I think you'd like this story: "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive ( Cassandra x 10k fanfic)" by zombie-girl666 on Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/story/393593530?utm_source=android&utm_medium=com.tumblr&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=zombie-girl666
Cassandra fights with all she has to push Murphy's control to the back of her mind the Urge to submit lingers in her mind but she'll be damn
If you ship Cassandra and 10k go check out my fanfic about what would have happened if she didn't die in 2×06
Summary: Cassandra fights with all she has to push Murphy's control to the back of her mind the Urge to submit lingers in her mind but she'll be damned if she hurts Tommy "Come on, Cassandra come back to me," Tommy says, that's all it takes for Cassandra to push through Murphy's control and fall onto Tommy, her back is screaming and she can feel something warm pouring down it, Tommy gently pulls the ugly red and yellow jacket off and touches her back right where it hurts "10k...what happened?" Cassandra asks tired and in pain her voice sounds different and deeper
I was originally gonna use ao3 to publish this but some shit is happening on there with ai and I don't want my work stolen by a computer so I'm posting it to wattpad and maybe tumbler
If we don't get a single post-reveal post-relationship episode I am goong to question why I spent (probably) over a decade watching this show and never trust a single producer ever again.
Min Yoongi x Jung Hoseok x Kim Namjoon (Namgiseok)
Side Jeon Jungkook x Park Jimin (Jikook)
Rated : E
Wordcount : 40k (multi-chaptered)
Genre : Angst | Dystopia
WARNING : GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE
Description : he peers into the chaos, searching for an answer. yoongi’s still struggling at the forest-line. he escapes for a moment before an Other tackles him to the ground.
a surge of panic rushes over namjoon. there’s too much going on, people everywhere, violence, blood, death.
and in the middle of it all: hoseok.
---
in which namjoon is a pacifist in a world that's trying to bleed him dry
Angel's review : A great story about trust, forgiveness, violence and pacifism. I admire Namjoon's principles, morals and values in this fanfiction. The worldbuilding was really well-done and immersive. I am also gald that Hoseok is the key of the plot and the center of it. Everything evolves around him. It was epic and emotional, full of suspense, adventure and bravery. The plot was much more important than the romance (though the latter is still very much present and is one of the greatest elements to the plot). Namjoon is a hero, trying to save and protect everyone he loves and for that you should read this !
About 10 years in the future, Marinette and Adrien have moved in together. However, having a double life as a superhero has its drawbacks, especially when your lover notices...
It was the worst fight they had in a while.
Scratch that, it was their worst fight, period.
“Why can’t you just tell me where you’re going instead of making up excuses?!”
“Me? You’re just as bad, if not worse! At least I have a valid reason for my excuses!”
“And what is that?!”
“That’s not important!”
They fought until both their voices were sore. By then it was past midnight.
Marinette lay on her side, facing away from her boyfriend. She felt like such a hypocrite, calling him out for all the things she was also guilty of. It wasn’t Adrien’s fault that he was in a relationship with a superhero who had to fight akumas on a daily basis. Tears rolled down her face and leaked onto her pillow. She was so mad at herself. Why couldn’t she just be honest with him?
Why couldn’t they just be honest with each other?
Adrien woke up the next morning to an empty space beside him. Of course, he didn’t blame Marinette for being angry with him. He was angry with himself. He was a hypocrite, plain and simple. Accusing his girlfriend of deeds he was just as guilty of, if not more so. He touched the small dent in the pillow where Marinette’s head usually was. He missed her.
When Adrien went downstairs to the kitchen, Marinette was already there.
So was the tension from last night’s fight.
“Morning” he said, walking over to the coffee machine.
“Morning” she muttered back, not even turning to look at him.
Adrien poured some coffee into a mug and took a sip. He wanted to say something, anything, but it was like his tongue had turned to sandpaper. Suddenly, Marinette hugged him from behind, taking Adrien by surprise. “Huh? Wha-“
“I’m sorry.” She murmured, pressing her face into his back. “I didn’t mean all those things I said last night. I was angry and I feel like such a hypocrite-“
“-I’m sorry too.” Adrien interrupted, turning slightly so he could put his arms around her. “I felt so terrible after everything. I was accusing you of things that I was also guilty of. You didn’t deserve that.”
