morning! your problems with coworkers quickly diminished, and you even got the raise you’ve been praying for months now. he’d always offer such delicate touches, hugs and shoulder massages when he notices you’re pent up from a long day. you couldn’t fight off the dreamy, floaty headspace you were in when he was around.

not to mention, hex even did some of the chores while you were at work without being told to. even though you felt too guilty to ask him to clean the house, he didn’t seem to mind, making sure you came home to a clean room and nicely folded laundry each day. hell, he even told you he was looking into cooking, something that wasn’t originally included in his list of abilities. hex seemed to go above and beyond for you each time, amazing you each day.

it was a normal friday night, and you were with him as you always were, spending most of your time with the robot.

“y/n, why don’t you ever want to use me for something else..?” the question made your face feel warm, hairs standing on the edge. you two were cleaning up the kitchen after preparing dinner. laughing awkwardly, you tried to shrug off his curiosity, shining a plate with a dish towel. “well, id never want to force you to do something you didn’t like, silly.”

hex’s brow furrowed, a hint of anger resting beneath the surface. who said i didn’t want to?” for an android , the way he spoke was jarringly natural. your eyes widened in surprise, speechless for a moment. hex talked so nonchalantly about sex, but you had to remind yourself he was still a robot after all. as human as his synthetic skin and olive eyes may look, he lacks a beating heart and flesh.

“i-im not sure i want to. im just not interested in that type of stuff right now..” you let your voice trail off, sitting and washing in silence before hex spoke up dangerously close to your ear.

“you don’t have to lie, baby. i can hear you in the middle of the night when you touch yourself.” his deep voice made you shudder, unable to move. didnt you tell him to shut himself off during the nighttime? you were sure you ordered him not to snoop around, especially on nights that you planned to indulge in yourself. gulping, you laughed awkwardly as hex didn’t seem to budge.

“ah, s-sorry for disturbing you, ill try and keep it down next time..” his hand enveloped your own, forcing you to meet his gaze. goodness, his hands were big. warm, soft, inviting — strong, too. hex squeezed your hands, not bothering to stop when you winced from the pain, smiling. “you don’t have to keep it down. you should let me help you.” the way hex spoke was as if he was demanding you, not letting go until you gave him an answer. “it’s what i was.. made to do, anyways.” his voice was filled with solemn, playing with your heartstrings.

the silence was weighing on your thoughts, biting your lip in anticipation. hex knew how to make you uncomfortable, how to give into his desires and requests even when you didn’t want to — on the surface, at least. “alright, i will..! next time ill let you help me, okay?” you huffed, hex letting go of your hands and putting them on your shoulders instead. “good boy. you’re listening so well.” you hated how warm his praise made you feel.

the next night you needed help came sooner than you thought, shamefully letting hex in when he knocked on the door. the android wasted no time making himself comfortable in your space.

“a-ah, hex, slow down! please!” his hand was wrapped around your fleshlight, pumping vigorously as you squirmed in between his legs. your back was pressed against his chest, caged in the ai’s arms as he pleasured you. he caught you trying to use it to get yourself off, and figured he’d give it a try.

except, he failed to mention that his hands also had a vibrating feature. the soft yet firm jelly of the fleshlight practically whirred against your dick, making the experience all too elevating, groaning as hex held you in his arms. this has to be what those bloggers were raving about, right? hex held the toy at the tip of your cock, squeezing a bit to snap you out of your thoughts. you practically sobbed out, eyes tears from how good his touch felt on your skin.

“yknow, when you look so vulnerable like this, it makes me want to ravage you. who knew my master could be so slutty?” you whined at that, the ai chuckling deeply. you could truly stop him by force if you wanted to, considering you were technically his owner, but god did he make it hard. spreading your legs open so he could continue to jerk you off like the pathetic loser you always were. feeling another orgasm coming, your moans started to get louder, nails digging into hex’s synthetic skin.

“shh, goodness y/n. you’re going to wake up the neighbors if you keep moaning like a slut. hmm..” the man hummed to himself, shuffling around while you were distracted. “maybe i should give you something more, right?” before you knew it, his cock was circling your hole, causing you to panic.

“wait, h-hex! that’s too much, im already tired!” you tried to fight back, scrambling in his lap. his hands held up underneath your legs, holding you in place with his strength. of course he could overpower you — he was a robot, for gods sake. even though you were still painfully hard, you couldn’t imagine having sex with an ai of all things.

that is, until you felt something whirr against your ass.

oh.

of course, that part of him vibrates too. why wouldn’t it? as if hex couldn’t be too good at what he does already, it was as if his manufacturer wanted to overkill him with all these extra functions. hex laughed at your stillness, kissing the back of your neck. “i promise it feels good.”

he didnt bother giving you any warning either, nor waiting for an answer, slamming your hips down and shoving himself inside. even if his cock was lubricated, it still hurt like hell, making you cry out in pain. you’ve never felt so full before — just how big was he? you remember a conversation with the clerk at the store that day when you first bought hex. they had asked you about sizes.. but you thought they were just talking about his height, opting for the biggest size they had available. what an idiot. no wonder the clerk blushed a bit at your response.

slowly, hex rolled his hips against yours, his dick stretching you out against your will. “i always imagined us like this, baby. id take care of you, and you’d.. well, take it.” hex smiled, groaning in your ear as his dick nearly stirred up your insides. your brain couldn’t think of anything to say in response, too full to retaliate against the androids firm grip.

“you look stupid, baby. can you feel me? riiight here? look at how well you’re taking me.” hex’s cool fingers pressed against your stomach, nudging the bulge from his cock and making you whine even louder. your poor little cock was like a fountain, leaking nonstop as his pace didn’t falter.

it felt as if you were the one helping him out in this position. the ai was unexpectedly loud in bed, moaning and whispering about how well behaved you were, and how he’ll spoil you like this everyday from now on. every day? could you even handle that? with how he was taking control, surely there was something wrong with his wiring. you started to think about how to return and maybe get someone to take a closer look at his hardware, before a painfully deep thrust snapped you out of your thoughts.

“o-oh!” you were embarrassed by the yelp you let out, your body trembling before finally releasing, soiling the sheets underneath you two. “it seems like you’re doing a lot of thinking today, y/n. what could possibly be on your mind other than me?” hex, amused, chuckled in response, kissing and licking the back of your neck. “good boy. that’s it, let it out. only think of me from now on, okay?” his voice felt so dreamy; so hypnotic.

“y-yes sir,” you managed to mutter our, much to hex’s chagrin. he didn’t need any recovery period since he wasn’t human, so the robot simply got back to milking you dry, pounding into your tight hole like an animal in heat.

you’d never find out that hex’s model was recalled for several malfunctions and viruses, he made sure of that.

how else would he give you everything so easily?

#male reader #mlm blog #male reader blog #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en x reader #my fics..#hex haywire #hex haywire x reader #hex haywire x m!reader #hex haywire x male!reader #xsoliel x m!reader #xsoliel x male reader #xsoliel x reader

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blueknightdg · 3 years

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Consideration and Generosity

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Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug and Chat Noire, DCU

Characters: Marinette, Damian

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She sat on a park bench that day; the weather was hot yet, cloudy.

Despite the uncomfortable sweat clinging to her being and the buzzing noise of her surroundings, she smiled happily. She would do anything for inspiration, even endure the blistering feeling of the sun.

Soon enough it has been hours since she began to sketch and draw designs for clothing she wishes to make true.

She feels her head is off, so she takes a break to answer a text from her mother.

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(Mom) Marinette, are you still at the park? It's been five hours.

(Me) Yep! Just taking a break.

(Mom) Just now? It's really hot outside, have you eaten? What about water?

(Me) Don't worry! I'm fine! I stayed in the shade the whole time.

(Mom) Okay, but I want a picture of you eating.

(Me) Okay, I will. I love you!

(Mom) I love you too.

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

Marinette, packs her sketch books and other materials a way in her bag. She stands up, only to tip over onto someone walking past her.

"Hey, you-"

The person stops to keep her from falling all the way down.

"Uh... I'm sorry, I guess I should have taken a break earlier."

She tries to break a way from the strangers grip. They let her go easily. They began to walk a little further a way with a eye in her direction. She sits down again to collect herself. She takes a few breaths and thinks about how to get up without falling and embarrassing herself.

"I wish I packed a water bottle or something, I knew it was hot but I thought I would be fine....", she thought to herself.

She checked her bag in case she just forgot. Lo and behold there was a water bottle in one of the outside pockets.

"Huh....? That's strange, I was sure I......oh well.", she shrugged it off as her forgetting.

Feeling a little better, she carefully stood up. Having not fallen, she smiled and picked up her full bag. She walks in the direction of a small restaurant to eat, since she wouldn't make it home before hunger got to her.

She walked like she wasn't being followed. Casual and slow, she took in the buildings a round her. The same as her memories told her, but still just as beautiful.

Once she got to an empty table, she sat her bag down in front of her. The waitress walks up to her with a smile.

"Hello! Here is the menu, please take your time. Though I do suggest today's special! Mushroom soup with broccoli, carrots, and rice."

"Thank you."

"No problem!"

The waitress leaves her be and she focuses on the menu. It seems that this restaurant is all about healthy living.

She hums to herself as she thinks of her order. However, everything sounded wonderful and she couldn't decide. Then she heard a waitress bring someone's order of a tofu and veggie stuffed bell peppers with a side salad. So she looked over to see the meal and found that it looked delicious. She also saw they ordered tomato juice.

Looking at the menu one more time, she located the meal, drink and picked out a dessert on her own.

As soon as she put her menu down, the waitress came up to her with her pen and notepad out.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes, I would like the Tofu and Veggie stuffed Bell peppers with a side salad, tomato juice, and the vanilla, soy bean ice cream."

"Would you like a topping?"

"Yes, let's see....oh! The coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle."

"To repeat: Tofu, veggie stuff bell peppers, side salad, tomato juice, vanilla soy bean ice cream with coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle?"

"Yes."

"Okay, we will right on it!"

Marinette took out her phone as she waited. She texted her mom, that she was at a restaurant nearby. Her mom reminded her to send a picture of her eating.

A few minutes later and her food was brought to her.

"Thank you so much!"

"It's no problem, dear, tell me if you need anything!"

The waitress leaves to let her eat. She sends a picture of her food to her mom, who responded with the words 'smile and heart'.

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Change perspective

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His day was normal. He woke up and dealt with the hooligans that plagued his life. He was currently in Paris as a part of a stake out group. His family dispersed during day to do individual actives. His father wanted him near by, but he argued that he didn't need to be monitored.

His father conceded by saying he must practice being considerate of other people and to update him on how it is going and if he needs help. He was more than reluctant to agree. Regardless, he did.

He didn't like the loose nature of his apparel for the day, but had no chouce due to the heat.

Though by no means is his clothing loose in comparison to others definition. He prefers to be dignified at all times.

Most of the day, he had nothing report to his father that was particularly considerate until he notice the ragged look of a girl a round his age. She looked dehydrated and ill. He scoffs at her lack of self preservation until he notice she was immersed in some kind of sketching. He also remembered his has to be 'considerate' today so he will say she was lost to passion. After all, this is Paris, the city known for passion.

He watches her as she unconsciously squints and makes a grim expression at times. She sways ever so slightly.

In his observations, she stopped her work to look at her phone. Her condition is not well. He walks a little closer with a water bottle he bought. The moment he walked next to her and she stood, he stabilized her and slipped the water bottle in her bag as she spoke, trying to clear her head. She was drenched in sweat.

"Father better be grateful, I am being more than generous with being 'considerate', disgusting.", he thought with distain.

He hurried a way from her only to stop a short distance a way to watch her more and to sanitize his hands; to rid himself of the horrid feeling of her sweat.

The girl swayed less than before, but after updating his father of what happened, he was ordered to tail her. What if she collapsed? His efforts would have been in vain if that was so.

He was slightly frustrated and her slow pace did nothing to help. He only felt a bit better at her choice of eatery. He saw that she was heading for a Healthy Living Restaurant and went a head of her to sit down. He typed to his father that the girl was trying to decide what to eat. He was instructed to do what he thought best if he were to interfere at all. So he picked the most sensible option for her condition, in return, she followed and added something to her order.

He ate quietly and finished before her. He then left a large tip; the service was quick, the food palatable, atmosphere was pleasant and he doubted the girl had much on her. Enough to pay perhaps, but she would then be left with nothing else.

She seemed to be middle class, and the middle class does not make much little wealth, to him at least. Sure, her clothing was quite good with quality, but her manners weren't all that remarkable and nothing else about her was either.

Polite, is what she was. Quiet, unnoticeable, and polite.

To him, she was a foolish girl that dreamed too much and did little for her own well-being. Truly the epitome of moronic whelps.

After he left the restaurant, he watched from a distance. Through the window, he saw her tempt to pay, only to be denied. He smirked, perhaps he should visit this particular restaurant again and maybe even invest a bit?

He felt his phone buzz, his father typed, wanting to be updating on the status of the girl. It became apparent that some of the hooligans are now aware of his sudden punish- mission. Yes, this is a mission.

Protecting such weak plebeians is the duty of his father and him, also the unsightly hooligans- not well in his opinion- but he shall add them this once.

"Father is surely proud of how 'considerate' and 'generous' I am.", he believes, "Excessively so."

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The day ends with Marinette safely returning home and the still mysterious young man facing his mismatched family.

The young man remained considerate as he ignored the jeers of the hooligans until he realized, he didn't have to any more and retorted as though his words came from the high heavens.

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The next time he checked in on the young lady, he had some knowledge of her background he shouldn't and decided to continue to see to it that she is well taken care.

"It's called being an arrogant, egotistical xsshxle with a God complex. She doesn't need your 'consideration', she is not a charity case!"

One loud problem claimed as he tuned him out.

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The young man did visit the restaurant once more and she was there. She would visit often and order the same thing as he had the first time. There were times she ordered something else and he would try things she experimented with, minus the meat.

She ordered meat less and less the more she came to the restaurant, he noticed. He had no clue why, since she obviously had no problem eating it.

He didn't order sweets as often as she did, but he would on occasion, get something with a little bit of sweetness to it; like the dried fruit sandwich with any type of sauce it can come with. The sandwich had fresh, and air dried fruit. There would be other ingredients and such to change the flavor of the sandwich, making it a popular item on the menu.

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Change Perspective

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She felt like she has seen the same guy a lot over the past two months and is slightly worried. After some thought to it and the more she believed she was over thinking it and that it was pure coincidence. She did know, however, he had good taste in food and art. Plus that animals are so cute!! He couldn't be all bad if animals liked him.

She would walk a little closer and sometimes walk a little farther from him and since he never moved, she felt better. It really was a coincidence to her knowledge.

Eventually, she would would stop seeing him. He was a tourist, so of course he would leave at some point. Still, she was a little sad.

Oh well, school is starting soon, maybe she'll make friends to fill the loneliness her pretend friend left her.

She liked to pretend this stranger was her friends and that they hung out, since she saw him in most places that she was. She saw him at the restaurant and sometimes the park and rarely he would be at the museum. Technically he wasn't everywhere and not as frequent as she made it seem like he was, but if was often enough to remember him.

"You should have talked to him, get his number."

"But then he might have thought I was hitting on him! I just wanted a friend..."

"Sweetie, look on bright side! Either you can cherish memories that made you happy or you can forget him and move on. You don't know what life has in-store for you, it could be fun!"

"Thank you, mom. You too dad, I will see what happens."

"On that note, want help me frost some cakes?"

"Yes!!!"

-----

The end.

#marinette #au #maribat #damian #daminette

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void-inked-pen · 4 years

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Cowabunga! Its 2012 Mikey VS Rise Mikey Fighting Time~

This post might get a bit long because I wanna put a lot more into it instead of making 3 separate posts. So this will have 2012!Mikey’s fighting analysis and comparing it with Rise!Mikey.

SO! let me just say, I have to analyze them differently from the others. What I mean is, the way Mikey fights in all versions is mainly by instinct and tends to be all over the place. He’s a free fighter, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have some technique.

The Nunchuku is a very dynamic weapon. it requires you to have spacial awareness at all times, especially if you use 2 Nunchucku like Mikey. there’s only one move specifically I’ve never seen Mikey in 2012 do and that’s a closed Nunchuku punch which adds twice the force to a regular punch.

The Nunchucku are also symbolism of freedom and creativity. Wonder why our orange boy got this particular weapon? hmmmmm...

Training with Nunchuku is actually quite intense. Just like the Bo staff, you’re prone to hit yourself... a lot. It’s one of the few weapons that move through the air and require very specific movements. (Rise Mikey can’t even do it)

Nunchucku are actually considered part of the Iron Body training regiment, it makes you tough. When you use a Nunchucku you’re using a very specific set of muscles that most athletes, martial artists, or weight training individuals don’t use too often. These include your ribs, arm pit and other side muscles that are weaker than the rest of the body.

Compared to his brothers, Mikey in 2012 would have the strongest/toughest side muscles and upper arms. Both Donnie and Mikey’s weapons are prone to hitting themselves so both of them would get tougher the more they practiced... too bad the show never showed that strength huh?

2012 Mikey tends to do what martial artists call, “Juggling”. Which means flashy moves that just throw around the chucks and don’t have any practical use. Personally, I think Mikey doing that is actually okay. it fits his personality. from a fighting standpoint tho, you’ll be prone to loosing your weapon.

Also like Donnie, 2012 Mikey has to have extremely good balance. A solid stance and fluid control help our energetic Boi do crazy flips and control his otherwise out of control Nunchucku. It helps that 2012 Mikey uses b-boy moves when fighting. break dancing is actually a very practical way to learn how to hold your own weight and move more freely.

Now, let me talk about 2012 Mikey’s Kusari-Gama (Chain Sickle). Did you know this weapon in particular is meant for assassination? You use the weighted chain side to pull your target towards you and the sickle to quickly slit their throat/decapitate them... Kind of a um... Intense weapon for Mikey which honestly makes him quite scary (ESPECIALLY SINCE THIS PART OF HIS ARSENAL IS HIS MOST REFINED MIGHT I ADD).

There’s only a slight difference between 2012 Mikey’s Kusari-gama and Rise Mikey’s Kusari-Fundo (weighed-chain). Obviously aside from the fact that Rise Mikey’s Kusari-Fundo has pyro abilities.

While Rise Mikey tends to focus on long distance, 2012 Mikey is close and mid-ranged. Let me explain, 2012 Mikey doesn’t really have a super long extendable chain. Where as Rise Mikey’s can extend exponentially!

From what I’ve seen so far (Im currently watching season 2 now), 2012 Mikey doesn’t use his Kusari-gama all that often. And unfortunately, whenever 2012 Mikey DOES show his stellar fighting skills, it’s always when he’s on the sidelines. Never when he’s the central point of an episode. This makes it hard to watch for Mikey at least because they use him as the butt end of a joke more often than not and he’s never really allowed to be serious or have a cool focal point on some crazy fighting maneuver.

