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crimsxnrebellion-blog · 6 years

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Homecoming

[This is basically some fluff I've wanted to write since the new trailer for DMC 5 came out. How I want Dante's homecoming to go, essentially. Give me something cute and nice before you rip my heart out, Capcom.]

He had taken it all for granted. Temperatures that weren’t scorching hot or limb-freezing cold. The crispness of autumn had begun to creep in on summer’s heat. Not too hot, not too cold. He breathed in the scents of his neighborhood: the comfort food from the diner, cookies and cakes from the bakery, the smell of rain to come, car exhaust, garbage, sewage, wet dog from packs in the alleys, piss, alcohol from Bullseye Bar. He thought he would never get the stench of rot and death and fire and misery from his nose; everything smelled sweeter. Moans of the damned and the clash of weapons were replaced by the rumble of passing cars, the chatter of people walking by or inside a café or walking through the park, barks, screeches, and the scuttling of paws big and small on the concrete.

For the first time in what he could only assume was years, Dante felt alive.

He didn’t know how long he had been in the demon world. Time passed differently there. Ten, twenty, fifty years could have passed even though everything looked the same, save for a few upgrades and a few buildings for sale. As he walked the streets, clothes torn, disheveled hair, smudges of blood and who knew what else on his face and neck he guessed by the stares he invoked, he had nothing more on his mind than to go home. To faceplant on his bed and sleep—truly sleep—until he woke up again.

Home. He truly was home. He thought he would never see it or his friends who had become family again. On numerous occasions, he thought he would die there, picked off by some crafty demon or overpowered by another. If not dead, trapped for all eternity. But, he had made it, and he wasn’t bothered by anything. Not the stares. Not the cat scurrying after a rat, nearly tripping him. Not the distant rumble of thunder or the first raindrop to plop on his right cheek.

Dante reached the steps of Devil May Cry, a smile—perhaps the first genuine smile he’d worn in ages—crept onto his lips. With the neon pink sign off, the letters gray and nearly blending in with the walls, the building faded into the background with the ones around it. Unassuming. Bleak. Boring. He absently wondered if anyone had kept the place up for him. Considering the Devil Arms and dangerous artifacts he kept, he hoped Trish or Lady would at least check in once in a while. Make sure no one robbed the place and opened up a portal to hell.

He skipped up the steps two at a time, fishing his keys from his pocket. He was surprised they survived the ordeal, but grateful. He had a spare in the lamp by the door, but who knew if it was still there. Key fit neatly inside the lock—a good sign, meaning no one had sold the place off or changed the locks in his absence—and the hybrid turned it. He pushed open the door with the zeal of a child on Christmas morning. Of a man who thought he would never see his home again.

To his surprise, the place had been cared for, save for a fine layer of dust here and there. The office looked almost exactly as he had left it, decorations and all, but sans the pizza boxes he had most likely left behind. His eyes drank in everything: the pool table, the jukebox, his leather couch and matching coffee table. He wandered over to his desk. Cleared of the normal beer bottles, magazines, and case files that usually littered the surface, all the remained were the antique phone and the framed photo of his mother, both seemingly untouched.

The latter Dante lifted up gingerly, as if it might crumble in his hand by a mere touch. He brushed dust from the glass protecting the image as he rested his hip against the desk. His chest tightened and he felt tears burn his eyes. This was real. He was home. He escaped that literal hell and home. He wiped the tears from his eyes with his forearm as he smiled down at his mother. He did this for her. For all the humans who got caught up in the bull shit demons decided to inflict on them. To make sure no one went through what he did, or met the fate of his loving mother and brother. For Lady and Trish. Patty and Lucia. It all started with her.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow your damn head off.”

Lost in his own thoughts and emotions, Dante failed to hear the door open or the click of the pistol’s safety as it was seamlessly drawn and pointed at his head. That voice. He knew it better than any at this point in his life, even after so long. Despite the threat, and that usually the voice meant he was about to get scolded about his cleanliness or eating habits, or given some crappy job in the middle of nowhere, or nagged about his debt, or asked for comfort because no one else could understand the shit she’s been through, he couldn’t be happier to hear it. To know she was still alive.

Dante set the frame back on his desk and raised his hands in surrender. “You’ve tried that one me before, babe. When we first met.”

He heard her gasp and, sensing the danger of being shot had passed, he turned around to face her. He kept his hands raised at shoulder height as a grin spread over his face. Her face had paled, and her plump lips had parted in a silenced cry of shock. She lowered the gun slowly back to her side and stared wide eyed at her demon hunting partner. And in that moment, she had never looked more beautiful to him. He wanted to drink in every detail about as she stood in the doorway, bathed in the murky light that struggled through midafternoon storm clouds.