“You didn’t either.” Marinette pointed out quietly.
Adrien couldn’t quite bring himself to say anything more. He just held her close.
Ladybug met Cat Noir on the Eiffel Tower for patrol.
“Hey, Bug. What’s up?” He asked as she plopped down next to him. She shrugged.
“Not too much, you?”
“Same. Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Really? About what?”
“Well, I had a pretty big fight with my girlfriend last night. I get that our identities have to remain secret, but I hate that I’m keeping this from her.”
“I get what you mean, Cat Noir. I’m sort of in the same boat. I had a pretty big fight with my boyfriend, too. But our identities have to remain secret for a reason. If our loved ones know who we are, they’ll become targets. Hawk Moth will stop at nothing to get what he wants. If he akumatizes them, then he could force them to reveal our identities. We can’t risk it.”
“Woah, that’s a lot of ifs Ladybug. If they get akumatized, if they reveal us. I mean, if we really love them, shouldn’t we be able to trust them? I...” he trailed off before speaking again. “...I would trust my girlfriend with my life. And I’m sure you would, too.” Ladybug opened her mouth to say something, but faltered and turned away.
“Let’s just... finish patrol.” She said, finally, pulling out yo-yo.
It was late at night when they finished. Cat Noir was about to leave when Ladybug caught his arm.
“You should tell you girlfriend who you are.” She said, smiling slightly. Cat Noir blinked in surprise.
“A-are you going to tell your boyfriend?” Ladybug nodded.
“I thought a lot about what you said, and you’re right. I love him so much and I would trust him with just about anything.” Cat Noir smiled.
“Thanks, Ladybug.”
“See you tomorrow, Cat Noir.”
Marinette was bouncing on the balls of her feet, nervously waiting for her boyfriend to come home. Soon enough, she heard keys jingle in the lock and Adrien walked in. She smiled and ran over to him.
“Hey, how was-“
“Shh...” he whispered, putting a finger to her lips. “I swore to myself I would tell you an soon as I saw you. Marinette... I-I’m Cat Noir.” Marinette froze.
“...what?”
“Listen, I know it sounds completely crazy, but I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I talked to Ladybug earlier and- oof!” He stopped short when Marinette tackled him in a hug.
“I can’t believe it... of course it was you...” she murmured, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine...” she paused. “It’s not every day you find out that your superhero partner was your boyfriend all along.” Adrien raised an eyebrow.
“Superhero part- what? You don’t mean... oh my god.” realization flashed across his face. “Milady?!” Marinette grinned awkwardly.
“Surprise?” He stared at her. How did he not see it before?
“Wow, I’m dumb” he chuckled. Marinette shrugged and wrapped her hands around his neck.
“We’re both dumb. I mean, I saw Plagg floating around the kitchen the other day, but I thought he was just here to see Tikki. It never crossed my mind that he actually lived here.” Adrien snorted.
“You think that’s bad? I once saw Tikki sleeping on your face and I thought it was because you smelled like macaroons or something.”
“I mean, she does.” Tikki chirped, flying out from Marinette’s bag.
“Cheese smells better.” Plagg grunted from Adrien’s shirt pocket. Marinette sighed and pressed Adrien’s forehead to hers.
Back in the writing game with a new Solavellan story. When I started writing, I was convinced it would be this short fluffy thing. Oh boy, I was so wrong. It turned rather dark towards the end and I love it. I hope you do, too.
A want to give a big shoutout to @serial-chillr who beta’d this for me and help me really polish this piece. Your advice was amazingly insightful. I can’t thank you enough ♥︎
This is available on AO3, too.
___
One of the first things her father had taught her about hunting was to watch out for the green light.
“When you’re in the forest and see the faintest glimmer of green, promise me to run. When the Fade opens, terrible things are bound to happen.”
She remembered his words with such clarity it was as if he was standing right next to her. A flicker of emotion danced on her skin, making the small hairs on her arms and neck stand up.
