Ohhhh The Detail Of Finbar Being Skug's Nephew Is Inchresting 👀 Though It Makes Me Wonder If In Your

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Angst prompt: two characters are about to kiss, but pulls away last second when one character says ‘’this isn’t right.’’ and the other replies with ‘’you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.’’ 

Tried my hand writing some druskëlle!Ivan for this! Gotta be one of my favourite AUs.

Read under the cut!

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Ivan Solberg had known, when he became a druskëlle, that his life would no longer be his. His life had been devoted to Djel's sacred cause, and would, at any moment be forfeit in their righteous battle against the drusje. Those devils that plagued the world, cowering behind their Black General in wretched Ravka.

He couldn't have known, back then, that he would fall for one of the witches he had sworn to eradicate.

The witch in question was already waiting for him in the snowy clearing when he got there. Ivan paused for a moment to take in the view; snowflakes powdering his dark hair, his cheeks flushed as he huddled against the cold. Not for the first time, he wondered whether he had been bewitchened by this man. But no... No, he thought he'd know, if that had been the case. Those feelings were his own; he both resented them and held them close.

Ivan stepped out from behins the tree, clearing his throat.

"Drusje." He said, and watched with satisfaction when the other man's head snapped up. Immediately, a smile graced the Grisha's flushed face, and Ivan felt his heart melt just a little.

Just Heartrender tricks.

But he knew that wasn't it.

"Vanya!" The Grisha trilled, stumbling up to him through the knee-deep snow. Ivan felt his heart speed up at the Ravkan diminutive. He watched, feigning indifference, as the other man finally reached him.

"You're here early, Fedjer." Ivan pointed out. The Grisha laughed.

"Fedyor." He corrected, not for the first time, stretching the last syllabe. "But it sounds adorable when you say it like that."

Ivan huffed and looked away, refusing to acknowledge the warmth he felt spreading low in his belly.

"Ravkan names." He said in disgust. "They're strange."

"Well, yours is Ravkan too, you know. Really, I've never asked you about that." Fedyor pointed out. Ivan frowned at him.

"My mother... She was Ravkan. My father is Fjerdan."

He didn't mention his father had kicked his mother out when he'd learned the secret of her origin. He didn't mention he had always treated Ivan like a half-breed. Fedyor didn't need to know.

Yet he was a Heartrender, so Ivan supposed he could tell he was hiding something but the beat of his heart. Even if he did, though, Fedyor didn't mention it. He just shrugged.

"See? We have more in common than you think." He said easily. Ivan was torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to punch this easygoing grin off his stupid, handsome face.

He settled for crossing his arms in front of his chest instead. "Do not get too confident, drusje. I haven't killed you yet, but what makes you think I will not summon my brothers in arms the next time we meet?"

Fedyor pursed his lips thoughtfully, and for a moment Ivan thought he'd take a cautious step away, or attempt to stop his heart. But in the end, he just let out a little laugh; his breath steaming in bursts in front of him like puffy white flowers.

"I suppose I trust you." He said with a wink that made Ivan weak at the knees.

"A grave mistake." Damn you, witch. What spell have you put on me?

"I do not think so." Fedyor said, softer this time. He took another step closer; their chests were almost touching, and his face was so close to Ivan's that the latter could count the pale freckles on his cheeks.

"I do not think you would hurt me, Vanya." The words were whispered as if in prayer. Fedyor's hand came up, cupping Ivan's unshaved face gently. Ivan's heart almost stopped.

His eyes moved down to gaze at Fedyor's lips against his will. Djel help him, he wantes to kiss that stupid grin right off Fedyor's face. He wanted to hold him, run his hands through his dark hair, hear him moan his name-

Damn it. Ivan took a step back, leaning his face away from Fedyor's warm touch.

"This isn't right." He said between gritted teeth. Fedyor's shoulders slumped a little, but he didn't give up

"You wouldn't be here if it weren't." He said softly. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't want this as much as I do..."

That soft, lustful lilt in his voice...

"Fedjer-"

"Fedyor."

The Grisha's gloved hand found his way on his face again, and this time Ivan didn't find it in him to pull away. He let Fedyor lean in until their lips were touching, until he could feel the other man exhaling softly into his mouth. All his reservations melted away in a heartbeat; he grabbed a fistful of Fedyor's hair and smashed their lips together in a hungry, fiery kiss. He tasted sugar and kvas in the Grisha's mouth as he slipped his tongue between his lips, deepening their kiss. Fedyor let out a deep, needy moan that sent fire coursing through Ivan's veins. He dragged Fedyor down, and they crumpled into the snow together without a care for the cold. All that mattered was the feel of each other.

