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gyubby99 · 10 months

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@disneyanddisneyships screeching crying ripping my hair out

"Vox!" Mal basically yelled out, walking into his studio.

Vox never flinched. It's like she wasn't even there. He had been ignoring her these past few weeks, and Mal never knew what she did wrong.

Vox didn't want to see her face ever again after that night..

"What's going on? You haven't answered my calls, or even talked to me! What happened?" She asks, frustrated for her friend.

"Nothing. Close the door on your way out." Vox replied coldly, not giving her a single glance.

"Nothing?!" Mal argued. "You ignore my entire existence after we've established that we're friends.. for Nothing?!"

"Leave." Vox monotonely stated, still turning back from her.

"No, I'm not leaving until I get a reason out of you." Mal stood her ground, sternly talking to the overlord.

Fuck..

"There's no reason. I want you out." He responded, giving her the good old cold shoulder.

"No." Mal replied. "I'm not going anywhere. Just tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on."

Mal sighed. "We're friends, Vox. For a while now. I'm not stupid. I'd know when something's wrong. Just tell me, Vox! You can trust me!"

Vox slammed his hands on the table, finally looking at her in pure anger. "JUST FUCKING LEAVE, MAL! GET OUT!"

Mal looked up at his tall figure, a desperate look on her face. "Atleast tell me what's making you act this way!"

"There is nothing that's making me act this way! I've always been this way!" Vox yelled back.

"That's not true!" Mal argued back. "You always responded to me whenever I text you! You never ignore me! Hell, you can't even stand one FUCKING second without trying to bother the shit out of me, and now suddenly it's all gone! You weren't always this way!"

"Does it fucking matter?! I'm fine!" Vox wanted her out of the studio, but she wouldn't even bulge.

Then that look.

Her eyes. Her goddamn eyes.

Why did it shine that much? Even when he's making her leave..

If he wanted her to leave.. then why couldn't he stop looking at her eyes since the moment he turned around to face her?

There was one answer.

"You're not fine, Vox! Tell me what's fucking wrong!" Mal yelled at him. But it was more of a plea than it is an arguement.

Vox couldn't stand it anymore.

"This!" Vox gestured to her. "That fucking look on your face whenever I see you!"

"What do you mean by that?!" Mal asked, confusion and anger visible on her face.

"You're weakening me!" Vox yelled out to her face, making her flinch as well as hearing his words.

Mal stopped, and so did he.

"How am I weakening you?!" She never understood it.

"I can't stand feeling this- this thing whenever I look at you! That fucking look on your face makes me feel so.. goddamn weak! I can't be like this, Mal! I.. this is a problem!" Vox ranted, and if only he had a hair on his tv head, he would've been gripping the life out of it.

Mal blinked. "Well that's not my damn problem, is it?"

"I don't fucking know! All I know is that I- .." Vox couldn't seem to get the words out.

"You what?" Mal asked, wanting him to continue the sentence.

Vox didn't respond.

"You what, Vox!?--"

"I LOVE YOU!" Vox yelled out, static in his voice and the studio lights flickering because of his overwhelming emotions.

Mal stayed silent, taking the words in.

Vox.. loves me?

Is this a joke?

"I love you.." Vox said in a calmer tone. "And love is a strong word. It's also a dangerous weapon. As an overlord.. I had to obtain my rank without love in my heart. I'm merciless. Evil. Apathetic. A fucking mess if you ask my honest opinion. I thought if I ignored you these feelings would disappear, but I still fucking want you. Fuck.. I don't know. All I know is that you make me feel so weak.. and I despise it."

Mal took all of this in, understanding the point of view of someone who loved power more than himself, and someone who fell apart because of love.

She too did that, and here she was, with a certain overlord in her mind.

"I love you too." Mal found herself saying.

Vox perked his head up. "What?"

"I love you too, Vox." Mal repeated herself. "Though I'm pretty sure you heard me the first time."

Vox froze, dumbfounded.

"I know you're scared to love again. I know how valuable power and control is to you.. but.. who's to say I'll hold you back from still having that? Vox, if you decided to destroy all of hell, I'll stand by you. If you wanted to control everyone, I'll still be here. If you wanted to burn this place of suffering and damnation, just tell me and I'd light the matches myself. I don't want to change you, Vox. I just want to love you." Mal ranted, declaring her heart and soul to him.

"You don't want this. I'm a fucking mess." Vox shook his head.

"You're the mess I want. I don't care what Val said about you. You've already proved him wrong to me. Sure, you may be a douche sometimes but hey, atleast you make up for it by playing videos on your head." Mal said the last part in a joking manner.

"Hey!" Vox started to be more at ease, even chuckling at her statement, in which she giggled.

"In all seriousness.. I don't care about your rank, or how much of a mess you are. Only if you do the same thing for a sinner like me. You once cared before you wound up here.. maybe you could do that one more time?" Mal smiled softly at him.

Vox smiled, in a soft expression only she had the privelege to see. "Maybe trying this again wouldn't hurt.."

Mal smiled widely, before making an attempt to hug him. Vox, a bit hesitant and afraid, recoiled back.

Mal laughed akwardly, before stepping away from him. How could she have been so stupid? Her and Vox never touched each other physically for two reasons. For one, he might electrocute her out of panic, and two, he swore to keep his guard up, letting her in, but not close enough to the point where he would long for her touch. He didn't want to trust again.

But now..

Maybe.. just maybe..

It wouldn't hurt this time.

"I guess.. not touching is kind of our thing." Mal sheepishly giggled, looking away from him with her cheeks red.

Vox hesitated for a bit.

Fuck it.

Suddenly, a hand reached for her cheek, making her look at Vox, who took guts to do it.

Mal couldn't react, for the overlord had immediately pressed his lips against hers.

She had been shocked, not literally, but she was surprised about the sudden act. Never had she been kissed this gently before.. something that wasn't a rough kiss to silence her. Not a kiss that told her all she was good for was in the bedroom.

It was just.. a kiss.

Something that told her he loved her.

Mal closed her eyes, beginning to kiss him back as she hesitated to hold onto him. She knew how he felt about being touched.

But then, she was forced to hold onto him when he had suddenly pulled her closer by the waist. The entire studio lights glowed, a warm kind of light emitting from it.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, until Vox pulled away.

"Look, I'm sorry for being an ass." Vox began to apologize, which was not his thing. Part of the reason why he thought she weakened him.

Mal giggled. "Maybe I could forgive you.."

Vox raised his eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Yep. I have certain standards." She sassed, tapping her finger onto his tv screen.

"Is that a challenge?" Vox smirked.

"Maybe. I wanna know how far the overlord Vox would go for my forgiveness." Mal smirked as well, winking at him.

