She drops the book on his desk with enough force to rattle
the inkwell perched precariously by his hand, spilling droplets across
the blank paper he’s laid out, but he isn’t given the chance to protest before
she announces, in an even voice that promises nothing good for him in the near
“If she is dead I will eviscerate you.”
His sigh is long-suffering, a tad overdramatic, and
desperately fond. “Seeker, if she’s dead – if,
mind you, you know I don’t like spoilers – it’s because I thought it was
necessary to the story.”
“I need to know.”
“And you will. You’ll just have to wait, like the rest
She huffs. “I am your wife.”
“And that gets you privileges with the dwarf, not the writer.” He grins. “Now’s not when you tell me you
only married me for my writing, is it? You’ll break my heart.”
She leans across the desk. “I will break more than that if
you kill her.”
“Love was just an illusion, apparently,” Varric sighs. “To hide your
true motives. Which is too bad for you, because I’m not telling. Can’t have word getting out before the next book does, the cliffhanger would be useless. And I spent six chapters building up to the damn thing.”
“I will not tell a soul,” she promises, with such an earnest expression, he’s almost tempted.
But, “I’ve seen your poker face, Cass. If anyone asked, you wouldn’t be able to keep it to yourself.”
He points the tip of his quill at her. Not a real threat – they haven’t done that dance in years.
She actually looks offended. “I would!” Then, her expression softening, “Please?”
Varric considers her, the veins of silver in her dark hair, and the lines of her expressive face, etched deep with age. The city sprawling beyond the high windows at her back, and
the years, written stories in the space between them, read in the easy way she leans against his desk, as though she’s
never belonged anywhere else. He likes to pretend he could actually kill off her
favourite character, if he decided to. And once he might have, knowing the effect those decisions have on sales. Public outrage is a bestselling feature, any
good writer knows that. But now, seeing her eyes alight whenever she opens a
new book, delighted even after a decade, even after two, when most of his
regulars have long since stopped caring, he couldn’t have made himself do it if his
entire business depended on it.
“You know me,” he tells her then, and he isn’t teasing
now. “Couldn’t kill her if I wanted to.” Then he smiles, in an attempt to
lighten the mood. Old age has made him strangely maudlin, and prone to introspection. “She reminds me too much of you.”
Cassandra snorts. “You are far too old for flattery, Varric Tethras.”
But she comes around the edge of the desk to where he sits, a slight limp in her
step – a bad wound that never healed well, but she was always too stubborn to
accept it. A kiss pressed against his brow, rare and dear and fiercely private. “Thank
you,” she says against his ear, before she turns to leave his office, the book
tucked beneath her arm and a smile at the corner of her mouth.
Varric watches her go, twirling the quill between stiff fingers. Strong
women have shaped his life, he’s never pretended otherwise. But for better or
for worse, he carries their memories with him – their laughter, their loss. The latter
is the heaviest, and the pile is growing higher, every year. Sometimes he wonders
if he writes to remember them; that they’ll live on in his books, long after
they are gone.
He’s never been one for prayer, but if he’s ever prayed for
anything, it’s that his wife will outlive him. He’s kept many souls alive with
pen and paper, but hers has never belonged to him.
And he doubts all the ink in the world could keep her, if he were to try.
Showing up to the fandom 8 months late with longfic.
House of Strays (25938 words) by tyigra Chapters: 11/11 Fandom: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Arthur/Lewis/Vivi (Ghost - Mystery Skulls), Lewis/Vivi (Ghost - Mystery Skulls), Arthur & Lewis (Ghost - Mystery Skulls), Arthur & Vivi (Ghost - Mystery Skulls) Additional Tags: Horror, Romance, Asexual Character, Hurt/Comfort, Break the Cutie, Body Horror, Fluff and Angst, Sappy Ending, OT3, Friendship/Love, Swearing, BrOTP Series: Part 1 of MSA Forays
Artsy Fartsy summary: Evil stalks the night, guilt haunts a young man’s footsteps, and an otherworldly mansion waits with open doors for the walking dead–and for dead men walking. Sleepwalker, Spirit, Seeker, and Shapeshifter: there’s plenty of blame and tears to go around. But there’s plenty of love and laughter, too, waiting to be rekindled.
Troll Not Taking This Seriously summary: In which a young man is exquisitely tortured by guilt and cries a lot, a bara skeleton is unable to work up any murder-mojo after losing the heat of the moment, a girl’s pack-rat tendencies border on z-space abilities, and a mythical canine fails to get bapped on the nose with a newspaper. Also appearing: a villain whose abilities will be thoroughly jossed once the next music video comes out. Featuring one never-ending shirtless scene for completely legitimate reasons, two instances of male bondage, one kinda-sorta OC who never speaks, intimate hugs and snuggles, and one asexual who does not magically find his sexuality by the end of the story.
Cybertron. A living, breathing Cybertron. It wasn’t often the seeker came across these in the multiverse - most were dead, or completely gone. The last one had been the Cybertron of one of his alternates, which had not seen war…
But this one was different. He couldn’t quite pin down why - more snooping around would be necessary. After all, he could hardly leave his curiousity unsated.
So here he was, in what had formerly been Kaon. It still was, likely, but it was…different. He transformed and landed on top of the highest building, peering down over the edge of it. From what he’d seen, this was one of those no-nasal ridge universes.