The twitch of movement broke his concentration. “Wait, don’t move.” Lady halted a few steps from where she had frozen previously, her eyebrows dipping downward over bicolor eyes. “Just...stay right there for a minute, then you can punch me, shoot me, whatever you gotta do. I need this, Lady. I need to know it’s real.”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip as her free hand balled into a fist at her side, the other white-knuckled on her gun. Dante took the moment to study her. She hardly looked a day older than when he had last seen her; he couldn’t see a wrinkle on her face. The scar across her nose had faded more, he could barely see it from this distance. She wore simple clothing that day, a white button-down shirt, black shorts, and boots, and only carried a single pistol rather than her whole arsenal. He noted the faded scars on her legs and arms, memorized the newer, fresher ones. She looked beautiful to him, more beautiful than anything else possibly could in that moment.

Though she tried to wear a brave face—more appropriately, a scowl—tears glimmered in her eyes, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. As if she knew he noticed her tears, she decided he had had long enough to gawk. The famed demon huntress launched herself forward. Her arms flung around his waist and she buried his face in his chest. She choked out a sob and her gun clattered to the floor as her fists beat against his back. Dante felt hot tears wet his chest through the holes in his top.

“You stupid asshole...” She sniffed and managed one last strike to his back before collapsing against him. “I...I thought you were dead. We all did...”

Dante wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her. Her body against his was so warm. She smelled like vanilla and gun powder. Her skin felt soft to the touch. If he died in that moment, he would do so without a regret. The moment felt so perfect to him. So healing. All the horrors, all the shit he experienced in hell melted away as they held each other. The moment was so raw. So real. If he had felt alive before, upon stepping back in the human realm, this moment with Lady elevated him above alive. He would have kissed her if he thought it wouldn’t end with a bullet in his head. He wanted to kiss her.

“Sorry...didn’t have much time to text all of you.” He chuckled, earning him another punch to the ribcage. “Alright, alright. I really am sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”

Lady tried to take a step back, but he held fast to her. She huffed, but tilted her head back instead, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him. Red and blue eyes sparkled with tears, and the shed ones had left trails down her cheek. Dante raised a thumb to wipe them away. She sniffed, arms tightening around him.

“You’re a mess.” She brought a hand to his chest and fingered a burn hole in the leather. “And you smell.”

“Well, hell ain’t exactly full of rose gardens, babe,” he shot back. Nothing she or anyone else could say or do would ever wipe the grin from his face. “But, I’d be more inclined to shower if ya joined me. I’ve been fighting for probably years down there, and I could use the help reaching my back.”

Lady snorted. “Nice try, Dante.” She tried to pull away again but the half demon held onto her. She hummed and rested a gentle hand on his cheek. He tilted his face into her touch, her comforting featherlight fingers. “I’ll be right here when you get done. I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

Dante rested his hand on top of hers; she always knew just want to say. And this time, it wasn’t in the form of yelling at him. He brushed his thumb over the top of her hand and nodded. His arms fell to his sides, but he held her hand a moment longer.

“Okay. I’ll be quick.”

#devil may cry #fanfic #dmc #dante #lady #after the last emotional mess #i needed to write some fluff #kinda sorta shippy bs #but take it as you will

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jack-the-dm · 5 years

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Pathfinder: Untold Wonders!

Chapter 1: Von and Ali

The firm oak door flung open with such ferocity the wall seemed to lose the battle, cracking at the point of impact. The abode was small, a mere two rooms, kept dark during the night while the residents were away. It was always a work in progress, but a certain someone never made it easy. So many years of living together made it a well known fact that idiot didn’t know his own strength.

“Ali! I’m home.” A thunderous voice boomed.

The reply was instant as the owlbear pelt over a crudely made sofa was flung into the air. The startled girl shot up, her horns catching the moonlight as they bent back along her skull like a natural headband before bending outward an inch at the base of the skull. Her void like black eyes zeroed in on the jolly intruder, “Do you have any idea what time it is?!”

The subject of her rage was an Orc like any other. Or rather, the picture of what the average Orc would look like. Standing three ticks under seven feet and weighing damn near three times the girl was a light green skinned slab of muscle. With two fuzzy straps hooking over his chest and into the belt of his black bull skin shorts, the grizzly bear pelt he used as a means of warmth and camouflage was drawn tight to the back of his neck. An axe hung from its place on his hip, bloodstains forever merged into the metal and giving it a misleadingly beautiful shade of crimson. His yellow eyes were bright and lively even as his younger companion scolded him. Dragged behind him were two deer carcasses, a leg in each hand. He heaved a shrug, “Uh... no?”

The girl, a young Tiefling of fourteen years, pointed a maroon skinned hand to the wall he’d just nailed with the door. Her long black hair hung well past her shoulders and her naturally blackened lips curled into a snarl, showing her sharp pointed teeth. Unlike the Orc, the girl wore genuine clothes purchased from the town twenty-two miles east. She didn’t have quite the same figure as most women her age. Living with an Orc since she was an infant had built up more muscle on her frame than a veteran warrior. She still had a feminine shape, but there wasn’t anything soft about her. “I don’t know either! Because you just broke the gods damned clock again!”