Vox chuckled. "God, I love you."

"Mhm. You better." Mal giggled, before pulling away from his grasp. "Tomorrow. 7:30pm. Lu Lu World."

Vox grinned. He knew how much she loved theme parks. "Deal."

Mal laughed. "Alright, big guy. I'll see you there." She stated, before making her way to the door. "Love you!" She closed the door.

Vox was left in the studio, lovestruck. Dumbfounded. His screen glitching as it said:

"Vox.exe has stopped working. Needs a firefly sinner rescue.

(Preferably a kiss if the name's Mal)"

~~~~~

"Alastor and I are dating!" Aponi announced to Mal as soon as she sat on the couch and asked about the big dumb grin on the butterfly demon's face.

"..WHAT?!" Mal shouted, eyes wide as the moon.

Just as Vox kissed me..

Hoo, boy!

#staticfly #mallory #oc x canon #my ocs #aponi wings

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ironwoman359 · 7 months

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A Thief's Gamble - Ch.1:

No Risk, No Reward

Next: Ch.2 - All Eyes on Us Fic Masterpost

Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,781

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

AN: I have nothing to say for myself other than that Brynjolf is one of my favorite Skyrim characters, and this is an excuse for me to flesh him out both as an individual and in relation to the player. Has this probably been done a thousand times? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not. Thanks for reading! (and let me know if you want to be tagged in updates, I'll do so if you like!)

--- --- ---

Brynjolf had a headache.

He’d had a faint one building behind his eyes for most of the day, but after listening to Keerava complain- loudly- that the Guild was asking more than she could afford for protection and that if he knew what was good for him he’d jump of the pier…his head was well and truly pounding.

“Want me to top that off for you, Bryn?”

Brynjolf blinked, and looked up to see Vekel looking at him expectantly, a flagon in his hand.

“Sorry lad, what was that?”

Vekel chuckled, and filled Brynjolf’s tankard with ale.

“You’ve been distracted lately, my friend. Better not let Mercer catch you staring off into space like that.”

“Now there’s an earful I don’t need,” Brynjolf agreed, lifting his tankard in acknowledgement before taking a swig.

“Well, go on then,” Vekel prodded. “Tell us what’s going on in that big brain of yours.”

“It’s nothing lad, just a headache,” Brynjolf said, but Vekel shook his head.

“I’m not just talking about today, Bryn, you’ve been off ever since you pulled that job on Brand-Shei.”

“Have I?” Brynolf asked, and Vekel nodded.

“You have. Which doesn’t track,” Dirge piped up, walking over to the bar. “Because you said that the job went off without a hitch.”

“So if you’re not thinking about the job, what are you thinking about?” Vekel asked.

A face came to Brynjolf’s mind unbidden, bright eyes and sharp features framed by dark hair, but he pushed the image away.

“You know as well as I do that the Guild’s seen better days, lads,” he said, taking another sip. “Just trying to work out how to bring her back to her former glory.”

“Aaaah, so that’s why you’ve been distracted these past few days,” Vekel said knowingly. “You think you’ve found another recruit, don’t you?”

“So what if I have?” Brynjolf demanded, arching an eyebrow at the barkeep. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: what this outfit needs is some fresh blood.”

“Except the last three recruits you tried to bring on board washed out before they could make any serious coin,” Dirge pointed out, and Brynjolf frowned.

“At least I’m actually trying to solve the problem,” he said. “If we ever want to get back on our feet, the Thieves Guild needs to actually employ some master thieves.”

“Aaaand, the last few kids you pulled into this mess were ‘master thief’ material?” Dirge asked, and Vekel snickered.

“Give it up, Brynjolf,” he said. “Those days are over.”

Brynjolf sighed.

“I’m telling you, this one is different…” he began, but Dirge scoffed.

“We’ve all heard that one before, Bryn! Quit kidding yourself.”

Brynjolf opened his mouth to reply, but paused. Beneath his friends’ ribbing and the quiet clinking of cups on tables and forks on plates from the Flagon’s few other patrons, there was another sound. The sound of boots on stone, the steps slow and cautious as they approached.

“It’s time to face the truth, old friend,” Vekel said. “You, Vex, Mercer…you’re all part of a dying breed. Things are changing!”

Brynjolf turned, saw exactly who he’d hoped he would, and a smile spread across his face.

“Dying breed, eh?” he repeated. “Well what do you call that then!”

The woman was slight, an Imperial by the looks of her, and she had a bow drawn, one arrow knocked loosely on the string.

“Well well, color me impressed, lass,” Brynjolf said, nodding to her. “I wasn’t certain I’d ever see you again.”

The woman’s eyes flitted around, lingering on Dirge for a moment before eventually slinging her bow over her shoulder.

“Getting here was easy,” she said, stowing her arrow in its quiver.

Brynjolf chuckled.

“Reliable and headstrong? You’re proving to be quite the prize. The name’s Brynjolf, lass.”

“Ariene,” said the Imperial.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Brynjolf said. “So... now that I've whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few deadbeats for me?"

Ariene frowned, shifting her weight.

“Deadbeats?” she asked. “What’d they do?”

“They owe our organization some serious coin, and they’ve decided not to pay,” Brynjolf explained. “I want you to explain to them the error of their ways.”

Ariene nodded thoughtfully.

“Sounds good…who are they?”

“Keerava,” Brynjolf said, ticking the marks off on his fingers, “Bersi Honey-Hand, and Haelga. Do this right, and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.”

“And…how do you want me to handle it?” Ariene asked carefully.

Brynjolf sighed, his mind drifting back to the insults that Keerava had thrown at him that morning.

“Honestly? The debt is secondary here. What’s more important is that you get the message across that we are to be ignored.” He frowned, and looked pointedly at the bow strapped to Ariene’s back. “A word of warning though…I don’t want any of them killed. Bad for business.”

To his surprise, Ariene’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and she nodded.

“Will I get a cut?” she asked, and Brynjolf laughed.

“Of course you’ll get a cut. We take care of our own.”

“Then consider it done.”

“Alright then lass, get going. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

The woman nodded and turned without another word, heading back into the ratways the way she came.

Brynjolf grinned, and turned back to Dirge and Vekel.

“Anything to say now, lads?”

“Sure, she made it down here,” Vekel said dismissively. “But that doesn’t make her a master thief. A hundred septims says she’ll turn out just like all the others.”

“I told you Vekel, this one is different,” Brynjolf insisted.

Still, as he sat back down at the bar, it was hard to ignore the facts. He’d been trying to breathe new life into the Guild, but Vekel and Dirge had a point. Previous recruits hadn’t stuck around long. Some didn’t keep up a high standard of work, others realized how poor the Guild’s standing really was and abandoned it. A few had even been caught and either killed or imprisoned.

Brynjolf knew Mercer was running out of patience with his attempts, but he didn’t see any other options. They couldn’t rely solely on Maven forever, and the way Brynjolf saw it, their dwindling reputation and cash flow needed to be addressed, or the Guild, and everyone in it, would be history.