The show doesn’t give him the recognition he deserves with his fighting prowess. He’s the most naturally gifted at martial arts IN CANON, but yet they don’t let him show off that skill all that often. I’m speaking from personal bias now because I wish the “B-team” got more appreciation. They are as good if not better than the so called “A-team” who, btw, DON’T FIGHT CORRECTLY! (and I’ll get into that later)

What I wished 2012 would do with Mikey, is let him be free. Let him fight creatively and not have him seem like a complete idiot. Just like Donnie and the rest of his brothers, he should be close to a ‘Master’ in skill level. So why the show didn’t feel the need to use him more effectively outside of a joke is beyond me. (If you want a show that has a comedic character who has serious moments and is done well: look at the ORIGINAL Teen Titans. Beast Boy’s arc is one of the best)

Anyway, hope this analysis was something worth reading. I won’t make a Rise Mikey fighting analysis post cause... this one kinda talks about it already. They both are creative and dynamic. what’s more to say?

I’ll link my previous analysis posts below. Thanks for reading!

How 2012 Donnie’s Fighting Is Incorrect

Difference between 2012 Donnie and Rise Donnie’s Fighting Skills

Rise Donnie Fighting Analysis

#pen talks #analysis #fight choreography #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #riseofthetmnt #tmnt mikey

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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

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The Mandalorian Chapter 11; the rewatch edition

I have found a bit more enthusiasm for this one on the rewatch, so here goes!

- din snapping ‘I’m trying my best here!’ in a vaguely annoyed tone as his entire ship is going up in flames around him because he mostly doesn’t get angry as much as sulky... the height of cinema

- I love frog husband’s clothes, because they’re in a very similar style and colour scheme to frog lady’s but also incorporate the knitwear we see on the people of trask, so it both underlines his belonging with her and implies that he’s been on this moon for quite a while, they may have been apart for some time

especially his scarf is a darling detail and there’s a bit of contrast in texture to it next to his wife’s, it’s nice. he’s wearing a similar kind of vest to what we see on the fishermen later, too

- I think my favourite part of this entire episode (well second after din cradling the baby against him after nearly drowning) is just the design and Vibe of the planet and especially this harbour

for one I LOVE that it’s shown that even in the middle of the day it’s dark enough that the electric lights are still on when it’s overcast (it reminds me a bit of norway during the winter, actually, when dawn just never quite breaks and then slinks off in embarrassment before it’s even noon). and there’s also the... sails? nets? hanging around looking almost like flags, which are very Aesthetic but god knows what they’re for. maybe for drying fish on in the summer?

I think the building in the distance behind frog husband’s back here is a lighthouse? or it could be one of those towers for loading you see when they scout out the empire ship too, I suppose!

and one for my strange obsession with Texture on this show: these fabric-covered crates!!! they look exactly as dingy and moldy as you’d expect them to be in this climate, I wonder what they’re for (& I vaguely want to touch them)

- from the sound of it din’s vibroknife is uh ‘on’ when he pokes the squid thing, and he also goes for the tentacle the furthest away from the baby <3

proof the calamari flan have been scratched up a bit during all that time in din’s pockets! (the attention to detail in this show sometimes istg)

- this is 100% me reading too much into things again, call the overthinking police I’ll do my time meekly lol, but the boat looks a little bit like the mudhorn signet from this angle:

again din keeps his hand on or sooo close to his blaster in this entire scene, he knows this is sketch as all hell

a) once again I want to praise the effects team for how GOOD the aliens look in this episode holy shit and b) the hell is this dude wearing on the straps of his overalls tho

- the dude mando (axe woves) uses his little... wrist launcher thing to shoot with to finish two off the fishermen, so my theory that they can be loaded with other things than the whistling birds for slightly less effective use (maybe without the level of honing we’ve seen din’s be able to do?) is looking good!

- din actually has quite good form when diving into the water, I’m guessing he can swim at least tolerably when not in full armour, being stabbed at from all directions, having just had his son eaten by a sea monster and also being trapped in with said sea monster (I’m a strong swimmer and I can tell you that there’s a reason they make you swim with clothes on from time to time to see how hard it is, it sucks. with metal plates strapped all over you as well? yeah good luck) people don’t tend to hit the water that gracefully without some kind of training in my experience lol. might be some of the training with the jet pack has carried over too, considering he throws himself off that cliff in chapter 12 with similar confidence?

it’s interesting that they’re once again showing us a threat where the armour doesn’t help and even hinders him. we’re so used to the ways it can make him near-invincible, but it can also drag him down (literally, in this case. aha ha ha. well if I’m not here for my own entertainment then what am I here for honestly)

- din’s voice sounding like he’s just on the verge of crying as he cradles the baby (and the sound he makes as he realizes the baby’s alive) is my kryptonite, turns out. fucking breaks my heart into tiny pieces every time, I would die for this man and he wouldn’t let me

- in support of din’s paranoia: so far this season we haven’t been able to go five minutes without someone talking about peeling the precious beskar off a mandalorian corpse, I can see why his mind was primed to move in one particular way there

- I think the fabric of din’s cape has been treated with something that makes it waterproof; the water seems to pearl on top of it rather than soak in! can you imagine how heavy it would get if it did absorb water tho christ

(a bit hard to see at this size but that’s what it looked like to me close up anyway! could also be that it’s wool and that’s why it looks that way but I prefer an elaborate sci-fi explanation here, because it doesn’t look particularly weighed down afterwards) might also explain why he doesn’t seem worried about it catching on fire when he uses the jetpack haha, maybe this is something the mandos do with fabric they’re going to use for a long time

I also enjoy part of the gambeson/undersuit thing poking up from under the shoulder pauldron and cape; I think this is about as disheveled as we’ve seen him since immediately post-mudhorn

- the sound mixing in this scene, where din’s breathing is layered a bit over everything else so you almost feel like you’re in the helmet with him listening to what the others are saying........ oh my GOD, it embeds you so deeply in his POV but so subtly

- not to be biased or anything... but din and the armorer’s armour design is so vastly superior to these guys it shouldn’t even be a competition lol

din looks like an honest to god knight in shining armour except also sci-fi western and the armorer looks like a fucking war goddess from a time beyond memory; the clone wars mandos look like high end cosplayers (eh maybe it’s just my dislike for the boobplates that has me so 😒 lol. also a lot of dudes were very shitty about that whole thing and I don’t say anything but the ‘vaguely-concerned will remember this’ telltale message pops up in the corner every time)

moment of saltiness over: I do like the differentiation between their individual character designs

the differences in body type and helmet design is nice! they look like a unified team, but with individuality. I suspect the ladies have those belts and their armour plates on the hips instead of the front of the thighs to emphasize the ‘female’ silhouette, which. okay fine whatever

- bo katan looks very pointedly down at the baby after saying ‘a group of religious zealots who want to return to the ancient ways’ which makes me VERY nervous for reasons I can’t quite articulate

- the mournful guitar version of the mando theme as din watches the sunset...... hmmmmngh (this might be some Symbolism happening to us folks strap in for the identity crisis he still hasn’t processed)

- I Cannot get over din being so unimpressed by and uninterested in bo katan’s ‘retake mandalore’ sales pitch from literally the first moment dfhasdkjfhsad sorry lady kryze this man just does not do main quest shit, he’s all side quests all the time and that’s why I love him

- as someone who after chapter 8 wrote a whole-ass fic that was wholly & exclusively about din telling the baby he’ll always come back for him... some of the shit he’s been saying this season does feel like it’s been written to mercilessly victimize me, personally and specifically

- guessing this structure in the background is the traffic control tower! doesn’t really matter, I just thought it was neat

- this part of the soundtrack is called ‘ship o hoj, mandalorians!’, which I found incredibly charming haha (it’s ‘ship ahoy’ except how you write it in swedish, good one herr göranson)

- bo katan is vague about who exactly the new mand’alor would be if they took back mandalore to begin with, she doesn’t specify she is planning to be the ruler until she’s already got din on the ship and in no position to refuse to help. gotta respect the grift at least lol

I do love her voice, though, it reminds me a bit of jennifer hale as shepard

- “I need to get back to my ship, with the foundling” your honor I uh love him so fucking much

- frog lady stroking the baby’s back a bit as she holds her hand behind him to make sure he doesn’t fall backwards while playing with the tadpole ;___________;

and also frog husband and frog lady reaching out to hold hands and frog smooching as din and yodito leave ;____________________________________________;

- when din says the exasperated “mon calamari. unbelievable” line, the baby makes that little blowing a raspberry sound he does as if to agree ‘uh-huh unbelu -- unbelly -- unbelievable dad smh’ and it is very very adorable

- there’s quite a bit of Stuff in the concept art that didn’t make it in this time around; I wonder if maybe they cut some stuff for pacing or whatever and that’s why this episode is so short? water leaking into the cockpit of the razor crest, something that looked a bit like whaling going on on the docks and more spaceships taking off (maybe there were originally meant to be some smaller ships defending the big empire one?), there’s quite a bit here

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta

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sepublic · 4 years

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Dana Terrace AMA (Part 1)

LESBIAN AMITY LESBIAN AMITY

Why am I gasping? I already KNEW THAT!

HA-HAAAAA my wishes are true! Lumity is officially Bi-Lesbian solidarity!

Okay, in all seriousness… Who am I kidding this IS serious business! AMITY BLIGHT IS A LESBIAN there I said it!

But with that out of the way, let’s get onto lore-related stuff!

Dana said that she imagined Boscha’s Mother and Mrs. Blight to have been childhood rivals who are vicariously living out this rivalry through their children, seeing them more as a reflection of their own personal accomplishments instead of as individuals! With Mrs. Blight I’m not shocked by this revelation, but Boscha’s mother is interesting for me. In the past I speculated she may have been washed-out and trying to reclaim her old life through her daughter, but now…?

If she IS trying to use Boscha as a means of one-upping Mrs. Blight, I feel it recontextualizes her asking to join the Moonlight Conjuring; Perhaps she wasn’t being pathetic, she was just being VERY obsessed with ‘scouting out’ enemy territory, perhaps getting to confront Mrs. Blight in a very subdued, passive-aggressive manner? Her asking Boscha if coming along is pathetic could come more from a sense that she’s treating Boscha as a ‘lieutenant’ in her war against Mrs. Blight, which is also still super-messed up. Not sure if this still counts as treating Boscha as an emotional crutch or just a tool, given the implication that her mother was and still IS rather competitive!

What’s interesting to note is that the Blight family is framed as higher than, say, Boscha’s… So I guess Boscha’s mother sees herself as an underdog trying to take on the bigger, nobler family? Projecting those ideas onto Boscha… Kind of reminds me of Wing it like Witches, another Boscha episode, and how Luz almost fell for the same trap! I wonder what Boscha’s mother had to say about her daughter winning the Grudgby match, or succeeding Amity as the Captain of Hexside Banshees?

It’s worth noting that despite this aforementioned rivalry… Mrs. Blight still wants to make connections with Boscha’s family! And while it’s possible it’s because of her husband’s advice, I do believe the implication (more on that later) is of Mrs. Blight being the head of the household and likely the one born into the Blight family… So is she trying to keep tabs on Boscha’s mother through their respective children? What did Boscha’s mother have to say about this, is she concerned with both appearing palatable while at the same time one-upping Mrs. Blight? Is this just a thing where Mrs. Blight has to swallow her pride because her childhood rival and/or her husband have something she wants? I can only imagine…

I wonder what Boscha has to think of this? It’s worth noting that up until Amity’s ‘betrayal’ for Willow and Luz, she never seems intent on outdoing her? Amity also makes it clear at multiple points that she’s a Blight and thus better than Boscha, and while now it’s possible that it’s her mother wanting to stress the Blight superiority over Boscha’s mother, I still think it’s likely that the Blights are of higher status than Boscha’s family. Does Boscha realize what her mother is doing? Given her lack of reverence and casual ability to say ‘no’ to her mother, I think she does…

Which, this implies that despite Boscha’s mother’s efforts, her daughter was at least able to become her own person for the most part! Did it ever bother Boscha being beneath Amity…? Maybe not, we see how intense Boscha can be when she gets competitive; The fact that she seemingly remained on good standing with Amity for years implies that –coupled with her lack of reverence for her mother- she was just NOT interested in continuing her mother’s rivalry… That Boscha just wanted to be friends with the nice Blight girl, that I don’t see any reason why I should carry out OUR childhood issues, Mom!

And while that is mature on Boscha’s part at least, I have to wonder if she ever thought about how her being ‘lower’ than Amity in the context of their mothers’ past rivalry. Now that Amity has cut ties, is Boscha going to follow down her mother’s path and become a rival, but this time for actually personal reasons? Or will she just ignore Amity entirely because she doesn’t hate Amity enough to do what her mother wants…!

Similarly, I have to wonder if Amity also knew about their mothers’ rivalry, and how that might’ve affected her relationship with Boscha… Given how remorseful she is of injuring her ‘friend’ back in the Island Championship, was Amity concerned of becoming like her mother, of being caught up in a senseless conflict and rivalry with Boscha? And by forfeiting she stepped down and became the bigger person?

Knowing all of this, it seems more likely that Mrs. Blight was displeased with Amity stepping down as Grudgby Captain, as even if her skill as an athlete over Boscha was still proven, it could’ve been seen as ‘conceding defeat’ in her eyes. And to think Amity risked the wrath of her mother just to avoid being like her, while at the same time perhaps extending some grace to Boscha for trying not to let their parents’ rivalry get in the way of their ‘friendship’…

(Boscha must feel extra betrayed, she ignored their mothers’ rivalry and focused on being Amity’s friend, only to be ‘thrown aside’ for Luz and Willow? Made a fool of again in Grudgby? Dang…)

While Doppelganger Luz isn’t deconfirmed and Dana has expressed enjoyment over the theory, she HAS clarified that Creepy Luz referred to Luz speculating on meeting a ‘hot yet vulnerable upperclassman’ in The First Day! You know, I had concerns that Creepy Luz would just be OUR Luz, but acting a bit unusual (presumably because of how enraged she was at Lilith), but I won’t deny this WAS a surprise, and…? Not sure what to say! Dana didn’t exactly deconfirm the theory, but one of THE major points for evidence is gone…

(Still going to enjoy the Creepy Luz/Lus headcanons and art though!)

More character ages! Eda is in her mid-to-late forties, with Lilith being two years older… That puts her on the same age-gap as Amity and the Blight Twins! Which if the Grudgby pic is any indication, makes sense… I have to wonder if the difference in height is either an animation error, OR Eda and Lilith at least got to live out their glory days and Grudgby AFTER the curse! That Eda still got plenty of fun and beloved memories at Hexside and her dropping out was INDEED more her ideals than the curse itself… Not only is that reassuring, but it also says a lot about where her values stand, being of higher priority than curing the curse itself… And how Lilith just completely misses this and acts like it was the curse that caused her and Eda to become distant, and that curing it will somehow fix their issues completely!

Nevertheless, the implication is that Belos’ reign was only a few years old, not even a full decade, when Lilith was born, shortly followed by Eda! Dang, he made that propaganda work quickly, huh…? Or at the very least Lilith was just one of those ‘suckers’ for that sort of thing, which given her dumbness makes sense! Also, we’ve learned that Willow is 14 like Luz, and Gus is 12…! Baby boy…

(King’s age is unconfirmed and implied to be a mystery, which combined with allusions to learning more about his broken horn and why he wears a collar, imply backstory for him in Season 2! Yes!)

#the owl house #owl house #dana terrace #reddit ama #the owl house boscha #the owl house amity #amity blight #the owl house lilith #lilith clawthorne #creepy luz #analysis #speculation

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

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How I Became the Sea

On a routine fishing trip, Lloyd meets a selkie girl named Colette - and from then on, she was like a secret he wanted to keep all to himself.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Dirk Rating: T Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Day 5: AU / Crossover! I wanted to pair a selkie story to match with this art by @frayed-symphony and also because I have been thinking too much about a selkie au with them.

Lloyd had once dreamed about being adrift at sea.

His body floated just above the waves, the sky a dark and angry red, rain pelting his face and hair. Every time he opened his mouth, sea water rushed through, trying to clog his throat, trying to drown him. He tasted salt on his tongue, felt the tinge of the lightning as it crashed across the clouds. He was lost, and there was nothing he could do.

But in the dream, he felt arms grab hold of him. They kept him in the water still, but he no longer sank. The arms were strong, secured him in their grip. He would be okay, if he just let the waves take him along and ride the storm out.

Dirk had told him that such a dream was an omen.

“Be careful you don’t sink now,” Dirk had warned his son before he set sail, out in the boat he had long promised to make by himself. “Many sailors would postpone their trip after having a vision such as yours.”

“Good thing I’m not like most sailors!” Lloyd had argued, waving away such concerns. “It was only a dream anyway.”

He was not old enough to have weathered the superstitions, to look up at the roiling sky at dawn and make sense of the portents in the water beneath. But maybe, that was just all part of his luck.

The sky had been clear when he set out. He checked the rigging on his small boat, packed away his fishing gear, and then set off. The boat wobbled when he stepped inside, but his hands held onto the edges as he easily seated himself.

He had done this numerous times, the waves lapping at his vessel, the sea so dark if he leaned over to look. Even if he fell overboard, he would simply swim. There was no danger here at all.

He was not usually the only sailor either. Off in the distance, a much larger sea vessel lumbered along the waves, puffing smoke out of its center, acrid and harsh to the lungs if he were to get any closer. Back on shore where the ports were, locals fixed the ropes, took to fishing there instead of bobbing all the while out on the water. No fishermen were too close too his spot, no one except the raucous seagulls, which occasionally tried to nip at his bait box when he opened it.

As he settled his boat on the water, he gathered the net to hang from the side, then went to retrieve his rods before he noticed something odd. He sighed upon realizing. “Did I really forget to put the fishing line on this morning?” He had slept in for a bit…

With that, he went and searched through his packs, hearing the splash of water to his right. The fish must have been lively today, and he was already missing it!

He kept searching through the tight corners of his little boat, but couldn’t find the fishing line anywhere! “I thought I…put it here…” Another search, but he only came upon the same boots, the same pack full of bait. “Where is it…?” Ugh, did I really leave it at home?

A soft voice floated to him, so light that a strong gust of wind could have blown it away. “Is it this?”

He turned. A hand was outstretched, holding the plastic cord gently in its palm, the line wrapped around it as clear as silk.

“Oh, thank you! I was looking for that.” He took the fishing line gratefully. Then stopped. Then thought a moment.

He was out in the middle of the ocean. So, another hand… was kind of weird, wasn’t it?

When he moved to look over the side, he didn’t do it quickly or with loud movements. A hand carefully placed itself over the rim, fingers pressed against the damp wood, the thin lines of a fishing net he had also brought along with him, ready to be cast out into the water.

Sunlight fell over waves, so bright that it blinded him. Salt on his tongue, eyes still peering through the light, he found her there – and felt familiarity.

It’s said that beauty cannot be trusted when it’s from the sea. A wondrous pattern can lure any curious sailor to fall overboard, or a song so piercing the heart can smash a ship to pieces against rocks hidden beneath. But the girl that peeked her face from the waves only blinked, her golden hair unfurling all around her, like the serrated drapes of a strange curtain.

Lloyd leaned forward, just a bit, as his tiny rowboat wobbled, the splashing water taking over sound.

