Dimitri fire emblem. Almost one year living in my head, and many more coming (ïŸ*Đ€ÏĐ€)ïŸ~
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Dimitri fire emblem. Almost one year living in my head, and many more coming (ïŸ*Đ€ÏĐ€)ïŸ~

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Mercy never comes for free
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A few days after Kell arrived at the Crystal Theatre. His facade may or may not slowly crumble.
CW: slavery, captivity, forced to perform
The girls were dancing in perfect synchrony and Kell couldnât help but staring at them. They moved gracefully, their technic flawless and their synchrony on point. It was breath-taking and beautiful.
For a second Kell forgot why he was here. He nearly even forgot about his hand still hurting like hell despite the pain killers and the sling in which his arm rested.
The dancers leaped into the air as one and spun a complete circuit. Kell had never seen such dance moves before.
But despite all its beauty it lacked something, Kell couldnât pin down.
âThey are good, rightâ, Oryn commented proudly grinning. Possessively. As if the credit belonged to him.
âI have never seen someone dance like thisâ, Kell said quietly.
He couldnât take his eyes from them.
âI only get the bestâ, Oryn said spreading his arms. âDancers, singers and actors from all around Tharlia. I even have some aerial acrobats and figure skaters for a special winter show. But that is still a secret.â He put a finger on his lips, as if Kell knew anyone to tell. Â
Suddenly one of the girls tripped.
A women rushed over and for a second Kell thought she would help the girl up but then he saw her lifting her arm and slapping her with a force that knocked the girl over.
Kell intuitively made a step into their direction but a hand on his arm stopped him short.
âDonâtâ, a low voice said.
Kell looked back at Oryn.
âYou will keep in line and do as I say. Your hero complex is endearing but I donât want to see it in my theatre ever again. If you help someone, I will punish them twice. Do you understand?â
Kell wiggled in his grip. âYou promised not to hurt meâ, Kell said. He glared at him and Oryn gave his arm a warning squish.
âI want you to keep one thing in mind, darling: mercy never comes for free.â He shoved Kell in the opposite direction. âJust because I promised you no harm, doesnât mean I wonât hurt anyone else.â
Anger flooded Kellâs veins. Oryn had found his weak spot pretty fast. It had taken the General weeks until he found out he could make Kell do anything if he hurt another Tharlian.
âDoes this conversely mean if I do everything you want, you will do something nice for them?â
Oryn starred down on him, his face didnât change, and his voice stayed neutral. âWe will see.â
Behind Kell he could still hear sharp voices and stifled whimpers.
âNow, sing, little bird.â Oryn sat down and looked at him expectingly. Everything in the theatre belonged to him. Even the performers. Even Kell.
He enjoyed his power. It radiated from him. It was disgusting.
He looked like a king on his throne when all he was was a thief and his throne built on crimes.
Kell wanted to tell him exactly what he thought, but he knew he couldnât. Words had always been his only weapon when they took everything else from him. Now Oryn had taken even those.
A snap of his fingers interrupted Kellâs thoughts.
âI donât want to repeat myselfâ, Oryn said impatiently.
Kell swallowed. He could still see the dancers at the other side of the hall. He wondered if they would hear him from that far away.
He closed his eyes. He exhaled and inhaled. He tried not to think about them. He tried not to think about the Varsennan. He took another deep breath. Then he started to sing. In the beginning his voice was small and still a little hoarse. It has been a while since he had sung last. But he soon got lost in the song. It was a Tharlian ballad and Kell had always thought it to be comforting. He hoped it could maybe bring the dancer comfort too. It had been one of his motherâs favourite songs. It had never failed to make her smile. Even in the dark days, when they had to leave everything behind and move to her sister. Kell wished he could sing loud enough, that she could hear it wherever she was. He just hoped she was still alive.
Slow clapping yanked him out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open. He was almost glad Oryn had yanked him out of his thought. He couldnât think of the past. It was a dangerous spiral into pain, and he did not have the luxury to appear vulnerable.
Oryn stood up. âThat was beautifulâ, he said. âI think you will do a brilliant job on the stage.â
âWell, Iâm done. Can I go now?â, Kell said.
Oryn came closer and grabbed Kellâs arm so hard it hurt. âBut if you sing another Tharlian word ever again, you will regret it.â
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Tag List: @whumpzone @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @whump-cravings @ @tears-and-lilies
Anaire: My eldest son is doing well for himself in Beleriand. He's crown prince now, and when he walks into a room everybody says "Your highness."
Earwen: That's nice for him. My eldest son founded and built a city, so he's a king. When he walks into a room everyone says "Your majesty."
Nerdanel: I'm so happy they found things that work for them. My eldest son was tortured and mutilated by an evil god, and now walks with a limp and has a dagger in place of his right hand. When he walks into a room, everyone says "Eru!"
The hologram collar hides Leia's scars.
The first time Han sees the scars, he doesnât know what they are.
They are lying in bed together, Leia stretched lazily out beside Han, the sheet of his bunk pooled across her bare hips, one hand propped beneath her head. Han is looking up at her, and trails his fingertips lightly from her jaw to her collarbone, down to her chest, then up again.
He feels them first as small, hard bumps against her collarbone. He frowns, and runs his fingers down the length of the bone, feeling more with every inch of skin he touches.
