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laurelsofhighever · 9 months

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Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 8/? Rating: T Warnings: None Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

read it on AO3!

Lightning crackled, and between its wicked, lashing tongues something stalked her. Whispers in her mind. An old woman with dirty hair and golden eyes leaned over her. Was this waking? No. A dragon – the woman was the dragon. Things clawed in the dark at her feet, the roots of vining laurels that twined around her body, cut into her skin. She snarled as she ripped at them with calloused hands but the growth was rotten, disintegrating in her fingers. One drove into her shoulder like a needle into cloth and still the rest grew, choking, twisting, closing over her mouth –

Rosslyn woke with a gasp of air. The jolt sent a blinding stab of pain through her shoulder that receded into a duller agony, and she fell back to the pallet with gritted teeth, eyes scrunched shut to bear it. After a moment, a cold, wet point shoved against her arm, a snuffling weight whining at her to move.

“Good dog…” she croaked, searching for Cuno’s bulk with her uninjured arm.

This time when she tried to move, a pair of thin hands pressed against her bare skin to guide her back down. They felt like her mother’s. For a moment of vertigo, she tried to work out why that thought clenched like fist around her heart, until the memory of flames and blood reared in her mind’s eye, with her mother’s shadow framed against the kitchen door as Duncan dragged her towards safety.

Grief did her no good. Her eyes opened on the wattle-and-daub walls of a small room, not a traditional Ferelden roundhouse but a square design that might have been Chasind, unadorned and thick with the scents of dung, smoke, and the bittersweet tang of the herbs hanging from the rafters. She had been stripped to bindings and breeches, but the surge of panic quieted at the sight of her armour piled neatly against the chimney breast on the opposite wall, with the Cousland sword propped over it as if standing to attention. The fire in the hearth sulked in its embers and licked its heat against her face.

“Where am I?”

“Safe, child,” answered a gravelly voice. “Or, safer than you were.”

Amusement rang in the sound of it. Following the gentle urging of the stranger’s touch, Rosslyn turned her head to find the old woman from her dream, gaunt and hollow-boned, with a thin slash of a mouth and eyes yellow and sharp as crab apples. The sight somehow bolstered her, and with feeling creeping back into her limbs memory came too, the grey dark of the tower and the smoke-obscured battlefield below, the gabble of the darkspawn, a flash of agony and then bronze, bronze eyes pleading with her not to go into the dark.

“Alistair –” She brought her hand to cover her brow. “What happened? Where is he?”

“Taking out his fretting on the woodpile, the last I saw,” the old woman replied with a huff.

He’s alive. She tried to sit up again, but the movement pulled at her shoulder.

“Do not be so eager to undo my good work, girl,” her attendant warned. “You are in the Wilds, and will not suffer for another moment of lying still.”

“The Wilds?” It would make sense if this was indeed a Chasind hut, but the vast territory couched at Ferelden’s feet was nigh-on unmapped.

“I plucked you and your companion from the tower.”

“It was swarming with darkspawn.”

The old woman waved an indifferent hand. “Unimportant.”

For a moment, Rosslyn considered. Loghain’s desertion, the king and the Grey Wardens, the awful feeling of the horde itching at the inside of her skull, all of it like a dream. The voices had receded now, silent like an emptied hall, but the revulsion still crawled in her stomach. And the dragon…

She glanced sideways to her rescuer as she stroked Cuno’s ears. The woman’s age fit her like a mask; there was no frailty in her movements, and a faint aura of power hung over her, like the vastness of the sky on a clear night. When she was little, her father had told her stories of witches who lived in the Wilds, had even said once that Maric had met one briefly after Queen Moira’s death, and it was written in the earliest pages of the Cousland Book that it had been Flemeth herself who had torn down the walls of Bann Connobar’s fortress and left Sarim Cousland standing in the ashes to prosper.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Names are pretty, but useless,” came the reply. “Besides, one of your blood should know me well enough.”

“You are Flemeth, then.” For a third time Rosslyn rose, curling up to save the strain of torn muscles, and this time she made it to sitting, though she had to hunch over and cradle her injured arm with a dizziness that left her short of breath. After a moment she managed to flex her fingers, but the movement felt weak – too weak to heft a shield. Still concerned, Cuno whined and dropped his head to her knee.

“The army lost the battle, didn’t it?”

Flemeth nodded, her voice heavy. “The darkspawn were too many, and the reinforcements did not come. Those that remain are scattered and retreating as best they can.”

The rage awakened by the news did not burn as she thought it would. Instead, it sank to the pit of her stomach like a glob of molten iron dropped into a pool, quenched into a hard ball by the cold.

“The king?”

“He died in the rearguard.”

She closed her eyes, her sigh deep and marrow-weary. Everything was wrong. She had to find Alistair, to talk to him. Now that the business of sitting up had been done away with, her ears caught the regular, dull thud-and-clatter of metal cleaving wood. Another wave of nausea threatened as she pushed to her feet, spots dancing before her eyes, but Cuno brought his broad head under her hand to steady her, and she managed not to fall. Flemeth pursed her lips but did not intervene.

A new, female voice, rich and sardonic, interrupted the rhythmic chopping of wood as Rosslyn hobbled closer. Alistair muttered something indistinguishable in response that made the woman laugh.

“And tell me,” she mocked airily, “when you are finished turning all our store into splinters, will you take the axe to the rest of the Wilds and give them the same treatment?”

“Am I supposed to just sit on my hands and wait?” he demanded. “I can’t just do nothing, not when…”

“You might prepare for your departure, or perhaps a bath? ’Tis my understanding that kings are supposed to take care with their personal hygiene.”

A pause. “I’m not the king. I wasn’t meant for the crown – I don’t want it.”

“The people of Ferelden will doubtless be grateful,” the woman replied as the sound of chopping resumed. “’Twould seem they already have enough to worry them.”

“Listen, you have no – Rosslyn!”

The axe slipped from his hands as she flinched into the brittle winter sunlight, the metal head a dull thump against the ground. With barely an instant to brace herself against the cold that raked against her feverish skin, she was swallowed up in his arms, the whisper of her name by her ear as he pressed his cheek against her hair, every muscle tensed as if he suffered a mortal wound. Somehow, he had managed to miss her injuries; his strength took the weight off her shivering limbs, so she did not pull away. Despite the icy air he had stripped down to a simple linen shirt that had soaked through with sweat, and the scent of smoke and iron clung to him, rank but real; the fabric twisted under her fingers as she buried deep into the crook of his shoulder.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he breathed.

Something fluttered behind her ribs, but she dismissed it. Blood loss. The concern of one as good as a brother. Behind him, the dark-haired woman who had been talking with him narrowed yellow eyes, her tanned arms crossed over a scrawny frame barely disguised by her layers of hide and crimson-dyed wool.

“I’m sorry about Cailan,” Rosslyn murmured, closing her eyes against the scrutiny.

A shudder ran through him, and he shook his head in lieu of anything he could voice. “It doesn’t seem real. We ought to be dead on top of that tower.”

“Do not wish for such things so easily, boy,” Flemeth scolded from the doorway.

“I didn’t mean…”

As Alistair pulled back to argue, he glanced down, his eyes widening in realisation at Rosslyn’s state of undress. His hands leapt from her bare skin as if shocked, colour climbing hot into his face. Flemeth had brought out a blanket, which he snatched with an apologetic grimace to drape around Rosslyn’s shoulders. More tired than amused, she wrapped it closer with her good arm.

“I told you not to worry so much, did I not?”

“I’m grateful, of course,” he stammered. “Very grateful. But why us? If Cailan had been saved – or the Warden-Commander – then –”

The witch cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I am sorry for your grief, but it must come later, in the dark shadows before you take vengeance, as my mother once said. You still have your duty, and it must come first.”

To Rosslyn, the subtle emphasis on the word felt pointed. A Cousland was bound by duty, she had always been taught so, but in making her a grey Warden Duncan had stripped her of her name – and in so doing, forced her into another sort of compact entirely. Alistair twitched at her side as if wanting to reach for her, but the action halted before it began, and instead he clenched the fist, steeled himself, and straightened. It hurt, but in the way of an old injury troubled by cold weather.

She forced a breath. “What happens now?”

“The battle at Ostagar has bought you time,” the witch replied. “But the full might of the horde has not been defeated. It has always been the duty of the Grey Wardens to unite the lands against the blights.” She arched a brow. “Or did that change when I wasn’t looking?”

“I am only one grey Warden,” she retorted. “Barely. We would need an army to defeat the horde.”

Flemeth levelled a steady look at her, as if she could see the kernel of defiance, the shadow clinging to the memory of her father on the pantry floor and her mother poised with arrow nocked in the doorway, which snaked into her ear like a breath of cold wind. The Wardens were dead; no one remained to keep her in the Grey, no one who could execute her for desertion. The weight of the Warden’s Oath hung around her neck, untouched. Rhodri had explained the custom of sealing the blood of the fallen into a locket, to carry the sacrifice of those unlucky enough to not survive the Joining, and when he had handed her the dainty silverite pendant it had taken almost more strength than she possessed not to fling the barbarous trinket into the fire.

Daveth would have tutted to see her thoughts now; it rankled that a common thief might think her dishonourable. But then the last sight of Ser Jory’s face swam into her vision, the way the light left his eyes as his wife’s name gasped through bloodied lips, and her mouth curled. The Grey Wardens had no honour in the first place.

“Arl Eamon won’t stand for it,” Alistair said. The conversation had gone on without her. “He wasn’t at Ostagar – he still has all his men. And he’s Cailan’s uncle, a respected voice in the Landsmeet.” Something desperate wriggled in his voice. “We should go to him, let him know what Loghain has done.”

“What creeps upon Ferelden now is a threat greater than any one man can pose,” Flemeth warned. “Your priority must be the darkspawn.”

“But how do we fight them? Redcliffe won’t be enough on its own, and Highever –” He swallowed, glanced sideways at Rosslyn.

“The treaties,” she realised, and turned to both of them. “The Warden who took me into the Wilds said that they once had treaties that can demand aid from the other races during a Blight, but we couldn’t find them.” A darker thought took root. “And who’s to say if Orzammar or the Dalish would even honour such oaths anyway.”

Flemeth snorted. “They will honour the treaties because they must, and because I will give you what you were searching for.”

“You took the treaties?”

“The seal wore off long ago, I protected what was contained within,” she replied, offended.

“Then we’ll take them,” Alistair declared. “And we’ll get our army.”

“Someone will need to lead it,” Rosslyn pointed out. Her voice was quiet, but he flinched from it nonetheless and shoved a hand through his sweat-darkened hair.

“If we get that far,” he said.

Rosslyn hunched further into the blanket but let the blot of cowardice go. Perhaps, once, it would have been her concern, but he had been lost to her the moment she drank from the cup, and though the knowledge left a bitter taste in her mouth, like medicine it offered strength as well.

“So you are set then?” Flemeth asked. “Ready to move against the Blight?”

Rosslyn glanced up to the sun, low on the northern horizon and not yet at midday. “What choice do we have?”

“There are always choices,” came the mocking reply.

Across the small yard, the young woman who had been talking with Alistair let out a scoff. “Only for some of us.”

“Do not complain, girl,” the old woman snapped. “You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years, here is your chance.” She turned to Rosslyn and Alistair, dropping the edge of biting humour that had clung to her manner thus far. “It has already been decided. Consider it repayment for your lives – I’m giving you Morrigan, my daughter, that which I value above all in this world.” Another scoff from Morrigan went ignored. “Without her, you will surely fail, and you must succeed.”

“Then we should start as soon as we can.”

“Are you fit to travel yet?” Alistair asked. His hand flexed towards her elbow, but the gesture cut short before he could touch her.

“As long as weight is kept off the injury, yes,” Flemeth answered for her. “Morrigan knows spells to speed the healing.”

“She’s a mage too?” He frowned. “Outside of the Wilds that will make her an apostate – it could be a problem.”

The witch canted her head to the side. “If you did not want the aid of us illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you on top of that tower.”

“… Point taken.”

“You need not fear for my safety,” Morrigan interrupted. Unlike her mother’s dry mockery, hers rang with glee, a songbird instead of a crow. “I am more than capable of outwitting those brutes the Chantry keeps leashed to its service.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “that attitude isn’t going to draw any attention at all.”

Her lips thinned. “I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination,” she said to Rosslyn. “’Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or if you prefer,” she added, with a pointed look at Alistair, “I will simply be your silent guide.”

Years of lessons in court etiquette schooled Rosslyn’s expression into one of indifference, shrugging off the bite in her temper caused by the now-pulsing ache in her shoulder.

“A silent guide is no good to me,” she replied levelly. “And you’re right that we’ll need supplies.”

“Then I shall gather my things,” Morrigan replied with a condescending nod.

She slunk away behind the hovel and in watching her go Rosslyn failed to notice Flemeth’s exit as well, silent as mist. Alistair watched her.

“We need all the allies we can get,” she told him, before he could complain.

“No, it’s not… Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m difficult to kill.” The wry edge in her voice held too much bitterness to pass as a joke, but one corner of his mouth tilted up all the same. He inhaled, then let go the breath. A wren called from the thicket beyond the clearing, a sharp chit-chit like a pair of marbles clacking together.

“Eamon will know what to do,” he said. “He’s one of Cailan’s oldest advisors.”

“Not his anymore,” she replied, as gently as she could.

He flinched. “Don’t do that. When we were in the tower…” He shook his head. “It wasn’t me they were following. None of this is supposed to be happening.”

She thought of the whisper that had snaked deep through her flesh as the darkspawn blood burned down her throat, her vision doubled on an image of blackened, crooked scales and a maw of sword-sharp teeth dripping poison. The weak sun faltered behind a creeping bank of cloud and even wrapped in the thick wool of Flemeth’s blanket a shiver grasped at her bones. Her injury throbbed. She held her tongue.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #da:o #dragon age fanfiction #alistair theirin #alistair x warden #warden x alistair #alistair x cousland #cousland x alistair #rosslyn cousland #cousland #morrigan #flemeth

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myreia · 1 year

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Myreia's Fanfic Masterlist

Fics are listed in chronological order where possible. Any fics that are not FFXIV are only available on AO3. All fics are finished unless otherwise noted. Fics depicting sexual scenarios are labelled as explicit.