You’d better come through for me, lass, he thought, bringing his tankard to his lips. Because I’m putting my last bet on you.

--- --- ---

Despite his high hopes, part of Brynjolf was worried that the woman would simply take the money for herself and disappear after shaking down her three marks. After all, it’d taken her several days to reappear in the ratways after the job on Brand-Shei, and Brynjolf had been doing this for a long time.

His gut told him that she would pull through, but having a contingency was just as important as having good instincts. He’d put the word out to his contacts within the city guard to alert him if an imperial woman fitting Ariene's description tried to skip town, and he had a few others keeping eyes on the docks and weak points in the city walls in case she tried to slip out that way.

Mercer had given him the usual grief about wasting manpower, but Brynjolf knew that if the coin came through, he’d let the matter go. And as the day drew to a close and no runners came bursting into the Flagon to tell him that his recruit had killed one of the marks or vanished with his gold, the more sure he became that this had been a good call.

“I still don’t know about this, Bryn,” Delvin grumbled. “Even if this new recruit of yours is as good as you say, that don’t mean that the curse ain’t gonna affect them, same as the rest of us.”

Brynjolf rolled his eyes.

“Mentioning the curse in every other conversation isn’t going to make more people believe you, old man. It’s just going to make them think you’re crazy.”

“You can call me what you like,” Delvin said, shrugging. “Don’t change the facts.”

“Brynjolf,” Dirge called, and Brynjolf looked up to see Ariene walking towards them, a sack of gold in her hand.

“Well well, look who’s back,” he said, shooting a smug look over his shoulder at Delvin, who just shook his head and took a sip of his ale.

“So lass,” he said, getting to his feet. “Job’s done, and you even brought the gold.” He spotted movement behind her, and saw one of his runners slip into the Flagon. They flashed him a quick hand signal, and he smiled. “Best of all, you did it clean. I like that. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive.”

Ariene nodded, and held out the coin purse.

“Here’s what they owed us,” she said, and Brynjolf took it.

“Well done, lass. And it would seem I owe you something in return.”

He turned and picked up a few potion bottles from the table behind him.

“Here you go, I think you’ll find these quite useful.”

Ariene took them, examined them for a moment, then nodded, slipping them into a satchel at her side.

“What’s next, then?” she asked.

“Well,” Brynjolf said, hefting the bag of coin in his hand. “Judging from how well you handled those shopkeepers, I’d say you’ve done more than simply prove yourself.”

He looked back at Delvin and raised an eyebrow. The man nodded, and Brynjolf smiled at Ariene.

“We need people like you in our outfit.”

Ariene looked around, and Brynjolf saw her eyes linger on the rickety tables, on the grime covering the tankards, and the empty seats covered in dust. She looked up at him, and after a moment of meeting his gaze, she nodded.

“If there’s more gold where that came from, then I’m in.”

“That’s the spirit!” Brynjolf said, grinning. “Larceny’s in your blood…the telltale sign of a practiced thief. I think you’ll do more than just fit in around here.”

Brynjolf turned to lead her to the cistern but she hesitated.

“Before we go, I have to ask…” she trailed off, and looked around the room again.

“What’s on your mind?” Brynjolf asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Word is your outfit isn’t doing…well.” One side of her mouth ticked up in a half smile, and she gestured vaguely around them. “True?”

Brynjolf chuckled.

“You’re a sharp one, lass. Aye, we’ve run into a bit of a rough patch lately…but it’s nothing to be concerned about.” He let out a sigh, then flashed her a small smile. “Tell you what. You keep making us coin, and I’ll worry about everything else. Fair enough?”

Ariene nodded slowly.

“Fair enough.”

“Now, if there are no more questions? How about you follow me, and I’ll show you what we’re all about.”

Brynjolf led Ariene through the back room, sliding away the false panel in the storage cupboard and stepping through to the passageway beyond.

“So everyone in the tavern back there, they’re all members?” Ariene asked.

“Not everyone is,” Brynjolf explained. “Vekel owns the Ragged Flagon, and Dirge works for him. Tonilia, well, she’s got her own business. But they all work closely with us. We keep coin in each other's pockets and watch each other's backs.”

“And you lead the Guild?” asked Ariene, and Brynjolf scoffed.

“Me? No, lass. I’m just a lieutenant. I keep things running as smooth as I can, but I’m no Guildmaster. Mercer is the one who makes the decisions around here. And speaking of…”

He led her into the cistern, where Mercer was waiting for them on the dais in the center of the room.

"Mercer?” he called. “This is the one I was talking about...our new recruit."

Mercer sighed and folded his arms.

"This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf," he said.

He turned to Ariene, and looked her up and down slowly. A frown spread across his face, and he folded his arms.

"Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” he said, addressing her. “If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions... you do what we say, when we say.”

Ariene raised an eyebrow and folded her arms, mirroring Mercer’s pose.

“Do I make myself clear?" Mercer demanded, and Ariene glanced over at Brynjolf.

“Rules?” she asked, looking back to Mercer. “We’re thieves. What’s the point of rules?

Mercer took a slow step forward, stopping only when he was mere inches away from her face, and Brynjolf grimaced.

“I'll let that comment go because you're new here,” Mercer growled. “Ask things out of turn again, and we have a problem. Now, are. We. Clear?"

Ariene, to her credit, didn’t react beyond a slight tensing of her shoulders, and she nodded once.

“Crystal,” she said evenly.

“Good,” Mercer said, stepping back. “Then I think it's time we put your expertise to the test."

“Wait a moment,” Brynjolf said, frowning. There was only one job going on at the moment that Mercer was concerning himself with…a job that Brynjolf had not intended for a fresh recruit to try and take on all alone. “You’re not talking about Goldenglow, are you?” he asked, and Mercer nodded. “Even our little Vex couldn’t get in!”

Mercer just raised an eyebrow.

“You claim this recruit possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it.”

“Goldenglow?” Ariene repeated, and Mercer turned back to her.

“Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients,” he explained. “However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details."

He turned, clearly signaling that the conversation was over, and Brynjolf folded his arms.

“Mercer. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hmm?” he looked back at them, and Brynjolf looked pointedly at Ariene. “Oh, yes. Since Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us, then you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild.”

He turned and strode away, and Brynjolf blew out a breath before smiling at Ariene with what he hoped was a reassuring expression.

“Well he’s cheerful,” Ariene said quietly, a grin playing at the edge of her mouth, and Brynjolf tilted his head.

“How much of that ignorance was on purpose?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“I wanted to see how he’d respond to confrontation. Evidently, not well.”

“Well, I could have told you that,” Brynjolf said with a quiet laugh. “But never mind that now. You’re in. Welcome to the family, lass. I'm expecting you to make us a lot of coin, so don't disappoint me."