Sure enough, on the floor lay the various gears, pendulums, and annihilated birch casing of their clock. That had to be the fourth one in as many weeks. “Er, my bad. Well, I was going to town tomorrow anyways. Oh! Fern still owes me that favour. We can get a new one.”

“You’re not getting it, Dad. You’ve called that favour in seven times already!”

Oh. Oops. The Orc set a massive hand on the back of his neck, “Right, sorry. Guess I’ll need to pay full price then.”

Her palm slammed into her forehead, “Or you could stop kicking the door in.”

“My hands were full!”

__________________________

As the Orc settled in for the night, having butchered the deer and stowed the meat, a thought lingered in his mind.

‘She called me Dad again.’

It wasn’t as good a thing as most would think it. In his younger years, he’d been a prime raider. He’d killed plenty of people, stolen four times as much, and oh the amount of property damage. He was a true menace. That was the life for him. Not anymore though. He couldn’t afford to. With her under his care, he had to teach her how to be upstanding. He had to learn it himself there. Back when he’d even considered being a nice guy, he’d struck a deal with a local town that seemed to play out well for both of them. He would get as much as he could carry from his pillaging spree, but he wasn’t allowed to kill for it. He could erase the town twice over, but it would be rebuilt with his help come the month after. The townsfolk even began to see him as a neighbour. After about two years of that, he’d taken less to pillaging and more to helping around town. Well, on the crest of the third year, he’d gone to town, axe in hand, only to find it wasn’t there anymore. The friends he’d made and the town he’d come to love were gone, replaced by a burning replica. A flaming tower of a monstrosity was parading through the main road. The beast was a mass of flesh and bone fumbling along on all fours as it tried to avoid crushing the houses its mere presence set ablaze. He hadn’t taken much time to examine the scene, but he’d found her there, a bright red infant wailing among the carnage as he hunted for survivors. There weren’t any except her.

It was a strange course of events. He’d never seen a Tiefling in the small town before, never mind anyone of demonic origin. Last time he’d been there, old lady Meragei, an Elf so old he didn’t dare touch her lest she fall apart, had actually complained about the lack of children wandering about and how it made the place all the more dreary. He hadn’t known what he was supposed to do, but while the creature had its back to him, he took her and ran the entire fourteen mile trek without stopping. After that, things had only gotten worse.

With every day came a trial, every week a gamble on whether either of them would live. He’d done everything he could think of to keep them safe. Now, he was looking across the room at the fruits of his years worth of labour. He could honestly say he was happy having brought her up, but it was always a task. He had to make sure he left out most of the Orc culture and lifestyle. Not all his kind were violence obsessed or went giddy at the thought of blood, but enough were that it was rare to hear otherwise. He didn’t want that. It was bad enough she’d been born with demon blood in her heart, but that didn’t mean anything. Hells, he used to be a raider. Now look at them, two outcasts making a home for themselves.

__________________________

When the morning came, the two of them set out. She swung herself into the back of the cart as her father went to the front. It was small, but well made after seven tries. The Orc, Von, looped the leather straps around his chest and began to pull. As the cart started to shift and crawl down the path, Alissia found that she felt a little happy to be heading to town. It would take the better part of the day and they’d spend the night there, but she’d get to see people again. Being the only Orc and Tiefling for literally miles and miles, Von had set up his hut a long way off from anything and anyone. He’d said he didn’t like getting visitors and that it made the villagers feel safer when he strode into town. She wasn’t sure how much of that was true, but there was plenty he kept from her.

Growing up had been hard. She never wanted for anything, save for a few neighbour kids so she wouldn’t be left completely alone when her father went hunting, but in addition to that she’d grown up knowing they were different. He was green, massive, and a little on the slow side if she was so bold. She was lean, varying shades of red, and sported horns complete with a spaded tail. And her claws. Her fingernails were curved just so anything she grabbed felt them dig in, her toes too. His were not so, usually being down to the nub and usually broken or chipped. While she was certainly glad for them when eating and lacking a knife, it was just another difference.

She knew she wasn’t his daughter, but she didn’t know anything else and he... he refused to tell her anything about the day he found her or where or what circumstances convinced a barbarian like him to become a family man. She should count herself lucky, she knew that, but the lingering secrets kept bothering her.

The ride was mostly spent in silence, her hood down so she could feel the beaming sun on her cheeks. It felt good, really good. She was trying to balance a stone on the flat side of her tail, a sort of workout for it and a means of entertainment as far as she was concerned, when the cart came to a stop.

“Break time.” Von said, his deep voice resonating with a force she could never place. It always sounded like his voice came from his core rather than his throat. His bald head and bare back gleamed with sweat as he sat down on the dirt and put a towel over his face. She was forced to remember her own skin, dry of any moisture yet somehow being soft and near flawless. Just another difference between them. She hopped down over the side, the firm leather soles of her boots meeting the beaten dirt path, “Want me to try?”

He didn’t move the rag, “Ali, I know you want to help but-”

“I’ve gotten better! I’m stronger than I was last month.”