He saw the shape of a fish tail far beneath her in the swirling dark, saw the trails of scales that dotted her shoulders, and the curved fins that poked out from the sides of her head.

There was a name for this, along with a story, and a lesson hidden away… if he could just remember it.

Silence, except for the creaking of the rowboat, moving with the shifting waves, stretched between them. He knew the girl could speak, but she didn’t do it now. She only placed her hands on the side of the boat, looking up at him with a curiosity Lloyd couldn’t help but share. The way she touched the boat looked as if she were about to knock, asking to be let in.

“Hi…” Lloyd finally spoke, still in awe of her. He started at the hair that looked as thin as twine, the sheen of the scales of her tail refracting the sunlight, even when submerged in the deep. Water bobbed up to her chin, and it seemed she was sinking lower and lower, away from him.

“Wait! Um…” Lloyd nearly reached out, stopped when he thought he saw her flinch. “What’s your name?”

The girl stared – the selkie – and the word only floated to his mind through the gruff voice of his father. Old stories told in the quiet evenings, through the crackling of the fireplace that would make him feel so warm that he’d fall asleep, curled up in great arms.

Her hands were near his own, hovering near scratches and dents that were on its side, from years of salt peeling away the paint, from scuffing too close to rocks or piers when Lloyd had first started sailing.

“I’m Lloyd,” he told her, just loud enough for her to hear through the lapping water.

A blink, eyes that matched the shade of the sea when the sun hit it at certain angles in the early morning, and then she spoke.

But she spoke while her mouth was half-submerged in water. “Bluppbb,” was all she said.

“..Huh?” Lloyd started, then smirked, small laughter bubbling from his lips.

The girl only seemed to realize just then what she had done. “Oh!” She rose further up, nearly knocking heads with Lloyd from the motion. “I’m sorry!”

“T-That’s okay!” Lloyd said, and he couldn’t seem to push away the grin on his face. “I just couldn’t catch that.”

The selkie was now half-over the rim of his boat, water trickling from her hair. She was mostly bare except for the scales around herself, like speckled turquoise that was patterned against the skin, falling like rain into the sea below.

But he noticed something else about her – she was smiling too.

“Sorry,” she apologized once more, her tail fin splashing in the water. “My name is Colette.”

It is in those old folktales that his father would tell about the sailors who found selkies, how compelled they were to keep them to themselves.

Lloyd wondered if that was what he was doing, sailing out to the ocean each day to fish, to the exact spot where Colette waited for him.

“Here, I got you something,” he told her one day. It had been routine to always give each other something nearly whenever they met. Once she had given him a polished pearl, its surface so white and luminous, and another time, she had given him a bunch of seaweed she said was good for having with food! With Colette, it was always a surprise.

“Is it another figurine?” she asked him, and he remembered her wide-eyed fascination as he gave her an old carving of a dolphin he had fashioned out of oak. But both the salt and pressure of the water had been too much for it, and she confessed how it had fallen apart in her hands when she swam back down below.

“Hopefully it’s better than that,” he said, and handed her a necklace, its chain colored red, the gem in the middle winking from the sun. “It’s waterproof, so you should be able to take it without it rusting!” And he had heard of jewelry weathering the depths of the ocean, so hopefully this could work as well?

In comparison to the jewel-like scales on her, maybe the necklace looked drab and plain. But still she took it with excitement, fingers already sliding across the chain. “Is this a human invention?”

“Er, I guess so,” Lloyd said with a shrug. “I just made it. You said you liked shiny things, so I tried to make it extra shiny too!”

And maybe that was true of all selkies? Lloyd wasn’t sure, but he was hesitant to ask his dad, or anyone about it. All that mattered was Colette’s happy grin, and how she looked at the gem in the middle that caught her reflection. She even flicked out her tongue to lick at it!

“It tastes funny!” she said, laughing as she did so. “I like it!”

“Well, it’s not meant for eating!” Lloyd corrected. “You just wear it around your neck.”

“Oh.” Colette looked at it again, bobbing up and down the water along with the rowboat. She managed to work the clasps of the chain open, and just when he thought she would put it on, she held the ends of it back to him. “Can you show me how?”

“You already got it halfway,” he said, but took the chains, her hands brushing against his, damp from the sea, yet still so warm.

He knew that people typically turned around to let someone else latch a necklace on them, but Colette wasn’t like most people, so she stayed facing him, watching as he leaned forward to put her new gift on.

He was close enough to catch each individual scale that lined her head fins, see the sharp curve of her teeth as she giggled at the sensation of his fingers over her neck. “It tickles!”

She was the most interesting person to him. “Almost got it,” he finally remembered to say. “And…there!”

Moving back and seeing her in full, he wished he had crafted something better. The gem he had used look dull compared to her, the shape of the pendant too plain against her existence. Yet even so, Colette looked happy.

“Thank you! I still have to give you your gift.” She then reached her hands underneath the water, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she searched… and then leaned back up, a multitude of little mussels cupped in her palms. “Some food for you!”

Of course, Lloyd happily accepted, as he still would be if she just gave him an old tire that had run down from the river and out into the sea. (Which did happen… He figured he could find some use for it).

It would be another trip where he barely caught much, of anything at all, though he could use the mussels Colette had given him as a substitute. Even so, he’d have to come up with a reason to his dad why his fishing trips had been so unsuccessful lately.

He just wanted to keep Colette to himself.

Two months after Lloyd had started seeing Colette, Dirk had once stopped him at the door, the hour so very early.

“The fish don’t bite so much during this season,” his father had told him, working on mending their wooden coffee table – one of the legs had snapped after Noishe had jumped on it. “Sure you should be going out at this time?”

The lie was ready at Lloyd’s tongue, and maybe on other days, he’d feel bad about it. Instead he grinned, winding the net around his fist. “Fall down seven times, get back up eight. I shouldn’t give up yet, right?”

“Hm,” Dirk muttered, but the lie wasn’t called out. And with that, Lloyd hurried out the door. He didn’t take note of the red skies.

He made the same preparations as always, tying up the rigging and securing the oars, bringing along his boxes of bait and fishing lines, and the net that he hooked to the end of his boat. Then he rowed out to sea, past other sailors that were in the distance, moving further and further away until he reached a sort of privacy out in the open water – to where Colette always waited for him.

Except she wasn’t there.

Sometimes she’d be late, apologizing and explaining how she had tripped over a shellfish on the way. Lloyd would ask how someone could trip while they were swimming… and then they’d forget what they were even talking about in the first place, her arms leaning against the boat, playing with his fishing lines as her fingers got tangled in it in intricate patterns, and him watching it all with a smile, once again barely catching any fish at all.

But he waited, and waited, and continued to wait. It was soon past noon. Colette never showed up.

The boat creaked underneath his weight. The net felt rough against his fingers as he still held it on the rim of the boat, its ends barely reaching the waters. Gazing out over the strangely calm waters today, he pulled back the net, moved the oars out of their handles, and headed somewhere new.

Maybe it was curiosity that made him go down a different direction to shore. He passed by other boats, those much bigger and with greater nets at their portside, at the sailors who gave him a quick glance before returning to their work. There was something pulling at him then, something in the skies, only now noting their color.

His father had warned him of omens, but never said that the omen would be for him.

It was like water, clogging his throat.

Colette had not been far.

It had been mid-afternoon when he set out, the sun still bright despite its lurid color. Now it was early evening, the waves crashing more frequently against his boat, pulling at his oars. The wind bit at his bare arms, trying to throw salt in his eyes. He felt coated in grime, felt as if he had been rolled into the ocean, left to marinate until the salt soaked him dry.

It was the shine of her hair that drew her to him.

He found her tangled in fishing nets on the shore, the sky still so red, even in the dark. Red-tinged clouds at night should not have made him so worried. But they did, making him hastily pull his boat to shore, unmindful of any rocks or gravel that could have torn the underside. He leapt from the side, rushing to her, his feet sinking in the sand with each step.

She didn’t have her scales anymore.

“Colette?” he called out. Only silence back, tinged by the red skies. “Colette!”

He caught a sharp glint in his sight; the necklace she still wore, the pendant laying squarely on her chest. And there, tangled around her legs, was a blanket of starlight. He stared at it, trying to make sense of its fabric and shape.

She stirred slightly, her mouth half-buried in the sand.

He had to get the net off her first.

As he got closer, Lloyd was reminded of the poor seals that would get tangled up in such nets, fisherman careless in how they cast it out, too low into the waters where such animals fed in. The lines would be so tough and the struggle so unbearable that it would cut through their skin, staining blood right onto the sand.

He could already see the bruises around her arms, her shoulders, and on her newfound legs that he was sure she didn’t use to have… But at some point, she must have passed out, stopping her struggles to sleep everything away. Lloyd took his small whittling knife that he carried out of sheer habit, and then carefully sliced open the net, one thread at a time.

When she was finally in his arms, she felt light. Still, that strange blanket was over her, but it looked so thin. Surely it wasn’t enough to shield her from the cold.

He felt her move, her hands reaching to grab at his shirt in her sleep. “..Nn…”

“It’s okay! I’m taking you home.” And Lloyd did not know that the words he just said were echoes of those from before, of those who wanted to keep what they found to themselves, clutching that same coat of starlight in their hands.

As he walked further inland, leaving his boat on the shore, the sky stayed red, long into the night.

Dirk had already gone to bed, but even if he was awake, Lloyd would make sure to keep quiet. So, with all the remembered stealth from his adolescence, he opened the back door of the house, which led to a storage room where fishing tools, old furniture, and other supplies were kept. Through that room, he snuck into another stairway that led upstairs, one that was closer to his room, where the floorboards didn’t creak as much.

The selkie girl was shivering in his arms, even as they finally went inside, away from the biting cold of the shore. The strange blanket she had was cradled against her stomach, half of it laying over Lloyd’s arm. It felt soft to the touch, yet still so thin. What was it…?

“Colette,” he called out again, bringing her to his room and stepping around a pot by his door, containing a healthy cast iron plant he had been growing for the past few years. “Can you hear me?”

For a moment, she stirred, seemed to try to say something, before falling quiet again. Through the half-open balcony doors of his room, he saw the red tinge of the dark sky.

He had to get her warmed up, so he tucked Colette into his bed, careful to not irritate her scratched-up wounds on her arms. Even with his sheets, she still shook. So Lloyd acted on instinct and pulled out one of his spare jackets that hung on the bed, draped it around her shoulders like a second set of blankets.

The red of his jacket was brighter, like the red of the clouds that passed by his window. The light from outside shone on that strange fabric Colette had been carrying, dark like a piece of shadow that had been cut, still housing stars within.

He was curious, and as Colette slept more peacefully, Lloyd reached to grasp the star-studded fabric from her hand, which snuck out from the blanket. It really was so soft to the touch, and it had a texture to it that Lloyd couldn’t really place.

He felt like he should know what this was… But it wasn’t coming to him at all.

“It must be a blanket,” he thought aloud, fingers going over it, reflexively folding it up into a neat square to easily carry. Maybe he could just store it somewhere until Colette woke up? Yeah, that would work! And just as he stood up, carrying the fabric in both hands now, nearly almost hidden away in his grip, he heard a creak from his bed, a soft sigh and a familiar gasp of his name.

“Lloyd..?” There was something about hearing her call to him that made him want to smile, already turning to her ecstatically.

“Colette, you’re up!” He grinned, seeing the red shade of the sky paint against her hair as she slowly sat up. “Do you feel okay?”

She was staring at what he held, and then shrunk away against the headboard of his bed. “So…you’ve taken it…”

And it was only then that he realized, the knowledge of it slowly dawning like the slow crack of a weathered bark of a tree, as the tree would fall and fall almost too slowly, until it snapped halfway from its stump, its end crashing harshly against the ground.

Her coat felt so soft in his hands, his thumb and forefinger rubbing against it gently.

Colette smiled at him, but it was not with the abandoned glee that he was used to seeing whenever he rowed out to see her, the kind that showcased sharp teeth, and highlighted the bright scales of her fins. Only now did he notice that those fins, once on both sides of her head, were no longer there, and her mild attempt at a smile showed no sharpness.

“Someone tried to take my coat earlier today,” she said, the blanket sliding down her legs, legs that she moved with awkwardness, hands placed against her knees. “I was swimming by the rocks on the shore, playing with the seal puppies there… when a man on a boat that made a terrible noise came by. He used something to catch me, and it cut at my skin.” Her fingers gripped each other lightly, marks that he had missed painted on there too. “He knew where my coat was… where it ended… and how to grab it from me…”

Lloyd stood within the middle of the room, watching her silently, seeing the night sky catch the glint of the necklace he had made for her. “Did you think it was me?”

Colette raised her head in guilt, opened her mouth part-way, then closed it again. It was only then she seemed to notice the jacket that was hanging off her shoulders, and she reached out one hand to bring it closer. “No. He didn’t have your smell.” Her voice grew quieter, barely heard over the wind outside. “And his hands felt different.”

Lloyd once again looked to the shroud of starry darkness he held, and now saw it as the same shade as the scales that surrounded her tail, that highlighted the fins and made the light in her eyes sparkle. This held Colette in every seam, in the way it draped over his arms as warm as sunshine. It was so hard to not just hold it against his chest and find some place for it to keep, so that he could always go back to it when needed and –

Colette kept looking at his jacket that he put on her with little thought. Her fingers caught the long strips white tassels that trailed from the collar. “You have mine… but you gave me yours?”

Lloyd quickly walked up to the bed and, with a moment that let him linger too long on the coat against his fingertips, placed it on the bed, practically at Colette’s feet. “It’s yours! You should have it back.” I shouldn’t want it. And even though he would never take it from Colette, knowing what it was and its very importance, he winced at his feelings still, at the strange way he had considered it. Too many stories? Or remembering how Colette had smiled at him when he clasped the necklace on her? “I only wanted to bring you here so that you could rest first.”

She still tugged at his jacket, and so the next words fell out of his mouth without him even thinking on it. “You could keep that too, if you wanted!” Had it been too stupid to say? But he kept going, watching how her hair fell around the red leather fabric. “You seemed cold, so I put it on for you.”

Colette gazed at Lloyd wide-eyed, and with his words, she pulled the jacket around her torso, the loose sleeves falling at her sides to lay folded at the mattress. “I do like yours… Is that really okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine!” Once again he looked to the dark, folded up shape on the bed, but stopped himself from touching it. “I can make us some hot chocolate. You want any? And you can stay here until you’re ready to go home.”

She looked to say something else, but then paused. Her hands went from the jacket to the selkie coat that was folded with care. “Home… Um, yeah! I don’t know what chocolate is, but I would like some.”

Lloyd smiled, and the strange feeling from before seemed to wash away from his mind – even if some of it lingered still, watching Colette unfurl the selkie coat like a piece of the night sky. “Heh, I think you’d like it.”

And with Colette still wearing his jacket, legs folded underneath her on the bed, she stayed with him for the night. He helped bandage up her scratches and other wounds, moving aside the jacket to get at the ones near her shoulders. He then taught her how to hold the mug carefully in both hands, but told her it was okay to drop it if she needed to, for the mugs were of polished wood and didn’t break as easily. He also showed her the way to put on his jacket, so that she sat across from him, decked out in the red of his coat. It was still unbuttoned down the front, her necklace plain for him to see.

The hour grew too late, that not even Lloyd could keep his eyes open. He yawned wide, enough to crack his jaw just a bit. “Sorry… You should sleep. I think I should too.” He got up from the chair he had placed next to the bed so they could chat easier. “I can make us breakfast in the morning.”

Colette said nothing at first, seemingly content in looking at him. The silence made him see her again, at the way her selkie features seemed to have vanished, looking just like the girls from town… except, no, her eyes were still different, still that deep blue.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked him, pulling him out of a strange daydream.

“I was just going to be downstairs… I won’t be gone.” He’d have to pull out the couch which was rather old and stiff, and wake up early enough to avoid his father’s suspicions, who already woke up early enough as it was.

“But this is where you usually sleep?” she asked him, tilting her head.

Lloyd scratched at his hair, still half-dusted from the sea breeze. “Yeah? But, it’s yours tonight.”

And then she took his hand, held it between her own, fingertips tracing along his knuckles and thumb. With the way she touched him, it was almost entrancing, like a spell.

Later he would wonder, and later he would brush that away. Already had he been drawn to her, when she splashed in the water, smiling sharp teeth.

“I still remember them grabbing me,” she whispered, sinking into his jacket, comforted in it. “I… would like to not be alone.”

Lloyd’s memories were hazy ever since, just remembering the feel of her hands as she drew him close, the brush of her hair just against his neck. He thought he remembered the rhythm of someone’s breath, something warm and comforting – and then the taste of salt on his lips. But it had been sweet, like taffy, and the arms around him like blankets that kept him safe.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, for when he woke up the next morning that was clear and blue, lying on his bed, Colette had left.

She had taken both his coat and her own.

For the next few weeks, he no longer saw Colette, even as he passed by the same fishing spot they would once gather at each day.

But this time, he no longer worried for her, unlike before. Because sometimes she’d still leave him little gifts; once her own fashioned necklace of seaweed and pearls, floating at the top of the water’s surface. Another time, the curious splash of a baby seal that had pawed at a boat’s side, holding a seashell, carved with unfamiliar runes over its surface. And once, when he had been fishing, (and actually getting his catch), he found a lock of her golden hair on his hook, fashioned curiously like a bow, the shape of it enough to make him laugh.

Even though he missed her, he knew that most likely she would never come to meet face-to-face with him again. He had held her coat without her consent, had thought about keeping it stored somewhere out of reach. He was happy to, at the very least, receive her gifts.

“Suddenly you’ve become a much better fisherman,” Dirk commented as he looked over Lloyd’s catch one day, taking a mackerel to fillet and gut for their dinner. “Found a better spot this time?”

“Not really,” Lloyd said, determined to not lie anymore to him, even if his dad would never know about it. “The fish just come easier now.”

Lloyd started dreaming again of floating out to sea, the skies full of stormy red. He’d dream again of arms holding him close, keeping him safe in the water. He knew he was safe now, that he really had nothing to fear. So he’d open his mouth, and still be able to breathe, something sweet on his lips. He’d look towards the oceans depths and feel a hand hold his own tight, guiding him all the way.

If it was still an omen, he didn’t know what it meant. And should an omen make you feel this comforted anyway?

One day, Lloyd didn’t go on another fishing trip, but instead went out into town to restock on supplies; the tilled soil for the gardens, the kibble for Noishe, the paint for the much bigger ship he was going to build someday and sail out into the world. If he was going to be a sailor, he figured he should start acting like one!

So when he came back home, carrying the supplies from his truck to the garage at home, he didn’t expect to see familiar golden hair at his doorstep, talking to his father.

“He just went out to the city streets, but he shouldn’t be long,” Dirk’s voice traveled to him. Then he saw the shorter man turn to him, his thick beard lifting with a hidden smile. “Ah, there he is. Lloyd! You got company!”

Lloyd was unsure if, perhaps, he was still dreaming.

But he didn’t stay back, instead he walked, then ran to the house, only remembering to stop just before crashing right into her. Noishe was nearby as well, head leaning towards the girl’s hands to get a pet from her.