“Don’t let the patches of sunlight in the underbrush distract you,” she heard him say. “Your eyes won’t know where the Fade is thin and where it’s not. In some places, it quivers and if you’re not careful, you will attract attention from the other side.”
His words carried all the grief and sadness of a man who had lost a brother to the temptations of the Fade and even without an ounce of magical talent, Elenara could see the trauma it had caused him. She had wanted nothing more than to reach out to him and hold him close.
She wondered what he might think of her now that she bore the mark upon her hand. Would he be afraid of her? Would he run? Or would he hate her for what she had become?
Elenara leaned closer to her own reflection in the mirror, tracing the fine lines around her eyes with her fingers. At 32, age had already begun to mark her and the blood writing of Dirthamen was slowly fading. But that was not what set her teeth on edge…
With two fingers, she pulled open one eyelid. Her eyes had always been as green as the leaves of a birch tree. Her mother’s eyes, as her father often reminded her. Another cause for grief he never learned to let go. Another loss she would rather not remember. A wave of guilt washed over her.
The dead never leave us, do they?
Pushing her feelings aside, she focused on the color variations in her iris – the fine lines of dark green intertwined with strands of lighter green and yellowish-brown that reminded her of the woods near Wycome. And flecked across it all, new sparks of ghostly green that gleamed like stars in the vast and endless sea of the night sky. Green as the rifts that had been torn open all over Thedas. Green as the Breach that threatened the world.
She let her hand sink, resting it on the washbasin below the mirror. It hadn’t been an illusion then. Her eyes had changed since getting the mark.
When the Fade opens, terrible things are bound to happen.
The demon that had tempted and consumed her uncle had come from a rift that barely deserved the name. More like a fissure, as her aunt, Irileth, had told her. And yet it had been powerful enough to let Desire slip through, possess Tere’lan Lavellan and claim his life.
Oh, how she wished her aunt were here. Her father, too. But one was with their clan on the other side of the Waking Sea, and the other rested forever in a burial site in the Vimmark Mountains.
Elenara sighed. Since the keeper had graced her face with the blood-red vallaslin that declared her an adult among her people, she had known so many things – her place in the world most of all. And she had known what she was capable of. Now, she was not so sure. The explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes had changed everything, and now she walked among humans to fight in the name of a god she didn’t even believe in.
“Creators, I have no idea what to do”, she whispered as her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away and sniffled, pushing back her feelings once more.
Outside her cabin, Haven was slowly awakening. The talk of townsfolk mingled with the bells of the Chantry ringing in the distance. Not long until her party would set off to Val Royeaux. Surely, Cassandra was already saddling their horses.
Elenara splashed a few drops of water from the wash-basin on her face, then turned to the bed and grabbed the boots standing next to it. They were sturdy and warm and not nearly as uncomfortable as she had expected them to be. Still, she hated those boots with a burning passion. She missed her foot wrappings and the feeling of grass between her toes as she stalked the open plains of the Free Marches, looking for a ram she could hunt down for dinner.
Someone came knocking on her door while she was still struggling to tie the laces.
“Lavellan, are you still in there?”
That was Varric’s voice.
She coughed, then said: “Yeah, I’m here. Come in.”
A second later, the door swung open and Varric walked in. But he wasn’t alone. Solas was beside him, carrying his staff as if it was a holy relic.
“Andraste’s ass,” the dwarf said. “You look like shit, Lavellan.”
Elenara forced herself to smile. “You’re a real charmer, Varric. Has anyone ever told you that?”
If he took offense, he did a perfect job of not showing it. “Did you even sleep last night?” he asked. “Or any night since we returned from the Hinterlands? Because you sure don’t look like it.”
“Not a wink,” she said and sighed deeply.
“Well, shit.” Varric scratched his head. “Is it because of the Chantry folk in Val Royeaux? I know they can be a bit intimidating, but Cassandra and Chuckles and I will be there to have your back. If they so much as point a finger at you, we’ll be glad to chop it off.”
Elenara smiled again. Genuinely, this time. “Thanks, Varric.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Solas pursing his lips. Was he pitying her?
“What are you looking at?” she asked, more bitterly than she had intended.