“So am I, Grukmelc. That doesn’t mean I want you hurting yourself pulling this thing.”

Grukmelc. That word again. It meant Fire-child in his native tongue, which she’d grown fairly fluent in. They rarely spoke common, only ever practicing when Von needed a reminder on the difference between bear and pear and likewise words. She crossed her arm in a huff, pouting more out of habit than anything. It wasn’t like he could see much through that. They stood there for a minute or two, neither surrendering their position, until Von got to his feet. She made to get back in, but he didn’t put the straps back on, “You can’t drag the cart, but you can start helping. Put the straps on and pull, I’ll get around back and push if you need help.”

She didn’t care that he’d just called her weak. Everyone was compared to this guy. Alissia beamed a sharp toothy smile and moved into position, looping her arms through the thick straps. They didn’t sit on her shoulders like they did for Von, but she wasn’t about to complain. She grabbed the excess and held it tight to her chest as she put a foot forward.

Nothing moved.

Von ran a hand over his bald scalp, “Mmhmm, thought as much. Alright, keep trying, I’ll push. I’ll match you so it’s your lead now.”

She heard him walk back and slowly the immovable weight behind her began to roll. One step, then another, and another. She continued to push, her shoulders creaking under the weight. True to his word, Von pushed only enough to get it moving. The pace was her own. The harder she pulled, the faster they’d go, but only as much as she could pull.

They carried on with Alissia at the head for a solid hour, sweat finally dotting her arms. Her legs shook with every step, every shuddering breath driving a spike through her chest. When the wagon stopped suddenly, she was jerked back and onto the ground, lungs fighting to get some air. Von’s shadow covered her form completely. He gave her a kind smile, his protruding bottom canines curled slightly, “That’s my girl. C’mon, vuruk, I’ll take it from here.”

Vuruk. Sweetheart. A smile graced her gasping lips. “How far did I go?”

“Half a mile. Not bad at all.”

It was slightly disappointing. She really had gotten stronger, but she was nowhere near the behemoth of a man he was. He’d already covered fourteen miles and it was barely noon, maybe some after. She tried to get back into the cart, but her legs refused. She just couldn’t do it again. She tried to hop again, but her legs buckled. She wasn’t even surprised when a large hand curled around waist and lifted her high into the cart. A different towel landed on her forehead. She’d done some fair work, her limbs asking what in all six hells she’d been thinking. The cart began moving again as she dragged the towel down over the rest of her face. She hadn’t done much, but the effort was hers.

__________________________

Twelve years later...

Von couldn’t help but smile at the memories. It was a reminder of a simpler time and a chance it could come again.

Across from him, Alissia sat with her greatsword in her lap, running a rag across the shining edge. She’d grown so much since then. She was taller than him now, nearly seven and a half foot. Her frame had grown out, her time and effort showing as her lean body had hardened with plenty of muscle. She wore it well though, adding to the height to make her seem like a bigger version of her fourteen year old counterpart. Her hair reached the middle of her back, the horns curving abruptly to follow the curve of her skull and to direct the flow down in a straight line. Her dark eyes had hardened over the years, the void like orbs growing weary of hardship. Her skin had darkened further to match her scarlet hands.

It was a beautiful feeling that swelled in his chest. He’d watched this little Tiefling girl he’d found in the middle of a slaughter grow into a wonderful woman. For so long he was sure she’d grow up to be like him, but his doubts were crushed when she began reading the training books an old Inquisitor had given her. He’d then been worried she’d become a bible thumper, but she didn’t take a god to worship. Instead, she chose to worship her moral code and somehow that had been enough for her to develop the strength of the inquisitions of old. He’d done right by her, raised her how she deserved and gave her as much as he could. She caught him looking at her and gave him a half smile, several stress lines disappearing in the lamp light, “Hey Dad. Sleep well?”

All this time and she still called him dad.

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Sorry for the format! I’m still working with it.

#Pathfinder #RPG #Homebrew

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dragonagecompanionsreact · 7 years

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Hoping the ask box is still open! Could you do DAI companions and advisors reacting to the news that the inquisitors spouse and child were killed in the conclave even though the inquisitor acts so calm and collected? Bonus for romanced

Cassandra Pentaghast - When she finds out she apologizes immediately for her behavior. She had lost the divine, but they had lost so much more. The Inquisitor just gives her an icy brush off, telling her she is forgiven, and that they had other things to worry about now. After that, she tries her best to be their friend, not pushing the subject ever again, but letting it be known she’s there to talk whenever they need it. (Romanced) She’s a lot more hesitant going in. She does not want to be a rebound, or used. But she knows for a fact she loves him, so one day, she brings it up. As the Inquisitor slowly starts to open up about it, she would be there to comfort him during the more emotional parts, glad he is no longer internalizing their pain.