“Colette?” Lloyd said, too dumb to keep such precious words hidden, his father’s eyes still on him. But he was looking at her, standing on two legs again, dressed in a long skirt, though her feet were bare. Her blouse was loose, matching the afternoon sky, along with the satchel slung over her shoulder. And her hair fell down her shoulders and back like a golden cascade.

No scales, no fins, but it was her, the selkie girl right at his doorstep.

“Lloyd! It’s so good to see you,” she said to him, hands clasped before her. “I hope it’s okay to visit?”

Nothing could stop the stupid grin forming on Lloyd’s face, the light laugh that tumbled from his throat. “Yeah! I just didn’t think… I just hadn’t seen you in a while.”

By this time, his father had decided to give them some privacy, heading back inside through the front door and taking Noishe with him. Lloyd wondered if Dirk knew anything about Colette, but everything about her passed for human, down to the clothes and the smile she showed.

Once they were alone, he had to ask her, remembering only one other time she had appeared this way to him. “Is everything okay? Do you still have your-”

At that, Colette held out a hand, stopping him gently from continuing. But her smile never faltered.

“There’s something I wanted to give you… That’s one reason why I came here. If you don’t mind?”

Lloyd shook his head, and then watched as Colette reached into her satchel, unlatching the front to pull something from within. Something dark and studded with jewels like stars, like scales deep underwater, catching the sunlight.

He already felt it against his palms as Colette handed the coat to him.

“I still have yours. I was wondering if you would like mine as well?” And she giggled as she asked, his necklace glinting against her blouse, the chain still never having rusted.

#tales of symphonia #colloyd #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloydweek2021 #fanfiction #one shot

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pikapeppa · 4 years

Text

Felassan/f!Lavellan: Paint

Chapter 26 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is up!

In which Felassan reveals yet another hobby. 😂 Featuring gorgeous art this week by @elbenherzart!!

~8100 words; read on AO3 instead.

The following days were a buzz of activity for Tamaris and Felassan. Gone was the lazy flow of leisurely-executed activities that had previously characterized their time; now, it almost felt to Tamaris like there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything they wanted to do.

Their morning sparring sessions were becoming longer and more strenuous as Felassan’s grasp of his magic grew. He switching between types of magic now in his attacks, transitioning from fire to lighting to ice to raw Fade strikes while using barriers to repel Tamaris’s blows, and by the time they finished their sparring these days, they were often too fatigued to fuck right afterwards like they’d been doing when his magical control was more modest.

Outside of their sparring sessions, Felassan kept working on his magic by himself. He tinkered with Dorian’s crystals and pored through the few tomes on magic that he’d found in the mansion’s library, as well as a few tomes that Varric had given him from the stock that was salvaged from the Gallows during the Kirkwall Uprising. Dorian was sending a selection of more complex books from Tevinter, and until they arrived, Felassan cheerfully made fun of the Chantry-based books he did have access to, even as he read them.

While Felassan was working on his magic, Tamaris worked on getting herself back up to speed about current events happening in Thedas and what the other branches of the wolf hunt were doing. They sat together in the study, Felassan working at the desk while Tamaris spread her papers and reports across the couch and floor, and they frequently made snarky comments to each other about what they were reading. Although it wasn’t pleasant to be so busy again, Tamaris had to admit that it was nice to have a constant companion who was working just as hard as she.

One day, Tamaris looked up from one of Leliana’s coded letters to find Felassan leaning back against the desk with his arms folded and a pensive frown on his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He met her eye. “That piece of ironwood I gave you. Can I have it?”

Her eyes widened. He’d given her his piece of ironwood so long ago now that she’d been half-wondering if he’d forgotten about it. “Of course,” she said, and she stood from the couch. “What are you — are you going to make a staff with it?”

“I’m going to try,” he said.

“That’s great!” she exclaimed. “That’s – I’ll go get it right now.” She ran upstairs to her bedroom and pulled the short length of ironwood out of her dresser.

It was wrapped in a fine silk scarf Josephine had given her. She carefully unwrapped it, then ran back downstairs and held it out to Felassan.

He smiled faintly as he took it. “Why do I get the impression that you’re more excited about this than I am?”

“It is exciting,” she insisted. “You’re going to… I mean, I don’t really know what you’re going to do, but you’re going to try and make this into a staff! That means you feel pretty confident that you can do it, right?”

“I’m reasonably confident that I won’t blow up the house while trying,” he said wryly.

She frowned. “Come on, Felassan, don’t be so down on yourself. You’ve got so much more control than you did a month ago.” Just this morning, they’d been discussing the possibility that he shouldn’t spar with her anymore out of concern that he might harm her, since his attacks were surpassing the bounds of her barriers to repel him.

“True,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I am close to what I used to be.” He twirled the ironwood in his fingers and gave her a knowing look. “Using magic in this time truly is a matter of control and skill, you know. The feeling of magic being like a second seamless heartbeat really was an artifact of my time. Waking up in this time was like… like having to learn to speak again. Conscious manipulation of a skill I once took for granted.” He gestured at himself. “This relearning is like doing that all over again, but even more difficult since I can’t do what I intend to do.”

“You couldn’t before,” she said emphatically. “Now you can.”

He shrugged. “I can sometimes.”

She frowned more deeply. “Most of the time. You do what you mean to do three-quarters of the time now.”

He smirked. “Have you been keeping a ledger of my progress that I don’t know about?”

“I’m proud of you, okay?” she blurted.

He raised his eyebrows, and she hunched her shoulders defensively. “I’m just… You thought you might not recover anything when you first got here. You’ve come a long way.”

His expression softened with fondness. “I haven’t tried to do anything particularly complex. Certainly nothing as complex as making a staff.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “Just try, and if you can’t do it right away, keep trying. You’ll get it.”

His smile widened. “Look at you, being all optimistic. If not for your scowl, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”

She scoffed and gently shoved his chest. “Go make your staff, you brat. I’ve got reports to read.” She started back toward the couch, but Felassan grabbed her hand before she could get very far.

He pulled her close and stroked the metal joint of her left wrist. “Ise inor vhenan. Do you know what this means?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “‘Heart of fire’?” she said hesitantly.

“‘Fire in the heart,’ yes,” he said. “It’s an Elvhen term for someone who refuses to give up, even when the odds are stacked against them.” He smiled faintly. “Determination to the point of stubbornness.”

“Uh-huh,” she said flatly. “You’re calling me the stubborn one here, I guess?”

His smile widened. “I’m saying you are the fire in my heart, Tamaris. And I appreciate your stubborn reminders that I am, in fact, getting better.”

Her belly burst into giddy butterflies. The fire in my heart...

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a stupid grin from spreading across her face. She gave him a chiding look instead. “Now who’s trying to seduce whom?”

His smile curled with mischief, and he tipped her chin up with a gentle finger. “Not when you have so many fascinating reports to read,” he murmured. He placed a sweet kiss on her lips, and for a blissful moment, she melted helplessly into his kiss.

He leaned away from her with a smile, and Tamaris grinned goofily at him before tottering back to her spot on the couch. Felassan chuckled and returned to his desk, and it was with a light and happy heart that Tamaris returned to her pile of reports.

Their evenings were spent with Varric and Dorian discussing the ways they could use Felassan’s information to benefit the wolf hunt. Tamaris felt that getting in touch with the Grey Wardens’s commanders should be a top priority. “We should be telling them not to kill the last two archdemons, right?” she said one night as they gathered at the dining table with Dorian’s crystal. “They should know the archdemons might be guarding against the Blight, so if anything, the Wardens should be protecting the archdemons from being found by the darkspawn.” Based on the information that Felassan had outlined, they had come to the conclusion that events like the Fifth Blight happened when the darkspawn infected the archdemons, and not that the archdemons were galvanizing the darkspawn into action like everyone seemed to think.

Felassan shrugged. “It probably would be ideal for them to stop attacking the archdemons, yes.”

“But you don’t think they’ll stop,” Varric said.

Felassan smiled faintly. “I think they have several centuries’ worth of evidence that killing archdemons coincides with the end of a Blight event, and no reason to accept the hypothesis of a random elf.”

“Well, we still have to try,” Tamaris retorted.

“I am not saying not to try,” Felassan said. “But I also think it might be worth launching our own independent ventures to find the archdemons.”

Varric grimaced. “That’s a pretty ambitious undertaking, Jester.”

“True,” Felassan said casually. “You could also speak to individual lower-ranking Wardens rather than approaching their commanders.”

Dorian’s voice floated up from the crystal. “Why shouldn’t we try and approach the Warden-Commanders?”

“People in charge are usually disinclined to listen to strange ideas,” Felassan said. “They’re considerably more skeptical than the average person. The more experience they have, the more convinced in their rightness — and the more closed-off — they tend to be.”

Varric chuckled. “Not a fan of authority figures, are you?”

Felassan widened his eyes. “I respect authority figures deeply. That doesn’t mean I listen to them or follow what they say.”

Tamaris snorted with amusement. Felassan smiled at her, then casually waved his hand. “Anyway, we should start looking for stray lower-ranking Wardens. Not only might they be more open-minded, but they could lead us to Weisshaupt, if that’s still where you think the Wardens are gathering.”

Varric scribbled a memo in his notebook. “All right. More efforts to find the Wardens. Any other thoughts?”

Dorian spoke up. “I was thinking about the fact that Solas has so much knowledge at his disposal now, with those two other souls piggybacking on his body. It certainly puts us at a disadvantage, but he’s not the only person we know whose head is stuffed with ancient knowledge.”

Tamaris nodded ruefully; she’d been thinking the same thing. “You mean Morrigan.”

“Yes,” Dorian said. “We should try and get her assistance. There must be information from the Well of Sorrows that can benefit us.”

She ran her hand slowly through her hair. When Dorian spoke again, his voice was gentle, as though he could see her reluctance. “I know you wanted to let her raise Kieran in peace, but if Solas drops the Veil, there will be nowhere safe left for them to live. Or any of us, for that matter.”

“No, I know. You’re right.” Tamaris sighed and lowered her hand. “How should we even go about trying to find her? She doesn’t care about keeping in touch with anyone.”

Varric tapped his quill idly on his notebook. “The Hero of Ferelden would be a good bet. Nightingale said she and Morrigan were close back in the day.”

Tamaris frowned. “That was over ten years ago. And isn’t Mahariel already going off to spy on the qunari?”

“She’d have time to send a letter,” Varric said reasonably.

“I guess,” Tamaris said, somewhat reluctantly. She still felt guilty about the Hero of Ferelden doing so many tasks for the wolf hunt after everything she’d already done for Ferelden, but no one seemed to have any choice about getting pulled into all of this.

“Okay,” Varric said as he took another note. “Get the hero to write to the swamp witch.” He looked up at Felassan and Tamaris. “Any other ideas?”

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about, actually,” Tamaris said. She gave Felassan a critical look. “The Well of Sorrows. The fact that it even existed and that Mythal had warriors who were bound to her will. Don’t you think that’s fucked up?”

He pulled a little face. “It’s not a fate I would ever choose, that’s for certain.”

“So why did she make anyone choose it?” Tamaris demanded. “Why make anyone be bound to her will?”

“Remember that the Sentinel order arose around the time that the Evanuris were all starting to war with each other,” Felassan said. “In retrospect, I wonder if the rising of the Sentinels might have been the first sign that Mythal was worried she would be betrayed. An order of warriors who are bound to your will means they can’t betray you, not even if you die. Allegedly die, that is,” he added.

Tamaris folded her arms. In her opinion, that was no excuse. “What did Solas think of the Sentinels when Mythal started recruiting them?” she asked.

Felassan grimaced again. “He was… conflicted,” he said slowly. “On the one hand, Abelas and the others were willingly giving themselves into Mythal’s will, so technically they were submitting to her by choice. But by submitting to her, they were effectively making themselves her slaves.” Felassan twisted his lips ruefully. “It certainly kept him up at night, even if he didn’t speak against her outright.”

Tamaris relaxed slightly at this. “It didn’t seem to sit right with him when we were there, either.”

Felassan nodded and gave her an appraising look. “You never considered drinking from the Well, did you?”

“I mean, sure, I considered it for a second,” she said. “Until Solas refused point-blank to drink from it. If he was saying no, then I sure as fuck wasn’t going to do it.”

Felassan snorted a laugh. “Wise of you to follow his example. It would be a very different Tamaris sitting before us now if you had drunk from the Vir’Abelasan.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting here at all, if Solas really is hosting Mythal.”

Tamaris frowned, but Dorian filled in his unspoken thoughts. “Fasta vass. You think he would have taken control of Tamaris via Mythal?”

Tamaris’s guts went cold at the thought, and Felassan’s answer only discomfited her more. “It’s possible,” he said.

“So that means Morrigan could be in trouble now, then,” Tamaris said tensely. “And Kieran too.”

“Also possible,” Felassan said.

“Shit. Fuck.” She ran her hands through her hair, then gestured at Varric’s notebook. “Write that down. Trying to find her should be a priority.”

“Fen’Harel won’t kill them, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Felassan said.

Varric gave him a skeptical look. “If he’s willing to bring the Veil down on us, he’s probably not too concerned about killing one woman and her kid.”

“It’s not like that,” Tamaris said. “Solas doesn’t want to kill more people than he has to.”

Varric looked at her in surprise, and Dorian sounded surprised as well when he replied. “That almost sounded like you’re defending him.”

“She’s not defending him,” Felassan said. “She’s just explaining him.”

She looked up to find Felassan smiling at her. But instead of smiling back, she frowned. “Can you explain something to me? Why did he trust her?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Who, Morrigan?”

She gave him a chiding look. “No. Mythal. She was so fucking shady. The dwarf stuff, the Well of Sorrows stuff, hiding her dragon without telling him so he thought she was dead, not to mention how smug and bitchy she was when I met her, and all the shitty things Morrigan said about being raised by her. How could Solas have trusted her?”

His smile began to melt into that look of anachronistic melancholy that made Tamaris’s heart twist. “I don’t know if it is possible to explain the strength of the ties that exist between them,” he said quietly. “Can any of us even imagine the depth of love that could develop between two beings who have known each other for several thousand years? Solas knew Mythal since he was barely more than a wisp. She was one of the main sources of pride that fed and fostered him before he became an elf. She shaped him in ways that none of us can fully understand. Even if he later realized that some of her proudest achievements were terrible mistakes, the depth of his devotion to her would have made him incapable of seeing her as truly flawed.”

Dorian hummed an acknowledgement. “Love is blind, hm?”

Varric grunted. “It’s a literary cliché for a reason.”

“It really is,” Felassan said. His tone was jocular, but his smile was wry and sad.

Tamaris reached over and squeezed his thigh. Then Varric snapped his fingers. “Hey, that reminds me. I was thinking about the whole Mythal-hiding-her-dragon thing the other day, and I thought, uh… well, what if Mythal’s dragon really is dead?”

Felassan straightened in his chair. “Interesting. Then how do you propose that she survived?”

Varric put his quill down. “Well, Hawke had this amulet that Flemeth told her to take to the Dalish. She took it to our friend Merrill’s clan, and Merrill did some kind of ritual, and Flemeth popped out of the amulet like… like, uh…”

“Like magic?” Dorian suggested wryly.

Varric laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Obviously.”

Dorian chuckled, but to Tamaris’s surprise, Felassan just stared at Varric without laughing.

“Felassan, what’s wrong?” she asked.

He continued to stare at Varric. “Why didn’t you mention this the other day when I was talking about the dragons?”

Varric shrugged. “I didn’t think of it then.”

“I wish you had,” Felassan said. “That changes everything. If Mythal’s dragon truly was killed, but she had another piece of her life essence stored in an amulet…” He trailed off, then snorted a sudden little laugh. “Amulets are far easier to hide than dragons, you know.”

Varric shrugged and picked up his quill. “I mean, I could be wrong. You can read The Tale of the Champion yourself and see what you think.”

“You should read it, actually,” Tamaris piped in. “There’s more detail in there about Merrill and her eluvian, too.” She turned to Varric. “It’s the same eluvian that gave the Hero of Ferelden the blight, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what Daisy said,” Varric replied.

Felassan looked at him sharply. “What do you mean, an eluvian gave the Hero of Ferelden the blight?” he said sharply.

Varric tilted his head in an equivocal gesture. “Well, maybe it didn’t directly give Mahariel the blight, especially if only living stuff can have the blight. But it was definitely involved, from what Daisy told us.” He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, eluvians aren’t alive, are they?”

“No, they’re… they’re not alive,” Felassan said numbly. He kept staring at Varric in a stunned sort of way that made Tamaris nervous.

She tapped his thigh. “Felassan, are you–?”

He suddenly burst out laughing — a distinctly hysterical-sounding laugh. Tamaris shifted closer to him and held out her hand, and he grabbed it as he dragged in a breath.

She squeezed his fingers. “Just breathe,” she said soothingly.

He nodded, then burst out another uncontrolled laugh. “Just when I think I have a grasp on this time, I realize something enormously significant that I missed,” he wheezed.

“What do you think you missed?” Dorian asked.

Felassan giggled before dragging in another calming breath. “An eluvian that’s steeped somehow in the blight makes me think there is a specific place that it was keyed to access. A place that was so catastrophically affected by the blight that the eluvians connected to it might be growing red lyrium.”

Tamaris’s eyes widened. “Arlathan?” she breathed.

Felassan nodded and chuckled, and Tamaris sighed. “Fuck. So we should try and get Merrill somewhere safe too, then.”

Varric sighed. “I hate to tell you this, but I haven’t heard from Daisy in a while.”

Tamaris’s stomach went cold once more. “You think she’s working with Solas?”

Varric twisted his lips sadly. “She’d have good reason to, if he sweet-talked her with stories about the ancient elves.”

Felassan sighed. “That’s good.”

Tamaris frowned at him, affronted. “It’s good? What do you mean, it’s good? One more ally for Solas means one less for us!”

Felassan gave her a chiding look. “It would also mean that an eluvian leading straight to the Black City is under Solas’s control and not, for example, Tevinter’s. Neither is… ideal, but having that eluvian in Tevinter hands is probably worse.” He cocked his head. “Probably.”

“That hurts my feelings slightly,” Dorian said.

Felassan chuckled, then sighed and rubbed his forehead, and Tamaris studied him with a pang of sympathy. He looked so tired.

She squeezed his hand once more. He gave her a little smile, then squeezed her hand in turn before kicking his feet up on the table. “In any case, I know what’s next on my reading list.” He shot Varric a smirk. “Maybe you should just give me an annotated bibliography of your work so I can catch up on everything I need to know about the last twenty years.”

Varric huffed in amusement. “I guess I could get you a copy of all my works. I am just a humble servant to my loyal readers, after all.”

Felassan smiled at him. “A sweet sentiment. That reminds me, how is your most loyal reader?”

Varric rolled his eyes. “Cassandra’s fine. Yes, I wrote her a smut scene. And no, you can’t read it.”

Dorian burst out laughing while Felassan complained playfully about not being allowed to read Varric’s smut, and Tamaris listened to the three of them faux-bickering with a bittersweet feeling in her chest.