Solas blinked and his chin jolted upwards as if she had awoken him from a pleasant dream. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He raised a hand. “I was just… wondering…”
Her brows furrowed. “Wondering? About what?”
“Have you noticed any… changes since you stopped the Breach from growing?” he asked.
She cast a curious side-glance at Varric, but the dwarf just shrugged.
How can he possibly know …
The thought perished as she remembered what Varric had told her about Solas. How he had stopped the mark from killing her while she lay unconscious. The apostate clearly knew what kind of magic they were dealing with. Or he had a decent grasp of the situation, at least, and that was more than Elenara could say about herself.
Once more, her father’s voice echoed in her mind. “Promise me to run”, he’d said to her. But she couldn’t, not any longer. All those cautionary tales about the dangers of magic were utterly useless to her now. Maybe her best option was to give herself to magic and have a skilled mage help her deal with the problem at hand.
“There is something,” she said slowly. “My eyes… they’re…”
Solas didn’t let her finish her sentence. He bridged the distance between them with three quick strides and kneeled before her. Then he placed the staff beside him on the stone floor and took her face into his hands, his fingers resting lightly on her cheeks. “Look at me,” he said and his voice carried a sense of urgency.
Despite herself, Elenara held her breath and stared at him.
She had never noticed the true color of his eyes before. From a distance, they looked grey, like a storm cloud on an autumn day in the Free Marches. Now, she saw the hues of blue and violet mixed in there.
“Fascinating,” she breathed.
“Indeed,” Solas said, lost in thought while examining her eyes. “It seems your body is responding to the magic that has placed the mark upon your hand. An uncommon occurrence but not completely unheard of. Most mages undergo a process of change when their talents make themselves known.”
“And that’s supposed to reassure me?”
Solas offered a smile, his gaze still locked with hers. He brushed her cheek with one thumb.
“I would not worry if I were you. As long as the Breach remains stable, you are safe. Still, if you find any other changes or feel pain of any kind, let me know. I will look into it and help as best I can.”
Elenara felt her hand twitch with the urge to reach out and touch his face to trace the lines of his chin and mouth. She licked her lips and wondered what it might feel like to kiss him.
Don’t be foolish, she told herself. This must be the worst of all the bad ideas you had in your life. For all you know, he’s an apostate who has no love for the Dalish. Creators, he might leave as soon as the Breach is sealed, just like you.
And yet, there was a fluttering feeling that had settled in her stomach and refused to leave – like some kind of premonition.
“Thank you, Solas,” she whispered breathlessly.
“It’s okay.” He chuckled. “I came to help after all.”
“Yes, you did,” she replied.
Varric coughed as noisily as possible.
“Great,” the dwarf boomed. “So, we’re done here, right? We should get going before the seeker sends a search party to look for us.”
Solas pushed back and let go of her face. She, in turn, rubbed her cheeks to cover up the blush that bloomed there. “Yeah,” she murmured and hurried to collect her travel bag. Solas, however, took his time to pick up his staff and get back on his feet again.
“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to keep Cassandra waiting,” he said.
Elenara shouldered her bag, casting a sidelong glance at Solas. He cradled his staff with one arm and watched her intently while she readied herself for the journey, a soft smile tugging at his lips. It almost seemed like he was enjoying himself. To say she was confused by this would have been an understatement.
“Tell me about it,” Varric said to Solas, then turned to Elenara as she grabbed her bow and quiver. “You’re good to go?”
“Yes,” she told Varric and nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Lead the way, Lavellan. We’re right behind you.”
********
Solas cupped her cheek with one gloved hand. She wished she could feel the warmth of his skin on hers as she stared into his eyes, searching for the man she loved so deeply.
Two years had gone by since she had been this close to him. Two years wondering where he had gone, why he had left her. And now she knew.
His name was Fen’Harel and he was about to shatter her world.
“My love,” he breathed.
The magic of the anchor flared and sent a wave of agony through her body. She bit her lip and forced herself not to cry out in pain. In this moment, she wanted to pretend that everything was back to normal and that nothing had changed between them.