Solas - He finds out much later, and feels he doesn’t have a right to say anything on the matter to them, not when he knows it’s his fault. They are not close, practically strangers, though perhaps if they seemed upset he would offer condolences. But the strange thing was that they didn’t seem upset at all. If the subject was brought up, it was dismissed immediately. He doesn’t say much to them even after becoming friends, but in the fade, where they do not, can not hide their pain, he wards off demons who would take advantage. (Romanced) When approaching the subject, it is in the fade, somewhere scenic and peaceful. He tells her she does not have to say anything if she is not comfortable yet. He comforts her through it. Though, he did not do this entirely for her benefit. He may be doing it to punish himself, to remind him how much he has taken from the woman he loves and how much he’s going to take after.

Varric - He finds out later, and as soon as he sees them, he offers his condolences and asks if they need anything. Their lack of misery…is a bit off putting. Losing his brother had hurt, and losing Bianca hurt even more. Losing a child seemed devastating. He’d keep an eye on them, suspicious, and the slightest bit uncomfortable, but he would treat them mostly the same. Once they began getting closer, he would cautiously ask questions. Not about how they felt, no, more so about their life with their now dead spouse and children. If they opened up, he would eventually get to the other questions, and comfort them if they wanted it. A nice cup of ale and a shoulder to cry on helped Hawke through the loss of their mother, and he would offer the same to the Inquisitor.

Vivienne - She heard through the grapevine. Upon meeting the Inquisitor, she would offer her condolences, at this point saying it out of political reasons and not actual care. But seeing how impassive they are about it, she would drop it. That was an angle that wasn’t going to work. Once they get closer, she does start to genuinely worry. She knows the dangers of internalizing one’s emotions better than anyone in the Inquisition. Though she does not act until after the death of Bastien. Especially if they try to comfort her. She lets them know she’s willing to talk, but does not push the matter. And if they open up, they will be shocked to find the Enchanter does enjoy hugs, from those she trusts.

Iron Bull - He’s Ben-Hassrath. It’s his job to know these things. But he doesn’t bother the Inquisitor about it. But it’s odd, not seeing them outwardly upset. He isn’t sure on the idea of monogamy and having children, but if he lost someone close, he’d definitely be affected. But sometimes it was easier to keep all that shit inside. Otherwise it got messy. He understood. If they become friends, he does ask them about it over drinks. If they open up, he orders more drinks. If they don’t, he orders more drinks and lets them know he won’t pick at scabs again. Though, if the Inquisitor sacrificed the chargers, he’ll be the slightest bit irritated with them. (Romanced) Talking was hard. It was hard, and it hurt, and emotions were icky and suffocating. They internalized it, ignored it, and let it weigh on them. He was there to make the weight lighter. Each knot, each smack, every bite, every hickey was one step closer to them unwinding. And when they finally reached subspace, he would be there to comfort them, wipe their tears, provide the best aftercare and hold them until they fell asleep.

Sera - She probably doesn’t find out at all at the beginning. She probably overhears some nobles whispering about it when they get to Skyhold. She is the tiniest bit upset. Why wouldn’t they tell her? And she confronts them about it, only receiving the cold shoulder. Later, she realizes how insensitive she was and does her best to apologize. She doesn’t ever bring it up again, but she can be seen watching them sometimes, a frown on her lips. (Romanced) After everything she’s told her, she’d feel vulnerable. Why did she have to hear about this from someone else and not her? She’d approach her about it, but a lot gentler. If the Inquisitor opened up to her about it, she wouldn’t be able to give much advice, but she would be there for them.

Blackwall - Blackwall keeps to himself, so he doesn’t catch many rumors, but when he hears some of the blacksmiths at Haven talking about the Inquisitors dead family, he does get alarmed. He offers them his condolences immediately, and isn’t bothered when he is rebuffed. He knows what it’s like. He knows telling people things is hard, and it hurts, and it’s just not worth it at times. If their friendship deepens, he does make sure their not feeling bad, but he never presses them to talk. (Romanced) He wouldn’t say anything until the whole Thom situation was brought up. He’d ask them about it, late at night, if they couldn’t sleep, and if they open up he simply listens. Nothing he will say will bring back the first man she loved, or the child she lost, and he could never replace that, but he would do his best to make her happy.

Cole - (Trevelyan) “Small, screaming, wet and irritated. An addition to the family, a future addition to the templars, but for now mine, no one elses, they are so beautiful when they smile. Warm, safe, gone. Fire, brimstone, Maker why, nobody, no body, can’t bury them, lost forever. It hurts. Do not hide it. They loved you too. They do not want you to be sad.” (Lavellan) “Another child, another addition the the legacy, pure dalish blood, pure eyes, pure face, pure heart, pure lethalin, my baby. Ma vhenan, ma vhenan, no, no! Ma da’len, ma vhenan, Dareth shiral. You feel alone. Surrounded by shem, strangers. No clan to fall back on. I’m sorry I am not them. I want to help You are not alone.” (Adaar) “So small, so soft, fits in my palm, callouses tickling their cheeks. Little nubs, curled hair, lovely limbs, ten toes, two eyes, button nose. Living on the road is not easy but this makes everything fine. Little one, little love. Lost. Gone, gone, gone, vanish in the wind, like smoke. Why them, why them? I want to help. Let me help.” (Cadash) “Crime is no life for a child, no, this is stupid, I’m so stupid, how could I do this? Criminal, just like their parents, and the first thing they’ve stolen is our hearts. So small, soft, innocent, pure. Gone. I deserve this. A carta agent could never be happy. I’m sorry. They loved you. They did not think you were bad. You were trying to provide. And now you are here, doing good. I want to help.”