✦ FFXIV

A Realm Reborn

Far From Happenstance | Aureia x Thancred (pre-relationship) | 3,786 words

Uncertainty | Aureia x Thancred (pre-relationship) | 1,179 words

To Ash and Ember | Aureia x Thancred (pre-relationship), Lahabrea | 2,057 words

Sand and Stone | Aureia x Thancred (pre-relationship) | 1,915 words

Heavensward

Bitter Frost | Aureia, Alphinaud, Haurchefant | 2,216 words

Divergence of the Heart | Aureia x Thancred (pre-relationship), Aureia x Aymeric, Thancred x Hilda

For All the Truths Left Unspoken | Aureia x Thancred (not established), background Aureia x Aymeric & Thancred x Hilda | 1,520 words

A Question of Desire | Aureia x Aymeric | 1,791 words

A Question of Home | Aureia x Aymeric | 2,143 words [explicit]

Shadowbringers

Bound by Faith | Aureia x Thancred, Urianger, Ryne, Scions

✦ Chapter 1: Philia | 5,393 words ✦ Chapter 2: Philautia ✦ Chapter 3: Pragma ✦ Chapter 4: Eros ✦ Chapter 5: Storge

Other

The Long Way Home | Aureia x Thancred, Aureia x Aymeric, Aureia x Sidurgu, Aureia x Fordola | 7,870 words | mature | gpose + ficlet series (tumblr version here)

✦ Dragon Age

Rhea Tabris (Dragon Age: Origins)

City of Thieves | Rhea x Daveth | 14,206 words | multipart | abandoned

The Break | Rhea x Daveth | 4,210 words [explicit]

Resistance | Rhea x Daveth | 25,370 words | multipart [explicit]

Over a Pint of Dwarven Ale | Rhea/Alistair | 2,383 words

Moonlight | Rhea x Alistair | 6,914 words [explicit]

Venara Lavellan (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Main Canon

Like a Whisper Upon the Cold, Harsh Air | Solas, Venara | 2,271 words

Frozen in Ice, Revived by Fire | Venara x Solas | 2,464 words

In Storm and Shadow | Venara + many characters | 13,404 words | multipart

The Portrait | Venara, Josephine, rude Orlesians | 3,760 words

A Dance for You and Me | Venara x Solas | 1,716 words

Farewell to the Lioness | Venara x Solas | 2,452 words

Serenity | Venara x Solas | 2,727 words

At Last | Venara x Solas | 2,313 words

Home | Venara x Solas | 748 words

A Gift and a Promise | Venara x Solas | 2,282 words

Snowfall in the Imperium | Venara, Sera, Varric, Dorian | 2,056 words

And So the Seasons Turn | Venara, Sera, Josephine | 5,653 words

The Wolf's Daughter

The Witch's Offer | Venara, Morrigan | 2,147 words

The Wolf's Daughter | Venara, Alia, Solas | 2,224 words

Birdsong | Venara, Alia | 1,733 words

Vidomeda Adaar (Dragon Age: Inquistion)

Alchemy | Vidomeda, Mira Lavellan | 732 words

The Inquisitor and the Diplomat | Vidomeda x Josephine | 4,069 words | multipart [explicit]

Rapture | Vidomeda x Josephine | 3,866 words [explicit]

Ariane Hawke (Dragon Age 2)

Spark | Ariane x Sebastian | 1,622 words

Sorrow | Ariane x Sebastian | 2,695 words

Lorenna Hawke (Dragon Age 2)

Blood and Wine | Lorenna x Fenris | 3,969 words | multipart

Never Say Never | Lorenna x Fenris | 2,672 words

Wine Night | Lorenna x Fenris | 1,022 words

Arrow of Carnations (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Josephine x Solas series.

The Voice of Reason | Josephine x Solas | 1291 words

Unraveled | Josephine x Solas | 5,438 words [explicit]

Entangled | Josephine x Solas | 5,230 words

For the Best | Josephine x Solas | 1257 words

Crystal Grace | Josephine x Solas | 1,434 words [explicit]

A Test of Patience | Josephine x Solas | 1927 words

Distractions | Josephine x Solas | 3,573 words [explicit]

Divine | Josephine x Solas | 3,549 words [explicit]

Such Sweet Sorrow | Josephine x Solas | 2,090 words

Not by Fate's Design (Dragon Age 2/Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Varric x Bianca series.

Stolen Kiss | Varric x Bianca | 1,832 words

Playing With Fire | Varric x Bianca | 4,207 words [explicit]

Not This Time | Bianca, Bogdan | 732 words

A Crack in the Glass | Bianca, Celene | 4,025 words

The Paths That Never Cross | Varric x Bianca | 1,593 words

Other

Leave Me At the Shore of the Heart | Bethany x Anders | 9,333 words | multipart

Called | Alistair x Anora | 3,786 words

Candlelight | Iwyn Lavellan x Solas | 1,998 words [explicit] | gift for @thevikingwoman

The Inquisitor's Warden | Rhea Tabris x Mahanon Lavellan | 4,063 words [explicit] | gift for kagetsukai

✦ Horizon: Zero Dawn

A Girl and Her Strider | Aloy | 2,500 words

A Way to an End | Aloy, Nil | 1,541 words

Stardust | Aloy x Talanah | 3,254 words

Last Updated: 2024-04-25

#writing tag #writing masterlist

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lifesafairytale · 2 years

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❀MASTERLIST❀

Team RWBY

Reader is cold but is a sweetheart with them✿♡

Reader has a Nervous Breakdown✿❥◎

Touch Starved!Reader✿♡◎

Drunk!Reader Calling Them✿♡◎

Having A Crush on the Same Person✿♡◎

Coming Back After Two Years✿♡◎

Stoic!Reader Crying✿♡◎

Accidentally Walking in on Reader Changing/Getting Out of the Shower✿♡◎

D (Fluff Alphabet)✿◎

Ruby Rose

Ticklish!Reader ✿♡

Reader has Amnesia✿❥◎

Being Her Sibling (Middle Child)☆♡◎

Weiss Schnee

Insulting/Slapping Jacques Schnee ✿❥

English Tea (Tea Prompts) ✿

Friends with a Rival Family's Child☆♡◎

Arranged Marriage with Reader✿♡◎

Blake Belladonna

Blake as an Older Sister ☆♡

Reader with a Mimicry Semblance ✿❥

Reader Owns a Cat✿❥◎

Yang Xiao Long

Working Out✿♡

Reader has Amnesia✿❥◎

Being Her Sibling (Middle Child)☆♡◎

Falling for Blake's Sibling✿♡◎

English Tea (Prompts) ✿

Pomegranate Tea and Earl Grey Tea (Prompts)✿◎

Coffee (Prompts)✿◎

A,F, P, W, X (Valentine Event)✿◎

Team JNPR

Jaune Arc

Nora Valkyrie

Ticklish!Reader ✿♡

Reader with a Napoleon Complex ✿♡

Accidentally Walking in on Reader Changing/Getting Out of the Shower✿♡◎

Pyrrha Nikos

Working Out✿♡◎

Accidentally Walking in on Reader Changing/Getting Out of the Shower✿♡◎

Lemon Tea and Earl Grey Tea (Prompts)✿◎

Lie Ren

Reader with a Napoleon Complex ✿♡

Helping Reader with Chronic Pain✿♡◎

Team CFVY

Coco Adel

Fox Alistair

Velvet Scarlatina

Reader Owns a Rabbit✿❥◎

J,K,V,W (Fluff Alphabet)✿◎

Yatsuhashi Daichi

Team CRDL

Cardin Winchester

Russel Thrush

Dove Bronzewing

Sophisticated but Sarcastic!Reader✿♡◎

Sky Lark

Team SSSN

Sun Wukong

Working Out✿♡◎

Scarlett David

Sage Ayana

Neptune Vasilias

Teaching Him How to Dance✿❥◎

Team FNKI

Flint Coal

Neon Katt

Kobalt

Ivory

Team ABRN

Arslan Altan

Bolin Hori

Reese Chloris

Nadir Shiko

Team BRNZ

Brawnz Ni

Roy Stallion

Nolan Porfirio

May Zedong

Team NDGO

Nebula Violette

Dew Gayl

Gwen Darcy

Octavia Ember

Team STRQ

Summer Rose

Taiyang Xiao Long

Raven Branwen

Qrow Branwen

Secretive!Reader✿❥❀◎

Milk Tea and Rosehip Tea (Prompts)✿◎

Ace Operatives

Clover Ebi

Elm Ederne

Vine Zeki

Harriet Bree

Marrow Amin

Happy Huntresses

Robyn Hill

Fiona Thyme

Joanna Greenleaf

May Marigold

Salem's Faction

Salem

Cinder Fall

Reader with a Mimicry Semblance ✿❥

Arthur Watts

Reader with a Mimicry Semblance ✿❥

English Breakfast Tea (Prompts)✿

Earl Grey Tea and Rooibos Tea (Prompts)✿

Sophisticated but Sarcastic!Reader✿♡◎

Hazel Rainart

Tyrian Callows

Schnee Household

Willow Schnee

A,E,F,J,N (Valentine Event)✿◎

Winter Schnee

Insulting/Slapping Jacques Schnee ✿❥

Reader Being Flustered✿❥◎

Meeting Again at the Vytal Festival✿♡◎

Whitley Schnee

Insulting/Slapping Jacques Schnee ✿❥

Klein Sieben

Menagerie/White Fang

Ghira Belladonna

Kali Belladonna

Sienna Khan

Reader Being Flustered✿❥◎

Corsac Albain

Fennec Albain

Ilia Amitola

Yuma

Trifa

Adam Taurus

Xiong Family

Hei 'Junior' Xiong

Melanie Malachite

Miltia Malachite

Headmasters/School Staff

Ozpin/Ozma

Reader Being Flustered✿❥◎

Secretive!Reader✿❥❀◎

Glynda Goodwitch

Secretive!Reader✿❥❀◎

Sophisticated but Sarcastic!Reader✿♡◎

Dr. Bartholomew Oobleck

Peter Port

Leonardo Lionheart

James Ironwood

Secretive!Reader✿❥❀◎

Reader Being Flustered✿❥◎

Theodore

Miscellaneous

Roman Torchwick

Neo

Ciel Soleil

Penny Polendina

Sophisticated but Sarcastic!Reader✿♡◎

Pietro Polendina

Maria Calavera

Oscar Pine

Emerald Sustrai

Mercury Black

Forest

Vernal

Amber

#rwby #rwby imagines #rwby x reader #rwby headcanon

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Like Father, Like Daughter [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Summary: A 4 a.m. fiasco in which your newborn daughter wakes up the entire Lord homestead.

Word Count: 2800>

Rating: PG

Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff. Just a newborn baby that won’t settle, a big brother who wants to protect his younger sibling at all costs, and pure familial love. ALSO LADY LORD THE CAT MAKES A RETURN… She's the real trouble maker of the family.

Author’s note: This is SO self indulgent. I cannot stress that enough. I was clearing out my ask inbox and one of the most common requests I get is a) more Lord family and b) more Soft!Max... so here we are.

Masterlist

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

No matter what, she just didn’t settle. It was three in the morning and you’d put her back down to bed only twenty minutes ago. Just as you managed to close your eyes and feel yourself begin to fall back to sleep, her cries erupted once more and echoed throughout the house. You had no idea how Maxwell could sleep through it. He was a heavy sleeper, and although he made you promise to wake him when you needed him to take over with the newborn, you couldn’t bear to. He was so busy with work and his career, the last thing he needed was to be up all night with little Aurora.

In practically every way possible, Aurora Lorenzano was like her father. It was funny, really. She was only three weeks old but you could already see the same mannerisms in her, that you did Max. She made a habit of shaking her fists or pointing her little tiny finger at you when she wanted something. She was loud, always wanting to make her voice heard. Her big brown eyes sparkled like starlight and you always wondered how you managed to create something so beautiful. She was a product of you and Maxwell and you swore that you had never loved anything as much as you loved her.

You rolled over and groaned into your pillow as you heard her scream with anguish. You were exhausted, and completely at a loss. You’d held her, fed her, changed her diaper -- what more could she want? You couldn’t remember the last time you got more than an hours worth of sleep, and even then it was broken up into intervals. You looked over at Max who was sleeping next to you, his chest rising and falling with every soft breath he took. And you envied him. This was ridiculous. Just for once you wanted to sleep. Just once.

“Max,” you said, prodding your index finger into his bicep. He didn’t move an inch. “Max,” you said again, a little louder this time, but even Aurora’s wails were overpowering the sound of your voice. You said his name a few more times but he didn’t even stir.

You sighed, climbing on top of your boyfriend and straddling his hips. You leaned over him and clasped his cheeks, squeezing them together. “Maxwell Lord!” you shouted in his face, and watched as his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. His sudden movement knocked you backwards slightly but you couldn’t help but laugh at the way you had shocked him into waking up.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed, rubbing his tired eyes and shooting you a joking glare. “Why are you on top of me?” His gaze flicked from your face, down to your body, and his confused glance turning into something a little more sultry. He snaked his arms around your waist and gave your hip a playful squeeze. “You do know Aurora is crying, don’t you?” he quizzed, with an eyebrow quirked. You had to hold back from punching him.

“I know she’s crying, dumbass,” you spat back, rolling off Max and dramatically throwing the pillow over your face. “Please, please can you check on her? She’s fine. I know she’s fine. I’ve checked on her five times already tonight. But she just-- she won’t stop-- and I don’t--”

Sensing the way you were getting worked up, Max tore the pillow from your face and shushed you. He pressed a soft yet chaste kiss to your forehead. “Say no more, I’m on it.” he whispered, rolling out of bed.

You watched Max grab his robe and shuffle into his slippers as he padded out of your shared bedroom. Well, you were awake now. You sighed and closed your eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could earn a few more hours of deserved sleep.

Maxwell flicked on the amber night light in Aurora’s nursery, the dim embers burning bright enough to force Max adjust his eyesight in the darkness. “Hey hey baby girl,” he cooed, rubbing his tired eyes again and running a hand through his dark blonde hair. He peered over the side of the crib and his heart ached when he caught sight of his daughter, all snotty and teary eyed. “What are you crying for, huh? Why is my little princess crying?” he asked Aurora, using his thumb to wipe away some of her tears. She sniffled slightly, her eyes fixating on her father. “Tell daddy what’s wrong, and I promise you I’ll fix it. What do you need, hm?”

You could hear Maxwell talking to Aurora, ever so faintly. His voice always soothed you, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise to find it settling her as well. You smiled to yourself, counting your blessings. You had gotten so lucky with your little family.

Aurora made grabby fists and reached out to Maxwell, her big eyes glimmering with desire.

“Oh,” Maxwell hummed, catching her message almost immediately. He reached into the crib and picked up Aurora, nursing her in his warm arms. “You wanted to be held by daddy. Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Aurora scowled and Max pinched her cheek. “Listen to me, my little princess. Your mommy does everything in her power to take care of you and protect you. We love you so much, but, you keep her awake all night. So let’s make a deal, okay Aurora? Let’s agree that from now on, you only wake up mommy once a night. If that. Can you do that for me?”

Aurora’s scowl deepened and she furrowed her eyebrows together.

“Don’t pull faces at me, young lady,” Maxwell chastised. Aurora’s face softened and she squeezed Max’s thumb. He couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, good. I knew you’d understand. See, me and you are on the same wavelength. We get each other.”

Aurora’s lips curled into a smile that matched her father’s, and Max continued to smooth out her hair. You had overheard that part of the conversation, and you wished that you could’ve only been there to witness the interaction. Maxwell made a habit of talking ‘business’ with Aurora. It was funny, but in a strange way, it was like she understood him.

Now that the crying had stopped, you figured you could at least try and fall asleep.

“Daddy?”

Maxwell crooked his head slightly and looked over at the nursery door, where his six year old son, Alistair was standing. “Hey buddy,” Maxwell said quietly, ushering Alistair to come over. “Why are you awake?”

“Aurora was crying,” Alistair mumbled, dragging his comfort blanket and one of his soft toys further into the nursery. “I brought her my comforter and my Ewok.”

“Your what--?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“My Ewok.” Alistair repeated, offering no further explanation.

“Well Ali, that’s very thoughtful. Why don’t you put your… Ewok in her crib, and pass me your comforter. We can wrap her in it,” Maxwell instructed, and Alistair obliged. “Why don’t you wrap the blanket around her, hm? But be careful.”

Max lifted up Aurora ever so slightly so Alistair could fit the blanket around her tiny body. “I think she likes it.” Alistair grinned, completely chuffed with himself, and Max nodded his head in affirmation.

“She does,” he smiled, squeezing his son’s shoulder so he knew that his father was proud. “Now she knows her big brother will always look out for her.”

“I will daddy, I promise.”

The two boys spent a few minutes in comfortable silence, gushing and fussing over Aurora.

“Why was sissy crying? Is she alright?” Alistair pondered out loud, the concern clear in his voice.