She wondered if he could still see the light in her eyes. It had spread more and more with every passing day since the Exalted Council began. The green glimmer flickered and flared just like the anchor and the pain almost blinded her. Still, she kept her eyes fixed on Solas while he leaned closer, caressing her cheek with his gloved hand.
She had promised him that their love would endure. There was nothing in this world or the Fade that she wanted more. And yet, as the magic drained her life, she couldn’t help but wonder if her father had been right after all. Maybe she should have run when she still had the chance. If not from her duty as Inquisitor, at least from the elven mage that she had come to care about so deeply, despite knowing so little about him. When he had left her in Crestwood, she should have seen it as an opportunity to begin again and find someone new. She could have been happy, for a while.
And still, when he brushed his lips against hers, the world began to make sense again. He was her destiny and her duty and she would hold on to him as long as she could. He was hers again and that was all that mattered, even if it was only for a moment.
Elenara focused on the delicate movements of his mouth and pushed aside the pain that seared through her left arm. She remembered the day when she thought about kissing him for the first time. Back then, she had brushed the impulse off as just that: a terrible idea that had crossed her mind. Now, she felt incapable of going on without him.
Tears filled her eyes, as he withdrew from her and got back on his feet. She didn’t even dare to look at her left arm. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on Solas. He gazed at her with a stricken expression on his face.
“I will never forget you,” he whispered.
She saw him turn away ever so slowly as if walking away from her caused him physical pain.
And with that, it was over.
Light erupted behind her closed eyelids, rendering her blind within seconds. She leaned forward, clasping her healthy hand around her left upper arm. The magic of the anchor went wild, roaring inside her body and soul one last time. She cried out in pain as her left hand and arm dissolved into nothingness.
Overwhelmed by agony, she barely heard Solas slipping away through the eluvian. All she could think about were the words of warning her father had spoken to her all these years long ago that she had completely failed to follow.
When you see the faintest glimmer of green, promise me to run.
“You were right,” she hissed, repressing another wild cry. “You were always right.”
She had failed her father, just like she had failed her clan. Maybe she should have turned her back on all of this when she still had the chance to flee back to the Free Marches. She might not have been able to save her clan from the treacherous dealings of the Venatori in Wycome, but at least she would have died knowing she had honored her father’s teachings. Instead, she had chosen to run into her own misery with her eyes wide open.
What was she supposed to do? she asked herself, hoping secretly that a voice from beyond the Fade would answer her call. The world was in grave danger. And it still was.
I’m sorry, father.
Elenara inhaled sharply, still blinded by the green light that reached across the Veil, and focussed on the low thrum of her own heartbeat. Steadying her breath, she waited until the pain in her arm slowly faded away.
Carefully, she let her right hand slide down her arm. A dry sob escaped her when her trembling fingers reached her elbow–or what was left of it. Through the remains of the chainmail that had protected her arm, she could feel the cauterized wound. And then… nothing…
She let out a long, controlled breath. To stop the mark from spreading, Solas had taken a part of her with his ancient magic. Maybe she should be thankful. Without the anchor, she had one less burden to carry. If only her heart did not feel as heavy as if it was made of pure lead.
When she opened her eyes, the world remained a bright haze of light. She blinked and new tears streamed down her cheeks. Slowly, the shadows came back. Blurry shapes of rocks and foliage surrounded her as she drew herself upright. Her knees shook violently as she made her way back to the mirror she had come through, passing by the frozen shape of the Viddassala. Elenara paused and pushed back the urge to touch the stone statue’s arm. You had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into, she thought. Just like me.
As she walked over to the eluvian, the shapes sharpened around her and the world regained its vibrant color. She saw bushes and trees swaying in the wind and the golden streaks of sunlight dancing on their leaves. “Creators help me,” she whispered with a bitter taste in her mouth. The words had never felt so hollow before. With all that she had uncovered at the Temple of Mythal, her faith in the elven gods had faltered. Now, it was all but shattered.
Maybe I should evoke the Maker instead. Or even Andraste. They haven’t had their chance to let me down yet.
The eluvian was still dormant when she finally reached it. Weakened from the fight against the qunari, exhausted from the truths she had learned that day, she leaned against the silvery surface of the mirror and closed her eyes.