Dorian Pavus - He never got a chance to find out at Haven because things were so hectic, but in Skyhold he does hear it uttered by a few nobles. He is shocked, at first, because he hadn’t noticed anything wrong with them at all. They seemed perfectly fine! He isn’t the most tactful person, so he decides not to comment on it. Though, once their friendship deepens and the debacle with his father his over with, he does cautiously approach the subject. If he is not rebuffed, he tries his best to comfort them, though he does direct them towards someone who could help them better. (Romanced) He would not be sure how to approach the subject at all, but would end up mentioning it at some point. He’d be heartbroken to hear how much emotions his Amatus buried inside, and he would be there for him.

Leliana - She knew only minutes later after their unconscious body was delivered. When Cassandra snapped and shouted, Leliana made sure to pull her back. During the course of Haven, she would keep an eye on them, not saying a word. In Skyhold, she would not say anything. Even if they got close. Though, one day she does summon the Inquisitor and say that her scouts have found what she believes to be their spouse’s and child’s remains. A proper burial would be set up, and she would silently comfort the Inquisitor in ways only she could.

Cullen Rutherford - Makers breath. He heard from Leliana as soon as they returned to Haven. He wouldn’t be sure how to approach the subject, or if he even wanted to approach it. It was none of his business. If he and the Inquisitor got closer, he would ask a few questions, but upon being brushed off he would shut up and never mentioned it again. (Romanced) One night in bed, holding her close, he asks, and after a while, she answers. He gently rubs away the tears and kisses her softly, listening. He can’t replace what’s been lost but he will make sure she will never lose anything else.

Josephine Montilyet - When she hears, she’s instantly shocked at how much they have lost. When they enter her makeshift office in Haven, she holds their hands and tells them she is sorry for their loss and if they need ANYTHING, come to her. She doesn’t expect the discomfort in their face and the dismissive ‘Okay’. But after that, she watches her words and her actions. Once they become friends, she does try again, and if she gets a better reception she makes sure to get them all that they need. (Romanced) She can’t imagine losing her own family. Even the thought was painful. She couldn’t imagine how they felt, and she made sure to always be conscious of the topic. Eventually, I think the Inquisitor would come to her first, seeing how earnest and caring she is. She is there for them.

#Mod Jas #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cassandra #iron bull #blackwall #cole #varric #sera #dorian #solas #vivienne #josephine #cullen #leliana #Anonymous

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ivysplivy · 7 years

Text

Becky

As requested by @shinfinitexo-genius, in which Alec meets someone from Magnus’ past, learns something really disturbing, and fluff ensues.

PLZ READ TRIGGERS

Trigger warnings: Past rape, rape, past abuse, panic attacks

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Alec and Magnus were cuddling on the couch on a Saturday morning, and it was raining. The rain droplets were pelting against Magnus’ window. Alec was curled into Magnus’ right side, and Magnus had his arms around him. They were listening to each other’s breath and just enjoying each other’s solace.

And it was nice; peaceful. The darkness from the cloudy sky made it all the more peaceful. The rain had a way of making the two sleepy and content with where they were.

Alec hadn’t had any calls about demons and Magnus hadn’t had anything to do with clients.

They were finally getting some alone time.

They’d been in this relationship for a few months now, and Magnus believed it to be going on three now. Magnus didn’t think he could have fallen for someone so fast. Although Catarina and Ragnor tend to tell him that he does.

He missed his little cabbage. Maybe he should visit his home in England today. See if he’s around.

Although that would mean leaving Alexander. Maybe he could take him with him.

“You would have liked Ragnor,” Magnus said, breaking the silence.

Alec frowned, confused. “Huh?”

Magnus chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, I was just thinking about him.”

Alec felt his heart constrict just a little bit. He never got to meet Ragnor, and he figured out along the way that Ragnor was like a brother to Magnus. And he couldn’t imagine losing Isabelle or Jace.

He was sure this was hard for Magnus. He knew enough to know the smile on Magnus’ face right now was fake.

Alec sat up, looking at Magnus. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Magnus just shrugged. “Sometimes things don’t work out the way you wish them to. And… well, Ragnor meant a lot to me. He saved my life.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, and he’s not the only one. I’ve known lots of people who have saved my life and my sanity, he’s just one of the few to actually stick around.”

Alec nodded, wondering what that meant. “Like who?”

Magnus’ eyes flickered, as if remembering one particular person. He didn’t mention anything. He just plastered on his fake smile, and pulled Alec close. “It’s nothing important, Alexander. Ragnor was important, and he’s gone, but that’s okay. I’ve mourned, and I know he’s in a better place.”