“Yeah, of course, she’s fine. Look, sometimes we just need to be held. We just need to know that there’s someone out there watching over us. And that everything will be okay.” Max said softly, tracing his finger along Aurora’s delicate face. Alistair stayed quiet for a moment as he took in his father’s words. That feeling resonated with Alistair all too well. He knew what it felt like to yearn for the attention of a parent. And Maxwell understood it too. He had an awful relationship with his own father, which is why he swore to be the absolute best for his son and daughter. “Ali, could you do me a favour?” Max questioned, eventually breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

“Could you quietly go check on mommy and see if she’s sleeping?”

Alistair nodded and tip-toed out of the nursery and into your bedroom. Low and behold, you were finally sleeping. Alistair got a little too close to you, and pushed your hair out of your face so he could check to see if your eyes were closed. His brash movement (even though he’d tried his hardest to be gentle) woke you up. Alistair gasped when he saw what he’d done and smacked his hand over his mouth in disbelief.

“Oh no, were you asleep?” Alistair questioned, his dark eyes going wide. You yawned and nodded your head. “Did I wake you?”

You offered him a tired smile and pulled him into the bed so he could curl up next to you. “It’s okay Ali. Did Aurora wake you up too?”

“Yeah.” Alistair mumbled tiredly, nuzzling into your chest for comfort. He was immediately put at ease in your arms.

He’d never had a relationship like this with his biological mother, no matter how much he’d wished for it. But now he finally had you. You loved Alistair like he was your own blood and you treated him as your own since day one. You loved him unconditionally, just as much as you loved Aurora. Alistair was so thankful to have someone like you in his life and your bond with him was unbreakable. Maybe wishes could come true.

“She’s a little trouble maker.” you yawned and Alistair stifled a giggle.

“Like daddy.” he muttered and you grinned.

“Exactly. Just like daddy.”

After a few intimate moments alone with Aurora, Maxwell stood up. She’d settled down a lot and had even fallen asleep in his arms. Max didn’t want to put her down to bed though, at least, not yet.

Maybe he could bring her to bed. That would be nice.

Cradling Aurora, he carefully stood up from the oak wood rocking chair and padded out of the nursery, only to hear a series of thumping footsteps venture up the stairs.

Oh no.

The jingle of her pretty pink collar was unmistakable, as the fluffy white cat, Lady Lord, came bouncing up the staircase. She purred and circled around Max’s feet, rubbing her soft cheeks over his legs.

“What do you want?” Maxwell asked, glaring down at the kitty.

Lady just looked up at him and meow’ed, her blue eyes wide and awake. If she wanted anything, it was to be fed. She loved her biscuits.

“Lady, it’s almost four in the morning. You’ll have to wait until breakfast.”

She meow’ed again, this time louder, and followed Max by his heels as he walked along the corridor.

“I don’t care, Lady,” Max sighed. “We fed you before we went to bed and you’ll get something in a few hours. I’m not feeding you now.”

Maxwell swore this cat was like having a third child.

Lady wailed and raced past Maxwell once she sensed he was heading to his bedroom. Lady Lord jumped onto the bottom of the bed, by your feet, and curled up. She looked like a snowball.

You smiled to yourself as you heard Max approach. He tilted his head and frowned when he entered the bedroom and noticed you were still awake. His frown deepened when he saw that Alistair was laying next to you.

“I thought he’d gone to bed,” Max confessed, gently passing you Aurora so you could hold her while he discarded his slippers and robe. You smoothed out Alistair’s dark hair and watched him as he slept peacefully by your side. “And why are you still awake?” Max questioned.

“I was listening to the conversation you were having with your business associate-- I mean, your daughter.” you joked and Maxwell rolled his eyes, sliding under the covers. He took Aurora from your arms so he could nurse her again.

“She gets me.” Max assured you and you had to stifle back a laugh. You leaned your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder and looked down at the newborn.

“That’s great honey, but if her first words end up being ‘Life is good, but it can be better’, I’ll not be happy.” you quipped and Maxwell smirked.

In this precise moment, Maxwell swore that he had never been happier. He spent much of his life believing money and materials would satisfy him, but he was still left with an empty, gaping hole in his heart. He always wanted more, he wanted to try and somehow fill that void, but he just didn’t know what to look for. He was never searching for love, and yet you still found him. And you filled that hole in his heart. You completed him, and made him into a better man. He could never fault you for that, and he’d always be grateful for everything you did for him. Everyday that was spent with you and his growing family was a day well spent.

If he could change one thing, it would be that he realised this sooner. But you taught him that he shouldn’t regret anything. Yes, he had made mistakes, but so does everyone, and that doesn’t make him any less of a person. What inspired you the most about Max was that he consistently worked on himself and tried to better himself for his family. And you saw his progress every single day.

“Do you want me to take Ali to bed?” Max asked, kissing your shoulder softly.

“No, he’s fine here,” you replied quietly, feeling the utmost contentment with your family being by your side. “This bed can easily fit five people.” you acknowledged.

Maxwell’s eyes went comically wide at your comment. “Five?!” he wheezed, and you pointed your finger down towards the edge of the bed where Lady was sleeping. Max hadn't even noticed her joining. Clearly, it was a family event, at 4am in his bed. “She follows me everywhere!” Max exclaimed incredulously, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck. Lady opened her eyes and glanced up at Max, recognising the mention of her.

“She loves you.” you cooed.

“She’s annoying.” Maxwell frowned, but you knew, deep down, he adored that cat. He had never been an animal person, and he wouldn’t have adopted Lady if it wasn’t for you, but he truly did love her. She was loyal and compassionate and despite the trail of cat hairs she left all over his three piece power suits, he wouldn’t trade her for the world.

“And you love her too.” you corrected him.

Max sighed and shook his head in defeat before returning to his previous statement. “You know, this bed might actually be able to fit more than five people. Maybe six. Or seven…” he trailed off, his free hand caressing your thigh as he sized up the double king-sized bed.

He wasn’t subtle. You could read him like an open book. You knew exactly what he was implying.

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at him with wide eyes. Max’s smirk only grew upon seeing your reaction. “Wait… are you saying we can get more cats?!”

And just like that, his smirk fell from his lips. “I--”

“Oh my gosh Maxie!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him. Maxwell blinked as he tried to process what just happened.

“I didn’t mean--”

“How long had you been planning this?” Teasing Max Lord might have been one of your most favourite hobbies. If only you could snap a photo of his face at this very moment.

He said your name, slowly and looked slightly disconcerted.

You grinned and cupped his cheek. “I know,” you laughed. “I know what you meant.”

A brief silence filled the room.

“I do like cats…” Max told you eventually. You leaned over him and turned off his bedside lamp.

“Mhm…” you mumbled, rolling over so you were snuggling into him. He was still on his back, nursing Aurora.

“I’m just saying…” he trailed off, staring at the ceiling. “I think we’re pretty good at this parenting thing. And I like… having kids with you…”

You smiled in the darkness.

“Go to sleep Maxie.” you whispered.

“I just think--”

“Go to sleep.” you giggled, and you felt him press a kiss into your hair.

“Goodnight,” he uttered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #alistair lord #maxwell lorenzano

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winchest09 · 4 years

Text

Life for Rent - Chapter Twenty Seven

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Escort!Reader

Universe: AU

Summary: Y/N can be anyone for a price. Her life is ruled by contracts, men and money. It’s all she knows; countless identities, seedy clients, and strict regulations. She has to obey the rules, but her past is full of secrets and her future is resting in the wrong hands. But will her next client be the same as the rest?

Rating: 18+ W/C: 5216

Warnings: (spoilers) Angst, violence, threats, death threats, talks of death, imprisonment, suicidal thoughts, violent outbreak, swearing, blackmail, deceit, double crossing, guns, trafficking.

PLEASE HEED THESE. IF ANY OF THEM ARE TRIGGERS, DO NOT READ.

A/N: So...three chapters left after this one...are you ready? ;)

Special thanks to this absolute babe @katehuntington <3 My worldie, my bestie, my beta whose reaction to this always has me beaming, without her, i’d go insane. She’s my cheerleader <3

I hope you guys enjoy this add! Thanks everyone for sticking with me and this fic <3

Love you all.

xox

– I absolutely adore your reactions to this, so please if you do read, reblog, comment or send me an ask and let me know how you feel! It means the world to me.

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——————————————–

<– Chapter Twenty Six

——————————————–

Do it.

Those words echoed around Dean’s head as he stared down at the woman who had managed to fool him entirely. Not again, not her, not Y/N. After everything they had been through, after what he had done for her; what he felt for her. He didn’t understand how she could do this to him. He’d given her everything, he’d allowed her to be a part of his family and yet here she was, on her knees waiting for him to end it all. Never in his life had he come across someone that was so accepting of death. She wasn’t pleading her case or begging to be spared. Neither was she making excuses for what she had done.

His hand shook as he felt the weight of her forehead pressed against the muzzle of his gun. Her eyes closed as she waited for him to pull the trigger. Dean had always been so collected in these situations, taking the shot without hesitation, but staring down at the woman who had invaded his heart, he lost that impulse. Turmoil rolled through his mind as he fought with his instinct, with the way he had been raised. A traitor’s life is ended. No ifs, no buts, no maybes.

Dean didn’t move to swipe at the tears of regret that stained his cheeks, he didn’t blink away the pain that was captured in his green orbs; he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the escort who had threatened his entire family. She had pulled the wool over his eyes, had been the wolf in sheep's clothing this entire time. He’d let her into his home, into his bed; he’d allowed her to fill his head with an endless stream of unachievable dreams through her sweet words. Dean thought she was different, that he could finally break down the wall around his heart and allow himself to be happy. He was a fool.

There was no excusing what she had done, not now his family was in danger, their lives threatened. She was a traitor, and traitors needed to be put down. His lips curled in a slight snarl as his jaw clenched, tears of frustration coming together at the end of his chin. His thumb steadily made its way to the hammer of the gun, pulling it slowly back, hearing the chilling click of the readed shot. The pad of his forefinger twitched over the trigger, the tip pressing harder against the metal ring as he made his decision.

No ifs, no buts, no maybes.

With a loud echo, his shot rang out. The noise ringing through his ears as fresh tears caraded down his cheeks, his weapon hot in his hand. He didn’t make a sound, his eyes now hazy with unshed sadness as a vice gripped at his heart. He really wished it hadn’t come to this, maybe it had just proved to him that he wasn’t allowed to give himself to anyone, that he would be better off on his own. With a short sniff, he moved to tuck the gun into the waistband of his jeans. The sight in front of him was getting too much for him to bear, he needed to get out, he had more important matters to attend too.

The broken Winchester marched out of his room, slamming the door shut behind him before he turned to lock it with his key. Shutting out his darkness, his shame and the woman who had been the cause of it all. He frustratedly slammed his fist against the wood, his angered roar tearing from his throat before he pushed himself to storm down the hall, trying somehow to formulate a plan in his mind to protect the people he cares for most.

Hurriedly pulling his phone from his pocket, Dean’s shaking thumb quickly dialled Sam’s number as he put his cell to his ear. He paced down the hall, one hand combing through his hair as time seemed to slow.

“Pick up, dammit,” Dean growled down the line, his heart pounding in his chest as the dial tone echoed in his ear. Each ring longer than the last. “Pick the fuck up, Sammy.”

“Dean?”

The relief that flooded his being at the sound of his brother’s voice felt like ice on fire.

“Turn around, get home. Now!” he barked, rushing down the stairs towards the foyer, his eyes scanning every doorway in case of a possible ambush.

“What’s happened?”

“Just do it, Sam,” Dean snapped, “It’s a trap.” As soon as the words left his lips he felt the anger surge through his veins.

The older Winchester made his way to the windows next to the front door, gingerly using his fingers to peel back the voils in the windows, peering to see if anyone was coming for him.

“We know.” Those two words that Sam uttered made Dean frown, his gaze breaking away from the outside, “Charlie figured out it was a ruse a few moments ago, we’re setting up a diversion so they don’t follow us home.”

“Good,” a silent sigh of relief left him, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as he was thankful for his brother's safety. Dean strode into the living room, his mind trying to formulate any kind of strategy to keep his family safe from harm. “Watch your backs, go the long way home, keep your hand on your gun at all times.”

“What’s going on?”

Dean bit his bottom lip, his tongue running over his teeth as he resisted the urge to spill everything there and then. “Just get back in one piece,” he instructed, “both of you.”

Immediately ending the call, his next thoughts were on Benny and Cas, the two of the best soldiers he had in this raging war of dominating gangs. With his phone back to his ear, he listened to the agonisingly slow dial tone as he walked around to the pool table, his fingers running slowly along the wooden frame.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, another long ring echoing in his ears. “Come fuckin’ on,” he growled, his eyes pinched closed as he tapped his digits against the wood. “Dammit Benny.”

He couldn’t prevent the worry that ate away at his stomach, the way his heart thumped harder in his chest and the panic that tightened his torso. Dean needed to keep a rational head, his friend may have not heard his phone plus there was always Cas. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he dialled another number and waited impatiently for him to answer.

“Answer the phone, answer the phone,” he chanted, his fist curling into a tight ball tighter at the sound of each ring.

I’m sorry, this caller is unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.

Before he could react, his phone pinged with the sound of an incoming message, one that his thumb was quick to open when he saw it was from Benny. Even though he thought he was prepared for whatever was in the message, he still felt like he had been punched in the gut when he opened the text. There, tied to two chairs, blindfolded and gagged were his men, his best friends. Their faces were beaten and bloody, their shirts stained with crimson.

“NO!” Dean screamed, throwing his phone to the floor in a blast of rage. He was too late, Nick and Alistair had gotten to his family and he didn’t know how long he had until they were dead.

He couldn’t contain his anger as his torment roared from his chest, his hands breaking and destroying everything in their reach. Picture frames; shelves were ripped from the walls, Dean was on a destructive warpath and nothing was safe. He surrounded himself in glass, in broken porcelain and tainted memories, the noises that left his lips were nothing short of animalistic. He didn’t stop to take a breath, he didn’t falter as he tipped over a bookcase and sent many works of fiction scattering across the floor. He spotted the rows of pool cues resting against the wall, and one by one tore them from their fixtures and beat them against the table, splinters of wood flying through the air. He broke every single one of them, leaving his bloody hands holding nothing but the broken remains of his rampage. His eyes burned embers as his face wore a snarl, his nose flared as he looked for the next perfect thing to destroy. Because that was all he was good for.

“What the hell happened here?!” Sam’s voice cut through the red mist that had descended over him, his head snapping over to where his sibling and Charlie were standing, visibly confused.

With his chest heaving, Dean dropped the broken pieces of wood to the floor as he walked over to where the two were standing, pulling his little brother into a crushing hug. He could feel Sam hesitate for a moment before he returned the embrace, the action calming his enraged spirit, relief flooding the fire. Thank god he was safe.

After a few drawn out seconds, he pulled back, clapping the shoulder of the taller Winchester before he headed towards the one thing he didn’t destroy, his alcohol. He needed the burn of whiskey in his throat for the news he was about to tell them, the liquor in his system to numb the sting of the past hour.

Dean’s bedroom was still. The dust had settled on the broken scene; on the shattered glass, the split wood and the broken body that was still rooted to the spot. There was not a sound to be heard, the screams were long gone and so were the uneven sobs from the woman who had torn his world down around him.

It was then that Y/N heaved in a shaky breath, her eyes still clenched tightly shut as she hadn’t dared to open them. She had never expected to still be kneeling in this spot with air in her lungs and a beat to her heart, yet here she was. Her ears ringing with the sound of the gunshot, her body tense with fear as she didn’t know whether she should be grateful that she was still alive, or dreadful because of it. When she had heard Dean pull back the hammer of the gun, she was at peace. She accepted that this was the end of her story, but he chose not to finish it. He chose to aim the gun and shoot it in another direction, leaving her in dismay.