Ariene nodded.

“So how do I get my cut of the spoils?” she asked.

“Simple,” Brynjolf replied. “Do as you're told and keep your blade clean. We can't turn a profit by killing.”

“Fine by me.”

“You should talk with Delvin Mallory and Vex. They know their way around this place and they'll be able to kick some extra jobs your way. Oh, and talk to Tonilia in the Flagon... she'll set you up with your new armor.”

“Speaking of the Flagon, I could use a drink,” Ariene said. “Let me buy you one too…as an apology for upsetting Mercer.”

Brynjolf shook his head.

“I told you lass, you just worry about making us coin. I’ll worry about everything else, and that includes Mercer, alright?”

“Well then...consider it a thank you,” she suggested.

“A thank you?” he repeated, and she actually looked a tad sheepish.

“I can tell you were taking a chance, bringing me in to all of this,” she said, her voice quiet. “It was a risk; a risk that you didn’t have to take. And I…appreciate that.”

Brynjolf smiled.

“Well, I suppose I have time for a quick drink. A drink, and a toast to the newest member of the Guild.”

Ariene brightened, and turned to head out of the cistern and back into the Flagon. Brynjolf went to follow, but glanced back over his shoulder. Mercer stood at his desk, leaning over a set of plans with a frown on his face.

“Tell you what lass,” Brynjolf said slowly. “You go on ahead, introduce yourself to the others. I’ll join you in a moment, and we can discuss business.”

Ariene nodded, and Brynjolf watched her go, waiting until the door to the Flagon closed behind her before turning and striding across the room.

“Mercer!” he said, and Mercer glared up at him. “We need to talk.”

--- --- ---

Next: Ch.2

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konckalicious · 19 days

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you like your girls insane

#kristoph gavin #mallory delamora #ace attorney #ajaa #aa #ace attorney fanart #selfship #selfshipping #oc x canon #oc #original character #aasona #yknow how it is #sillykonck #never let a boy listen to born to die lana del rey paradise edition unsupervised he will become some kind of freak

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sstartistic · 6 months

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN ‼️‼️

#twisted wonderland #twst fanart #twst oc #twst rook #rook hunt #caliber mallory #pomefiore #glorious masquerade #treasure hunt #oc x canon #my art

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fulcrumstardust · 11 days

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my little draft about werewolves and filial revenge is turning into class war and you know what, valid. Neve is exactly the type of character to say "actually, violence solves things. for example-" and then proceed to murder her whole entire nepo coven

so you could say it's going great lol

#oc stuff #neve x mallory

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sunshinenoka · 10 months

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lady x monster series: mallory and wabble 🪐

#my ocs #my art #oc #original character #monster x girl #lady x monster #mallory #wabble #alien

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iceflwers · 5 days

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𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝓻𝔂 !

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ THE BASICS !

— ❥ FULL NAME: Casper William Mallory.

— ❥ NICKNAMES: Cas, Cazzy (by the team only), Cassie (by close friends only), Spitfire, Fight Club, Mallory, babe (by Jamie only).

— ❥ DATE OF BIRTH: August 1st, 2001 (Leo).

— ❥ BIRTHPLACE: Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada.

— ❥ CURRENT RESIDENCE: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA.

— ❥ SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, French (not fluently), Spanish (not fluently), German (curse words only), Czech (curse words only), Russian (curse words only), Swedish (curse words only).

— ❥ ORIENTATION: Biromantic, bisexual.

— ❥ GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender male (he/him pronouns).

— ❥ OCCUPATION: Defenseman for the Philadelphia Flyers.

— ❥ FACECLAIM: Tom Holland.

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ PERSONALITY !

— ❥ HOGWARTS HOUSE: Gryffindor (brave, chivalrous, daring).

— ❥ MYERS-BRIGGS TYPE: ISTP - The Virtuoso (diligent, authentic, unapologetic).

— ❥ ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Type Eight - The Challenger (self-confident, confrontational, protective).

— ❥ MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral.

— ❥ LOVE LANGUAGES: Words of affirmation for receiving, acts of service for giving.

— ❥ SKILLS: Hockey, fighting, first aid, playing piano, giving pep talks, quickly coming up with insults, endurance, making people laugh when they don’t want to, knitting.

— ❥ LIKES: A good fight, pissing his opponents off on the ice, rock music, coffee with an obscene amount of sugar, dogs, spending time with his teammates, cussing people out in a language they don’t speak, rainy days, celebrating with his team on the ice after a goal or a win.

— ❥ DISLIKES: Being left alone with his thoughts, talking to his parents, media interviews, people hurting his teammates or siblings, having to get up early, being forced to dance, any kind of tea, not being able to play, people who wear neon clothing, getting blood in his mouth, cop procedural shows, people who ask stupid questions, people being dicks, exclusionists in the queer community, small and yapping dogs.

— ❥ FEARS/PHOBIAS: Becoming a father someday and messing up the way his parents did, people thinking he’s weak because of his mental health problems, his teammates or family deciding he’s too much work and leaving him, losing Jamie for any reason, drowning, spiders.

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ RELATIONSHIPS !

— ❥ FAMILY: Emily Foster (mother, estranged), Brian Mallory (father, estranged), Briar Mallory (older sister), Daniel Mallory (younger brother).

— ❥ FRIENDS: Joel Farabee, Travis Konecny, Morgan Frost, Erik Johnson.

— ❥ ACQUAINTANCES: Remainder of the Philadelphia Flyers roster, Trevor Zegras, Jack Hughes, Luke Hughes, Drew O’Connor.

— ❥ ROMANTIC INTERESTS: Kelly Moorcroft (first crush), Trisha Woods (ex-girlfriend), Yara Greene (ex-girlfriend), Elliott Bingley (brief fling), Sonya Lovett (ex-girlfriend), Leah Shirley (brief fling), Darcy Ellerman (brief fling), Cyndi Harden (brief fling), Jamie Drysdale (current romantic interest).

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ FUN FACTS !

— ❥ While Casper does take medication for his anxiety and recognizes that he needs it - even if he hates to tell anyone about it - he can sometimes forget to take it. Usually one of his siblings will text him around the time he needs to take them as just a little reminder, and after he and Jamie get together, Jamie takes up reminding duties as well.

— ❥ Casper has exactly eleven scars that he’s gained specifically from fights on the ice in general, and six of them are from fights during his NHL career. He’s pretty proud of all of them, even if it wasn’t always so fun getting them, and he always shows off the one on his jaw that he got during a brawl with Matthew Tkachuk, because he’s insanely proud of winning a fight against one of the league’s biggest pests.

— ❥ Despite being a pretty young player, Casper has already gained a reputation as one of the surliest players in the league when it comes to media. There are many YouTube compilations of him being short and closed-off in interviews and snapping back at reporters or making snide comments to them or about other players, and it’s well-known throughout the league that he refuses to act in any commercials.