Alec knew that was some bull. Most Warlocks didn’t go to wonderland after they died. Most of them went back to their fathers.

But Alec didn’t mention anymore on it. Just allowed Magnus to hold him until they both dozed off.

…

The doorbell woke them up two hours later, and the rain was still falling. There was lightening in the distance, and they knew there was a storm coming.

Magnus groaned, waking Alec up as he stood to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it, and his heart stopped.

What was she doing here?

“Becky?” He asked.

She smiled, but it was sad. “Hello, Magnus.”

“Magnus?” Alec called. “Who is it?”

Magnus couldn’t make his voice work.

What the hell was she doing here?

“Magnus?” Alec called again, and Magnus heard footsteps behind him and felt Alec appear beside him. Alec looked at him concerned. “Magnus, what is it? Are you alright?”

Magnus shook his head, clearing his throat. “Alec, this is Becky Star. Becky, this is Alec Lightwood.”

Becky held out her hand, and Alec shook it, cautious of her. Why did she make his boyfriend’s face look like that? “A lightwood?” Becky asked.

Alec looked at her. She was thin, and she was wearing jeans a purple t-shirt. Her hair was brown, and long; touching nearly her butt. She was a Warlock, her mark being one dark purple eye, and the other hazel. “That’s me,” Alec confirmed.

Magnus cleared his throat again. “Sorry, come in.”

Becky chuckled sweetly, and walked in. “So,” she chirped. “How are you doing Magnus?”

Magnus nodded, looking nervous. “I’m fine,” he said. It sounded forced.

Becky made a face as if to say ‘I know better’, but didn’t say anything more.

They made it to the living room, and all three of them sat down on the couch. Magnus felt trapped. Why was she here? Not that he didn’t enjoy her presence, of course he did. Ironically, this was one of those who saved his life. Well… more his sanity. He just though of her earlier when Alec had asked about some things.

“What brings you here, Becky?” He asked.

Becky made a sympathetic face, and it looked genuine, so Alec didn’t feel threatened. But Magnus was rubbing his hands, a nervous habit Alec had picked up.

Becky spoke. “I heard about Ragnor,” she said.

Magnus blinked. Why was this day tying together so strangely perfect, yet weird at the same time? “Um, yeah.”

Alec looked shocked at Magnus. He’d never heard Magnus stutter before.

Becky leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “How are you handling that?”

“What?” Magnus asked. He felt a little bit of anger.

“How are you handling that?”

Magnus scoffed. “I don’t know if you know, but Ragnor’s death was months ago.”

Becky looked guilty. “I know, I know.”

“Where were you then?” Magnus asked, voice bitter.

Becky looked really guilty then. “I know, I’m sorry. I got busy.”

“Since when are you busy?”

“I’m sorry,” was all she said. “I was helping someone.”

Magnus scoffed again. “With what?”

Becky made a nervous glance at Alec, before looking back at him. “With what you fear the most.”

Magnus stood up then, angry. “Get out,” he said with grit teeth.

“Magnus-”

“No,” he interrupted her. “You don’t get to talk about this. You don’t have any right to bring this up, especially in front of Alexander.”

Alec sat there, dumbfounded. “Magnus, what is she talking about?” He was looking between the two, eyebrows furrowed.

Magnus was seething. “Leave,” he told her again.

“No,” Alec said, standing up then. “Wait, just…” he walked towards Magnus and pulled him to the side, whispering so just Magnus could hear him. “Magnus, what’s going on?”

Magnus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the one thing I’ve wanted to avoid ever since I met you.”

Alec pulled Magnus’ face gently away from himself. “Look at me,” he whispered. “You don’t need to hide anything from me, but if this truly makes you uncomfortable, I can leave the room. You don’t have to throw her out, she sounds genuinely concerned for you.”

Magnus thought about it for a moment, and took a deep breath. “You don’t have to leave the room, okay? Just… promise me this won’t change how you see me.”

Alec didn’t know what that meant, but nothing could change how Alec saw him. “I promise,” he said.

Magnus took another breath before heading back to the couch. He took a seat. “My apologies,” he said to Becky. “Go on,” he said, but it was tight in his throat.

Becky sighed. “I am sorry, Magnus. I wasn’t here because I found a young girl in an alley, and she was bleeding. She was just a mundane girl, I couldn’t leave her there.”

Magnus nodded. “I understand.”

“I was going to come see you, but every time I left, I found her in the bathroom having a panic attack. I couldn’t leave her until I knew she was stable enough.”

Magnus nodded again. “I understand,” he repeated. “I remember what it was like.”

Alec’s head whipped around to face him. “What?”

Magnus closed his eyes, controlling his breathing. “Tell him what happened to the girl,” he said to Becky.

Becky turned to Alec then, and sighed. “I found a young sixteen year old girl in an alleyway, shivering. She was bleeding down her legs, and I knew what happened to her.” She paused, looking at Magnus one more time for confirmation, and continued when he nodded. “She was raped.”