Y/N didn’t understand his actions. She deserved the bullet that Dean was going to shoot into her head. As far as the escort was concerned, she shouldn’t be here right now, she should be long gone and away from this world, away from the torment and this horrendous life. She hadn’t expected him to keep her alive and she would never forget the look he gave her when she fed him the truth. The way his eyes grew cold upon the realisation that she had betrayed him; it solidified her view that there was no coming back from this. Her thoughts were chasing their metaphorical tail as she went around in circles. There was nowhere to run, no way to forget what she had done.

Her body was still shaking as she gained the courage to open her eyes, bracing herself to cast her gaze over the damage she had caused. The room was a mess, his belongings destroyed and it was all because of her. Her lips trembled as a warm tear dropped onto her pale cheek. It was then that she looked upon his bedroom door, the barrier she heard him lock with a faint click as she was dazed on her knees. Y/N knew there was no point in trying to escape, she wouldn’t get very far even if she tried. Dean would most certainly see her leaving his manor and if on the slightest chance she did get away, The Master would find her.

The Master.

She couldn’t leave this house, she didn’t want to subject herself to the hours of torment she was going to face in isolation. The humiliation, the beatings, the assault. Her body was fractured enough as it was, her wings had been snapped and her spirit had been broken long before Dean had found the light in her again. But like a long burning candle, her flame had burned out, she simply had nothing left to give.

With quaking legs she stood, her cheeks still warm from the overflowing shame she felt, as she turned around in the spot she was standing. On the floor she spotted Dean’s clothes from which he had changed out of, the clothes in which he was teaching her how to defend herself from the horrors of the world. If only he had known then, he wouldn’t have wasted his time or energy on her. Taking a sharp breath, the defeated woman took an unbalanced step towards the mobster’s bed, her forehead slightly creasing as her mind plagued her with a question. Where did the bullet go?

She knew it didn’t matter, it was just a piece of metal to anybody else, but to her it meant something, to her that was the thing that was meant to end her life. So, with curious eyes and a determined head, she calculated the shot. Casting her vision over the room as she scanned every possible place it could be. It was then that she saw it, the small, circular entrance that had been created on the side of Dean’s luxury mattress.

Y/N took a deep breath, her feet taking her the small distance needed to clamber onto his bed, eyes fixated on the hole that was meant to be in her. With slim fingers and a bit of patience, she located the small metal casing and pulled it out. Bringing it up to her eye level, she rolled it between her forefinger and thumb. She could just throw it to one side and be done with it yet, instead, she allowed it to fall into her palm as she curled her hand around it, squeezing tightly. It was a stark reminder of what her life had led too.

As the day bled into nightfall, Y/N was going under fast when she was desperate for somebody to hear her. But she came to realise that there was no one left to change the course of action. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen, she didn’t want to break his trust or his heart, she was just so terrified of any consequences. For a month, the escort had been living a life that she had longed for since she was six years old, a life without rules or chains, a life where she was free to breathe. Dean eased her suffering, yet he could only mask her agony for so long.

Flickers of faint moonlight caught her attention, her face slightly angling towards the broken glass on the floor next to the bed. Y/N almost felt as though they were calling to her, one shattered object to another. She gracefully bent down, her fingers tracing the shards that were scattered amongst photo frames. It was then she saw Dean’s warm smile staring up at her, his eyes crinkled and light as he stood next to his family. Her hand hovered above it, the pads of her fingertips gently caressing his face on the picture. He had already given her so much more than she could have dreamed and for that she would be ever thankful. Now, it was about time she took matters into her own hands. If he couldn’t stop the horror that she had been living, then she would.

It was bound to end in blood and tears.

“Sammy, sit down.” Deans instruction was calm, one finger lifting off the glass of his whiskey filled tumbler to point at the couch. “You gonna join him, Charlie?”

“I think I should leave you guys to it,” the redhead mumbled, hooking her laptop bag over her shoulder before turning to move out of the room. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need me.”

“I need you to look into The Hemlock, Alistair and Nick. I need everything that you can find. Surveillance, movements, birthdays, I don’t give a fuck. I want it all.” Dean didn’t bark his orders but the authority in his tone made Charlie instantly nod in submission.

“I’ll get right on it.”

Sam scoffed as he watched their technical right hand walk away, his head shaking causing his brunette locks to frame his face. He was visibly perplexed by his brother’s sudden change in demeanour.

“What the hell is going on, Dean?” he questioned, one large hand gesturing to the rest of the room. “You’ve snapped every single pool cue we own, the room is a complete mess and where the hell is Y/N?!”

His voice rose at the end of his burning question, one that made the older Winchester’s burning eyes snap to his. With a shake of his head, the defeated mobster took down the rest of his liquor in one hit, hissing as it stung his throat.

“Benny and Cas have been captured and Y/N... She’s locked away,” was his simple response as he turned to grab for the whiskey bottle, the remainder of the alcohol calling to him.

“How?!” Sam's brow knitted together. “And what the fuck do you mean ‘locked away’?!”

The news Dean was about to share felt like a hard pill to swallow. He still couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to, but it was the bitter truth. “She betrayed us, Sammy. betrayed me...that’s how.”

He scoffed harshly as he brought the liquor with him, sitting opposite his little brother on the couch. “Lied to our faces, just like fucking Cassie.”

Sam watched as Dean refilled his glass before placing the bottle on the still intact table, the gears turning in his head as he tried to understand. “You’re not making any sense. Wh--”

“- You were right, okay?!” the mobster snapped, rubbing at his forehead frustratingly with his palm. “I shouldn’t have hired her, I should have never stepped foot in that bastard’s place.” With a deep breath, he took a moment to calm the rage that was flowing through his veins like molten lava. “Nick, Y/N... They have been working together to bring us to our knees.”

“What?” Sam urged, not quite believing what he was hearing. She was part of The Hemlock, how could she be working for the enemy?

“That’s right, she told me, Sam,” Dean disclosed, a disapproving tone laced in his words. “Judging from what she said, I can only assume that the plan for today was meant to be our undoing.”

It was that statement that caught the younger Winchester’s attention, “What did she say?”

“What does it matter? Benny and Cas are in danger, Sam. That’s our priority right now,” the mobster stressed, his voice gruff with emotion.

“We have other men, we’ll send them ahead to scope the place out but we don’t even know what we’re walking into right now. We’ve got to be smart about this.”

Dean knew his sibling was right, yet the feeling of losing his blood brothers because of one stupid mistake was more than he could bare. “I can’t lose more family, Sammy. I just can’t.”

“And we won’t, not if we play this smart,” his little brother advised, sincerity lacing his tone. “Now I need to know what Y/N said. Her exact words.”

“I helped plan it,” Dean fired back, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue against his teeth. “That it wasn’t just her but The Master and Nick.”

“Wait,” Sam held up his hand, “The Master?”

Dean threw his head back against the couch and sighed deeply, his forefinger and thumb pinching across his eyes and nose. He still felt like his head was swimming with information, that he couldn’t focus on one particular thing. When he woke up that morning, he was happy and was ready to take on the world. Now he was back to square one, on the break of losing the family who he loves yet again by his own stupid actions.

“Alistair,” Dean sighed, his focus on the ceiling. “That’s the name his girls call him.”

“That’s seriously messed up.” Sam grimaced, shaking his head as he stared at his brother.

“So he’s into pet names,” Dean shrugged while he lifted his head off the couch with annoyance. “You’re missing the entire point of this.”

Sam just huffed, his tongue poking in his cheek as he looked over at his older brother. It didn’t take him long to look at the bigger picture here. Unlike the man in front of him, he could see the situation clearly as he wasn’t being driven by his raw emotion like Dean was. There was a lot more to this situation, it went a lot deeper than just Y/N double crossing them. Sam had suspicions about her behavior since he had spoken to her after playing pool, and especially after the previous night when a phone call had interrupted them, but his doubtful thoughts were never about her dedication to her job and his family, it was about her past and what she had been experiencing.

“I don’t think I am, Dean,” Sam announced, lacing his fingers together in front of him as he rested his arms against his knees.

“Y/N betrayed us all.” Dean’s face turned into one of exasperation, his mind not fathoming how he couldn’t understand exactly what the escort had done to them.

“How?” Sam questioned, his tone still steady and reasonable. “By saving us?”

“She sent you to your death, Sam!” the mobster snapped, his deep voice bellowing off of the walls as he stood from his seat brashly, his right hand throwing his glass against the wall. His green eyes darkened, his lips twitching as he held back a snarl. “I was the one that pulled you out of there!”

“Because she told you too,” came the younger Winchester’s reply, not even flinching at Dean’s actions, which he had gotten used to by now. He raised his eyebrows as he watched the pacing man in front of him, sucking in a deep breath as he ran a hand through his long hair. “Look, calm down for a minute and let’s talk this out, yeah?”

“Why are you on her side in this?!” Dean fumed, his hands running through his hair as he continued to pace the broken mess of the room.

“Dean, I’m not. Believe me, if I’m wrong in all this, I’ll be handing you a loaded gun,” Sam assured, his dark eyes that were trained on his big brother full of conviction and promise.

It was then that the frustrated man stopped in his tracks, angling his body to look down at the voice of reason. “You wanted me to murder Cassie the first chance I got, hell you still do. So what’s changed?”

“She’s not Cassie,” Sam’s reply was almost instant and it basically winded the head of the family, the darkness in his gaze fading as he collapsed back onto the couch. “Dean, Cassie did what she did maliciously, off her own back. Y/N’s held her hands up and told you before it got too far,” he began to explain, his hand rubbing at his jaw. “Look, when I brought Azazel back here, and I kept Y/N company whilst you did your thing, she opened up to me slightly. I didn’t like what I had to hear.”

At that, Dean frowned, his anger subsiding slightly to make way for the uneasiness in his stomach to break through. “Which was?”

He watched his little brother, how he rubbed his hands together before he spoke. It did nothing to settle the anxious feeling that was resonating in his chest.

“She said that you were the first man that had treated her like a person and not an asset,” Sam began to explain, his voice soft and compassionate as he judged for a reaction. “She tried to cover up her words but I know how to read body language, Dean. She was uncomfortable, she was lying to me. Even when I challenged her about it, she couldn’t tell me the truth, so what does that tell you?”

“That she’s a liar,” the mobster seethed, pulling in his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Or that she’s trapped in a corner with nowhere to run,” Sam implored, causing the older to halt his actions, the words resonating through him.

His anger faded, the red fog clearing slightly, causing him to think carefully over his brother’s comments. Maybe he was right; all the evidence that he had gathered so far had already pointed to a not so normal life. So could it be that she was forced into this situation? That she was truly trapped, or was that an easy excuse to make?

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean sighed, shaking his head slightly as he pursed his lips. “But you don’t know everything.”

“What do you mean?” Sam enquired.

“Charlie found some information. I asked her to look into Y/N and report back to me,” the mobster admitted, rubbing at his chin as he edged closer to the edge of his seat. “Her records were dodgy, Sam. There was nothing past the age of six. It was like her life had ended there. I was convinced she had taken on someone else’s life as an alias.”

“But that’s not true?” His little brother's question made Dean shake his head slightly, his lips pursing.

“No. She told me a bit about her past, she confided in me and the woman I saw was so damn vulnerable. But Hell, that could have been an act too right?” A scoff past his pink lips as he reached for the bottle of whiskey that was on the table in front of him. “I don’t know, Sammy. Something isn’t sitting right. The woman I returned to The Hemlock yesterday morning was not the same one I got back. Something changed in her while she was there and then I noticed a tattoo on her neck.”

“A tattoo?”

Dean nodded, walking over to where he’d thrown his phone earlier. “I don’t just think it’s just any kind of ink, Sam,” he doubted, picking the device off the floor and hoping it still worked. A slight wave of relief washed over him when he noticed that all his cell had suffered was a partially cracked screen.

He pulled up the picture that he took, zooming in slightly on the detail before handing it over to the younger Winchester. “I just need to work out the numbers.”

Sam took a moment to study the photograph, the image fanning the flames of his suspicions with a heavy heart. “That’s because it isn’t normal ink, Dean,” he started, swallowing hard as his gaze went back to the awaiting green orbs. “I think she’s been a victim of trafficking.”

Dean’s face changed, his expression slack as his eyebrows twitched. “What?”

“It makes sense, right? The way she acts, the fake personas, the change of personality, the way her walls fell down around you when you took her to do perfectly normal things.”

Did his brother have a point? The mobster took another long gulp from the glass bottle in his hands, his mind racing as he tried to pinpoint his thoughts. Surely he would have noticed it, he’s a mob boss for fuck’s sake, surely he would have seen something. How could he not know? But then even if he did, would it change how he felt about her now? Y/N had still deceived him, lulled him into a false sense of security before aiding the capture of two of his men. If Sam had been caught too...

“I still can’t trust her. Not now, not after this,” Dean admitted, the morbid thoughts of losing his family taunting him.

“She’s just been a pawn in this war, Dean,” Sam tried to reason, sliding his phone back over the table. “And the fact that you’ve left her alive in your bedroom speaks volumes for itself. You need to talk to her.”

The older Winchester huffed a breath before he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “And what is that going to solve, huh?”

“I know what she means to you, and she means more to you now than Cassie ever did,” Sam spoke truthfully, his eyes full of empathy as he stared at the stubborn man across from him. “You need to speak with her, maybe now she’s in a position to tell you the full truth.”

“But Benny and Cas--”

“- I’ll deal with that. You need to do this, Dean. You need answers.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the pair, neither of them breaking their gaze on the other, a psychological standoff.

“Fine,” Dean relented, closing his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath, pushing himself back off of the coach. His legs felt heavy as he made his way towards the staircase, his palms sweating, his throat dry, even though he tried to drown his thirst with liquor. He hadn’t got the time he needed to process the series of events that turned his world upside down, Benny and Cas were in danger, the woman who had captured his soul laid on his bedroom floor. A possible victim of trafficking. Could she have really been forced into this? Why couldn’t she have just told him the truth? Did she not trust him?

Making his way along the long corridor towards his room, he brought the bottle of whiskey back to his lips, his eyes slightly glassy as he thought about how he had left her. Broken, defeated, at his complete mercy on the floor. She was so accepting of punishment, so willing to welcome any harm that was coming her way. Casting his mind back to the first time he truly spent time with her, he remembered her not knowing how to shop. That memory bled into the one where he told her she could keep the dress he had made for her; the look of childish glee when she tried pizza for the first time, the eyes full of wonder when she tasted chocolate covered strawberries. It was all flashing in front of him like it was a damn show. The need to do well continuously, to be the best of the best. The fear in her eyes when she thought she’d failed him. It all made sense now.

With a partially shaking hand, he pulled the key to his room from his jeans pocket, the metal shaking in the lock as he slowly turned it to open. The click echoed through his soul, causing him to inhale deeply as he readied himself to face Y/N once again. With a forceful push, he opened his door, words spilling from his lips before an unexpected sight greeted him.

“You need to explain yourself.”

——————————————– Chapter Twenty Eight --> ——————————————– A/N: *screams* Guys...three more chapters...that’s it! *sobs into a pillow* We’re so close to the end of this story. I hope you’re enjoying these last few stops.

I love you guys so much for reading this…so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Tag list is open!