— ❥ Casper has been a big fan of Nirvana since he was young, and any collaborative playlist among his teammates, siblings, or friends is bound to have a few songs on it courtesy of him. His favorite song is “Heart-Shaped Box,” but he also listens to “You Know You’re Right” when he needs to let out his stress or anger and have a good cry.

— ❥ Casper has only had one panic attack while still in an arena at any time surrounding a game - when his mom texted him out of the blue after his first game with the Flyers, telling him he’d done well. He’d found an empty room to have the attack in and never told anyone about it, and to this day he’s still nervous about his teammates finding out.

tagging @lovings4turn, @hiya-itsamber, & @theopenlocker !

#౨ৎ ─┈ oc profiles !#‧₊˚✩ ─┈ casper !#casper mallory #oc profile #rpf oc #nhl oc #nhl x oc #jamie drysdale x oc

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justheretop0st · 2 years

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Her breaths are what woke me up. They weren’t steady and soft. No. They were panicked.

I’d sat up and found her sitting on the floor beside the bed. Staring at the doorway. Her breaths were short and exhaled fear. The armor on her body made her look like the deadly Dragonborn she was.

I didn’t know what caused her to settle into this fit. But they happened often since she’d decided to stop adventuring and saving the world. Her face was completely hidden and her weapon was in her hand. I’m surprised the kids hadn’t woken up.

Finally I stood and walked to her. My footsteps causing creaking along the floorboards. Once I had settled beside her, just enough to give her room, I took a deep breath. Just loud enough to hear me beside her.

“I don’t know what you’re seeing. But I see two beautiful portraits of our beautiful children. The color is fading, but I love that the artist caught their likeness.” Her breath caught as her head twitched in the direction of the two hand drawn portraits hanging just beside the door.

“Plus, I think the lavender is getting a bit strong. But I’ve heard it’s supposed to help anyone sleep. Maybe we need to change it. What do you think?” Her breath was slowing, but no answer. That’s ok.

“I think I could use the lavender in breakfast tomorrow. I know it won’t be as good as your wonderful display, but I know how to make a mean tart. It’ll taste wonderful, you won’t have to eat it with a fork. Your hands will do.” The amount of blood she’s had to see and smell. I would have banned the sight of it if it didn’t hold our home together.

“If you’d like I could go get you something to drink,” I decided to to stand, perhaps a cool mug of wine would help her. But her hand on my wrist stopped me. Bingo. “Did you hear something?”

“Yes.” So small and so fragile. If only others could have seen her now. The famous Dragonborn, leader of guilds and destroyer of world Enders. I would never understand why she would get like this. Perhaps it was because she was trying to live a simple and peaceful life now.

“Do you want me to go check? I can try to detect anyone inside.” Her head shook. Her eyes still searching the darkness apparently. Before I knew it, a whisper.

“Laas Yah Nir.” So soft I could have missed it. Apparently one of her thuums.

I stayed silent as her head turned to the left and right. Up and down. And even to me. I could feel her eyes searching me.

Her hands dropped her weapon and reached up to pull me back down again. I smiled at her and she took a deep breath just as I had before. She reached up and took off her helmet and there I could see her face once more. Drenched in sweat and her fine lines not as wrinkled as they might have been.

I took her hand in mine and just held it there. She would talk when she was ready. I would be here if she needed me.

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lulu2992 · 1 year

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I know the Far Cry 5 Anniversary Gift Exchange is officially over and that we got our gifts already, but since you drew something (my ship) for me, @travelbystarlight, I just wanted to draw a little something (your ship) for you :)

Inspired by this.

#tawny mallory #joseph seed x deputy #joseph seed x oc #my art #traditional art #digital coloring #fc5exchange23 #just a little thank-you gift #...and I have another one to draw actually #even though it’s been almost 2 years #if you know who you are I’m sorry I’ve been procrastinating #but I still want to draw something for you too!#and I will!

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eemamminy-art · 2 days

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Sometimes it really is just like the movies 💕

#sdv alex #alex mullner #sdv alex x farmer #stardew valley #sdv #sdv fanart #stardew valley fanart #my ocs #oc: mallory #m/m ship #comic

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gyubby99 · 9 months

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@disneyanddisneyships ..i love them oki

"Mal! There's a delivery outside! Said it's for you!" Aponi called out from the hotel front door. Mal came scurrying downstairs, not saying a word to Aponi as she goes outside. It had been a black limo parked outside of the happy hotel, something she knew all too well.

The window rolled down, revealing an imp driver. He opened the car door and got out, before opening the door from the passenger seat, revealing a large bouquet of camellias with a small note on it, a heart-shaped box with chocolates in them, and the thing; the one she desperately wanted to win at Lu Lu World but she had such a bad aim.

The imp driver handed them to Mal, who accepted it just as gladly. "Thank you!"

"Should I carry the flowers to your room, ma'am?" The imp asks.

Mal shook her head. "Oh, no! It's alright! Tell him I appreciate it!"

The imp nods, before going back into the car and driving off.

Mal watched from the distance until the car was out of sight.

She smiled. A big grin as she came back inside the hotel.

"Flowers?" Aponi questioned as soon as Mal came in. "And more importantly, your favorite flowers?"

"Yeah." Mal responds.

Now, Aponi had been questioning it because she never knew anything about what was going on with her and Vox. She was dating Alastor, which was a big factor because she might hate Vox as well in support of her significant other.

So, she said nothing.

She'd always been a liar.

"Who's it from?" Aponi asks.

"Um.." Mal pondered about it for a while before responding. "A fan."

Aponi tapped her chin, her other hand on her waist. "How would a fan know your favorite flower? And- the thing from Lu Lu World! You never revealed info to the public."

Mal shrugged her shoulders. "They said lucky guess."

"Not a single fan- not even of mine, ever delivered something like that here." Aponi pointed to the bouquet, chocolates and the stuffed animal.

"I guess they were a devoted fan?" Mal laughed, before making her way upstairs to her room. "Be right back, I gotta put these in my room."

As Mal left, Aponi still couldn't help but feel suspicious. Was Mal hiding something?

She couldn't help but notice she'd been coming home late, too. She always excused it for being busy at the club, but their shift ends at the same time.

She decided not to bring it up. Mal might get furious at her for being up in her buisness..

But.. she just can't help but to.. wonder.

Meanwhile, Mal had closed the door in her room. She put the stuff onto her bed, picking up the note from the bouquet.

'Hectic work schedule. Won't be leaving my office for a few days. Thought you might like these <3 - Vox'