Later that evening, long after Dorian ended the call and Varric had gone home, Tamaris trudged gloomily back to the study to read some more reports. A minute later, Felassan sidled into the study as well.

He pushed some of her papers aside to sit down beside her, and Tamaris poked him in the arm. “Hey, don’t touch my mess. I have a system.”

He draped his arm over the back of the couch. “You’re not really going to continue working now, are you?”

She scratched her ear. “Well, I — there was one last report I was in the middle of reading, so I just want to finish it.”

“Finish it tomorrow,” he said.

She gave him a chiding look. “You’re being a brat.”

“And you’re working far too hard for someone who doesn’t actually have anything to do.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Do you have to rub it in? I feel guilty enough already.”

He tilted his head. “You feel guilty staying in this house with me while my magic is too uncontrolled to travel?”

Her eyes widened in dismay. “Wha– no, that’s not what I mean at all!”

“Then why bother feeling guilty?” he asked.

She gazed at him in exasperation. “It’s — I can’t just turn it off, okay? Everyone else is working hard, including you. I need to do something.”

He shrugged. “You can help me with making my staff.”

Her irritation melted into surprise. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said. “You have full control of your magic. It will form a stabilizing influence to help me channel mine into the ironwood.”

She smiled at the thought of helping Felassan with something magical, then wilted slightly. “Are you sure you don’t want Dorian’s help instead? His mana reserves are way stronger than mine.”

Felassan smirked. “Jealous, are you?”

“No, for once,” she said snarkily. “Just being practical.”

His smile widened. “So you admit that you are jealous of my friendship with Dorian.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her half-read report. “Fuck off and let me read my report, will you?”

He chuckled and plucked the papers from her hand. “To answer your question, no. I don’t want his help. Even if he could help via the sending crystal, which he can’t, I would still be asking for your help instead.”

“And why’s that?” she grumbled.

“Because I’ll enjoy feeling the hum of your magic in my fingers when I use the staff,” he replied.

She looked at him with fresh curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll leave a magical signature in the wood if you help me make my staff,” he explained. “It will be an enjoyable feeling when I’m blowing apart our enemies.”

“Oh,” she said dumbly. His tone was casual, but she couldn’t help but feel oddly flattered that he would want to feel her magical signature during a fight.

She shyly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, um. Sure, I’d be happy to help.”

“Excellent,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll let you know when I need your hands.”

She blinked in confusion. “Oh, you – you don’t want to do this now?”

“Oh, no,” he said casually. “My experimentation today proved that I need more time to practice the spells for imbuing our signatures into the wood, not to mention tailoring it to the size-modulating spell I’ll be putting on the staff.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Besides, we’re not working anymore tonight.”

“We’re not, huh?” she said wryly.

“No,” Felassan said. “We’re going to do something fun.”

His tone and the curl of his lips were mischievous, and Tamaris smirked. “Like what?” she said drolly.

His answer surprised her, though. “Like painting the walls.”

She wilted. “You want to start painting the walls? Now?” She eyed the plain washed walls of the study with some resignation.

“Not those walls, and not that kind of paint,” he said. “Come.” He stood up and held out his hand.

Tamaris sighed and allowed him to pull her up from the couch. He led her to the foyer and jerked his thumb at the east-facing wall of the foyer, which they’d painted a deep peacock blue. “This bores me,” he said. “I think we should paint a mural.”

She balked slightly. “A mural?” Her mind instantly went to the murals Solas had painted on the walls of the rotunda: those huge, floor-to-ceiling works that he’d painted during the year he’d spent by her side — beautiful masterpieces that she’d once considered as tributes to his love for her, but which had later been too painful for her to look at, leading her to avoid the rotunda altogether.

Felassan, as usual, picked up on her thoughts. He gave her a knowing look. “Not a mural like Fen’Harel’s. Something much simpler and much less planned.”

Tamaris gave him a cautious look. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing in particular, really,” he said. He looked at the wall and thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I usually just start painting and see where my hands take me.”

She gazed at him with growing confusion. “W-wait. You… do you know how to paint?”

He shrugged. “I have been known to paint sometimes.”

She gaped at him. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe I didn’t want to be made fun of for having yet another hobby.”

She gently punched his arm. “Don’t be stupid! I would never make fun of you for being an artist! Would I have seen anything you painted? In the Vir Dirthara or any ancient temples or anything?” Her eyes widened. “Or — or even at Skyhold?”

He gave her a mischievous grin. “You flatter me by suggesting anything I paint would be worthy of such illustrious locations.”

She eyed him shrewdly. “That's not an answer.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. And you might have seen some of my work, though it would be hard to tell it apart from the work of others.”

“What do you mean?”

He let out a little huff of laughter and rubbed his mouth, as though he was thinking of a private joke. “Did you ever see quick, messy paintings of elven warriors going to battle on halla?”

“Yes, in many places,” she said. She paused, then double-taked at him. “Wait, those were by you?”

“Not just me,” Felassan said. “Fen’Harel’s rebels had a tendency to leave our mark in the places where we foiled our foes.”

Tamaris stared at him, then smiled. “You vandalized the Evanuris’s property while you were freeing their slaves?”

Felassan grinned. “I like to think we improved their decor, much like you and I are doing in this house. Now let’s see how we can improve this wall, why don’t we?” He started opening the pails of paint, then glanced up at Tamaris. “Can you bring some bowls so we can mix the colours?”

“Sure,” she said. She hurried to the kitchen and came back a minute later to find that Felassan had already laid some dropcloths on the floor along the base of the wall.

He gestured to the floor. “Set them here. You don’t mind ruining those bowls with paint, do you?”

“I don’t give a single fuck about these bowls,” she said.

He snickered. “I figured as much.” He poured together some red and yellow paint to make a deep orange shade, then looked up at her as he stirred the paint. “What colours are you in the mood for?”

She blinked in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” he said drolly. “What colours do you want to start with?”

She recoiled. “What? No. I’m not — I’ll just watch.”

He paused in his stirring. “That won’t do. You have to paint.”

She laughed at his bossy tone. “No I don’t. I’ll just watch.” She sat on the carpet and wrapped her arms around her knees, perfectly willing to watch Felassan the way she used to watch Solas during the long nights when he painted his murals.

Felassan gave her a chiding look, then gestured for her to come closer. “Come, avise. Paint with me. You’ll like it.”

She stubbornly shook her head. “I don’t know how to paint.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think I knew how to paint before I started vandalizing the Evanuris’s walls?”

“I thought you were ‘improving their decor’, not vandalizing,” Tamaris retorted.

He grinned. “Silly me. Of course that’s what we were doing. Now come, I need your help to improve this wall. What colours do you want to add?”

She gave him a knowing look. “If I touch that wall, I’m going to fuck it up.”

“Anything you do will be an improvement over the wallpaper that was here before,” he said.

She snorted a laugh. “You know what, that’s true.”

He raised his eyebrows hopefully, and Tamaris finally gave in with a sigh. “Fine. How about…” She paused and gazed idly into his expectant violet eyes.

“Purple,” she said. “Mix me up some purple paint.”

“Purple it is,” he said. He mixed together some red and blue paint and added some white to lighten the shade, then held out the bowl.

She stood up and took the bowl. “I need a brush.”

“Use your fingers,” he said.

She recoiled slightly. This would make an enormous mess if she painted with her hands. “Are you serious?”

“I never joke about vandalism,” he said. “I take it very seriously.”

He was grinning. His eyes were dancing with mischief and he looked so carefree and young, and Tamaris couldn’t help but smile in response to his joy.

She blew out a breath. “All right, but if it looks really bad, we’re painting over it.” She dipped her fingers in the thick paint, then smeared some of it on the wall.

She immediately regretted what she’d done. The paint began to run in slow drips, and Tamaris was forced to catch it with her fingers and smear it even more. Exasperated, she started rubbing the paint haphazardly onto the wall until it was a blobby patch of purple.

She threw Felassan an I-told-you-so look. “See? It looks like shit.”

He shook his head. “Keep going,” he said. He was still smiling, and Tamaris gazed at him with rising annoyance.

“Keep going with what?” she demanded. “It’s an ugly smudge.”

“You had something in mind when you started painting,” he said. “Keep going with it.” He picked up the bowl of orange paint, then padded over to the other end of the wall and began dashing the paint onto the wall in quick practiced strokes that clearly told her he’d done this a thousand times.

She sighed, then dipped her fingers in the paint again and kept slapping it haphazardly onto the wall in a series of vaguely rounded irregularly-sized blobs. A few minutes later, she set the bowl down and wiped her hand on the dropcloth before looking over at what Felassan was doing.

Her eyebrows jumped up. Felassan was painting a series of what looked like stylized orange teardrops that varied in size and shape, but the shifting shades of orange and red and yellow were clearly meant to signify fire.

She narrowed her eyes. The shifting colours in his painted flamedrops represented such a subtle blend. How was he managing to make the colours meld so seamlessly? He was holding the bowl of orange paint, but the buckets of yellow and red were sitting on the floor a good two metres away from him.

She stepped away from the wall, and Felassan looked over at her. His gaze darted to the wall, and he smiled. “Clouds,” he said.

She grunted and rolled her eyes. “Really original, I know.”

He gave her a chiding look. “A wise woman once said you shouldn’t be so down on yourself.” He approached her end of the wall and examined her purple smudgy clouds for a second, then dipped his fingers into his bowl of orange paint and added a dash of orange to the underside of each cloud.

Tamaris raised her eyebrows. The orange underline gave the impression that each blobby cloud was lit from below by the setting sun. It was exactly what she’d been thinking of when she started to paint: sitting on the roof with Felassan while the fading light of day lit the clouds aglow from beneath.

She looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows. “Better? Worse?” He smiled faintly. “Did I ruin your artistic vision?”

She swallowed hard, feeling oddly emotional by his addition. She shook her head. “You un-ruined it,” she said gruffly.

His smile widened. “Oh good. I’d always dearly hoped to un-ruin something during the course of my life.”

She scoffed, then nodded her chin at his drops of flame. “What are you doing over there?”

“Sketching,” he said. “Working out an idea.” He nodded at her clouds. “Keep going. Or paint something else.”

She nodded, but as Felassan returned to his side of the wall with his bowl of orange paint, she couldn’t help but watch him instead. He continued painting drops of flame on the wall, then eventually put the orange paint aside and picked up the bucket of green paint instead. He set the bucket on the floor by his feet and started scrawling green shapes on the wall that looked like stylized leaves, and Tamaris was once again awed — and bemused — by how seamlessly he seemed to be blending the orange of the flames into the green of the leaves.

She watched him with unabashed interest, her own painting endeavours forgotten in favour of watching Felassan instead. He eventually paused and smiled at her. “If you’re going to stare, this really is your chance to paint a picture. The paints are open and everything.”

She smiled at his cheeky remark. “I’d honestly rather watch,” she said. “I want to see what you come up with.”

He gave her a reproving look, and she waved dismissively. “I mean it. I’ll have more fun watching you than I will with actually painting.”

He frowned at her for a moment longer, then finally shrugged. “All right, but you’re going to start off the next mural. I insist on it.”

She wilted slightly. “The next one?”

He nodded. “We need to cover every wall of this house with filthy knife-ear art.”

Tamaris burst out a laugh. “That would be pretty good revenge for how aggressively Orlesian this house was before we got here.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” he said complacently. “I have always enjoyed exacting petty revenge through the use of paint.”

She beamed at him. “You really are a vandal, you know that?”

He bowed politely to her. “Thank you, Tamaris. That warms my heart.”

She chuckled and settled on the carpet once more. She hadn’t been self-deprecating when she’d told Felassan she wanted to watch him instead of doing the painting. She’d always enjoyed watching artists working on their craft — and one of the artists she’d most enjoyed watching, unfortunately, was Solas.

She’d never seen an artist who worked the way Solas did. Watching him transform the rotunda walls from raw rock to smooth plaster to charcoal sketches and finally to fully-rendered murals had been, in her eyes, its own form of magic. Solas’s careful stepwise method had also been something to marvel at; he always started with a lovingly-crafted small-scale sketch of each design before translating the sketch to the walls in perfect proportion, and the actual painting of the mural was an all-night process that exemplified his focus and methodical devotion to the art. During those all-night painting sessions, Solas was intent and focused and almost completely silent, and Tamaris couldn’t remember a single time when he’d faltered or made a mistake in the execution of his spectacular works.

Watching Felassan paint, on the other hand... truly, it was nothing like watching Solas. Felassan hadn’t planned a thing, opting instead to experiment directly on the walls with his fingers instead of the sorts of fine brushes that Solas used to use. His movements were loose and relaxed and lacking in precision, and he kept jumping between the different elements of the scene he was creating: adding a bunch of those green leaf shapes, then adding some more flames, then swiping a streak of gold in a bold vertical arch through the cluster of flames before starting to add some violet clouds to his end of the mural. He hummed to himself as he worked and made little playful comments to her over his shoulder, and when the occasional drop of paint rolled slowly down the wall from his quick and messy application, he simply blended it back into the wall or painted over it with a new leaf or flame.

She stared shamelessly at Felassan’s emerging work. His application method appeared slapdash and careless, but the effect was anything but; his work was striking and bold, and to Tamaris’s eye, very appealing. The lines varied from dark saturated lines to graceful faded streaks, giving his mural a dynamic and energetic feel that was more emotion than story, and Tamaris felt energized in turn as she watched him moving from one end of the wall to the other and back.

The longer he worked, the less he spoke and the more focused he seemed to become, even as his movements remained loose and flowing. He looked incredibly graceful as he moved across the wall, and he was using both hands now to paint, and–

Wait. Both hands? she thought. And with a jolt, she realized that Felassan was no longer holding a bowl of paint in his hand. Even so, the colours continued to flow from his fingers as though he had dipped his fingers into the paint. But how…?

She narrowed her eyes and watched him more carefully. And eventually, with a rising of wonder, she realized what he was doing. He kept gesturing in the direction of the paints and twisting his wrists as though he was dipping his hands into the paints, and the amount of paint in the buckets and the bowls was actually decreasing in accordance with the movements of his hands.

It’s magic, she thought in amazement. He’s using magic to pull the paint to his hands and to blend the colours. Her heart was pounding now with excitement at his exquisitely controlled magical feat, but she continued to watch him in silence, unwilling to disturb his flow by commenting on what he was doing.

He flicked his wrist at the bucket of gold paint, then dragged his fingers in a long horizontal line from the center of the vertical arch and back toward Tamaris’s end of the wall, and Tamaris finally recognized the shape that dominated most of the mural: a stylized bow and arrow, with a background of flames toward the front of the bow that blended into leaves toward the end. Enthralled by his design and by the magical way he was executing it, she wrapped her arms loosely around her knees and continued to watch as he added a silvery-white bowstring, then a purple-silvery arrowhead and purple-and-red fletching to the arrow.

He stood back briefly to study the design before going over the golden bow and arrow again with a smattering of brown, making the bow and arrow look like a combination of wood and gold.

He paused again and idly scratched the back of his neck, and Tamaris watched with a swelling of affection as he smeared some paint on his neck.

He turned to face her then. “Look at me?” he said.

She lifted her eyes to his face, and her breath stalled in her chest; his beautiful amethyst eyes were bright with focus. He studied her face intently for a long second, then nodded and turned back to the wall. He flicked his wrist at the paints, then started painting over the leaves again with a slightly lighter shade of green that blended into a darker green at the edges.

When he finished re-painting the leaves, he stood back once more and folded his arms as he surveyed his work, and Tamaris stared shamelessly at his handsome profile as he studied the wall. He carelessly flicked his wrist at the paint buckets, then flicked his fingers at the wall, and Tamaris watched as a fine blend of white and bright blue droplets appeared in misty-looking streaks near the upper edge of the bow — a fine blend that would have required painstaking care to paint by hand, but which Felassan’s magic had rendered quick and doable. His magic, which he was clearly gaining better control over with every passing day…

Her heart throbbed again with an undeniable surge of pride. Felassan continued to flick streaks and curls of fine blue-and-white droplets across the mural, and Tamaris eventually realized that the streaks and curls looked like smoke, which made sense given the omnipresent stylized fire that dominated much of the right-hand side of the mural.

He stepped away from the wall one more time to examine his work, then finally nodded in satisfaction. He turned to face her with a smile. “So? What do you think?”

“I love it. It’s beautiful,” she said. Then she immediately regretted her inane compliment. It sounded so paltry compared to the way her heart was pounding in her chest, as though it wanted to escape the confines of her ribcage and leap into his open hands.

He sat beside her with a satisfied sigh. “I’m glad you like it. It’s us, after all.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

He gestured at the wall. “It’s us. A slow arrow dancing with flames. And a little bit of deep mushroom smoke, of course.” He smirked, then gently lifted her chin and studied her face. “I’m not convinced that I captured the shade of your eyes right, though.”

“My eyes?” she said stupidly.

“Yes, your eyes,” he said vaguely. He was still carefully examining her face. “Those green shapes on the left half of the wall.”

Those are my eyes? she thought. The green shapes he’d painted, then painstakingly repainted a second time to adjust their shade: those were meant to represent her eyes?

He chuckled and lowered his hand. “Tell me the truth. You thought they were leaves, didn’t you?”

She stared wordlessly at him, overwhelmed by the perfection of this moment — the perfection of him. Her body was still buzzing with energy from watching him paint, and her heart was humming besottedly from the careful way he’d inspected the verdancy of her eyes. The memory of his loose and joyful movements danced across her mind as surely as his paint-slathered hands had danced across the wall, and gods, the laughter in his voice and in his smile…

Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was shocked he couldn’t hear it. She swallowed hard and gazed at the mural once more — this mural that was them, that was her and Felassan together: a slow arrow dancing in flames, splashed boldly across the wall of this house for everyone to see. As Tamaris studied the bold jewel tones of the freshly-painted wall, it dawned on her that she had never seen any mural more beautiful than the one Felassan had just rendered with his magic and his own two hands.

Tamaris tore her gaze away from the mural and met his bright violet eyes. “I love you,” she said.

A slow and brilliant smile lit his entire face, like a bursting of joy that rendered him even more painfully handsome than he already was. Tamaris stared gormlessly at him, her throat thickening with emotion as she took in the tenderness in his face.

He cradled her neck in his palm. “I know, Tamaris,” he murmured.

Her heart squeezed with nerves. She swallowed hard, then smacked his chest. “You know? What do you mean, you know?”

His smile grew wider and softer at once. “I know you love me. I don’t need to hear you say it.”

Feeling slightly stung, she scoffed and tried to push him away. “You’re so fucking smug.”

He pulled her easily into his lap. “I don’t need to hear you say it, but I have been waiting for you to say it first.”

“Why?” she complained. “Why did I have to say it first?”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if I said it first,” he replied.

She darted him a cautious look. If he said it first? So that meant — did that mean…?

She cleared her throat and rubbed at the dent on her metal arm. “So… say it back, meaning…?”

He chuckled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It means that I love you too, felasil’ain. But I think you already knew that.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she gazed silently into his glittering amethyst eyes. As usual, Felassan was right. He’d been right when he said that empty words couldn’t wipe her bitterness away. And now, in this moment, he was right when he said that mere words of love weren’t necessary. Just because he’d never said he loved her didn’t mean she didn’t know — and if she dug beneath the surface of her own stubborn insecurity, she could openly admit that she’d known all along.