Alec gasped then, and looked back at Magnus, who hid his face in his hands. “Magnus?” He asked, scooted closer to him. “Magnus, look at me,” he said.

Magnus slowly let his face come up, and he looked ashamed. “Alexander, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, by the Angel,” he pulled Magnus into a hug.

Magnus didn’t really know what to do, so he stayed still. He didn’t really even hug Alec back; just sat there.

When Alec let go, Magnus asked, “how is the girl?”

“She’s better. She doesn’t have any family, she was homeless. She still has nightmares, and won’t talk about what happened. And you know that’s bad.”

Magnus nodded, and Alec was running circles on his shoulders with his finger. “I do,” he said. “What’s her name?”

“Adriana,” Becky replied.

“Are you asking me to speak to her?”

Becky shrugged guiltily. “It would really help me out,” she said.

Magnus took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll meet with her. But not today. I will see her tomorrow. Is she living with you?”

Becky nodded.

Alec was still giving all kinds of comfort to Magnus.

Magnus nodded. “Okay, I’ll stop by tomorrow evening. I am sure I can help her.”

Becky hugged Magnus. “Thank you,” she said. She pulled back. “And I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I barged in here like this.”

Magnus shook his head. “It’s okay. I was going to tell him at some point, I just didn’t think it would be today.” He swallowed.

Alec knew they were talking about him. But he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was give Magnus all the happiness he deserves.

Becky was making her way to the door, and Magnus didn’t see her out. “Bye, Magnus.”

Magnus just waved, and heard the door click. She was gone.

It was silent then, and Magnus didn’t really know what to do. He just leaned back against the couch, and Alec began running circles on his chest. “Magnus,” he said.

Magnus sighed, slowly looking over to Alec’s face. “Yes, Alexander?”

“Are you okay?”

Magnus scoffed, but it wasn’t bitter. “Not really,” he said. “I haven’t thought about it for a very long time. And I really don’t want to go see Adriana tomorrow and relive it.”

Alec licked his lips, unsure of how to word his next sentence. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Magnus took a deep breath, and let it go slowly before speaking. “I was dating someone, around the early 1700’s. It was a male, and his name was Jarod, he was a warlock. I quiet liked him. I loved him, in fact.”

Alec listened intently, rubbing Magnus’ chest as he spoke.

“I wasn’t really that aware of things. I knew what abuse was, and I knew what forcing someone to bed was, I just… couldn’t really recognize it. The only other relationship I’d ever really seen was my parents’. And… well… they weren’t good.

"Not to mention I was blinded by my love for him. He would tell me a lot that he would never hit me again, or force me into anything if I didn’t want it, and I believed him. I was an idiot, and young, and I just… I wasn’t thinking. He was my first love.

"One day… he had come home, so enraged that I tried to calm him down but nothing was working. I even tried to leave the house so he could be alone, but he told me I was abandoning him, and I didn’t want him to think that way, so I stayed.

"Anyways, his anger just continued to surge with every word that I said until he snapped. He had me on the floor in an instant. I tried to fight back, but his magic was stronger than mine, and he restrained me down to the floor.”

Magnus paused, taking a deep breath. “He beat me until I couldn’t even remember my own name.” His eyes were wandering around the room.

“By the Angel,” Alec whispered, now running his thumb along Magnus’ cheek.

“Before I knew it…” Magnus stopped, closing his eyes. “Before I knew it, he was all over me.” He reopened them, looking straight ahead. “I couldn’t make him stop. I asked him to stop, but he just continued to undress ourselves, and I was lost then. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t… comprehend…”

“Oh, Magnus,” Alec breathed out.

“It lasted hours, and when I began bleeding, he left. He just left and he never came back. Hours later I didn’t know where to go so I just wandered the streets until I couldn’t walk anymore and collapsed in an alleyway. Becky found me and took me in.” Magnus’ voice was bitter when he spoke his next words. “How’s that for a first love?”

Alec didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry, Magnus… I had no idea…”

“I didn’t expect you to. I don’t want you too.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want you to see me differently. I am not broken by it. Or at least, I’m not anymore.”

Alec smiled softly. “I still see you as my Magnus.”

Magnus chuckled. “Thanks, Alexander.”

Alec chuckled then too, and pulled Magnus in for a kiss. “I love you,” he said.

Magnus smiled against Alec’s lips. “I love you too.”

“Thank you for telling me this,” Alec said. “It shows how much you trust me.”

Magnus nodded. “I trust you with my life.”

“I’m glad,” Alec said.

They stayed silent for a while, just sitting close to one another and feeling each other’s breaths.

Then Magnus broke the silence. “You want to make pancakes?”

Alec laughed. They made pancakes when they were feeling down. “I would love to, Magnus.”

They kissed each other one more time before heading to the kitchen.

#malec #Magnus bane #alexander lightwood #magnus bane fanfiction #alec lightwood fanfiction #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfiction #malec fanfiction

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