If you fancy jumping on the Life for Rent train with me and enjoying the rest of the ride, let me know HERE :)

Forever Babes:

@squirrel-moose-winchester / @snffbeebee / @cappsikle / @couldabeenamermaid / @spaghettiwoes / @lynne1993 / @maddiepants / @alwaysdreamingforthebest / @31shadesofbrown / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @thefaithfulwriter / @spnbaby-67 / @not-quite-dead / @blackcherrywhiskey / @helpmeluci / @myownsnowflake / @hobby27 / @big-sad-energy / @coffee-obsessed-writer / @zoerayne2426/ @ariasnyder / @phantom-soilder / @amandamdiehl / @geeksareunique / @keymology / @markofdean79 / @flamencodiva / @jesseswartzwelder / @stoneyggirl / @cpag7 / @heavensangel45135 / @dapresidentsshoelaces / @donnaintx / @deanwinchesterficsx / @tranquility-or-chaos / @miraclesoflove / @s-ravenall / @pisces-cutie / @chocolateheart / @deanwanddamons / @jayesdream / @idksupernatural / @talesmaniac89 / @superfanficnatural / @parinarain / @daughterofthenight117 / @emoryhemsworth / @waywardbeanie / @jensengirl83 / @miss-nerd95 / @malfoysqueen14 / @whatareyousearchingfordean / @atc74 / @akshi8278 / @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

Dean Queens: @x-waywardaf-x / @adoptdontshoppets / @roonyxx / @squirrelnotsam / @ellewritesfix05 / @hardcoresupernatural / @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart / @noneedtoknow789

Life for Rent: @fandom-princess-forevermore / @deans-baby-momma / @tftumblin / @rainflowermoonlibrary / @icedemon1314 / @thewintersoldierswife / / @taetaewonderland / @jadesupernatural / @anaelyreads / @spnfamily-thewinchesters / @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce / @deansgirl-1968 / @1000roughdrafts / @becs-bunker / @scarlettwitcher / @shamelesslydean / @imsuperawkward / @lessons-of-red / @picturesinjuly / @atomicloverdonkeyperson / @moodycastiel / @holylulusworld / @rosey1981 / @waywardsistersandpie / @the-is13 / @sister-winchesters99 / @babypink224221 / @superlockedtimelord / @internationalmusicteacher / @spnarrowfan / @divadinag / @ign-is / @pleasantly-average / @chaldei / @tryin2lovemyselfagain / @deanmonandnegansbitch / @socalgem1124 / @closetspngirl / @gh0stgurl / @kickingitwithkirk / @cookiechipdough / @unicornqu33n17 / @mrsbluesmize226 / @lilred254 / @dxftprettyboys / @sandlee44 / @claitynroberts / @vickyfarley / @sirod-30 / @kaz11283 / @lbyers28 / @theholyfoxface / @keepcalmandbeajunkie / @jbbarnesgirl / @shelbylazarus / @for-the-love-of-the-fandom / @voltage-my2dlove / @monkeymcpoopoo / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @simplycheyenneautumn / @kat-daddy99 / @kbl1313 / @focusonspn / @one-little-anon / @teddybeardoctorr / @daydream3r-xo / @deans-sweets / @indrarose / @doctor11ms / @i-am-a-mes / @dawnie1988 / @savagemickey03 / @briagallen / @poshpinklace / @faithfullcompanion / @kyjey / @collette04 / @imaginemyboys / @indecisive20something / @mayaslifeinabox / @marvelranger / @kcrews74 / @we-are-band-sexuals / @cheyentjj / @lidibug / @swinchester27 / @lyarr24 / @urmbecky / @bagpussjocken / @phoenixdoll / @winchestersmark / @nathaliabakes / @winchestergirl82 / @missafairy / @sharabp / @supersassyprobablysad / @starchildwild / @dancingalone21 / @kalesrebellion / @padfoot11 / @wish-i-had-something-better / @i-make-questionable-choices / @komekoro / @animegirlgeeky / @elsenthal / @nothing-else5 / @xrosegoldwolfx / @peachyafshawn / @tenaciousnerdbucket / @fatalcrossbow / @vicmc624 / @teresa-67 / @thevanishedillusion / @lady-pswrld / @gabavaldman / @msmarvelouswinchester / @mrsjenniferwinchester / @midnight-dreams-23 / @beachy2014

#au dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x you #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester series #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester #mafia au #mafia dean winchester #mobster dean winchester #dean winchester au #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #spn fanfic #life for rent #winchest09

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phantomstatistician · 3 years

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Saturday Status Update

REQUESTS: CLOSED

The wait time for a request is: 66 working days

Upcoming charts (if the sample size is large enough):

Frozen - Hans

Fairly OddParents - Trixie, Timmy

RWBY - Adam Taurus

Nightmare on Elm Street - Freddy Krueger

Batman - Harley Quinn

My Hero Academia - 10 most popular ships (AO3), Himiko Toga

Dexter’s Laboratory - Dee Dee

Miraculous Ladybug - Chloe, Nathaniel

Avatar the Last Airbender - 10 most popular tags (AO3), 10 most popular friendships/family ships, Katara

The Legend of Korra - Mako, Asami, Izumi

Gossip Girl - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Ace Attorney - Trucy Wright, Apollo

Boruto - Boruto, Sarada

Digimon 2020 - 10 most popular characters (AO3)

Trinity Blood - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Leave It to Beaver - 10 most popular characters (AO3)

Ashes To Ashes - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Danganronpa - Byakuya Togami, Mukuro Ikusaba

Harry Potter - Ron Weasley

Dragon Quest XI - Luminary

Bleach - Renji Abarai

Tekken - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Mass Effect - Garrus Vakarian

Dragon Age - Zevran Arainai, Alistair Theirin

Masters of the Universe - 10 most popular tags (AO3)

ATLA/TLOK - most popular Fire Nation family members

Marvel - Loki most popular tags (AO3)

Final Fantasy X - Lulu, Rikku

Sally Face - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Formula 1 - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

The Devil Wears Prada - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Breath of the Wild - Sidon, Revali

South Park - 10 most popular ships (AO3) excluding Craig Tucker x Tweak Tweek

Steven Universe - Steven

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc - 10 most popular characters (AO3), 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Scrubs - 10 most popular characters (AO3), 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Sailor Moon - 10 most popular characters (AO3), 10 most popular ships (AO3)

My Little Pony - Applejack

Half Life - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Nier Automata - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

The Legend of Zelda - Sheik

Evangelion - Asuka Langley Sohryu

Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Persona 5 - Crossovers

Danny Phantom - Ember

Durarara - Izaya Orihara

Winx Club - Musa

Doctor Who - Clara Oswald

Lord of the Rings - 10 most popular ships (AO3)

Have a more elaborate request? Or want to jump the queue? Or you want to support me as a content creator? Buy me a Kofi!

#saturday status update

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sasskarian · 4 years

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Fanfic Masterpost ... sort of

In honor of Fanfic Appreciation, I put together a list of my fics for anyone who’d like to look

Under the cut, because length

Dragon Age:

After the Glitter Fades (Glitterverse): Hawke x Fenris, modern AU. (Long fic, WIP) Hawke and Fenris are movie stars in a torrid love affair. Fenris has a mysterious past. Also Cassandra is investigating a murder mystery? Varric, as ever, is a delight. (*this is borrowed from @nug-juggler‘s excellent and shorter summary!)

Memorable quote: Fenris observed candidly was something sacred. For a moment, Hawke fiercely wished she were an artist. The scene in front of her was too… every word she could think of— beautiful, elegant, breathtaking— was trite, a pale description of perfection.

In the Heart of the Woods: Lavellan x Fairbanks rarepair. (WIP) Inquisitor Lavellan’s heart is broken by a certain Commander, Fairbanks has an appreciation for her, and a love story blooms like elfroot in the Emerald Graves.

Memorable quote: This kiss, she thinks, two mouths moving in perfect unison, is a spell of its own. Not quite love, not yet, but close enough she can pretend it is. Hope wells up, a solid thrum beating in counterpoint to her heart, and for one perfect moment, the world just bows down and… stands still. All that exists, all that ever has existed or ever will exist is wrapped up right here, right now, in Fairbanks’ lips on hers. Motes of dust turn golden in the sunbeams splashing through the roof, and a touch— his thumb, her cheek— says a million more words than words ever could.

Yesterdays: Surana x Zevran, mild Surana x Alistair pining. Post Origins, complete. A Warden’s sacrifice means something only as long as someone remembers it. A king looks back, balancing regrets with happiness.

Memorable quote: With a half-sob, he realizes he’s forgotten the sound of her voice. Oh, he remembers how it made him feel, all those years ago, all the glorious, shining moments where happiness dwells still. But what she truly sounded like, what sounds she made as she buried herself in books, the snap of her magic, the low buzz of her and Zevran whispering in their tent, all of that is gone. He knows it happened, but the memory is lit dimly in his mind, a torch burned too low to be flame but not low enough for embers yet.

If You Ever Did Believe (for my sake): Lavellan x Cullen. (On temporary hiatus) A wary Commander. A lost Dalish mage. Two hearts beating alone and exhausted on a battlefield, their only rest coming from each other.

Memorable quote: “Does your Maker hate us so much?” Isera asked bitterly, and for a moment, Cullen felt as though years had rippled, bringing his past self— still clanking through the halls of Kinloch Hold in Templar plate— and his current together. He’d asked Ser Greagoir the same question once, after a Harrowing went wrong and the body of a former apprentice lay at their feet. So much potential wasted, so much fear in the mages’ eyes after that. For once, Greagoir had shown a hint of emotion, clapping Cullen’s shoulder briefly before walking away, but hadn’t answered.

Voiceverse: Lavellan x Solas/Dread Wolf. (WIP) Building off of the great works of @khirsahle and @athreehundredthirtythree. All mages are born with a soulmate--a voice they hear in the darkness of the Fade all their lives. The lucky ones find their soulmates and forge a bond strong enough to threaten the very foundations of the Chantry. At least, that's what they claim. So what happens when a Dalish mage hears the voice of their most reviled and feared god shaping her dreams?

Memorable quote: Accompanying the thundering voice, great fissures ruptured around her hiding spot, green light streaking upward as they gathered into a roiling cloud. A wave of raw sound— howls, cries, pleas— rolled over her, forcing her to her knees. Iveani clapped her hands over her ears, losing her own scream among the agony thundering through the Fade. All caution, all her hard-won lessons about walking the Fade, vanished into the back of her mind under the need to simply ride out the explosion and survive.

Mass Effect:

Home is Where You Are: Ryder x Jaal (WIP). Ryder didn’t cross two galaxies and 600 years in search of love. But damn if she didn’t find it anyway.

Memorable quote: “I should take a shower,” he mumbled, as the same time as Sara said, “Would you like to stay?” Both of them broke off, staring at the other, and she laughed nervously. That feeling was back, the one from the tech lab, fragility and strength and affection turned fierce and bright tumbling over and over one other.

A Song of Sea and Stars: Garrus x Shepard x Thane (WIP). Our favorite turian badboy sees right through the mask the galaxy’s most famous Commander projects. Neither of them expected to fall in love on a host of impossible missions. And both are taken by surprise by a pious Drell who steals both their hearts.

Memorable quote: (He opens his eyes, shocked how it feels to look into her face, intimate and hungry. He hazily notices that up close, her eyes are thulium-gray. There's a hot, tight knot in his chest and she's pressed so close, he thinks he could count each faint freckle on her face.) (They look like tiny stars.) (…there are twenty-eight on her right cheek. Thirty on her left. And fourteen, right across the bridge of her nose.) (Those are his favorite. They remind him of his own markings.)

the sound of shattering glass: Generic Shepard, post-Tuchanka, pre-Citadel II. The Shroud explodes, taking a beloved friend with it. Shepard only has herself to blame.

Memorable quote: “Damn Reapers,” he said, striving for nonchalance. “Always throwing us around.” “Banged us up pretty good,” she agreed, and he knew she wasn’t talking about their bumps and bruises. “So what do we do about them?” “Get back on our feet. Keep fighting.” Garrus hummed as she shifted closer, pressed her forehead against his neck. “Maybe find a way to use some really big canons I spend half my time adjusting.”

Star Wars:

He Might Like That: Mandalorian x Cara Dune pining. So they argue. So they took down Gideon, and have a magic green frog baby older than both of them. That doesn’t make them a thing. Does it?

Memorable quote: He tunes back into the not-so-friendly argument in time to hear Greef splutter. “You trash talked while holding hands! If that’s not flirting, I’m a kowakian monkey lizard.” “It was arm wrestling, not holding hands,” Din points out mildly.

Star by Star: Post TRoS. Ben x Rey pining, Finn x Rey x Poe. Can three hopeless idiots in love fill a wound as deep as the death of a dyad? Maybe not, but they’re out to try anyway.

Memorable quote: “You know,” Poe whispers, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “if we ever did tell him we loved him, he’d probably sleep right through it.” Rey touches her fingers to his lips, tracing the shape of his questioning smile. It’s an invitation to play, that smile. A careful offer of love, of comfort. And though she’s not sure if he can really understand when even she doesn’t, she’s finally ready to try a little.

Counting The Days (Since Exegol): Finn x Rey x Poe, Ben x Rey. Its been 42 days since Palpatine’s death. 42 long days since she felt the surge of light in Ben Solo. And in her dreams, something whispers on the edge of the Force. But she’s shut it down too tightly to hear it.

Memorable quote: True to form, Poe can’t resist the urge to kiss away Finn’s troubles whenever possible, and Rey looks away to give them a moment. Some love stories work out, yes, and she loves Finn and Poe more than almost anything else. But that doesn’t stop the way bitterness floods her mouth as the memory of Ben surfaces, and it isn’t until Poe gently squeezes her knee (and she throttles back the near-instinctive urge to break his fingers from a lifetime of fending off handsy scavengers on Jakku) that she comes back to the moment. His brow furrows and she reaches for him, smoothing out the lines of his frown with her thumb. “I’m okay,” she says, answering his unspoken question. It’s mostly a lie, but she has to say it. Most days, she’s okay enough.

A Language Made for Lovers: SWTOR (NSFW). Torian Cadera x Bounty Hunter, gender neutral. Reflections on love and marriage under the glow of hyperspace.

Memorable quote: He murmurs in your ear, words that should sound harsh in that still-new tongue scalding your mouth, molding you from aruetii to mandalorian. But the love in his voice softens them, steeps them in warmth and adoration. Still the language of a hunter, of those brave souls willing to be reforged, but with a gentle side, a language reserved for lovers. Words like cyare and riduur, words that mean I love you and forever and home.

Malicious Compliance: SWTOR (NSFW). Malavai Quinn x Sith Warrior, gender neutral. Far away, in an apartment no one knows about, a Sith Lord plays dire games of control... and trust.

Memorable quote: It takes a man with the courage of an entire fleet of Mandalorians to love a Sith, and oh, how he loves you. Like you hung the moons and the stars and all the spaces between. Like you are his other half, like loving you is his sole purpose in life, does Malavai Quinn love you. Your old masters spoke nothing of this, of this enraging hunger gnawing at your bones and curling into the hollows of your rib cage. ... Is it really even love if you don’t want to devour him just a little?

Misc:

Tumblr Prompts: Grab bag of every fandom and series listed above. Prompts filled originally here on tumblr.

Visual Files: Collections of art and commissions from talented friends and artists here on tumblr.

Every Beautiful Thing: Crimson Peak. Thomas x Edith, Edith x Alan. Edith learned, in the dark halls of Allerdale, not to take ghosts lightly. But still she waits, every year, for a chance to see Thomas again. Until the night their son tells her he can see him too.

Memorable quote: Snow heralds nothing but pain in Edith’s world: first her mother’s funeral, smothered in fat white flakes wet on her lashes like tears, then her father’s. Smaller ones, then, rain slowly freezing and scattering on the ground; the ones that night at Allerdale were the smallest yet, more ice pellet than snow. Jagged, hateful things scraping at her with a cold that burned through skin and encased bone.…God, how she has come to hate the snow.