Blood rushed into Mal's cheeks as she chuckled, before putting the note down and setting the roses in a large vase they had in the room just in case. She put the chocolates in the mini fridge before picking up the little stuffed cat he got for her. She put it on the bed once again, before taking out her phone and snapping a picture.

'Recieved your gift! I loved it, really. This little guy says hi. (PS: I named him Alejandro) - Mal'

She put the phone down the desk, before cuddling the stuffed cat and curling into a fetal position, grinning from ear-to-ear.

#i wanna see them being domestic okay #mallory #staticfly #oc x canon #AAAAAAAAA

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ironwoman359 · 6 months

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A Thief's Gamble - Ch.5

The Renegade from Cyrodiil

Previous: Ch.4 - Bedlam and Burglary || Next: Ch.6 - Unhindered Insights Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: Brynjolf learns that Ariene has been hiding who she really is, and he is forced to confront her before she endangers the Guild.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 3,857

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

--- --- ---

Sometimes, Brynjolf wondered what his Ma would think of him today.

She’d wanted him to join the merchant’s trade when he was a lad, but he’d refused, complaining that he didn’t want to spend his life stuck behind a desk filling out paperwork and speaking with boring noblemen. He wanted to do something exciting with his life.

He’d always been a schemer, inventing wild tales to scam the other kids out of pocket change and sweets, and as he grew, so did his ambition. His targets grew bigger and his plans became more elaborate, and soon he caught the attention of others who operated on the shadier side of the law. He made some new friends, acquired some new skills, and before he knew it he was being offered a position in the Thieves Guild.

Finally, he had the life he’d always wanted, far away from the daily drudgery of ledgers, bookkeeping, and his Ma’s boring expectations.

Thirty years later, as he sat at his desk keeping books, balancing ledgers, and reading correspondence from boring noblemen, he was certain that she was looking down from Sovngarde and shaking her head at him.

It turned out that running a Guild required just as much paperwork as being a merchant. And while not all of the contacts he kept were boring noblemen, sometimes he thought that actually made things harder.

Merchants didn’t have to encode half their messages to keep the guards from discovering their movements, and shopkeepers didn’t have to keep two sets of ledgers, one with real figures and one with numbers that were faked.

Sometimes, Brynjolf regretted being so eager to prove himself to Gallus and the other higher ups. While he did prove that he was an exceptional thief, he’d also proved that he had a good head for numbers, and more and more of the Guild’s administrative work was passed on to him, especially after Mercer took over the Guild. He still managed to keep his more interesting skills as sharp as his daggers, but there were definitely days when he felt more like a merchant than a thief after all.

Today was one of those days.

He’d been cooped up in the cistern for what felt like ages, reading over reports from his agents across Skyrim. It was important for the Guild to keep a finger on the pulse of what was happening in each hold, and while most of their clients had dried up, Brynjolf had managed to ensure that his contacts still sent him news about any notable changes in the country.

The most concerning news was the rumors of a dragon attack in Helgen. Brynjolf had received reports on what had happened near the southern border, but it had been right before the situation at Goldenglow had escalated, and he hadn’t paid much attention to the rumors. There were, after all, more pressing matters to deal with.

But now it seemed that Helgen really had been destroyed, and that not long after there’d been another attack in Whiterun. Only about a day later, by the accounts he was reading. He was only receiving the report now because his contact had feared traveling across the Rift with dragons on the loose.

Brynjolf wasn’t sure what to make of the idea of dragons. He had initially thought the reports about Helgen were written in some kind of code, but once he’d disproven that theory he’d simply written them off as mere rumors. This latest report from Whiterun implied otherwise though, and Brynjolf couldn't help but think back to the stories his Ma had told him as a boy, about dragons and fire and the end of times.

Still, despite the existential threat that the return of the dragons posed, he found something else in the report from Whiterun to be even more surprising.

He was sitting at his desk, staring down at the letter in disbelief when Delvin walked up to him.

“Brynjolf, you’re never gonna guess who I just got a message from.”

Brynjolf blinked, then shook his head.

“Sorry old man, what was that?”

“You got wax in your ears or somethin’?” Delvin asked. “I said I just got a message in from Whiterun, and you’re never gonna guess from who. Olfrid Battle-Born himself. Says he’s heard we were active in the city again, and that he’s got a job for us. We haven’t had a break like this in months.”

“We haven’t,” Brynjolf muttered, more to himself than to Delvin, and the old man snapped his fingers in front of Brynjolf’s face.

“You awake in there, Bryn? What’s got your head in the clouds?”

Brynjolf just passed the Whiterun report to him, and pointed at the last paragraph that he’d been reading and rereading for the past several minutes.

Delvin huffed, but took the paper and read aloud:

“A final note: word is that you’re making moves in Whiterun again. Be aware that the jarl has appointed a new Thane to his court, an imperial by the name of…Ariene Anneius? It is unknown at this time how amenable she is to persuasion, or whether or not she will seek to take Justice into her own hands. Proceed with caution.”

Delvin lowered the paper and stared at Brynjolf.

“I know,” Brynjolf said, his mouth a grim line as he took the page back.

“Why on earth would a Thane join up with the Guild?” Delvin wondered aloud. “Could she be tryin’ to take us down? Gather evidence against us?”

“I wondered the same thing, but if that were her goal then she’s seen more than enough to incriminate the lot of us. Instead, she just…keeps doing jobs,” Brynjolf said.

“Besides, if a Thane were to try and take us down, why would it be one from Whiterun?” Delvin added. “We haven’t had a strong foothold there in years, and it’s only because of her that our reputation is gettin’ stronger in the first place. Maybe she wants somethin’ from us? A cut of the action in exchange for her silence?”

“Maybe…” Brynjolf trailed off, something Delvin said sticking out in his mind. “Except…wait a moment.”

He pushed a stack of papers aside, digging through the older pile of reports until he found what he was looking for.

“Except she’s not from Whiterun. I knew I’d heard that last name somewhere before. Look,” he said, passing over a crumpled note bearing the Imperial seal.

Delvin took it and read aloud again.

“Wanted: Renegade Imperial Soldier Ariene Anneius. It is believed she is headed for the northern border with Skyrim. Likely armed and dangerous, DO NOT ENGAGE alone. If spotted or captured, inform the nearest Imperial outpost.”

He let out a low whistle and passed the note back to Brynjolf.