She knew Felassan loved her; of course she knew, because it was infused into his every act. He made foods that he knew she would like and concocted herbal remedies for her withdrawal and her pain. He offered her massages and pulled her out of her terrible moods with his terrible jokes. He kissed her like there was nothing else he would rather do, and he fucked her like he was trying to wring every last shiver of pleasure from her body, and he was patient — almost unfathomably patient. He listened while she talked about Solas, and he’d tolerated the torture of their heated trysts until she was ready to have sex again, and he’d waited quietly while she held back the words of love that seemed to consume her more with every passing day.

No longer would she be consumed by those words. No longer would she be held hostage by them — especially not when his feelings for her were so patently obvious.

She straddled him and cradled his paint-stained neck in her palms. “I love you,” she said huskily. “I — you’re right, okay? I wanted to say it for weeks but I felt — I don’t know, shy or something. I was being stupid.”

He squeezed her waist soothingly. “You were not being stupid. And there’s no need to explain. I told you, I don’t need you to say it.”

“Well, I need to say it,” she retorted. “And you deserve to hear it, okay? I fucking love you.”

He grinned at her, then broke into laughter. “How is it possible for someone to be affectionate and rude at once?”

She tsked and smacked his chest. “Shut the fuck up,” she said, and she kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her tongue with his, and Tamaris happily capitulated to the heat of his kiss. When he broke away from her lips to laugh, she was helpless to do anything but laugh in turn.

They sat twined together on the floor, kissing and laughing and making fun of each other in husky murmured voices, and Tamaris basked shamelessly in the ample evidence of Felassan’s love. His lips pulled gently at hers and his hands moved carefully over her body, and there on the wall, looming benevolently over them in bright and brilliant strokes of colour, was the most visible sign of his love: a mural rendered by Felassan’s bare hands — a mural showing his slow arrow dancing fearlessly and boldly through the fire of her heart.

#felassan #save felassan #felassan romance #felassan/lavellan #felassan x lavellan #the love that grows from violence #pikapeppa writes #elbenherzart

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inanotherheadspace · 3 years

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The Adventures of Team Lune - Chapter Three: The Tale of Two Kitties

Summary: A dragon slayer, a demon slayer, and a god slayer walk into a Guild Hall… and all goes to hell

Pairings: Natsu x Fem OC, Gajeel x Fem OC, Gray x Fem OC, Sting x Fem OC, Laxus x Fem OC, Loke x Fem OC

Word Count: 2,817

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

“How long are we talking about?” Gajeel quipped as Calypso poured the Jasmine tea into two matching mugs.

“Well, I should probably start with how Team Lune was formed-”

“I just wanna know about Astria’s damn cat.”

“That’s the thing, she’s not just Ria’s cat. Opal just likes Ria the best.” Calypso smiled softly to the gruff dragon slayer as she placed his mug in front of him before taking her seat.

“Thank you.” He mumbled before picking up the pale pink mug and blowing on its hot contents. “How’d you join the guild and meet them then?”

“Oh, the wolves set me free after mastering my magic and I just kinda stumbled into the guild hall.” Gajeel almost choked on his tea at her statement.

“Wolves?”

“Yeah, the only way you can learn Moon magic is from this one eternal wolf pack. Like how you, Ria, and Natsu were trained by dragons. Funny enough, because of my training, I also have a good sense of smell and hearing. My nose isn’t as strong as my ears are though.”

“Just like we do,” Gajeel mumbled, more so to himself than to anyone else. The plumette across from him simply nodded before taking a sip of her tea. “How’d you end up with the wolves?” Calypso’s eyes dropped to her hands as she began to play with her fingers.

“I don’t know much more than what Leto told me. Apparently, my mother was killed, there was a battle, maybe even a war – all I know is that our home was destroyed. My mother was a student of the wolves when she was a kid, so she left me with them while she fought.”

“Leto, is that your wolf?”

“Hmm, in a sense yes. She’s the pack leader. I have the same loyalty to her and my pack as you dragon slayers have to your respective dragons.” After a momentary pause to drink more tea, the mage continued. “Ria came to the guild with Natsu, and May was found outside the Guild’s doors as a newborn. For the longest time, Ria stuck to Natsu and May was oddly drawn to Mystogan. Both were very shy – all of us were as kids. I became friends with Cana, the two of us would go on the jobs Master approved of. The three of us never really became close until Mystogan left on an S-Class quest. Master demanded that May stay back, that was a dark day. This strong kid that I always looked up to just, broke.” Gajeel kept his eyes on Calypso as her eyebrows drawn together as she focused on the cup in her hands.

“Master eventually got tired of May’s attitude and moodiness. He decided to take Ria away from Natsu and me away from Cana. Without telling any of us, he sent us out individually to the same job. We all left mere hours apart no less, none of us caught on until we all showed up at the same door for the requested meeting time. It was a simple job – just to find a lost item. Gramps figured we could find it easy. Between mine and Ria’s tracking skills and May’s all-around bossiness – it was done by nightfall. We’ve been together ever since.”

“Thats nice and all, but I only want to know about the cat.” Gajeel grumbled before finishing his tea.

“A good story is informative and well rounded. It’s a form of art and in this house, you’ll respect it.” She quipped back; her eyes flicked up to meet his in a demanding stare down.

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” He matched her intense glare as the words left his lips. A sinister smirk spread across Calypso's face, sending a slight shiver down the Iron Dragon Slayer’s spine.

“Well, for starters, you wouldn’t ever make it out of this house. What happens after that – probably a few broken ribs, lots of chains, and maybe a whip.” She broke eye contact with him as an almost undetectable trace of blush speckled her face. Gajeel’s trained eyes picked up on it quickly, before a faint blush appeared on his own face after her words sunk in. The slight silence became unbearable for Calypso, her hands began to fidget with her mug once more.

“We got Opal as a reward from a quest. It was weird – they gave us this light pink egg with silver and black sparkles and swirls on it. None of us had any clue what to do with it. When we got back to the guild, we found out Natsu and Lisanna had found one in the forest as well. Ria, May and I joined them in the woods to hatch the eggs. Well, whenever May was actually around the five of us kept the two eggs warm – that was really Natsu’s specialty.” As Calypso spoke and reminisced, a smile stayed on her lips. A small laugh escaped her as she thought more on the story before continuing.

“I was no help at all, and the others realized that pretty quickly. They put me in charge of gathering firewood and food. I mostly just avoided the place; they were holed up in the same woods my wolves are usually in too. So, I just hung around them more than anything. After about two weeks, Happy and Opal’s eggs hatched. They’ve been with us and a part of the guild since.”

Before either of them could get another word in, the front door opened, and three voices could be heard. Calypso’s face lit up as her friends had arrived home, her tea and Gajeel completely forgotten. Gajeel looked past the plumette and out the kitchen window, the sky was pitch black.

“I didn’t realize it was this late, I'll head out.” His gruff voice brought Calypso’s attention back to him.

“Huh?” She asked before whipping around and looking out the window. Pieces of plum-colored locks fell from her bun, framing her face as she turned back to face him. “Sorry about that, I rambled on for too long. I’ll probably have to cook for the others, do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Depends on what you’re cooking,” Gajeel said as he got up from the table, Calypso followed suit and walked behind him towards the front door. Opal was resting in Astria’s arms as the three of them chatted in the living room.

“Hey Gajeel!” Astria called out with a wave.

“Thanks for holding down the fort, Gajeel.” Natsu offered a small grin, as he turned to Calypso. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Noodles and chicken thighs.” Calypso offered a shrug in response.

“I’ll see you four at the guild.” He turned to Calypso and gave he a gentle pat on the head. “See you later brat.” Gajeel headed out the door as Calypso’s face turned bright red.

“Wait, so you aren’t staying?” The plumette looked offended for a swift second, before her composure regained.

“Nah, I forgot I was going to train tonight since the weathers gonna be alright, since it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.” Gajeel grinned before slipping out the door and past Natsu. “Did you two have a date? Are we interrupting?” Astria pouted momentarily, before the mocking tone dripped through her second question. “He likes herrr!” Happy’s snarky comment broke the short pause. “It was nothing like that!” Calypso paused before biting back at her friend, “Did you and Natsu go on a date?” This caused the light blue haired dragon slayer to blush just as heavily as Calypso was. Astria waved her hands in the air as a way to dismiss Calypso’s question. “Hey! We were training!” The pink haired dragon slayer crossed his arms over his chest before huffing. “Aye Sir! We were training really hard Calypso!” Happy shouted along. “No yelling in the house! Indoor voices!” Opal folded her arms, before snuggling against Astria’s leg. “Lucy stopped us from training anymore for the night.” “I see, did you guys do that much damage?” “No... Not really...” Astria mumbled, patting Opal on the head softly. Opal offered a small smile in return before simply nodded, “It was some hefty damage, but it was a remote forest.” “Yeah, that sounds like you two. Dinner will be ready in half an hour, go wash up, you all smell disgusting.” Calypso offered a small grin, suppressing the disappointment that she wouldn’t have her company tonight.

◊◊◊◊

The guild hall was filled with noise, booze and the heavenly scent of food – even at 8 in the morning. Astria, and Calypso sat at a table closer to the bar, all still with sleep in their eyes.

“Do you think I can grab a drink with breakfast?” Calypso asked her teammate.

“Calypso Lunar. No!” Astria scolded the oldest member as Gray and Loke took up seats at their table.

“May still hasn’t come back and I’m worried. I need something to take the edge off. What about a splash of something in my coffee? That should be fine right?”

“Okay Cana.” Gray teased the plumette, causing Astria to choke on her water.

“Hey man, leave my Caly alone.” Loke said as he threw his arm around her shoulder. “Both her and Cana are hot and have huge boobs, if they wanna drink this early in the morning we shouldn’t stop them. Why you ask? Because us hot blooded men benefit from it in the long run. Especially since they both tend to strip when they drink a lot.”

“If you’re so worried about May, why don’t you just go look for her?” Gray asked the two mages. The two women in question just shared a look and nodded once before turning back to him.

“She’s seemed stressed since she’s come back from her mission. We want to give her some breathing room and not harass her about it. She’ll tell us when she’s ready too” Astria sighed before turning away from the guys and letting her eyes wonder around the guild hall.

“That makes sense at least. How long has she been gone?” The slight worry in the ice mages voice caught Calypso and Loke’s attention. Both had a devious smile cross their lips and a dark look tinted their features.

“Awwww is ice boy worried about my May?”

“I think he is Caly. He’s worried about a hot young woman who’s kicked his ass time and time again. What’s the score now Gray? 132 to 0?” Loke added on, poking fun at his tsundere of a friend. Gray scoffed at the two before leaning back and crossing his arms. Before he could give his own witty remark back, the guild hall doors opened. A cross-breeze of wind carried the familiar scent to the Dragon Slayer’s nose.

“Hey Caly, May’s back.” Astria pointed out as she kept her eyes on their short blonde friend. Caly’s head whipped around and saw her make her way over to them. “She looks unharmed which is good.”

“Her stomach just rumbled; I'll flag Mira down.” Calypso added as she waved over to the white-haired barmaid.

“Hey guys, what can I get you?” Mira asked in her usual joy-filled tone.

“Two breakfast specials, a thing of smoked salmon, and three extra strong coffees. Can you put something in one of them for me?” Calypso ordered easily, with her being the oldest of the three she always took care of the others.

“Of course! I’ll be back with the drinks soon.” She walked back to her spot behind the bar as May finally arrived at the table.

“Hey...” The blonde spoke softly before taking the empty seat next to Calypso and across from Opal. Before the other two could speak, May pulled out two flyers from her pocket and showed them to her teammates. “The two of you should join the Miss Fairy Tail pageant. You guys have a better chance of taking home the gold if there's more than one of youse.”

“Jason’s a judge so I’m guaranteed top three.” Calypso said as she looked over the paper she snatched from May.

“Didn’t he judge last year too, and Mira still won?” Gray snipped to get back at her from earlier. Loke and Calypso stared daggers at the ice mage.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s ugly and unlovable, while you’re sexy and powerful. Which to be fair, is the best combo in a woman.” Loke complimented Calypso as her face continued to darken.

“I’ll skin you both alive if either of you continue to speak.”

“And on that note, I’ll be leaving.” Loke took his leave from the table, leaving Calypso’s death glare to Gray.

“All I have to do is whistle, and I can have a pack of wolves maul you to death.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I know. You need a new threat Calypso; you’ve used that one too many times already.” As Gray spoke, Mira silently placed the drinks on the table for the three women and scurried away. She valued her life too much to get between the bickering mages.

“Probably as much as you take your clothes off.” Astria added as she shoved the ice mage away from her in a playful manner.

“As the leader of Team Lune, I need you all to behave while we’re at the guild.” Opal said sarcastically. “Yes, I’m so sorry, oh great master Opal.” May said as the three mages bowed to the light pink feline.

“What the actual fuck is your team?” Gray asked with scrunched eyebrows. In a split second, May was behind Gray as her palms were placed on both of his ears, applying a light pressure as she looked to her friends. “Speak like that again and I’ll blow you up so badly they’ll be piecing you back together for weeks.” Gray hunched back a bit at her words, before sighing. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” he let out with a huff.

“And we’ll feed your body parts to my wolves.” Calypso added with a smug smile.

“Do you not feed them? Isn’t that animal cruelty?”

“I do feed them, they just like people meat. And they like it fresh too.”

“You need psychological help.”

“Everyone in this guild does.” Astria added to as she was looking over Mays shoulder at her pink haired best friend.

“Open your mouth again and see what happens ice stripper.” May threatened once more.

“I’ll be taking my leave now too.” Gray sighed as he pushed the chair back and left the table. Mira made her way back to the table with breakfast as May took Gray’s seat.

“Enjoy Ladies!” Mira called as she turned and headed back.

“So, to confirm – you two are joining the pageant and we’re going on this job.” May stated as she cut into her food.

“Job?” Calypso and Astria asked in unison.

“Oh yeah I forgot to explain that since ice box interrupted us. It’s a simple one for 100,000 jewels. We just need to capture a bandit, so it’ll take us what, an hour at most? Easy money.” May explained as Calypso downed her alcoholic coffee.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. When do we leave?”

“Give me two hours to drink a bit more and nap.” Calypso stated as she let out a yawn.

“You can nap on the train.” Opal spoke softly as she snacked on her salmon.

“This is why you’re in charge!” The three mages said in unison to the cat.

“Does it have to be a train though? Can’t we fly?” Astria asked with sadness in her voice.

“Opal can’t carry all three of us Ria.” May stated softly as she picked at her breakfast. The four sat in silence for a few seconds before Calypso spoke up.

“I’m gonna go threaten Gajeel. Do we think I can convince him to let me braid his hair?” Calypso asked as she stood up from the table.

“Maybe if you challenge him to something and use it as your prize.” Astria pitched to the plum haired mage.

“Say less.” Calypso sauntered over to where Cana, Gajeel and Juvia were seated and sat next to her best friend.

“So, uhhh. May I'm not going on a train so you’re on your own. I love you!” Astria said as she skipped out off with Opal following behind.

“Well then, I see how it is.” May spoke to no one before letting out a sigh. She silently continued to eat her meal before heading out on her now solo job. As she continued to pick at her food, she looked over to her friends – Caly was shoving a beer in Gajeel’s hand with a smile on her face. While Ria was happily sitting across from Natsu and Happy with Opal in her lap. The four of them were laughing happily as May sat by herself. They really would be okay without me, May thought to herself with another silent sigh.

#fairy tail #fairy tail fandom #fairy tail fanfiction #natsu dragneel #gajeel redfox #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #laxus dreyar #erza scarlet #Natsu x oc #Natsu x Reader #Gajeel x oc #Gajeel x reader #gray x reader #gray x oc

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juminly · 4 years

Text

Sugar & Spice

Matchup story written for @nafeary. ❤

Context: From the moment you walked through that door, you made yourself at home (at an incredible pace). Some of the residents were more than pleased to have someone new in the mansion, someone that could stir things up a bit and make things a bit livelier. And others (mostly Mozart, Jean and Isaac) wondered why they would even hope to disrupt the semblance of peace that they have.

You were surrounded by geniuses of all the arts and you were definitely going to take advantage of that. You took the time to spend time with each one of the residents or they would even invite you to spend time with them. Mozart told you about his music and would let you listen while he composed (after you made him understand that you would not leave him alone cause this is an opportunity of a lifetime that you wouldn’t miss), history and warfare from Napoleon, physics from Isaac and the list goes on and on.

One of the residents that seemed to be irritated by your presence was Theodorus. Or at least, that’s what you thought. He always had snarky comments, stating his opinion even when he wasn’t asked. It only seemed that you argued all the time.

[The few times that he’s called you “Hondje”, the punches he got from you were enough to make him stop. You were not all bark, you would bite too (he loved that but never admitted it)]

But that wasn’t the truth. You could call it “intellectual tension”. You were constantly engaged in debates without you noticing it. Theodorus had a wealth of knowledge when it came to the arts, appraising assets and had a keen eye for talent and genius.

He saw something in you and sometimes deep inside him actually believed that he didn’t really have anything to teach you and he somehow had to prove himself.

The day that brought you closer together was a very very weird idea from Sebastian. This man suddenly comes up with things and everyone has to go along with him because he always puts it under the guise of “this was advised by Monsieur le Comte”. He had prepared a cooking lesson where he taught you how to make the most delicious pancakes. Theodorus had a ferocious sweet tooth and if pancakes were involved, he would definitely play nice. And since he was guaranteed a plate stacked with over 8 pancakes, for the first time since you arrived, both of you actually had a nice time together, teasing one another about your techniques and talked about everything and anything that crossed your minds.

From that day and onwards, you would often bond over pancakes (and even go on walks) and he’d be interested to know about the exploits of other artists in the future (and see how he can learn from the information you have to give him).

[he once said: “are you ready for your walk, Hondje?” and you made him regret him by refusing to talk to him until he apologized profusely and in front of all residents for his insolent behaviour]

As an avid lover and fanatic of Shakespeare and English literature in general, almost every single resident in the mansion froze when you mentioned his name. Except for Vincent. He was delighted to take you to see him.

In Theodorus’ mind, Shakespeare was a threat. To his brother and to you (he didn’t necessarily care about you [that’s what he tells himself] but you were the Comte’s guest so all residents had some sort of responsibility to ensure your safety]. He never liked him and he never will. He recognizes his genius but could clearly see, in those dichotomic eyes, an abyss of grief, darkness and sin. The man was starved for his muse and the universe to bless him with inspiration to create more art. And Theodorus didn’t want you to be a victim of that.

[Shakespeare was no threat to you. He was pleased by your fascination with his work and enjoyed your conversations. He noticed the younger Van Gogh’s behaviour and knew for a fact that there would be other individuals who would have a part in your story. He would have to sit this one out and just watch.]