âLeia,â he asks, still not suspecting what they are. âWhat are these?â
Beneath his hand, Leia freezes. âWhat are what?â she asks, but Han knows her well enough by now to know that she doesnât need to ask.
âThese bumps,â Han says. âOn your collarbone.â
Leia pulls away from him and sits up, gathering the sheet to her chest. The bumpsâvisible, now that Han knows what he is looking forâdisappear beneath it. She turns away, and then slides out of the bed and begins to gather her clothes from the floor.
âLeia?â Han asks, sitting up as well. âSweetheart? Whatâs wrong?â
âI donât want to talk about it,â Leia said, facing away from him. She hesitated in pulling on her pants, however.
âLeia,â Han implores softly. âTalk to me.â
Leia turns on him. âWhat do you want me to say?â she all but snarls.
Han looks at her helplessly, not knowing what to say. âThe truth?â he dares to say at last.
Leia glares at him. But then, unexpectedly, she slumps to the ground. Han scrambles out of the bed and falls to his knees in front of her. Tucking his right hand beneath her chin, he lifts Leiaâs face to meet his gaze.
âLeia,â he says again, even softer than before. âPlease.â
Leia pulls away, but does not rise. There is a long moment of silence, but then, in a small voice, Leia says, âIt was the needles.â
Hanâs blood runs cold. He bites back a curse.
âThey injected the truth serum andâŠand whatever else they injected me with, in the collarbone. On the Death Star,â she adds, needlessly. Han knows what sheâs talking about. âThe droids, theyâŠâ She trails off, shuddering.
âItâs okay,â Han says, and gathers her to him. âItâs okay.â
She shivers in the safe circle of Hanâs arms and buries her face against his shoulder. He feels her grab the front of his shirt in her fists, and she clings tight to him. He clings tight to her too.
âItâs okay,â Han says again. âYouâre safe now. Youâre free. And I promise, Iâll do everything in my power to keep that from ever happening to you again. I swear it.â
Leia nods against his chest.
After another moment she pulls away. She quickly swipes at her eyes, and sniffles once. Then she stands.
âThank you,â she says, but she wonât meet Hanâs eyes.
âYouâre welcome,â Han says. The words feel hollow on his tongue.
Without a smile, and without a word, Leia turns on her heel and disappears through the door.
Han gets to his feet slowly, and begins to pull on his own clothes, which lay scattered around the room. He hopes, as he fastens his pants, that Leia will be okay. Maybe not todayâprobably not any time soonâbut someday.
He hopes heâs still there to see that day come.
"what happened to your hands?" with danny, maybe??
CW: Scarring, references to torture
"Holy shit, are you the Daniel Michaelson?"
Danny closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. It's not exactly easier than it used to be. Maybe he's just gone numb to their endless fucking surprise.
He just wanted to board the fucking plane. He just wanted to do one good thing, one brave thing. He just wanted to spend ten dollars on a goddamn bottle of water before they board and he can't even do that.
"Yeah... that's, um, that's me," Danny says heavily.
"I saw the documentary on you! That was... that was heavy stuff, man."
Danny briefly meets the cashier's eyes. The younger man looks back at him, oblivious, still lost in how excited he is to meet a true-crime celebrity.
You don't know, Danny thinks. None of you fucking know.
"Heavy stuff," He repeats, to fill the silence, and holds out a hand for his credit card.
The cashier glances down. "Hey, the doc never said - what happened to your hands?"
"What the fuck do you think happened to my hands?" The words come out before Danny can stop them, buzzing fury he can barely access even on his strongest days. Now, though, the anger comes, boils, and it feels so good.
"Uh, right, sorry," The cashier mumbles. "S-sorry-"
"He cut me up so that assholes like you would never ever let me forget what he fucking did to me," Danny snaps, grabbing his water. "Glad I could give you a great fucking story to tell your friends later, though."
The scars layered over his body burn like they're being carved into him all over again as he walks away.
When Nate asks if he's all right as Danny drops heavily into a chair at their gate, Danny says he's fine.
He's fine.
Half an hour and he'll be on his way to Australia and he's fine.
Even if his hands hurt like hell.

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Darkest Throne: Dragons
Chapter 9 of the Darkest Throne, the tale of Arcann if the Outlander chose to kill Senya, but he then chose to serve his sister. It is not a happy place, and touches on dark themes. Takes place during The Eternal Throne in the original story.
Summary: The Alliance has fallen, but with the death of its Commander, Phares, the spirit of Valkorion has passed into his daughter. Arcann has found solutions to this and other concerns and begins to implement them. 1691 words.
Part One: Escape Previous: Ashes Conclusion: The Passing Years
there are only two Pierce/Steve fics on AO3, I am def gonna have to finish my Pierce/Steve story sometime.
It's a canon divergence AU where HYDRA finds Steve first. And then Pierce uses manipulation and torture and other cult-like techniques to get Steve to trust only him.
:D
HOW DARE YOU SAY YOUR ASOIAF SILMARILLION CROSSOVER IS A DISASTER BECAUSE IT IS THE SINGLE GREATEST THING EVER CREATED BY FANDOM OF ANYTHING (no but srsly I've wanted to see Jamie&Cersei & Turin & Nienor meeting ever since I read A Game of Thrones and it could not have been done better. At all.) But you forgot Ramsay working for/having a job interview with Morgoth. Pleeeeease?
Haha thank you <3
...but this idea is terrifying