Where I Can’t Follow: Co-authored by @suspendnodisbelief. show!Witcher, mild Geralt x Jaskier. (Temporary hiatus) Drawing from a variety of inspiration, including greek mythos. Geralt takes a blow meant for Jaskier, finally granted the death by battle he expects Witchers to end by. And Jaskier is not having it, at all. It’s his turn to save Geralt, even if he has to walk the entire bloody underworld to do it.

Memorable quote: “Geralt, get up. Come on, open your eyes. You’re going to upset Roach if you keep this up, and she’ll bite me. You know you aren’t allowed to be dead, because Yennefer didn’t give you permission, and neither did the Princess, and I’m pretty sure they both outrank you.”

#dragon age #Mass Effect #star wars #the mandalorian #the witcher #crimson peak #swtor #my fic #fanfic writer appreciation day

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inquisimer · 7 months

Note

HELLO MER i come to request some Alistair x Warden based off the poem "Love Is" by Nikki Giovanni (who i got to meet once she's so cool and also very short and powerful love her so much):

Few recognize that love is commitment, responsibility no fun at all unless

Love is You and me

hap late friday ro💜 this felt very king alistair/queen cousland to me, so have some Alistair x Ember in her queenverse :3

725 words for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, that’s what they said. They also said it would weigh heavier on their young heads, that they’d taken it in a fit of idealistic passion, that it would all crumble around them.

They didn’t care.

Alistair rose from his throne first, stretching crooked bones and muscles in a decidedly not kingly manner. He pushed his crown up to scratch at where his hair had matted against his skin. With half a smile, Ember propped an elbow against her own throne and used her fist to rest her chin.

“You know, you could always grow you hair out. It helps with the—“ she gestured at her own head, where thick locks of red hair protected her sensitive skin from the thin band of gold, twisted in an ornate pattern that mimicked wheat at its ends.

“It’s not the hair,” Alistair groused, “It’s because they make me wear one that’s three times as thick as yours just because I’m a man.”

“I’ll swap with you. Eamon doesn’t need to know.”

“He’d know,” Alistair said darkly. “He always knows.”

Ember stood and closed the space between them with graceful steps. She lifted Alistair’s crown from his head and held it to her chest as she gently kissed his cheek. As she pulled away, he caught her face with both hands and pulled her back for a proper kiss.

“What are we going to do about Edgehall?” she asked, resting her forehead against his chin. “I feel as though we’ve poured so many restoration efforts into the region, and yet it seems to do no good.”

“Maybe we need to look at Lendon. He always seemed a bit slimy to me.”

“You think all of the Arls are slimy.”

“Not true,” Alistair countered. “The arl of Amaranthine is perfectly lovely.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Now that’s simply untrue.” He hooked an arm around her waist and drew her from their dais, toward the door that would take them to an illusion of privacy. “But as far as Edgehall is concerned, perhaps an independent envoy, rather than money directly to the arl? That would settle the matter of where the breakdown in the funds is happening, at least somewhat.”

“It’s something,” Ember agreed. They passed into their private suites, laying their crowns in the designated cases in the foyer. Beyond that lay their chambers, the closest thing they had to true privacy.

Walking through those doors felt as freeing as loosened hand cuffs, as though the hangman had cut his noose from their necks. It had been nearly a year since they agreed the nation could not be trusted to Anora’s plans, and yet neither relished the power they’d come into, despite what the papers and the rumors said.

“We deserve a break,” Alistair said suddenly.

“Yeah?” Ember snorted. “And we’re about as likely to get it as we were before the archdemon was dead.”

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. “We could come up with a plausible idea….a visit to Highever, maybe?”

Ember’s heart soared and tightened at the same time, as it always did at the mention of her home. She leaned into Alistair’s chest and sighed. His arms encircled her knowingly, stroking soothing motions up and down her shoulder blades.

“You don’t think Eamon would see through that?” she said, voice soft and weak as it could only be when they were alone.

“Who cares,” Alistair said loftily. He pressed a kiss to her hair. “He wanted me to be king so badly, he’ll just have to listen.”

He pulled back slightly, tracing down the line of her cheek and finding a home for his hand at the nape of her neck. “Fergus will have things in hand, I’m sure, and we could have some truly uninterrupted peace.”

“Mmmm been a while since we had that luxury.” It was sorely tempting. All of that and to be surrounded by the childhood home she missed and mourned in equal measures. And her brother.

“Alright,” she agreed. “But only if you tell Eamon. He barely tolerates me as it is.”

Alistair bent his head to kiss her softly. “Almost makes you miss a tent out on the edge of the Wilds, no?”

That made Ember laugh, and huddle a bit closer to Alistair’s fur-lined tunic for memory of the chill. “Almost, indeed.”

#dadwc #my writing #oc: ember cousland #ember x alistair #alistair theirin #king alistair #queen cousland #alistair x cousland #warden cousland #dao #dragon age

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laurelsofhighever · 5 years

Note

3 for Alistair x Rosslyn please? :)

An excellent question! Thank you

3. Most common argument? They don’t argue a lot, having learned enough about each other to head off any disputes before they start, but there are two exceptions to this. The first tends to involve moments when Rosslyn gets called out on her privilege - she might have spend a year wandering Ferelden as a fugitive, but she still has a very limited view on how commoners live, and how nobles (including Alistair) should behave.

The second never really goes away with experience. They’re both fiercely protective of each other, so when one decides to go into danger and leave the other behind, they always fight about it. Alistair was NOT happy when Rosslyn told him about going to find the Cure.

OTP questions

#rosslyn x alistair #alistair theirin #rosslyn cousland #out-of-the-embers

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eeveevie · 4 years

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author interview

thank you @elfrooted for tagging me :)

Name: technically, as my blog states, [redacted]; writing name here is eeveevie, Ao3 is speedgriffon

Fandoms: I am not bound by any fandom Dragon Age, Elder Scrolls, Fallout, Mass Effect, Star Wars...random TV shows and pop culture in general? But I don’t write for everything.

Where You Post: As far as writing goes, I post everything here and cross post it to Ao3. I have other social media but its not fandom orientated.

Most Popular One-Shot: Payback, With Interest (NSFW Cullen x Aurelie Trevelyan ; oh how I miss the days of 2015 tumblr looking at those notes ;_____;

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: You mean my only multi-chapter fic story? (Cries in rare-pair). The Way You Make Me Feel (Modern AU Alistair x Evelyn Cousland) ; something I was going to re-master and then kind of...didn’t.

Favorite Story You Wrote: Hands down I still love what I did with TWYMMF as much as I could’ve improved it, as it was the first chapter fic I ever completed. There are a LOT of things I would do differently now (plot wise and trope wise) but hey I also have developed as a writer so *shrug*. I’m also fond of all my rare-pair fics that never see the light of day.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: The first chapter of Shadow and Light - entering RarePair land is always treacherous; also I was coming out of a long writing hiatus. I think posting anything for a pairing I’ve never written for is a little nerve-wracking for me. I want my readers to be interested and my characters to sound different from one another.

How You Choose Your Titles: Titles hard.

Complete: lol wut? Since I post a lot of one-shots, I consider a lot of my fics “complete”. But I group them in series--so they are ongoing.

Incomplete: Unfortunately, I have a few fics that have been left unfinished. I don’t know if I’ll ever get around to them again.

Do You Outline? Yes. I have WIP maps and string ideas together by piecing together dialogue, random phrases, sentences and setting. I have notes on my phone, sticky notes and work laptop and have to compile them together into a finished product.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: Prompts I usually write in one sitting, though I will typically jot down a few lines of ideas here and there when I get them so I don’t forget about it as I work on other stories/things. Bigger projects will probably getting back to my WIPs from 2019 I didn’t get around to like The Lover, The Thief which I really want to post before the end of January.

Do You Accept Prompts? Oh hell yeah. Contrary to what it seems, just because I’m super into writing one or two pairings, I can be prompted for anything I’ve written for in the past. Because challenges are fun. 12 prompts in a row for one character can be draining, no matter how much I love them.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: After I write “The Lover, The Thief”, I will be excited to write the yet to be titled Proposal series (a series of unfortunate proposals) that showcase Brynjolf’s disastrous attempts at getting Fiona to marry him. Don’t worry, it ends well. Oh, and maybe a mystery noir for Mads.

tagging @lechatrouge673 @lucyrne @rhetoricalrogue @ivisite @out-of-the-embers @tamlinn @ladynorbert also @ladymdc and @glaiveulric (gurl come back here !!!!)

#writing things

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cogentranting · 4 years

Text

Because I Would Not Stop For Death Pt 1.

Summary: My version of the ending of Supernatural, with a specific emphasis on Dean as the main character. Also on: AO3 Accompanying Meta: X

________________________________________________________________

Dean had spent his whole life traveling roads like this, stretching straight ahead into nothingness, no lights but the stars above, no sounds but the surging rock music and purr of the engine. And no one around—not people to save or monsters to fight—except, perhaps, for whatever family happened to be riding alongside him, though on this night he was alone. Normally, he found nights like these peaceful. The reverberations of the Impala’s engine felt like extensions of himself, and the open road looked like freedom. But now that feeling of peace and possibility had been replaced by an urgency that Dean could not explain. The plains around him felt raw and exposed, and some sober presentiment made him feel like playing music would shatter the tentative waiting. His foot pressed a little more insistently against the accelerator. He needed to get home.

The sound of his phone going off, startled Dean and he scrambled to answer it before a second ring could further disrupt the reverie of the night.

“Did you get it?” Sam’s haggard voice came over the line. It had been months since Chuck had turned on them and raised the monsters from their past. They’d been run ragged, chasing down rogue monsters and dodging old enemies, all the while looking for something that would help them when the other shoe inevitably dropped, and Chuck made his next move. It had taken its toll on Sam, and Dean had fought hard to find an excuse for Sam to sit this particular mission out, hoping that maybe Sam would rest. If any rest had happened, it had not been enough.

“The lead was a bust,” Dean replied. Rumors and scraps of lore had pointed to a hand of God surfacing in a small town a few hours away, and Dean had chased after it in the desperate hope that it might be something they could use against Chuck. All he had gotten for his trouble was a cursed object and some bizarre locals. “What about things there? How’s Jack?”

The one bright spot, the little piece of hope that Dean was clinging to but couldn’t really believe: Jack had been resurrected months ago, and was now fully restored to them. Soul and all. “Good,” Sam replied. “He’s worried about taking on Chuck, obviously and he’s stressed. But he’s himself again. And he’s getting stronger.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief in spite of himself. He let the hope grow a little bigger, even as the morass of his thoughts dragged at him. He could almost feel the gun in his hand, see the look on Jack’s face as Dean had pointed it at him, with every intention of—Dean cut his thought off fighting the shame and guilt aside for the moment. Of course he and Jack had talked when he came back. There had been confessions, lots of guilt, and Jack had forgiven him, and he’d forgiven Jack for… that other thing. Dean couldn’t quite bear to name it, even in his own thoughts. Still the thought of what he’d tried to do to Jack would be added to the long list of things that Dean could never wholly forgive himself for.

He repositioned the phone on his ear. “Well good. Bout time we had a win.” He forced false optimism into his voice. “Team Free Will 2.0. Ready to save the world one last time.” He hoped that maybe a little of his manufactured hope would rub off on Sam. He never heard Sam’s reply.

The Impala’s headlights caught the shadow of something in the road and Dean slammed on the brakes. The phone fell to the floor and slid under the seat. The speeding car screeched to a halt just a few feet from the massive barrier. For a few seconds Dean leaned over the steering wheel and stared at the obstacle which blocked the road completely. Well… to say that it blocked the road wasn’t accurate. It was the road. Earth and asphalt had been ripped up and formed into a wall, five feet high, several feet thick. Something about the way it was piled gave the distinct impression of having exploded upward of its own accord.

Dean shook his head. “Uh uh. Nope.” Sam’s voice could be heard faintly calling his name from the phone beneath the seat. Dean ignored it and threw the car into reverse.

An invisible force slammed into the side of the Impala. The quiet night was torn open by the protesting shriek and thunder of metal as the car briefly lifted into the air and then hit the ground, rolling once… twice… three times before coming to a rest startlingly upright.

Stars and shadows crowded Dean’s vision. There was an ache in his body that seemed to have no origin and no end. Practically on instinct, he turned the ignition key. The engine sputtered and died. Dean felt almost calm; the night’s urgency had melted away with the arrival of the threat his instincts had awaited. Here was the fight his blood so often called for. His hand found the demon knife without issue in the pitch darkness of the car, as if it were drawn by fate.

Slowly he stepped from the car, letting the door swing shut behind him as he surveyed the plain for his assailant. This was Dean Winchester to the core—bruised and bloodied, nothing but the Impala at his back, the potential of all the horrors of the night before him, only a knife in his hands, and still he wore the steadfast conviction that this fight was not his last. This was Dean, and the three approaching figures knew it well.

Not much scared Dean. He’d been hunting since well before he’d passed through puberty. Since then, he’d fought gods and angels and primordial beings, killed many of them, and mouthed off to all. But if any of those things he’d faced in all his years of hunting could make his blood run cold, it was these three walking toward him.

Abaddon. Alistair. Azazel.

“Hey fellas,” Dean called as they drew closer. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you—you get some work done?”

Abaddon gave a terse laugh. “I wish I could say the same about you Dean. You look tired. You really should take better care of yourself. Such a waste of that pretty face. And since we’re on the subject,” she reached up and pulled the collar of her shirt down just far enough to reveal the tops of a series of thick jagged scars. Scars from where Dean had hacked at her chest with the First Blade. “You did a little work on me yourself.”

Demons didn’t scar, and every time Dean had been resurrected his old wounds and scars had been erased. This must have been a special gift from Chuck.

“Did a little work on all of us,” Alistair added, gesturing to the scars crisscrossing his face from the day Dean had tortured him. “I have to say, cosmetic surgery: not your calling.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Dean lunged forward with the demon knife, slashing Alistair’s face and sinking the blade into Abaddon’s chest in one motion, all the while internally raging at the futility of the action. A butter knife would do him just as much good against things like these. Abaddon roared in fury, while Alistair’s throat contorted with a deranged chuckle.

Azazel flicked his wrist indolently. Dean slammed backwards into the Impala. “Chill out, Kid.”

The force pressed him persistently back against the twisted metal, just hard enough to hurt. It always felt like someone was sitting on his chest—a little difficult to breathe, speaking a little too strenuous to be worth it.

“Hey Sweetheart, hold this for me,” Azazel called to Abaddon. “If you can manage. I heard that last time you had some trouble with that.” Abaddon scowled and assumed control of holding Dean in place.

Azazel sidled forward and leaned against the car next to Dean, his face a mere breath away. The smug half smile ignited something in Dean, the embers of an old rage he’d finally buried after decades of effort, now recklessly thrown into the open to be fanned into flame once more. “Ah Dean. It’s been too long. Let’s catch up.”

“Sure,” Dean snarled around the choking sensation that comes when the deepest wounds reopen. “Remember that time I shot you in the face?”

The demon gave a genuine grin even as unmistakable savagery flashed in his yellow eyes. “Never thought you had it in you kid. I mean, you told me you would do it. Back in the 70’s. Just before I killed Grandpa. But still, when you pulled that trigger, I was stunned.”

“He doesn’t have the eye for talent that I do.” Alistair winked. He had retrieved the demon knife from where it had fallen on the grass and was idly turning it over and over.