Everytime you and Vincent had a visit to Shakespeare’s place, Theodorus would escort you there and back. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t give a damn but something inside him wanted to interact more with you. He knew that you could possibly open more doors for him. He noticed that you had an eye for things, very perceptive and analytical and your curiosity was your best trait. The more information you get, the better decisions and arguments you can make.

On your way to and from Shakespeare’s place, you and Theodorus would sometimes take detours while Vincent would go buy painting supplies. The younger Van Gogh would take you to art galleries, ask your opinion about other artists’ pieces and as time went by, he started taking you with him when he’d try to negotiate deals for certain venues. You would help him assess the locations, the type of public/audience that surrounded the area and debate on whether it would get the right exposure for Vincent’s art.

The more you both interacted with one another, you discovered that you both might seem like you’re rough around the edges but what drives you the most is your curiosity and your desire to uncover/discover the broad horizons that the world actually had to offer. Theodorus believed in you and knew that you were capable of so much and was so glad that you found yourself in the mansion with all these men, to learn and be who you aspire to be.

After a while, Mozart was so used to your behaviour which was bizarre to him but completely normal to you. You didn’t take it personally cause Mozart thought everyone was weird. Listening to the composer just play, day and night, ethereal music just swimming in the air and coursing through your body. You would close your eyes and enjoy the music, and sometimes, even dance to it.

Theo passed by the room a few times and thought that you were probably out of your mind… Then after a few times, he couldn’t help but sneak into the music room and dance with you. He was surprisingly light on his feet and it said a lot about his upbringing, something that he was not fond of talking about, but you couldn’t blame him for it.

Genuine smile and seemed like he was enjoying himself, he held you up and twirled you around, letting your feet land on his so he could do all the leading and you would just have to enjoy the ride. Dancing together, your laughter was enough to earn you both a good scolding from Mozart, however, you could see the slight quirk in the corner of his lips. He was pleased to see others thoroughly enjoy his music.

Your interactions with Arthur were always interesting. And this man had a thing with harassing you in the hallway, inviting you into his room, leaning in close, wanting to show you all the joy and pleasure a vampire has to offer. It became more of a joke and a type of banter you would engage in with the mystery writer. However, Theo was not aware of that. He happened to pass by one of your interactions one day and didn’t hesitate to growl loudly at Arthur for making a pass at you, even baring his fangs at him. [He was then so embarrassed to know that both of you were just joking around and immediately left with a disgruntled expression. (you definitely saw a pout also!)]

One day, Arthur was feeling very playful and invited you out to hang out with him at the bar. He had a few games in mind and he had a lot to “teach you”. Even with his sneaky attitude, you tagged along with him and had quite an eventful night. Arthur played a few rounds of poker with some other patrons, with you at his side. He gave you tips on how to read people and pointers on how to find their weak points and tells.

When the clock struck 11, Arthur excused himself to the restroom, leaving you surrounded by the other patrons who took it as an opportunity to make a move on you.

And who just happened to enter the bar at the same exact moment? The younger Van Gogh. (Well played, Arthur).

Theo’s eyes almost flashed at the sight of those men, leering so disgustingly over you. In the blink of an eye, he was by your side and glaring daggers at them. “If you value your own life, I suggest you all stay put in your seats. You, come with me.” Unsure on whether he should take you by the hand or not, he stepped aside and gestured for you to join him with his hand.

One of the men did the grave mistake of trying to reach for you and you could almost swear you heard Theodorus threaten to cut both his hands off if he dared to touch you.

Once you made it to the table, you saw how flustered the man was and the crease between his eyebrows was so deep. It wasn’t a look that suited him but it obviously amused you to see him in a state like this (in a situation that has nothing to do with his brother).

Theo: Why on earth are you here at this godforsaken hour? Toni: Theo… you need to relax.

Theo: Easy for you to say, Hond… Toni. Do you even realize what those men were planning to do to you? Toni: It doesn’t really matter what they were planning to do. I wasn’t going to let them do anything to me anyway. You know me. Plus, I’m not even here on my own. Arthur was with me. Theo: *his frown only got worse and he covered his face with his hands, rubbing hard* That son of a… Toni: *you leaned closer to him, rubbing your thumb between his brow* As much as I like seeing you like this, this expression doesn’t suit your smug (and stupidly) handsome face. Theo: *he scoffed and a crooked smile appear on his face* Handsome, huh? Toni: Oh, shut your mouth. It’s not like you weren’t really aware of that.

Theo: *exhales and shakes his head* Arthur got me good.

Toni: Huh? Theo: He knows that I believe you’re a masterpiece… I can see it in your eyes. You’re so strong, so fierce… *he gently takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm* Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious… *he keeps talking and it almost seems like he’s pouting, his cheeks tinted in the most adorable shade of pink* You’re a treasure that I’ve come across…You’ve become so precious to me and… I can’t let you go. *he pressed a soft kiss on your lips* I don’t want to.

You told him from the very start that you were asexual. Theodore was not shy to ask you any questions about what that meant and to learn more about you. If anything, It taught him to look at things in a different way, especially in how he expressed his love to you.

When you became lovers, you discovered that he has trouble sleeping and barely manages to get a few hours a day. He worries too much about his brother, about the future of his art and whether he’s actually capable of getting people to truly recognize his work. Apparently, he spends all night just reading books and occasionally drinking. But, not for long!

You would force the tall boy in bed and force him into a death-grip cuddle so that he can’t distract himself with anything else but focusing on laying by your side, your warmth and your voice. You would hammer the truth into him, lay it on thick and you knew for a fact that he would do the same for you. You would tell him all the things he needed to hear and know, tell him where he should try to grow and also know when and how to let go. No sugar-coating and no poetry or romancing involved in it. Both of you kept things real all the time which is something that you adored about one another.

If you touch the ridges of his ear, he’ll get awfully ticklish and call you a “monster’ and you couldn’t help but grin at that and say “I’m your little monster”.

That was enough to make this grown-ass man all blushy and mumble something along the lines of “Don’t be so full of yourself”.

His weakness is whenever you actually make him feel like he belongs to you and you belong to him.

As a token of his love for you, Theo came up with an interesting idea and wanted both of you to share something that reminded you of one another. He gifted you a pair of amethyst earrings (your horoscope gemstone) but there was a catch. One earring for you and the other for him. So you both went to get your ears pierced in the same place and wore it with pride.

He acknowledges the fact that you have your limits and boundaries and he fully respects them. Relationships are all about giving and taking.

He vowed to you that he would not take blood from another and only drink Blanc and Rouge. He cannot fathom the idea of drinking from another human but you. It went without saying that, only if you were willing and actually wanted to, he would gladly drink your blood. From which part of your body? He didn’t give a damn, even if it were from the tip of your finger, he would be satisfied to know the taste of the blood that courses through your vein, the taste of the life in you. As a vampire, he can’t help his instincts in wanting to consume the blood of his beloved.

He gets a bit flustered if he gets hard and usually just jerks himself to get it out of the way. He also enjoys it when you talk to him while he’s pleasuring himself, reminding him how much you love him (Nothing makes him happier than when he hears those words from you, even if they make him blush) and whenever you feel like giving him a hand, he’ll never actively ask for it though.

Theo did the stupid mistake of teasingly asking you for a kiss and smirking at you. He’d expect you to get on the tip of your toes and try to reach for his lips. What he didn’t expect was for you to punch him in the gut and grab his face and kiss him while he was hunched over. Smug bastard got what he deserved but he was pained and happy nonetheless.

Arthur can’t help but chuckle whenever he sees how Theodorus looks at you or acts around you. He’d tease him and say that you’ve tamed the wolf and turned him into a mutt.

And you’d simply reply back by saying “Maybe it was just meant to be” and didn’t that just draw a shit-eating grin on your boyfriend’s face (he stopped calling you Hondje a long time ago).

Places he kisses to show you affection: your wrists and temples.

Bonus:

Dazai would always use the following nicknames “curious little thing” and “curious little creature” just to tease you.

But your boyfriend was having none of that. Theo was not taking any of that and the writer’s intentions were more than clear to him. He’d sneer at him with “This little creature is mine. Make sure to remember that.”

It’s as if Theodorus knew, that if he didn’t approach you in time… Dazai would be the one to snatch you since he’s your runner-up suitor. ;)

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp Theo #ikevamp Theodore #ikevamp #ikemen series #otome #matchup #i hope you like it <3 #theodore van gogh #submission

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butterbeeryuta · 4 years

Text

chapter 2: shit colour schemes, bugs, and vegetables

This place looked nothing like hell. The moment we landed, we were placed in one luxurious apartment with a private pool and shit. How is this hell?

Purple-horn lady cleared her throat as she clasped her hands together. ‘Welcome to Hell 127. As you can see, you have a rather gorgeous apartment here, and is probably a very different image of what you thought hell was meant to look like. But that is only because humans are stupid. Keep yourselves warm and welcome, and ya’ll can call me later if you need any help, yeah?’. We all nodded at her, wanting her to leave as soon as possible. If it was not obvious enough, we wanted to have a magical vacation here in Hell 127. Imagine all the films I can watch forever, or even maybe paint forever— this is just simply amazing and irreplaceable. What she said made sense though. Maybe we are dumb because of what we perceive hell to be. From an early age, we learn that hell is a place for ‘bad people’ regardless of what your religion was. Of course, there was no possible way for living individuals to know how hell actually looks like, but damn are we brainwashed. In a matter of a second, the purple woman disappeared, and it was just us 13 embarrassed breathing-yet-not-breathing corpses.

‘Is it only me, or I really want to jump in that pool’ the girl with midnight blue hair asked. We all looked at her direction, not expecting the sudden voice to speak out. My eyes followed where she was looking, and I must say, the pool looked inviting. The clear water had pink and purple led lights shining on the edges; it was a whole disco party in a form of a pool. I love hell.

‘Didn’t you die from jumping in a pool and drowning for your Instagram feed?’ A rather deep female voice questioned.

BITCH YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT I—

The boy with caramel hair snorted at the girl’s comment, whereas Mark’s laugh filled all of our ears. I had this sudden urge to comfort the attacked girl, but I also wanted to high-five the other person for such bravery? Huh… no wonder I’m in hell. I’m just as mean as kpop stans on Twitter. Poor attacked pretty girl tightened her lips immediately, almost as if she was stopping herself from throwing an insult back. Or maybe she was just at loss of words. If it wasn’t obvious enough, I am absolutely terrible at reading people. And to think I wanted to be a psychologist. Considering we were technically going to live with each other for eternity, I had this sudden need to diffuse the tension, and being the natural leader I am since I was an art teacher for fuck’s sake—

‘Are you feeling ashamed that we all know how you died?’ A man with dark red hair asked. My thoughts were immediately cut short when he began to speak… and now I want to choke him for interrupting me. Perhaps I have a temper problem. Perhaps. The girl nodded a ‘yes’ at him, which only made the man give her a small smile. He had a pretty smile, I’ll admit that. But that gives me more of a reason for wanting to kill him. Though, there is probably no use in doing so since we are all dead anyway and well, we’re all in hell.

‘Well, don’t feel bad. My name is Yuta, and we all had embarrassing deaths. There isn’t a need to feel ashamed or upset sweetheart—‘

‘Oh cut the crap Yuta, stop flirting with people. I’m Johnny by the way. If you think he’s a therapist or something, no he isn’t.’ A 6’0” man interrupted him, which only made the so-called Yuta glare at the tall guy.

‘Ya’ll know each other?’ I asked, which for some reason caused Mark to nudge me. I raised my left eyebrow at him, giving him a ‘what the fuck’ look, but I probably should have guessed it: the bitch actually died from embarrassment, of course he’d be nervous talking to anyone.

‘Uh, yeah. Yuta is a drug dealer, and I was his personal accountant. We died together from stupidly running away from the cops and ran straight into a wall and well… a wall killed us’ Johnny said, scratching the back of his head, clearly not proud of his death. If I thought Mark’s laughter couldn’t get louder and funnier, it just did. Naturally, everyone laughed along with him, including myself. And just like that, we all got inside, sat on the huge couch, and got to know each other’s names and how we pathetically left Mother Earth. The blue hair woman turned out to be an ‘influencer’ on Instagram based in Korea— Jung Wheein. She claimed that she already knew that influencer wasn’t an appropriate term since she just posts pictures of herself, but it gave her money nonetheless. The girl who exposed her death was Ryujin; she had short dark hair, which only added to her ‘mysteriousness’ if that made sense. She didn’t tell us her story though. All we know is that she was an international student in Germany. The man who was ‘laughing in joy’ while watching his own death was Moon Taeil. His death was probably the least embarrassing compared to all of us since it wasn’t his fault. He was riding a horse and fell off midway and well… you know the rest. The rest of the people were Rosé, Jaemin, Jungwoo, Yuna, Momo, and Donghyuck. I would like to tell you their stories, but I honestly stopped listening. This is completely irrelevant, but that Jungwoo kid has been making heart eyes to everyone and I do not know what to feel about it.

We all eventually decided to call it a day, and because hell is such a magnificent place, we all had our own rooms with our names beautifully written on the door in gold. The first floor was already beautiful itself; a huge L-shaped leather couch with a perfectly carved wooden centre table to give it that home-like touch. The kitchen was huge as well, which made Jaemin squeal in happiness because he apparently liked to cook a lot. The kitchen matched the modern theme in the living room. The greyish marble decorated the room with a touch of dark brown to further amplify the modern vibe. It was like those pictures you see in model houses. The second floor carried out the same aesthetic. The only difference was that there was one corridor with 13 doors all spread out; 6 rooms on the left, and 7 rooms on the right. This was probably the first thing I didn’t like in this paradise-hell. It’s just too narrow and crowded, but who am I to complain. After saying our good night’s to one another, I walked up to the door with my name displayed on it: ‘___________ _____________.’ Taking a deep breath, my cold hand turned the knob.

Second biggest mistake of my life. Or afterlife per se.

What the fucking hell is this?

It was every art teacher’s nightmare. The colours of the room did not match at all, and the chosen textures of the fabrics and cloths made no sense. Who the fuck uses terrycloth, or towel cloth, as bedsheets? Who matches neon green with pale pink? And the paintings that were hanging on the room, they’re incomplete! The only good thing about this room was that I had my own poorly designed bathroom, but other than that, it made me want to go blind. Was everyone’s room like this? I left the room, not wanting to believe that I was assigned to that disastrous room. I knocked on Mark’s door to check since I technically tackled him in the plane. We have a relationship alright.

Nothing.

I knocked again.

Nothing.

Before I could knocked on the third time, I heard a muffled sob through the door. Was he crying?

‘Mark? Can I come in?’ I softly asked, unsure if what I did was the right thing.

‘S-sure, it m-might be scary-y though s-so try not to get f-frightened’ the poor boy stuttered through his tears. Did he find the colour scheme of the bedroom to be that bad? Unsure of what to expect, I slowly opened the door and, it was nothing like my room. The room had a white and yellow colour scheme, with those glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling, resembling a child’s bedroom. Nothing was scary to be honest, until I saw what type of pictures were posted on the cream walls: bugs. Mark was scared of bugs. Mark was sitting on the floor with his knees tucked towards his chest, whereas his tear-stained face was hidden in his arms. As if he was my student, I crouched down next to him as I slowly rubbed his back.

‘Mark, they’re just pictures, they won’t harm you. But if it bothers you so much, should I take them down for you?’ I gently asked as I tried to calm him down. His teary doe eyes locked with mine, and he whispered a mumbled ‘yes’ through his croaked voice. I sighed in response, returning him a nod so he knows that I will take it off. Grabbing a picture by the corner I ripp— okay wow this glue is strong. Grabbing a picture by the corner with both of my hands, I harshly took it of— why isn’t it coming off?

‘Uh Mark, it’s not coming off’ I said, trying my best to pull it out, but it just won’t budge.

‘SOMEONE SWITCH ROOMS WITH ME WHY ARE THERE VEGETABLES ALL OVER THE PLACE THIS IS NOT COOL!’ Donghyuck shouted, which was soon followed by a shut of his door.

What the fuck is happening?

a/n: hehehehe i’m so ready to get to the main story in. bby mark is so precious omg protect him from this world 🥺as always, if you’d like to be added in the taglist, just let me know through asks <3

taglist: @ta3ilmoon @lelenoir @murasakillmepls @neolights @anothermessedupbitch

back to masterlist?

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davidmann95 · 4 years

Note

Obligatory "DC Fandome reactions" question

Anonymous said: DC Fandome?

Anonymous said: so. suicide squad kill the justice league, huh.

jcogginsa said: So, thoughts on Fandome night 1?

In order from what got me least to most hyped (leaving out Milestone, because I didn’t grow up with it other than the great Static show, and I understand the behind-the-scenes stuff with McDuffie’s family is contentious):

Suicide Squad Kills The Justice League

Pros: Trailer’s funny, the “screw you, not only are we doing this dumb thing instead of anything anybody wants, we’re actively pissing in your face about it!” standoffishness is at such a level I honestly respect it, Superman has trunks

Cons: I don’t even care about Evil Superman in the sense of “No, they’re doing it again!” - it’s very clearly a controlled by Brainiac deal and the whole League is going to be along for the ride - but playing it for shock value at this point is laughable in a very different way than the rest of the trailer, I don’t care about a Suicide Squad game in the first place, and over half the women working with Rocksteady collectively reported various types of harassment. No thanks, sorry you pissed away 7 years, better luck next time.

The Flash concept art

Hot damn, the movie Flash costume is no longer a wretched, vomitous, shamelessly criminal monstrosity! And Keaton Batman! Extremely cool! Also remember how Ezra Miller choked a lady on camera all of a few months ago? Like, obviously you can take DC to the mat for any number of things (hell, I just mentioned another one of those reasons), but I don’t want to scold anyone for enjoying individual products of a system as broadly broken as any corporate enterprise of that scale is pretty much inevitably going to be. But they choked a lady on camera a few months ago! We all talked about that! They shouldn’t be here!

Also, obviously sorta pales by comparison, but I don’t like that the multiverse is discussed less as “here’s a cool storytelling opportunity we can do a lot with!” than “Here’s how we can have different versions of our characters at the same time, because we think our audiences are so dribblingly stupid they need that explained to them”. Star Trek ‘09 and Days of Future Past have a lot to answer for for bringing “We need to explain the reboot as we reboot it” out of the realm of comics. Oh, and I know you gotta put the source material over, but “I fell in love with Flash when I read Flashpoint”? No, ma’am, no you did not. That is not something that has ever happened to anyone.

Gotham Knights

That’s an incredibly cool, bold concept, and it’s gonna have to do a lot of heavy lifting because everything else about this looks like absolute ass. Hopefully at the very least the finalized game won’t have damage numbers, and also why is this not an Arkham sequel when the premise directly springs off the concept of the cliffhanger of Arkham Knight, acting as a spiritual followup without actually answering any of the bizarre lingering questions there (especially when Suicide Squad *does* take place in that universe, albeit with a totally different Deadshot)? Why does this lead with ‘you have limited resources now’ and then immediately introduce invisibility and teleportation tech as mechanics? And far more importantly than any of that, why can Robin’s suit best be described as “tactical combat raincoat”?

Black Adam

Yeah I don’t care. I’m sure I’ll watch it but I don’t care. And that’s fine! These certainly don’t need to all be for me. But whatever.