“This came in around three weeks ago, but I didn’t give it much attention.” Brynjolf said. “By the time I saw Ariene in the market and offered her a job, I’d already forgotten about it.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“No wonder she was so nervous about Maven knowing her name. Maven’s ties with the Imperials are well known, if Ariene is on the run from the law in Cyrodiil…” he trailed off as another thought came across his mind. “Hang on. If she’s a wanted renegade, then-”

“How on earth did she end up gettin’ named Thane of Whiterun?” Delvin said, completing Brynjolf’s thought. “Jarl Balgruuf is a man of honor, so much so that it makes things difficult for us on occasion. He wouldn’t just award a wanted criminal the highest position in his court without a damn good reason.”

“Whatever the reason, I don’t think we should send anyone out there to meet Olfrid Battle-Born just yet,” Brynjolf said. “Not until we get some answers.”

Delvin nodded in agreement.

“And how do you intend to get those answers?” he asked and Brynjolf grimaced.

“The only way I can. I’ll have to ask the lass myself.”

— — —

Brynjolf found Ariene in the training room. He stood in the entryway, hovering just out of sight and watching her with renewed curiosity.

She stood in the center of the room, her bow drawn and an arrow knocked at the string. She took a deep breath, then in one smooth motion she lifted the bow up, pulled back the string and fired, not even waiting to see where the arrow landed before reaching back and drawing another. Over and over, she let the arrows fly through the air, her movements quick and fluid and her face a mask of cool concentration.

Brynjolf edged closer, tearing his eyes away from her to look at the targets, each with a mass of arrows clustered around the bullseye. Not a single shot had flown astray, and his mind drifted back to her wanted notice.

Possibly armed and dangerous, DO NOT ENGAGE alone.

“How long are you planning on skulking there in the shadows?”

Brynjolf tensed, but Ariene’s tone was light and playful, and as he turned his attention back to her, he saw her bow was lowered, the quiver empty at her back. She was smiling an easy smile, and Brynjolf took a deep breath.

“How long did you know I was there?” he asked, stepping into the room, and Ariene smirked.

“The whole time. You’re not as stealthy as you think you are, Brynjolf,” she said, and Brynjolf raised an eyebrow.

“Or maybe you’re just more observant than the average mark,” he countered.

Ariene laughed, and Brynjolf found a part of himself wishing that he could just ignore the mysteries of her past and enjoy her company for the sake of it.

But he knew that if he did that, he’d never quite trust the lass again, and that would be far worse in the long run than whatever fallout would come out of this confrontation. Better to face the issue head on while he still had a chance to.

“Got a problem, lass,” he said, forcing his voice to remain even. “Was hoping you could give me a hand.”

“Sure,” Ariene said, stowing her bow over her shoulder and looking at Brynjolf expectantly.

Silently, he pulled the folded wanted slip out of his pocket. He passed the paper over to her, and carefully watched her reaction as she unfolded it. Her shoulders tensed and her eyes darted around the room, lingering for a moment on the daggers on Brynjolf’s belt before settling back on his face.

“The criminal organization have a problem with criminal pasts now?” she asked, a challenge in her tone.

Brynjolf couldn’t help the half smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth at that, and he shook his head.

“No, lass. And I’d be a damn hypocrite if I said otherwise. Your past is your own business, so long as it doesn’t affect the rest of the Guild.”

“So what’s the problem? Have you decided the price on my head is greater than the amount of gold I can make you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Brynjolf said. “You’re not the only member with a bounty, and the Guild never would betray one of our own for coin. The problem is this.”

Brynjolf pulled out the Whiterun report, and Ariene narrowed her eyes. She grabbed the paper and scanned it quickly, and when she looked up, her expression had gone stone cold.

“I still don’t see the issue,” she said evenly, and Brynjolf scoffed.

“Then you’re not as good a thief as I thought you were. We’re all entitled to our fair share of anonymity, but this? This is something I needed to know about, especially before I let you take a job in Whiterun.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation-” Ariene began, but Brynjolf cut her off.

“You don’t owe me an explanation for how or why you’re wanted by the Imperial government. That’s not my business. But secretly being a member of a Jarl’s court? Even if it’s in another hold, that could affect the Guild in any number of ways. And that means that it is my business.”

“You make it sound like it’s some crazy conspiracy,” Ariene growled. “Maybe I just like my privacy.”

“A normal thing for a thief to say; a very odd thing for a Thane to say,” Brynjolf countered.

Ariene glared at him and he tensed, fighting the instinct to reach for his daggers. Her quiver was empty; as deadly as she could apparently be with a bow, the weapon was useless to her now. He glanced quickly at her belt, where her own dagger sat in its sheath. He’d never seen her use the weapon before, and had no idea whether her skill with it matched his own. Even if he couldn’t stop her alone she’d likely be bottlenecked in the cistern, but he’d still prefer to keep his blood inside his body, thank you very much.

Still, Ariene made no move to attack him, or to try and escape. Instead, she folded her arms over her chest and kept her glare trained on him.

“Who says I even wanted to be a Thane?” she demanded. “Why would I come to Riften in the first place, break the law multiple times and crawl through a sewer to join a failing Guild if I was set for life in another hold?”

At that, Brynjolf forgot his apprehension and glared right back at her.

“That,” he said, his voice low. “Is exactly what I’d like to know.”

Ariene sighed and turned away, walking over to the archery targets. She began pulling the arrows free and Brynjolf tensed, but she still made no hostile movements. She stowed the arrows back in her quiver and glanced back at Brynjolf, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not going to be satisfied until you get an answer, are you?” she asked.

Brynjolf folded his arms.

“I’ve had questions about you since the first day you showed up here,” he admitted. “But there’s a difference between personal curiosity and business. This isn’t about me, lass. It’s about the Guild.”

Ariene leaned up against a bale of hay that one of the targets was standing on and gave him a long look. Silence hung heavy in the air between them, the tension in the room a nearly physical thing before she let out a breath and looked down at her boots.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Why are you here?” Brynjolf said immediately.

“Here in Riften, or here in Skyrim?” she asked, then she shook her head. “No, I suppose that doesn’t matter. The answer is the same either way. I’m running.”

Brynjolf raised an eyebrow at that.

“Running?” he repeated, and Ariene rolled her eyes.

“Well, trying to, anyway. It seems no matter where I run to, I find something else to add to the long list of things I’m running from.”

She looked distant for a moment, and Brynjolf waited for her to continue. After a spell, she shook herself, and held up her wanted page.

“I’ve been on the run from the Imperial Legion for nearly two months. I tried to cross the border into Skyrim a few weeks ago, but I got tangled up in an ambush that the forces here had set for the Stormcloaks. I was captured, and very nearly executed.”

Her expression was casual, but there was a detectable tightness to her voice, and despite everything, Brynjolf couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her.