She had come so far only to realize that she had been set up to fail right from the start. Oh, how stupid she had been. All her meddling in politics to steer the world onto a safer path had ultimately amounted to nothing. Maybe the hunters had been right to mock her for her interest in history and shemlen politics. She should have run like her father told her to.
When the Fade opens, terrible things are bound to happen.
But in truth she had known there’d be no going back ever since she had seen the terror of the Breach with her own eyes. With a threat that dark and powerful, there was nowhere safe to run to. And so she’d done the only thing that had seemed plausible at the time–she had joined forces with Cassandra and the others to heal the sky. And along the way, she had come to know the world so much more intimately than she could have imagined as a young girl devouring books about faraway lands and long-forgotten kingdoms. She had her companions to thank for that. With their love and friendship, their ambition and folly, their victories and failures, they had shown her what Thedas truly was and what it might be. It had kept her going despite all the fear and darkness she faced.
And while she thought of Varric, and Cassandra, and Cole, and Dorian, and Blackwall and all the others, she knew she had to take at least one more step. Because all these years of fighting would have been for nothing if she gave up now.
“I have to get back”, she whispered and her breath fogged the mirror’s surface. “Please.”
She could feel a ripple as her naked hand touched the eluvian. A moment later, the portal unlocked itself, its surface warping into a cascade of violet light.
Elenara breathed a sigh of relief and stepped through.
“She’s back.”
“Inquisitor!”
Before she knew it, Dorian was by her side, slinging an arm around her waist to help her stand. Varric and Cassandra, who had been standing by the corpse of the enormous Saarebas they had been fighting before, rushed to meet them. The Divine hissed as she beheld Elenara’s missing arm.
“Holy shit, Lavellan.” Varric looked more miserable than she had ever seen him. “What happened over there?”
“I found him...”
Her knees gave out and she would have sunk to the ground if it wasn’t for Dorian. “Careful,” he whispered soothingly.
Cassandra swore under her breath, brows furrowed. “Solas did this to you? Why would he do such a thing? I thought he and you were… ”
The former seeker let her sentence trail off
“I’ll explain later, I promise,” Elenara replied wearily. “We have to get back and warn the others.”
Dorian cast a quick glance at the dead qunari that lay scattered among the old elven ruins, then cocked his head in disbelief. “Warn them? About what?”
Happy (late) Birthday, @thebigpapilio! I hope I did this right, I kind of accidentally went long.
<><><><><><>
“Are you sure it will work?” Adrien mumbled, squished against the back wall as he held up his phone.
“Just give me a minute.” The light of the device was the only illumination in the dark closet, and staring at the screen was starting to hurt Marinette’s eyes. She bent the hairpins as carefully as she could, according to the instructions, and then went for the lock keeping them from freedom. “Imagine how useful this would be in an akuma attack.”
“Pretty useful,” he agreed. “If an akuma ever locked you out of someplace and you needed to get in, picking locks would be--”
“Dangit!”
“What!?” Adrien went to her side, immediately discarding the hypothetical.
“The keyhole, it’s too small. These won’t fit!” Marinette threw the hairpins on the ground in frustration. “Alya’s really done it now! She can be so.... stubborn!”
Adrien gulped. “So that means...”
“We’re stuck. Until whenever she decides to let us out.” By the light of the phone, she noticed Adrien sweating. “Oh no...”
“I-It’s fine.” Adrien took a long, deep breath to steady his nerves. “I can take it.”
“No, kitty...” Marinette bit her lip. He was always like this, trying to spare her worries, no matter how much she told him to talk his feelings out. She blamed it on his father- God, he was so gonna get it one of these days. It wasn’t healthy for him to be so stifled as this. Even as Chat Noir, he’d always hide his emotions for her, trying to be the perfect partner. No matter how much she told him that she didn’t want perfection.
“It’s hot in here.” His hands were shaking now, as if preparing to summon Plagg in an effort to break down the door, which would be way too much unneeded attention.
Marinette’s hand touched his. “It’s okay,” she said. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t...”
“I know,”
Words tumbling clumsily out of his mouth, tripping over his chattering jaw. “I don’t like places... it’s dark... and small...”