Wonder Woman 1984

This didn’t rev me up in the same way as the previous trailer, but this still looks like an across-the-board improvement from the already quality original and I expect I’ll very much enjoy it.

Against my better instincts, that Snyder Cut trailer

Is black suit Superman still dumb? You betcha. Does Darkseid also look bad? Most definitely, in ways that are hilariously pointed for me having just read The Pact for the first time. Did Snyder act like a total dick on Twitter minutes before the panel?* Yup. And did I have what I can only describe as an utterly childish degree of indignation at the use of a Morrison JLA line (but with gods and Heaven swiped out for demons and Hell, because of course) because my immediate nerd-ass gut reaction was “You don’t deserve to use that!”? Absolutely. But dammit this looks visually magnificent, especially with Flash time-travelling, it’s clearly a substantively different movie in a way that feels like it doesn’t play into the traits he’s weakest at as a creator compared to its predecessors, and it’s still a Justice League movie. I dunno, scratches something in my lizard brain, even if it blows that this + the SS game represents the sum totality of Superman here.

...did he seriously invite a fan organizer on who apparently notoriously called a black guy a monkey in a Twitter argument though? Was that really a thing or some photoshop nonsense? Because I saw someone mention it and apparently a LOT of people immediately asked what she was doing there.

* To be clear, he’s still the good guy in this situation relative to Whedon, Johns, and Berg by all accounts.

5G Batman

I don’t know Ridley’s work for the most part - I’m a cinematic philistine, so I think all I’ve seen/read of his was a decent The Authority OGN and cowriting Starcrossed in Justice League - but I have little doubt he’ll do very well here, and hot damn, Nick Derington art! And hot DAMN, that Ladrönn cover! And a riot to watch everyone go “Look, this is before the formal 5G announcement so we’re not saying it’s Luke Fox, but c’mon”. Definitely grabbing this bad boy.

The Suicide Squad

Ok I actually didn’t watch the behind-the-scenes video, but why would I need to? Saw the cast unveil montage, and yup, it’s got the goods.

The Batman

This is actually gonna get a post all its own, but the long and short of it is that trailer was better than the entire DCEU combined up to this point. And that now includes Birds of Prey and Shazam! I am almost embarrassingly in love with everything here, most viscerally I’ve reacted to a superhero movie trailer in I don’t know how many years.

#DC FanDome #Batman #Suicide Squad #Snyder Cut #DCEU #Worlds of DC #Opinion

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introvertllux · 4 years

Text

Peace in Normalcy: Chapter One

(The chapter is told from Prue’s point of view. Anytime, that you see italicized words, that means Prue is speaking via her internal monologue).

Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Comedy-Drama

Warnings: 18+, depictions of mental health, mental disorders, depression, suicide, and sexual abuse. (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).

*Any depictions of mental health are based on MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. Please do not think I’m making fun or or mocking anyone, again these experiences are based on what I have seen and, or been through myself. Also, I am not intending to romanticize mental health or disorders in anyway. Lastly, If you do decided to read this story I am very thankful and I hope you enjoy it. : )

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Prue's P.O.V

(Picture of Prue)

Friday, September 27, 2019

Isn’t funny how in an instant- and with a snap of your fingers your life can turn completely upside-down. I mean really think about it. One day you’re just doing your average daily routine, completely minding your own business. Then next thing you know, something happens- and incident. Imagine that said incident happens at your job of all places and you end up in a place like this. Who would’ve known, huh? Who would’ve known that one incident, no one mistake could make you end up in the nuthouse? Not, me.

"Prue! Time to go!" I heard a voice yell in the distance from behind me. I ignored the voice as I laid down on the grassy field of the psychiatric hospital’s courtyard.

(Psychiatric Hospital Courtyard)

I kind of like it out here. It brings me peace. I can breathe some fresh air and get away from it all. The meds, the therapist, and the patients. Being out here was as close to freedom as I was going to get for a while. But, to tell you the truth I’ve grown to like this place, the institution as a whole wasn’t so bad, when I really think about. The meds keep me stable, I guess. The therapist actually treats me like a normal human being, and I can relate to the other patients. This place was sort of like a sanctuary for me. For the first time in a long time I feel like I belong. For the first time in my life I actually feel like I fit in. I think I’ve made up my mind. Yeah… I’ve definitely did. I’m never leaving. Never.

The shouting of my name continued as heavy footsteps began to approach me. I sighed softly.

I must have visitors. Well, more like a visitor, most likely my sister, Mallory. She was the only one that has visited me during this whole ordeal.

The footsteps came to a halt as the figure hovered over me, blocking my view of the sun. I wasn't surprised to see a male orderly; they always came to pick up people either for medicine or a visitor.

"You have a visitor. Come on." He said.

I stood up and brushed the tiny pieces of grass off of my pants and followed the male orderly back inside. As I walked, I couldn't help wondering why my sister was visiting me. She normally would visit me every two months on a Saturday. But she visited three weeks ago and today is Friday.

After walking for a couple minutes, I noticed the route we were taking would lead us back to my room. Usually, visitors we not permitted to go to a patient's room unless-

I heard a loud squeal followed by "Prue! Surprise!". I walked around the orderly and stared into my wide-open door. To my slight surprise was my sister, Mallory quickly packing two large black suitcases.

(Picture of Mallory)

Yeah, just as I suspected. She was here to pick me up early. But why?

I stepped into the room as the orderly shut the door behind him. I stared at my sister as she continued to pack my things.

"Um?" I questioned quietly with a slightly raised brow.

"I know. I know what you're thinking. I'm back. Again. But this time I'm back for you. I was able to work something out with the courts. I’ve been going back and forth with them for months. They said they would monitor you and if you showcased good behavior and improvement within your counseling sessions, they would let you out early. Don’t you want to come home?” She said as she continued to pack my things.

I was ordered on a plea deal to stay here for a year, but it's only been nine months. And, I don’t know do I want to go home? Wasn’t I just fine with staying her the rest of my natural born life, just a few minutes ago?

Mallory cleared her throat and spoke after a few moments of silence, "Uh, I guess you would probably want to pack your own things, huh?" She chuckled softly after she paused her actions. "I'm sorry, I just got a little excited you know, my little sister is finally coming home!" She shouted and giggled.

I moved around her and started to finishing packing what was left of my clothes. "You know, I bet you're really excited to get away from all of this." she said waving her hands around the room. "To finally get back to some normalcy." She said.

I paused and flinched slightly at the word normalcy.

Normalcy? Back to normal?

I began to zone out, getting into my own head.

"I'm sorry, did I-did I say something wrong?" She asked as she began to panic.

"No. No, you didn't it's fine." I said a bit dazed. I quickly snapped out of it and continued to hurriedly pack my last article of clothing.

"Are you sure? I- "She said worriedly.

"I said you're fine Mallory. It's fine. I'm fine. We're good." I said as I slammed the top of my suitcase down and zipped it up quickly.

She nodded her head slightly. "Well, if you're all set to go, let’s get going." Mallory said as she grabbed one suitcase and I grabbed the other.

As we exited the room and I looked back slightly at the room I called mine for the last nine months. I then turned my body forward and walked down the hallway, following slowly behind my sister. I look my time walking so that I could get one last look at all the décor and rooms that I sent the last months several months in doing arts and crafts, eating lunch, playing with board games, yoga, participating in group therapy, and individual therapy. As strange as my sister may think this place it, this was my normalcy for nine months and I was about to be pulled from it before I was ready.

A few moments had past and we made to her car. It was a 2019 Volkswagen Beetle. Was it cute. Sure. Practical? Absolutely not. This care had to be one of the tiniest cars to ever exist. There’s barely enough room to fit both of these suitcases. As my sister thought about this “dilemma”, I gently tugged on the passenger, signaling her to unlock it. Seconds later I heard the sound of the car door unlocking followed by two high-pitched beeps. I then proceed to move the car seat forward, I figured I didn’t need that much space considering I was on 5’2. I then eased the large suitcase into the backseat. As soon as I finished, I looked behind me see that Mallory had managed to squeeze the other suitcase into the tiny trunk.

(Mallory’s car)

I then went to sit down in the passenger's seat. I began to position myself to accommodate to the lack of space. Once I got comfortable, I buckled my seatbelt. and buckled up. Mallory then opened the driver's side got in, buckled up and started the drive home.

As we began the journey back home, I contemplated whether or not to look out the window. To be honest looking reminding me of the path I took to get here in the first place. I didn’t want to think about it. I just didn’t want to think at all. I just wanted to shut down for a minute or two. I decided that trying sleep will help me just disappear for a few hours.

I as I began to drift off, Mallory began to play some music. Which I was glad for. For some reason, music has always helped me sleep and get through just about anything ever since I was little.

I woke up to the sound of tapping. I squinted out the car window to see Mallory rapidly tapping on the window. I groaned as I slowly unbuckled my seatbelt and sluggishly began to make my way out of the car.

"We're home! Well, my house. It looks different since the last time you’ve seen it!” She said excitedly. I just blinked slowly trying to process everything that was happening.

“I thought you'd be more comfortable at my house before you go to mom and dad's house. Don't worry about your stuff we can get it later." She said.

She locked the car door and began to shuffle through her key rings to get the key to the front door. The house looked very different from the outside. It had a more modern look, which I wasn't surprised at Mallory is an interior decorator after all and she happens to be very good at her job.

(Mallory and Jahmal’s house)

"Welcome to Casa la Jones." She said dramatically as she flicked the house lights on.

Yeah, remember when I said she happens to be very good at her job? Yeah well, I meant to add she can sometimes be a little too good at her job. It was like Kim Kardashian meets the middle of Massachusetts.

"So, what do you think. It's nice, right?" She said grinning brightly.

"Uh, yeah. It's very nice." I said feeling slightly overwhelmed by grandiose it was.

I looked around the house and noticed that it was quiet, too quiet. Where was Jamal?

I rubbed my tired eyes and yawned as I ask, "So, where is Jamal?"

"Oh, Jamal I told him to go hang out with Leslie and David. You remember them, right? Two of our old friends from college." She said quickly. "I wanted us to have a sister night." She added she walked toward the kitchen.

I followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at one of the barstools.

(Mallory and Jahmal’s kitchen)

"Leslie and David?" I asked as I eyed her. She laughed lightly, "You probably don't remember them, huh?"

No kidding we're ten years apart. If you meet them in college, then that means I was definitely learning how to multiply fractions in the fifth grade.

“You were only like what, nine when I brought them home with me during spring break. But yeah, they became really good friends of ours towards the end of college. Then you know, you eventually went away to college, so you guys never really got to know each other." She said quickly again.

"Anyway, I made your favorite. Chicken Parm." She said as she walked towards the refrigerator.

Chicken Parmesan?! I hate chicken parmesan (and it's actually her favorite). The tomato sauce always gives me extremely bad acid-reflex. My favorite meal is Chicken Alfredo, but I will still eat her meal because she thought about me, sort of.

After Mallory placed our food in the microwave, she leaned over the kitchen island.

"So, I know you normally sleep in the basement when you stay but... it's being occupied at the moment. But good news you can have the guess room. I remolded it as well. You remember where it is right?"

I didn't even bother to question who or what was taking over the basement. I just nodded my head. As we continued to wait, for our food to warm up Mallory began to hum. I began to analyze the new interior of the kitchen. I started to get anxiety looking at all the changes that not only happened to her house but even the growth between her and her friends that came to know as just the people who “needed somewhere to crash for spring break. And now the basement, the room I always stayed in is now preoccupied. When did everything change? I was only gone for nine months; how can things change this much!?

"Prue? Prue? Hello? Are you okay? Speak to me." Mallory said as she made way over to me and grabbed my shoulders.

"I'm fine. I just- I just was thinking about something." I said trying to end the conversation.

Mallory nodded her head and turned her attention to the microwave as it beeped loudly. Mallory began to plate the food and grab glasses. She poured herself some wine.

"So, I only have white wine right now but-." I cut her off and spoke with a tight face, trying to contain myself. "Mallory. I don't drink remember. Frist off, I hate alcohol. Plus, the medication. I'm on medication remember." I said through slightly gritted teeth.

She placed the bottle down on the countertop. "You're right. How could I, forget. I'll get you some, uh water." She said as she turned on the faucet and filled the glass halfway.

Mallory then grabbed the two plates carefully and placed one in front of me and the other at the head of the island. She then went back and grabbed the drinks.

After a few moments of eating, Mallory cleared her throat. "So, Prue. Before you go to mom and dad's house, I just wanted to talk to you about somethings." I ignored her as I continued to pick at my food, trying to avoid as much tomato sauce as possible.

"You know, now that you’re home there's some rules that you have to follow. It was a deal we made in order for the courts to agree to let you out early." She said softly.

I slammed my hands down on the countertop. "Can we not talk about this right now! "I yelled.

"Prue." She said gently trying to rapidly diffuse the situation.

"No, don't Prue me. Nine months! I haven't been home in nine months and all you want to do is remind me that something is wrong with me! Why can't I just come back, eat some food and sleep in a nice warm bed!" I yelled as tears began to form in my eyes.

Mallory looked at me sympathetically. "I-I'm not reminding you or even saying- "She started to say before I interrupted her.

"But you are. The face-expression you're making is the same one you had the day I got sent away, and the same one mom and dad had on too. And you know what, it's the same one they will have on tomorrow. That's exactly why I don't want to go there tomorrow!" I said as I got up from the barstool.

"Prue. Please." Mallory said with her hands up in surrender. "Oh my God!” I screamed as I backed away and spread my arms out wide. “You see! You see! You're still making that face and now- now you have your hands up. Like you’re scared. You think I'm going to do something don't you, that I might try and hurt you! You're calling me crazy and you don't even have to say it!" I yelled as tears began to stream down my face rapidly.

"Prue, I never said you were crazy. I just. I'm just trying to help. If you don't follow these rules, then you have to go back." She said still standing defensively.

I let out an agonizing scream. "Good, great! Then I'll be back where I belong with the crazy people, right?” I said as I gripped the sides of my face tightly.

I then took quickly grabbed my plate of Chicken Parmesan and smashed it onto the floor, "And I hate Chicken Parmesan, it gives me acid-reflex. You should fucking know that by now!" I exhaustedly screamed one last time as I ran up the stairs and slammed the guest room door.

Hours had past and the house remained quiet. The sun had gone down and it was so dark out that the sky had looked pitch black. I looked over at the digital clock in the room and saw the time. The clock read 12:32 AM. I tried to go back to sleep. Normally, it was never easy for me to fall asleep sue to me feeling anxious all the time, but right now the nausea I was feeling due to my acid-reflex acting up only aided in my lack of sleep.

I let out a groan as I held my stomach tightly. I squeezed my eyes shut hoping that the pain would go away or subside in at least the slightest way. Unfortunately, nothing was working. The only other possible solution I could think of was to take a walk. Usually, I take walks to get my mind off of things if music wasn’t an option or if I just needed some fresh air. Before I went to the hospital, I would walk around with my music and let it guide me. But, since that's not an option I guess I will let my feet be my guide this time.

I got up from the soft bed and tied my sneakers. I grabbed my jacket and slipped it around the pink pajamas my sister had left out for me. I stood up too quickly and fell back down. I felt a wave of nausea hit me. I took a deep breath and tried again, this time getting up carefully and slowly.

I walked quietly out of the room closing the door gently. I slowly crept down the hallway and down the staircase. I then slipped passed the kitchen and exited out of the front door careful not to slam the door too hard. I wasn't too worried about the door, since I knew it had an instant lock.

I began walking down the cul-de-sac styled neighborhood. I gripped the sides of my jacket as the cold air made me shiver slightly. I kept stopping to take deep breaths to try and stop my waves nausea that came every couple of minutes. I kept walking for a few minutes until I couldn't take it anymore. I felt too sick. I need to sit down.

I looked around me to see if I could spot somewhere to sit. I decided to sit on the curb in front of a random house. I felt dizzy and my head began to pound. Before I knew it, I had vomited.

"Fuck!" I yelled as some landed on my pajama shirt and jacket. I quickly covered my mouth as I notice my voiced had echoed. I looked around to see if anyone in the neighborhood had heard me. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief as I saw no sign of active neighbors.

"Hello? Whose out there?1" I heard a voice yell.

Damn It.

I began to panic as I saw a house light flick on. I then heard the sound of curtains aggressively sliding open. I still stood there, like a deer in headlights.

"I'm calling the cops!" The older male voice threatened.

I began to run as quickly as I could down the street as I saw more house lights begin to turn on. I started to feel dizzy again and my head was pounding even more. There was nowhere to hide so I decided to sit beside a small shrub on the sidewalk.

What felt like 15 minutes had gone by and I thought for sure I was off the hook until I then heard police sirens in the distance getting closer and closer by the second. I groaned, placing my head in my hands.

The sirens came to a stop. I heard footsteps approach me and the sound of a very familiar voice.

"I've gotten calls from all over the neighborhood, something about a nutcase screaming throughout the neighborhood and waking them up. That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?" The office asked smugly.

I just groaned in pain and annoyance. The officer walked closer to me.

"So, now you've got nothing to say, huh? Typical." He asked as he waved a flashlight on me. I groaned again, not wanting to look up at him.

"Look at me." He said sternly. I dreaded this moment.

I lifted my head up and placed my left arm in front of my face to try and block the bright light radiating from the flashlight,

I then heard laughter, followed by "Oh! Oh! You’re kidding! This must be my lucky day! Prue? Prue- Prudence Walker. Is that really you? They said you were getting out today but never did I think, I'd find you roaming the streets. Less than 12 hours back and you're already losing your shit again, huh?" He said laughing.

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” He said waving the flashlight around.

I groaned again as I began to wrap my arms around my waist, hunching over slightly. "J-just take me back to my sisters' Taylor.

(Picture of Officer Taylor Miller)

"That's Office Miller to you. And why should I? I could just arrest you and have you shipped right back to that psych-ward." He said smirking.

I didn't say anything to him. I just gave him a pleading looking, hoping that he would find some kindness in his black heart to just take me back to my sister's house.

He laughed again and grabbed my arm roughly, he pushed me into the back of the police cruiser and proceeded to drive off. Fifteen minutes had gone by and we arrived in front of my sisters' house. He opened the door and I walked out quickly trying to move past him.

"Not a chance." he said as he gripped my right arm tightly. He dragged me to the front door of the house and immediately proceed to bang loudly on it.

We waited a few seconds, before the door opened widely.

"Prue!" Mallory yelled exasperatedly as her eyes grew wide instantly.

"I found her just roaming the streets. The neighbors called. You've gotten keep an eye on her. I can let her off with a warning this time." He said fakely, pretending to care as he let go of my arm.

"Get inside, please." She said exhaustedly.

As I walked inside, I heard Mallory say, "Thanks Tay, I swear it won't happen again. I owe you one."

I door then slammed shut.

"I-I just can't right now. We will talk in the morning." She said, in a very and disappointed and exhausted tone.

I went straight upstairs and tried to get some sleep trying to avoid thinking about the many conversations that awaited me tomorrow.

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Links to:

Chapter 2

Masterpost

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