“They execute folks for deserting now?” he asked, and Ariene huffed.

“For deserting, for illegally crossing the border, for what I did before I deserted, maybe for all of it wrapped into one, who knows. It doesn’t matter anyway. I escaped Helgen and-”

“Wait,” Brynjolf interrupted suddenly. “You were at Helgen? When?”

Ariene grimaced.

“If you’re asking that, then you already know the answer.”

“So you saw a-”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Believe it or not, I’d be dead now if it weren’t for that dragon. I was able to slip away during all the confusion, with the help of one of the other prisoners. We laid low with some relatives of his for a day or so, but the price for their hospitality was a message to Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon attack. I took the message to him and was going to just move on, but he offered me a contract to retrieve an item from an old barrow in the mountains. And as much as I didn’t want to waste my time dancing on a jarl’s strings…well, the Imperials took my money, and all my gear. I didn’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t expect me to believe he named you Thane because you ran one job for him,” Brynjolf said, and Ariene rubbed her eyes.

“No. No, he named me Thane because right after I returned from fetching the artifact for his wizard, there was another dragon attack.”

Brynjolf’s eyes widened at the implication.

“Are you saying that…you killed the beast?” he asked in disbelief.

Ariene gave a wry smile.

“Not alone, no. But my contributions to the fight weren’t insignificant. I’m sure you noticed, but I’m a hell of a shot.”

Brynjolf nodded, a smile of his own tugging at the edge of his lips despite himself.

“When the battle was over, my, ah, prowess was noted by the other guards, and that is when Balgruuf named me his Thane. I left the city not long after.”

Brynjolf stared at her, trying to wrap his head around the revelation. He’d assumed the lass was capable in combat– she’d made it out of Goldenglow, after all– but taking down a dragon…that was something else. No wonder the jarl had ignored her criminal past and given her a title. A thought occurred to him then, and his brow furrowed.

“There’s something I still don’t quite understand, lass,” he said. “After all of that, why leave Whiterun at all? Why come here?”

The smile slid from Ariene’s face, and she fiddled with the hilt of the dagger at her hip.

“Whiterun was never my planned destination. And Balgruuf…” she sighed, and a look somewhere between a smile and a grimace crossed her face. “He’s an honorable man, for better or for worse. If an imperial officer tried to capture me there?” she shook her head. “I can’t be certain he’d refuse them.”

“So he doesn’t know about your criminal history?” Brynjolf asked, and Ariene shrugged.

“I’m not sure what exactly he knows, but to be honest, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of whether I’d be safe from arrest there, I’m not too keen on spending the rest of my life carrying out the orders of yet another man who thinks he can use me for his own gain.”

She tilted her chin up and looked straight at Brynjolf.

“Like I said,” she said evenly. “One more thing to run from.”

Brynjolf read the challenge in her eyes, but he held her gaze.

“And that running took you here, of all places,” he said. “Why?”

Ariene raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not as though I planned it. I ended up in Ivarstead, and had no desire to go back around the mountains, so I headed east instead. I’d planned on spending a day or two in town here to scrape up enough money to hire a carriage north, but then–”

“Then I offered you a job,” Brynjolf finished. “At this point I’m surprised you said yes. It sounds like following orders isn’t high on your list of favorite activities.”

“Maybe not,” Ariene admitted. “But you didn’t give me an order, you gave me an offer. One that was my choice to accept. Besides,” she added with a half-smile. “You were right. My pockets were pretty light on coin. And in my experience, larceny is the quickest cure for that particular ailment.”

“Aye,” Brynjolf agreed with a chuckle. “You’re not wrong there, lass.”

There was a beat of silence, and Ariene shifted her weight so that she was no longer leaning against the hay bale.

“So…” she said carefully. “What happens now?”

“Now?” he repeated, and she nodded.

“That’s it. You gonna run me out of the Guild or hand me over to the Imperials now?”

Her voice was light, but she carried a tension in her body like a coiled spring, still ready to run or fight at a moment’s notice. Brynjolf watched her for a long moment, then he shook his head no, and she blinked in surprise.

“I said it before, lass. We don’t turn in our own for gold.”

“But if I lied about my background–”

“Look. The only thing that worried me was the question of your allegiances,” Brynjolf explained. “If what you’ve told me is true, and you joined the Guild because you honestly wanted to, no ulterior motives besides getting rich? Then that’s no longer a concern of mine.”

Ariene nodded slowly.

“My allegiance has always been to myself, first and foremost,” she said. “Never to the law, either in Cyrodiil or Skyrim. But the Guild’s done right by me, which is more than I can say about the Legion, or…anyone else, really. So I intend to keep doing right by the Guild, as long as it’ll still have me.”

Brynjolf inclined his head to her, letting an easy smile slide onto his face.

“And we’ll keep doing right by you, as long as you do the same for us,” he said.

Ariene nodded, then looked at him for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

“There’s more you want to know, isn’t there.”

It was not a question, but a statement; one they both knew was true. Brynjolf’s mind was turning over all the information she’d given him, throwing up dozens of questions in response.

Why had Ariene fled to Skyrim after deserting? What had she done that made the Imperials so determined to hunt her down? Hell, why had she, who bristled at authority and walked her own path wherever she went, joined the Legion in the first place? What was she– someone who could hold her own in a fight against two dozen men and take down a dragon– really running from?

Each question fought to jump forward to the tip of his tongue, but Brynjolf pushed them all down with another smile.

“Like I said, lass. This isn't about me. Unless there’s something else that would affect the Guild, there’s nothing more you need to tell me.”

“That,” said Ariene, giving him a pointed look, “was not a no.”

“Aye, it wasn’t,” Brynjolf agreed with a chuckle. “Sharp as ever, aren’t you lass? But I meant it. Your business is your own, and my curiosity is mine. You’re under no obligation to satisfy it.”

Ariene regarded him for a moment, then a smile– small and more than a little cautious but there nonetheless– spread across her face and the tension finally bled out of her posture.

“Well,” she said. “Maybe one of these days, I’ll tell you the rest of the story…if you don’t mind telling me a story or two about yourself in return?”

Brynjolf grinned.

“You know lass? I don’t think I’d mind that at all.”

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Previous: Ch.4 - Bedlam and Burglary || Next: Ch.6 - Unhindered Insights

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took awhile! Things have been busy at work and I haven't had a lot of energy lately, BUT I'm back at it and more excited than ever about where this story is going! Hope you enjoyed a peek at our Dragonborn's backstory! Please reblog if you liked it, it'd mean a lot to me! <3

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