“It’s okay to not like it.”
“And I just, I need to be strong, and--”
“You don’t have to be strong.” She gently squeezed the hand she was holding. “Not for me.”
“What’re we gonna do?”
“Good question.”
“Why would Alya do this?”
“She didn’t know. I’ll text her, she’ll be on her way soon.” Marinette took Adrien’s phone from his white-knuckled grip.
A short moment later, filled with more hand-squeezes and murmured reassurances, Marinette sighed as Alya replied. “She’s going to be a few minutes.”
“A few minutes... that’s too long...”
“It’ll all be fine. I’m here.” She kissed his cheek softly, shocking Adrien back to reality.
“Promise?”
“Promise...” Marinette let a little more silence pass, and then declared, “This is a sign.”
“Huh?”
“It’s been long enough since Ladybug and Chat Noir got together publicly. We wouldn’t cause any suspicion by ‘getting together’ at this point, right?”
“I-I guess not...”
Marinette glanced at him, suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry, I just thought it would take your mind off... i-if you aren’t sure--”
“No, no, I mean, I’d like to!” He gave a short smile. “If you say we can, then...”
“Really? You’d go for it?”
“Why not?”
“I really want to.” Marinette took him by surprise with her sudden embrace. “I want to be able to kiss you in the daytime.”
“I...” And suddenly, everything was fine. Marinette... the care she gave, the cheerful kindness that laced her every action, whether she was helping a classmate or an akumatized victim. Once touch, one love-laden declaration from her, and the closet melted away from around him. In the arms of his one, his love, oh, he could never feel trapped enveloped in her smile.
“I’d love that.” Adrien carefully returned the hug. “I love you.”
“Great,” she hummed happily. “I love you, too. I’m glad you’re feeling better, kitty.”
“Yeah... you’re amazing, Marinette. I can’t even believe how great you are sometimes...”
“Thanks.”
“So Alya’s plan kinda worked then, huh?”
Marinette’s eyes snapped open. “Oh no... Ohhh, she’ll never let me hear the end of this.”
“Oh.”
“Dang it, Alya, why did you have to take notes from me?” Marinette slumped to the ground. “And you did so well, too.”
Adrien took another tense breath and shook his head. “I know she’s your best friend and everything, but I’m totally gonna get her back for this.”
DWC! “I’ve always felt numb and foggy between autumn and spring.”
Both you and @hell5bell5 sent the same prompt, so my thanks and love to both of you! As well as @galadrieljones, as her recent commission inspired this ficlet for @dadrunkwriting ❤️❤️
“And from there, we’ll move in on…Inquisitor?” Cullen stopped moving his markers around the map, his shift in attention causing the other Advisors to perk up, “Inquisitor, are you well?”
“Huh? Yea–Ahem,” Halesta straightened up, folding her hands neatly on the table before her, “I mean, yes. I’m sorry, Commander. Do go on.”
He hesitated, sharing a glance with Josephine and Leliana. That same, glazed look had already returned to the Inquisitor’s rather blank stare. They had each noticed it over the past few weeks, her unusual behavior: sleeping in, eating less, always distracted. The Advisors weren’t alone in their concern. Her companions had asked after her nearly every day for the past week. Dorian especially was worried sick, going so far as to pester Solas for answers as to the Inquisitor’s sudden relapse. She had finally been recovering from the aftermath of the break-up, but this recent backslide since their return from the Frostback Basin had everyone scratching their heads.
“Inquisitor, why don’t you get some rest,” Josie fluttered over, a hand to her forehead.
“Really, I’m fine,” Even her objection was half-hearted, “It’s just a little touch of the blues.”
“Well then, go do something fun to cheer yourself up,” Leliana came around to lean against the table beside her, “Go see what Sera is getting into.”
“Uh, maybe not Sera,” Cullen offered, catching Josephine’s flinch, “But perhaps a game of Wicked Grace with Varric?”
“Yes, that sounds lovely! I’m sure Master Tethras would be happy to oblige,” They were shooing her from the War Room with gentle insistence.
“Okay, okay, maybe I will,” Finally submitting, they allowed her to walk down to the Hall on her own.