Azazel nodded thoughtfully. “It’s true. I dropped the ball. Put all my money on Sammy. From what I hear, apart from a few benders, he never really lived up to all the hype. But the things I’ve heard about you. Daddy’s pathetically loyal little attack dog became Alistair’s star pupil. Started the Apocalypse. Knocked the angels off their perch. Bore the Mark of Cain. And became a knight of Hell. Oh I wish I could’ve seen Dean Winchester tearing humans apart with that mark.” He pried Dean’s arm away from his side and examined the forearm. “Shame you got rid of it. Real waste.”

Alistair stalked closer. The eerie white eyes flicked from side to side, tracking some phantom thought. “You should really be thanking me, Dean.” The knife turned again and again in his hands. “I remade you. The old you never would have made it this far. Anything remarkable about you I carved into you. In a way, you owe me.” He leaned in, so close Dean could smell the decay lingering on him, and with a startling intensity he searched Dean’s gaze for something. His pallid lips curled into a smile. “You can pay some of that back now.”

This time Dean didn’t see the knife turn. It was in and out three times and the blood was beginning to warm the shirt over his lower abdomen before the pain registered. A quiet gasp was all Dean could manage.

Azazel carried on as if the violence had escaped his notice. “But of course there’s so much that you’ve done that I just can’t allow you to get away with. I had all these glorious plans about how I was going to get Hell on Earth ready and then bring back Lucifer. Then when, he finally does come back, you go and get an archangel supercharge and kill him. And even worse, there’s the horribly decent upbringing you’re giving Lucifer’s kid.”

The demon’s voice faded out slightly and as Dean’s head lolled backwards the stars swirled above him. He recognized the thing swelling up within him. That strange force that was creeping into the space left behind by his blood as it seeped into the night air. It was death. He should know. He’d died enough times. The thought of dying here made him more angry than scared. It wasn’t fair that he should have beaten these scars of the past so long ago, and that they should be thrown back at him now. But even that anger was fading quickly. The stars made his anger feel small.

Vaguely, he wondered where he would go this time. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go to Heaven. His mom and dad and Bobby were there, but there were a lot of bad memories up there—vengeful angels and the like. Besides, with God himself mad at him, it seemed pretty pointless to hope for a shot at Heaven. Alistair here was certainly a reminder of how much he wanted to avoid going back to Hell. The Empty didn’t sound much better. Purgatory wouldn’t be so bad. Hunting forever, never losing the thrill of the fight, maybe he’d even see Benny again. Not so bad at all.

Azazel wrenched his head back down, forcing him to look into yellow eyes. Hatred that strong and old is dense and it held Dean in this life a little longer. He gritted his teeth. The fight wasn’t gone from him yet. Silently, without even really forming the words in his head, Dean half-formed a prayer to Jack.

“Here’s the thing, Kid,” Azazel began, with the tone of a business negotiator. “I’d like to take my time with this. Relish the moment, make it slow. But, we’re not here just for us. I’m sure you guessed, the Big Man brought us back for a reason. He asked us to deliver a gift for you.”

He couldn’t turn his head to see where the demons produced it from, but when Azazel held up the crystal, glowing with searing white light, Dean recognized it instantly. A bomb forged from the energy of hundreds of thousands of souls, specifically for the purpose of killing the Darkness.

Abaddon laughed. “Looks like he remembers it.”

“Oh good. So I won’t have to explain what this does.” Azazel fondled the bomb carefully. “A weapon capable of killing God’s sister… makes you wonder what it’ll do to a human.”

There was no time for any sort of response. A few words of incantation and the light blazed out of the crystal into Dean’s chest. His mouth gaped, his fingernails dug at the Impala’s paint, all he saw was light, and all he could feel was heat. Then the night went cold and silent once more and he gasped, small shallow breaths, because anything deeper pulled at the ragged wound in his stomach. In the aftermath of the brilliant light, the night was blacker and all Dean could see was Azazel’s mocking yellow eyes.

“Good catching up, Kid.”

The weight lifted from his chest and Dean dropped to the ground, alone again, the twisted mass of the Impala the only sight for miles. He tried to get his legs under him but they didn’t respond. A trembling hand went to the knife wound and came away slick with blood. Cold pulled at his limbs and numbed the edges of his mind, all the while an unutterable heat was building in his chest. Building and building, with a heat that threatened to eclipse his very being, pulling the bits of himself away from each other, even as that cold, seeping nothing dragged him down and down. He couldn’t hold his hand against the flow of blood anymore and it dropped to his side. Low pulses of energy shone around him, real enough to illuminate the night. He closed his eyes and felt Baby’s cold metal against his skin.

The rustle of wings forced his eyes open. There was Jack standing on the road. But it was fear, not hope that spurred Dean. He could feel it, like a racing heartbeat, the urgent pulse of the bomb within him. The god-killing bomb. Jack took a step off the road, toward him. Dean found one last surge of adrenaline, or will power, or fatherly instinct and with all his strength shouted, “Jack, no! Get back!”

He saw it in Jack’s face as the boy sensed the energy radiating off him and realized the danger. And in relief he listened to the rustle of wings as Jack retreated. There was a shattering, blinding, rush of light and heat and energy, and the Kansas plain looked like daylight, then deadly whiteness, then madness itself. Then it was night once more and even the stars seemed dark. And there was nothing.

Jack watched the flash from a few miles away. He felt nothing. But a very different nothing than what he had experienced when he had no soul. That was a calm, cold nothing. This was a tense, fragile nothing, like a held breath. As darkness settled again he took flight and reappeared where he’d left Dean.

He thought he’d missed his mark. This was not the place he’d left. There was no swaying prairie grass. No worn asphalt. No Impala. No Dean. There was only a ringing in the air, and dirt that, on closer inspection, was not just dark but scorched black. Jack stood and felt the aura of destruction that hung about this place, absorbing to the core of his being the sense of all the things that on this night had been reduced to a shattered, stark nothing.

The phone dragged down Sam’s hand as he paced the library, willing it to ring. Dark shadows under his eyes gave his a face a haggard look, as if it had been weeks of sleeplessness, not a single night. Twelve hours had passed since Dean’s phone cut out. Twelve hours since any news.

While Sam paced, Cas sat at one of the tables, dreadfully still, his faze fixed staidly, on an indeterminable point on the wall. Sam whirled toward him, his fear suddenly made manifest as anger. “I’m going out to look for them.”

Cas held out an arm perfunctorily, playing his role in a scene that had already been rehearsed several times over the interminable hours. “You already went out looking, for hours, and you didn’t find any trace of them.”

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“You don’t even know which roads to search. Jack has wings. If anyone can find Dean, it’s him.”

A hundred memories of Dean in danger, hurt, dying, competed for attention in Sam’s mind. He opened his mouth to continue the fight or give in, he hadn’t quite decided which. Before he could muster the energy to see where his words led him, he was interrupted by the sound of wings.

Jack landed heavily, staggering slightly. The boy looked wearier than a nearly omnipotent being had any right to. Both men took a staggering half step toward him, unsure whether to rush to his aid or give him space. Even as relief at Jack’s safety calmed a flurry of fears in Sam’s mind, he was searching the empty space behind Jack, as if believing that Dean would suddenly materialize.

Jack’s shattered stare held their questions at bay. The bunker itself held a trembling breath. Ghosts of memories peered in through the doorways, waiting for an answer to an unasked question.

When he could stand it no longer, Sam broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Did you find him.”

“There were demons… and I thought I got there in time… Dean told me to run and I- I… there was an explosion like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Cas chose his words like picking through shards of broken glass. “Jack, what kind of explosion?”

Asking that question was easier. Focus on the trees, don’t look at the forest. Not yet.

Jack seemed lost for a moment. “There was this energy… it felt like” he searched his memory trying to pinpoint the memory that itched in the back of his mind. “Like the energy from my soul I used to kill Michael.”

Cas’s gaze darkened at some thought that accosted him, but Sam had reached his breaking point. “But Dean. Jack, where’s Dean?”

Jack looked up, eyes wide, as if asking for Sam’s forgiveness. “He’s gone.”

“Then bring him back. Like you brought Cas back.”

“I tried. But it was like with Mary-” Jack choked on the words and the memory and Sam flinched a little. Jack cleared his throat and started again. “It was like with Mary. There was nothing left. Nothing I could do. After the explosion… even the Impala was just gone.”

Sam sagged against the wall. Empty space opened below him and he could feel it sucking him down, down, further down into the great vacuum of everyone he’d lost. There’d always been so much loss in his life. From his mother, to the friends left behind by a life on the road, to Jess, his father, Bobby… But no loss ever ached quite like the prospect of life without Dean. It was like asking him to live without the ground beneath his feet.

The look of a caged animal came into Sam’s eyes. “I need to see him. Take me to Heaven.” He’d lived without Dean before. And every time something took Dean away, it left him changed. Sometimes incomplete, or twisted, or broken, sometimes not. But always changed. And maybe he could do it this time, now that he had Cas and Jack and Eileen, and if Dean were in Heaven with Mom and Dad and Bobby… If he could just talk to Dean and know. Then maybe he could know what to do.

But Jack shook his head, a little fearfully, a little desperately, like a child overwhelmed by what they didn’t understand. “He’s not there.”

“Then take me to Hell!” Sam roared, with more anger than he’d intended.

Jack didn’t flinch away. He understood the desperation gripping Sam. He’d felt it himself hours earlier when he found that he couldn’t bring Dean back, and had formed the exact same plan that now burned wildly through Sam, and likely Cas as well. In vain. “He’s not there either.” His voice had become softer, like a parent soothing a child.

Panic spun Sam’s heart. “What do you mean? Where is he?”

Jack shook his head. “I searched everywhere. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory. I searched and I tried to get answers from every angel and demon and monster that I met but he’s not there. I don’t… I don’t know where Dean’s soul is. Maybe the Empty but I can’t get there. Not on my own.”

“No. I don’t think he’s in the Empty.” Cas’s voice was low and filled with trepidation. Neither Jack nor Sam dared prompt him to continue. He did anyway. “The way Jack described the energy, as being like the magic from his soul… Sam, I think the soul bomb killed Dean.”

“The one Rowena and Billie helped us make?”

Cas nodded. “Or one like it. The thing is, that bomb was designed to kill the Darkness. To kill something on the level of God himself. If that’s what killed Dean…” His voice trailed off.

For a moment the trio felt the cold expanse of the empty bunker press down on them with a menacing, aching, loneliness. Finally Cas, collected himself and pronounced his judgment.

“I don’t think Dean’s soul is in Heaven or Hell, because I think it was completely destroyed.”

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Part 2

#Supernatural #spn #dean winchester #supernatural series ending #spn fic #my writing

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dragongeek1 · 4 years

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Dragon Age Lovers- Day One, Rose

I’ve been staring at this far too long, but I’m proud to have written and completed the prompt challenge for day 1! I also realized, belatedly, this is the first real bit of writing I’m posting for Penthesilea-- and it’s of course in like the later parts of her story. Can’t help myself though, and she’s very dear to me and I really liked approaching this one post-Origins. If you’re interested, there’s a tiny bit more here on her OC page. Otherwise, enjoy!

Awakening-era, Penthesilea Mahariel x Alistair

Reports of a large group of darkspawn on the outskirts of the Blackmarsh had reached the Warden-Commander, so Mahariel had gone out with a few of the others to take care of it. Despite the reports that the spawn were travelling in a larger pack than usual, they had been moving around a lot and quickly, so it took the greater part of a day to track them down. By the time the Wardens found and dispatched all dozen of the blighted creatures, it was dusk, and it wasn’t worth traversing the Blackmarsh at night to make it back to Vigil. Mahariel called for the team to make camp, and with the four of them gathered around the campfire, it felt a little like old times.

Silea was propped up on her elbows and reclining on a log with her bad leg stretched out in front of her, idly playing with her ring, spinning it round and round her finger as she reminisced and watched her companions. Ozgood was pressed against her leg, head on his paws and laying down but not asleep. Anders and Sigrun sat to the right, where she was trying (yet again, and in vain) to teach him how to cheat at Diamondback. Oghren was to Mahariel’s left and across from the other two, occasionally throwing in a tip or two for Sigrun and Anders, and drinking as usual. The stars had just come out, and a light breeze stirred the embers of the fire.

“That was better, but you’re still too obvious, Anders!” Sigrun shook her head as Anders fumbled trying to palm an extra card. “You do it like that and we’d get a lecture from Justice, and that puts a damper on all the fun.”

Anders furrowed his brow in concentration as he tried again, but he fumbled it even worse and somehow managed to knock over the entire deck. Sigrun smacked a hand to her forehead. “I don’t like this game. Maybe I’ll listen to Justice and never cheat again.”

Mahariel smiled and Oghren guffawed. “What, did you lose the sparkle in your fingers?” He sent himself into another fit of laughter over the bad joke and even got Sigrun to giggle, hiding it behind her hand.

“If you tip over laughing none of us are going to be able to pick you up. You’re not as funny as you think, you know.” Anders scowled and tried in vain to reassemble the deck, but the cards had fallen into a complete mess. “Knickerweasels.”

“Aw come on, I even got Sigrun to laugh at that one!” Oghren gave her a toothy grin and raised his eyebrows suggestively, but she just shook her head.

“Nuh uh, don’t start that again! I was just laughing at Anders.”

“Well, the boss thinks I’m funny at least,” Oghren swung his arm around to gesture at Mahariel, liquor sloshing out of his flask from the wild movement. “Right?”

She smiled wryly. “I don’t think you want me to actually answer.”

“Eheheh, don’t worry, we all know you’re secretly in love with Oghren and have to hide it,” The sheer absurdity made her laugh, and Oghren nodded like it was a sage fact before taking a drink. “That’s why you never laugh at my jokes.”

“Right. That’s why.”

“Speaking of love-- don’t even start Oghren,” Sigrun stopped him before he could even try. He just grumbled, but surprisingly stayed quiet. “I was talking to Velanna the other day and she said that Dalish don’t actually marry. So how come you have a wedding ring, Commander?”

Mahariel’s hands stilled self-consciously. It was a fair question, but unexpected, and she wasn’t sure she had a particularly good answer. “It isn’t marriage in the human or dwarven sense-- it’s called bonding, and it doesn’t have the same kind of legal or property ramifications. But the principle is essentially the same: two people, joined for love and for life, perhaps to start a family.”

“Well thanks for that daily culture lesson, but you didn’t actually answer her question,” Anders pointed out not-so-helpfully. She couldn’t help sighing. “What? I’m just saying. Also I want to know too.”

Silea twisted the ring around her finger again while she thought. She loved her Wardens, and trusted them, but even after all this time she still felt hesitant sharing personal matters. This was especially personal. “The simple answer is that Alistair gave it to me.”

“And the complicated one?” Sigrun prompted gently.

Ozgood lifted his head and put it on her thigh, as if he knew she was having trouble finding the words. She appreciated the weight of his head on her leg and stopped twisting her ring to scratch his ears. “We weren’t sure we’d survive the Blight, the fight against the Archdemon. We… did everything in our power to survive that fight.” That secret would follow the three of them to the grave. Mahariel sighed to herself-- Creators, she felt far too old for her actual age, and just talking about it made her hyper-aware of the pain in her leg. “I nearly died anyway; you know that part of the story. But after all of that, and all we had been through... of course Alistair and I wanted to remain together for the rest of our time. My clan was long gone, so there was no formal bonding ceremony we could hold. But Alistair is human, and that tradition, the one of exchanging rings-- that was something we could do, at least.” After being nearly crippled by the Archdemon, Silea had been ready to go to an early Calling. Despite everything they had done to stay alive, and despite the healers’ prediction that she would still be able to walk and live as a Warden, albeit with a bad leg and a lifetime of pain, she’d been ready to die then. Alistair helped pull her out of her own despair, and they promised the rest of their lives to each other after that. She would always be Dalish and proud of her heritage, but she’d been happy to adopt and adapt a human tradition for their particular relationship and circumstances. The physical reminder of him that she always wore in the form of her ring was a nice bonus as well.