She decided not to disturb Varric, buried deep enough in paperwork that he didn’t notice her pass by. She wasn’t up to Dorian’s mothering at the moment, so she made her way down the stairs into the weak light of the afternoon sun. Cassandra was nowhere to be seen, no doubt curled up with a book, avoiding the biting wind that seemed to slip through Skyhold’s strangely temperate atmosphere. Without any better ideas, Halesta headed for the Herald’s Rest. Bull and the Chargers were all gathered in the far back corner, loud laughter and shouting conversation: Halesta opted for the table tucked out of the way spot, to the left of the bar. Cabot brought her a mulled cider and a glib comment before leaving her to stare at the wall.
“Inquisitor.”
A deep, rumbling voice both familiar and strange, she looked up into sharp aquamarine eyes. A smile tugged insistently at the corner of her lips, though she didn’t remember feeling like smiling.
“Inquisitor,” She moved to stand, to return the bow, but his hand, heavy as stone, kept her in her seat.
“Might I join you?” Ameridan, in his fashion, sat without allowing her answer, already gesturing to Cabot for a drink.
“It doesn’t seem I have a say in the matter,” It came out with more of an edge than she intended, and his piercing eyes met hers again.
He seemed solid, unyielding: real in a way that nothing else did, lately. He looked her over, very slow and deliberate, such a long look nearly bringing a flush to her skin. She thought back to the moment the Anchor had sliced him free of time. Even Solas had looked surprised. She hadn’t spoken to him much, he’d waited a week or so before following them back to Skyhold. But she thought about him a lot, him and Telana. The weight of his sacrifice, her loss of him, the endless waiting.
“I hear you haven’t been yourself of late, Inquisitor,” His voice was so heavy, gently demanding.
“It’s been a rough few years,” A bitter, shallow smile was all she could offer, “And winter doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Have you noticed how oddly mild the weather is here?” As if he were retroactively reading her thoughts.
“It’s one of Skyhold’s many mysteries,” He barked a laugh in response, giving her a start.
“Mm. What is it about winter that is so difficult for you?” He thanked Cabot and returned his intense focus to her.
“You know. The shorter days, the haze that sets in,” She took a sip of her cider, staring intently at the bottom of her cup.
“The haze?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always felt foggy and numb between autumn and spring,” Shrugging at her drink, “And this year, with Sol—with everything, it’s worse, it's…. Have you ever been so numb it hurts?”
“Yes. I think I have.”
Ameridan watched her steadily, holding her gaze when she looked back up. She felt naked, but not without clothes: raw, like an exposed nerve. One that, in some way, he managed to understand. After a long moment, he nodded, smiling slowly.
“You’re stronger than I was at your age.”
“I’ve been through more than most people my age. Even outside the Inquisiton,” The admission came too easily, and she hesitated, wondering at herself.
“I’d like to hear about that sometime, if you wouldn’t mind sharing,” Sitting back in his seat, his shifting weight made the chair groan, “But— and forgive me if I cross the line, Inquisitor— I think, sometimes, you put yourself through more than you need to. You relive the worst of it, over and over, as a sort of self-punishment.”
“Hm. You’re probably right,” She thought for a moment, then wrinkled her nose, “Not all of it, though.”
“Ahh, your Fade Expert,” Ameridan arched a brow and crossed his arms, “Yes, I’ve heard word of that too.”
“Oh, fantastic!” She crossed her arms on the table, hiding her face in them.
“Fond of older men, hm?” She buried her burning face deeper as he chuckled, “Shall I punch him for you?”
“I can defend my own honor, thanks,” She glared up at his satisfied smile.
“I’m sure you can. I’ve heard some fearsome things. And I believe he’s a pacifist, anyway, is he not? A physical confrontation would only make him more contrary.”
“Not if I just killed him and saved us all the trouble,” Dropping her face back into her arms, “Ughhh.”
“How are you feeling? A little less hazy?” Propping up her chin, she looked him in the eye again.
“Yeah, for now, at least,” His smile fell slowly as she finished her sentence.“Though, for someone so far out of time, you seem more present than anything else here.”