Sigrun was beaming. “Oh, that’s so sweet and romantic! Can I see it? I mean, only if you don’t mind.” Her happiness was infectious, so Silea smiled as she indulged the dwarf and held out her hand. “Ooh, it’s so pretty! What’s engraved on it?”

“Roses.” Alistair had had it specially made out of silverite and with the delicate, detailed engraving of roses and thorns. A little bit of beauty and hope, for my beauty and hope, he’d said. Just like the first time.

Oghren belched. “You know, he laughed at my jokes.”

Mahariel rolled her eyes and withdrew her hand from Sigrun’s inspection. “That’s because he was a nervous laugher, Oghren.”

“Ouch. Would you like some healing for that one, Oghren?” Anders wiggled his fingers and laughed.

The two of them started their good-natured bickering, and Sigrun retired to her tent before she could get caught in the middle. “Thanks for telling me, Commander. I’m glad you’ve got somebody,” She told Silea, smiling sweetly.

“Thanks, Sigrun. Me too.”

#my warden babe!!!#it's 11:30 here so this isn't technically late it's still day 1!#14DALovers #14DALovers rose #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #dragon writings #penthesilea mahariel #penthesilea mahariel: fic #otp: darkspawn and roses #alistair warden knight of my heart #wanted to do something other than the obvious choice of the initial rose scene #and also i love warden commander silea #fun fact the first version of this was much more angsty #then i was like ehhh maybe tone it down #i spent way too long writing this but i'm relatively pleased with how it finally turned out

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juniper-tree · 5 years

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self promo meme

Rules: Post the first line of your last 10 published fics, then tag 10 people.

Thank you for the tags @ladymdc & @out-of-the-embers my friends! Though I’ve been writing a lot and working on secret projects, I’m quite the turtle. So some of the “latest” 10 are not so fresh anymore. Oh, well. Just gonna keep plugging away at these fics until they’re finished.

1. Disaster Recovery - Mass Effect: Andromeda - Sara Ryder x Tiran Kandros - 4576 words

The message went astray somehow. The cause must have been an errant keystroke, or a clumsy jerk of the hand—the careless, one-handed typing of someone, flustered and hot, with more indulgent things on their mind than precise data entry.

2. Last Day at Kinloch Hold - Dragon Age: Origins - Solona Amell & Cullen Rutherford - WIP, 8383 words

Solona Amell’s final day in the Circle Tower began like so many others. By its end, there was nothing familiar left for her.

She shivered awake before sunrise. Drew her knees to her chest and cast a warming spell toward her icy feet. Whispered a quick count to steel herself against the cold, against the day—1… 2… 3. Threw back her blankets and stood. Splashed her face in the washbasin, and pulled her blue wool mage robes over her head.

3. Wind and flame - Dragon Age: Inquisition - Female Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford - WIP, 54581 words

Mountain wind howled through the battlements outside and rattled the wooden doors. Cullen liked the cold, but the wind was hard on his joints, and he was glad his bed was here in his office, a short climb away. Though he didn’t hold out much hope of seeing that bed loft anytime soon.

4. A Liar's Guide to Love and Dimensional Travel - Dragon Age: Inquisition - Cullen Rutherford x OC - WIP, 6873 words

All I can honestly say is... I didn't mean for any of this to happen.

I wanted to do a little harmless research. Just hop backward in time, take a look around, and hop back.

Somehow I ended up in another world, full of magic and demons and war. Somehow I didn't die, and I even became kind of famous. Somehow I fell in love. That last bit is the one that strains credulity, I know, but it's true.

And you want the story from the beginning. I can do that. Telling stories used to be my thing.

5. Serve Me - Dragon Age: Inquisition - Female Trevelyan x Movran the Under - 3530 words

Léa was burning. Perhaps it was a warm night, or she was too close to the fire. It could have been the wine she drank. If she were honest with herself, it was none of those things. Flushed and flustered, she paced along the expanse of leaded windows in her room as she waited.

6. Moon Sugar - Elder Scrolls: Skyrim - Female Dragonborn x Jenassa - WIP, 2669 words (nice)

It was not when Fearnhe first met Jenassa that she knew she needed her.

Not when she hired her, seeking less a sharp sword and moreso friendship from another Dunmer woman like herself—though she found both. Not when Jenassa saved her life for the first, or the fifth, or the seventeenth time. Not when they laughed together in shocked relief after a battle to find themselves still breathing. Nor when she watched the mercenary sharpen her knife with skill, joy, and a smirk, lip between sharp teeth, and Fearnhe found herself flushed and flustered.

7. Discretion - Dragon Age: Inquisition - Female Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford - 1142 words

The finches and thrushes were already singing, despite the darkness. It was time to go.

Perched upon the ladder, Finn took one last look at him. Cullen was on his stomach, his head at the foot of the bed. The rough wool blanket covered very little of his body. He smiled at her, sleepy and satisfied. He had been no help while she quickly dressed, pulling her back toward the bed while she lost her balance, hopping on one foot, the other stuck in her breeches. Neither of them wanted the day to begin. Now she waved goodbye, and hoped the day would go by quickly.

8. Charity - Dragon Age 2 - Cullen Rutherford x OC - 411 words

There was a time, briefly, when he got the notion that love might solve his problems. So he looked for love. It was a short-lived idea.

Things had calmed in Kirkwall, relatively speaking. He found himself with a few moments to look around, to breathe, to realize he was still alive.

9. Dawning - Dragon Age: Inquisition - Female Lavellan x Cullen Rutherford - 1086 words

Cullen woke before dawn, before her. His sleep had been blessedly calm, but his body followed its own schedule. It was not used to calm hours in bed. So he awoke in the paling dark, heavy lidded and very warm. He realized he was not alone, and remembered why.

His experiences with women had been few. He had never once awakened next to a woman, or slept with her in his arms. Always quick, furtive encounters, never languid or loving. Last night had been different. Entirely different.

10. Hold My Life - Dragon Age (modern AU) - various - WIP, 13331 words

The Runes couldn't get it together.

They got to the middle of "Fiery Promise" three times, and every time something went wrong: first Alistair kicked the cord to his tremolo pedal loose, then one of Sera's bass strings broke and slapped her in the hand. She acted like it didn't hurt, but her hand had a nasty red mark.

tagging: @whatsherfacewrites @not-plaidweave @kagetsukai @puddle--wonderful @bohemiantea-scorpiocoffee @allisondraste @veridium-bye @dalish-ish @merilsell @izzyb900

and anyone else who would like to give their fics a little promo time :)

#my fanfiction #promo meme #thanks! :)

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plcyersandpieces · 5 years

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RWBY Character Image Song List 2019

Heyo folks! It’s the hiatus, so you know what that means--MUSIC TIME!

After a volume ends, I try go through an extensive list of characters in RWBY and pick out various musical themes from my collection for each character as a sort of “image song.” These are primarily instrumental pieces, and my collection consists of largely anime and videogame soundtracks that I’ve picked up over the years. The characters are those who were named and appeared in the show, with a couple of unnamed exceptions like Pilot Boi and the Shopkeep, or had a recurrent role in the overarching story like Summer.

Of course, these choices are subjective. Some may not agree with my choices for certain characters. However, my selections were based on what’s presented in canon, not any kind of headcanon. I take into account the character’s history and personality, as well as their personal growth. If they only appear in one episode, I try to take into account the context of their appearance as well as the small amount of personality presented.

So, without further ado--here’s the list! Characters are ordered in the volume in which they were introduced. Links to the songs are provided, and checked to be up-to-date. They are primarily YouTube links with the occasional Soundcloud or KHInsider link where I was unable to find anything on YouTube or the song wasn’t complete.

Volume 1

Team RWBY

Ruby Rose: Hopes and Dreams/SAVE the World/Last Goodbye - Undertale

Weiss Schnee: Primavera - Ludovico Einaudi

Blake Belladonna: The Wandering Isle - World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria

Yang Xiao Long: To the End of the Wilderness ver. Detonator - Wild ARMs 4/Music the Best: Rocking Heart

Team JNPR

Jaune Arc: Revived Power ~Battle With the Colossus~ - Shadow of the Colossus

Nora Valkyrie: Another Winter - Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: The Game

Pyrrha Nikos: Aloy’s Theme - Horizon Zero Dawn

Lie Ren: Yasuo, the Unforgiven - League of Legends

Team CRDL

Cardin Winchester: Those Without the Will to Live - Chrono Trigger

Russel Thrush: Village of the Barbarois - Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust

Dove Bronzewing: Neko-ou - Neko no Ongaeshi

Sky Lark: Under Her Control - Final Fantasy VIII

Beacon Staff

Professor Ozpin: Treize Khushrenada: The Person who Makes History - Mobile Suit Gundam Wing

Glynda Goodwitch: The Silent Light - Chrono Trigger, arr. Rebecca E. Tripp

Professor Peter Port: Flying Boatmen/Serbia March - Porco Rosso

Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck: The Hunt: Going Green - Twister

Friends & Family

Summer Rose: Undertale - Undertale

Penny Polendina: Osanpo Desu - Azumanga Daioh

Sun Wukong: Zidane’s Theme - Final Fantasy IX

Villains

Adam Taurus: Black as Sin, Red as Blood - Wild ARMs 3

Hei “Junior” Xiong: DJ Sona - Kinetic - League of Legends

Melanie and Miltiades “Miltia” Malachite: Winter Fashion - Richard Neale

Roman Torchwick: Inkwell Isle Three - Cuphead

Cinder Fall: Evelynn, Agony’s Embrace - League of Legends

Others

Shopkeep-chan: Sore wa Himitsu Desu - Slayers Next Sound Bible II

Cyril Ian: Live Report - Undertale

Lisa Lavender: Death Report - Undertale

Volume 2

Team CFVY

Coco Adel: Chambermaid Swing - Parov Stelar

Fox Alistair: Silence ~Battle With the Colossus~ - Shadow of the Colossus

Velvet Scarlatina: There’s Only One Family Named Schrodinger - Wild ARMs 3

Yatsuhashi Daichi: Demon Lord Ninetails - Okami

Atlas Staff

General James Ironwood: Demacia Rising - League of Legends

Friends & Family

Neptune Vasilias: Super Galaxy Rumble - League of Legends

Zwei: Dogsong - Undertale

Villains

Emerald Sustrai: Medicine Eater - Tenkuu no Escaflowne

Mercury Black: Violator - Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children

Neopolitan: Lutece - Bioshock Infinite

Raven Branwen: Wars of the Last Wolves - Rurouni Kenshin: Tsuiokuhen

The White Fang

Tukson: Galka - Final Fantasy XI

The Lieutenant: Materia - Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children

Perry: Battle and Pleasure - Wild ARMs: AlterCode F

Deery: Wingly Forest - Legend of Dragoon

Grimm Eclipse (post-V2)

Dr. Merlot: Mad Poet - Wild ARMs: AlterCode F

Volume 3

Team ABRN

Arslan Altan: Path of the Huojin - World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria

Bolin Hori: Northern Country Kamui - Okami

Reese Chloris: Skate or Live - Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: The Game

Nadir Shiko: Johnny of the Robo Gang - Chrono Trigger, arr. hashel05

Team BRNZ

Brawnz Ni: Under the Progress - Parasite Eve

Roy Stallion: Maki Ya - Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: The Game

Nolan Porfirio: Boss Battle 2 - Legend of Dragoon

May Zedong: Pretty Pounding - Michael Clark

Team SSSN

Scarlet David: Pride of the Seas - World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth

Sage Ayana: Tides of War - World of Warcraft: Warlords of Draenor

Team NDGO

Nebula Violette: Look to the Skies - Angela Little and Lee Groves

Dew Gayl: Oklahoma - Downdraft - Twister

Gwen Darcy: The Cello Song (Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1: Prelude) - J.S. Bach, arr. Steven Sharp Nelson

Octavia Ember: Taliyah, the Stoneweaver - League of Legends

Atlas Contestents

Ciel Soliel: Thunder Plains - Final Fantasy X (HD Remaster)

Flynt Coal: Tank! - Cowboy Bebop

Neon Katt: Bit Rush: Arcade Ahri - League of Legends

Friends & Family

Qrow Branwen: Curse of the Worgen - World of Warcraft: Cataclysm

Winter Schnee: Freya’s Theme - Final Fantasy IX

Taiyang Xiao Long: Totems of the Grizzlemaw - World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King

Amber: Vivaldi’s Four Seasons Techno - Vanessa Mae

Villains

Salem: Ley Lines - World of Warcraft: Legion

Volume 4

Mistral

Oscar Pine: Farm Boy - Final Fantasy VII (HD Remaster)

Li Ren: Eight Dog Warriors’ Theme - Okami

An Ren: Prologue - Okami

Atlas

Jacques Schnee: Shinra, Inc. - Final Fantasy VII

Whitley Schnee: Machiavellian Bach - Portal 2

Klein Seben: A Mole Man - Tenkuu no Escaflowne

Henry Marigold: The Grand Duchy of Jeuno - Final Fantasy XI

Pilot Boi: Sky Dance - Pyre

Menagerie

Ghira Belladonna: Valley of the Four Winds - World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria

Kali Belladonna: Queen Fury - Legend of Dragoon

Corsac and Fennec Albain: Shadow of Doubt - Tenkuu no Escaflowne

Ilia Amitola: Neeko, the Curious Chameleon - League of Legends

Villains

Arthur Watts: Karazhan Opera House - World of Warcraft: The Burning Crusade

Tyrian Callows: Darkmoon Faire Carousel - World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria

Hazel Rainart: Spirit Guard Udyr - League of Legends

Volume 5

Friends & Family

Mata: Stone Hill - Spyro Reignited Trilogy

Saber Rodentia: Night Howlers - Pyre

The White Fang

Sienna Khan: The Proving - Horizon Zero Dawn

Yuma: Revival of Alseides - Tenkuu no Escaflowne: The Movie

Trifa: Elise, the Spider Queen - League of Legends

Villains

The Branwen Tribe: Talon Sheath - Pyre

Vernal: Drawn to Strife - Horizon Zero Dawn

Professor Leonardo Lionheart: Sadness-colored Sandglass - Mobile Suit Gundam Wing

Volume 6

The Legends Lost to Time

God of Light: Okami White Light - Okami

God of Darkness: Emperor of Eternal Darkness - Okami

Jinn: Meridian, Shining - Horizon Zero Dawn

Ozma: Stormwind - World of Warcraft

Young Salem: Elizabeth - Bioshock Infinite

Friends & Family

Maria Calavera: Vamo’alla Flamenco - Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy

Saphron Cotta-Arc: Adlehyde Castle Town - Wild ARMs: AlterCode F

Terra Cotta-Arc: Totally Busy - Wild ARMs 4/Music the Best - Feeling Wind

Adrian Cotta-Arc: Minako’s Ambition - Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon Sailor Stars

Red-headed Woman: Canticle of Sacrifice - World of Warcraft: Legion

Other

Dee & Dudley: Shingakki 3 - Azumanga Daioh

Villains

Lil’ Miss Malachite: Tarren Mill - World of Warcraft: Taverns of Azeroth

Tock: Thrash Pack - Pyre

Caroline Cordovin: Ancient Civilization Exhibition - Wild ARMs: AlterCode F

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #team rwby #character theme list #character image song list #rwby character themes #rwby image songs #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #i ain't gonna tag everyone lol #but here you go

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