This wouldn't end well. Either Fedyor would betray him and drag him to the Little Palace to be executed, or he would have to take Fedyor to Fjerda for a trial and, most likely, his death. The fragile balance between them would eventually shatter; they would never truly belong to each other. They would never have peace.

But for now, that didn't matter. Damn duty, damn everything. Let his soul burn, if it only meant it would be this drusje's fire that would consume it.

“So you’ve heard, then?”

“That our parents want us to get married? Yes, I’ve heard.”

The protagonist lounged in their travelling tent, a glass of wine in hand. They were, in their mind, the very picture of regal despondency. 

“You don’t seem happy about it,” said the protagonist’s friend – their fiancé, now, they supposed.

“Are you?”

Their friend meandered further into the tent, looking over the protagonist’s books. “I don’t know. I guess if I have to be with someone …” A shrug. “It may be my best option for it to be you.”

“Your passion is overwhelming,” the protagonist deadpanned.

Their friend gave a wan smile. “I’m just trying to face facts.”

“Do you love me?”

Their friend looked up in surprise. 

It normally would have been embarrassing, to ask such a question so bluntly. But now, more than ever, was the time to have all their cards on the table.

To their friend’s credit, they didn’t shy away. “No,” they said. “Or … yes. But not how you mean.”

The protagonist took in a breath. “Explain.”

Their friend settled onto the sedan across from them, and was silent. The protagonist thought for a moment that they wouldn’t answer at all. But then they said, “If I could love anyone like that, it would be you.”

“But you can’t.”

Their friend cast their eyes over. “I’ve long suspected you of being the same.”

The protagonist leaned back, staring at the tarp ceiling. “Somewhat. I don’t feel romantic love, this is true. But I do feel …” They smiled to themself. “I find people sexually interesting, you could say.”

Their friend stilled. “Oh.”

“Do you think me a whore, for this?”

“No.” Their friend’s response was quick, and certain. It startled the protagonist.

A small lock of dread released in their heart. They smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Their friend cleared their throat. “Do you find me … interesting?”

The protagonist raised their brows. But, well, fair enough. Cards on the table.

“Yes,” they said, in all honesty.

Their friend nodded, seeming to pay close attention to the woven rugs splayed on the grass.

“I take it the feeling is not mutual.”

Their friend rubbed the back of their neck. “Do you think me cold, for not being able to feel any of it?”

“Never.”

Their friend nodded again.

But that did leave one question …

“Marriages usually involve sex,” the protagonist said. They placed their wine on the end table, leaning forward. “How were you planning to deal with that?”

Their friend shrugged. “Every station comes with its chores, I suppose.”

Horror washed over the protagonist.

“The wedding isn’t happening,” they said, bursting upwards. “I will speak with my father, I will – ”

“You will bring your country to ruin,” their friend said, rising to meet them. “Your kingdom needs this alliance even more than mine.”

“I will not take someone who is unwilling.”

Their friend stepped closer, and took the protagonist’s hand. “I would be willing.”

“Would you? Would you truly?”

Their friend faltered.

“I could not do that,” the protagonist said. “Not to anyone.” They squeezed their friend’s fingers. “And never to you.”

“So what, then?” Their friend met their gaze. “You’ll resign yourself to a life of celibacy? Because this marriage is happening, whether we like it or not.”

Now it was the protagonist’s turn to falter for words.

They both stayed like that for a time, stuck.

Then, a light flicked on in their friend’s eyes. “What if we got married, but as friends?”

The protagonist huffed out a laugh. “That’s an oxymoron, if I’ve ever heard one.”

“No, I’m serious.” Their friend took their other hand. “A marriage in name, but in practice …”

They dropped down to one knee, grinning. “[Protagonist], will you do me the honour of being my friend?”

The protagonist had to smile, in spite of themself. “What are you even suggesting?”

“We do the ceremony. Our kingdoms join. But we have separate beds. Separate rooms, even. And you can have a harem, with as many interesting people as you’d like. And I …” Their smile changed from scheming to sincere. “I get to spend the rest of my life with my best friend.”

The protagonist blinked. The idea sounded crazy, but …

“It could work.”

The next day, the two of them informed their parents the betrothal was happily accepted.

dad skug dad skug dad skug

I find so funny that when Mirabel sees Bruno he just... runs away dramatically. I mean, dude, where are you going? What's your goal? Are you trying to lost her and then go to your room? And then what??

Mirabel only has to follow the linear path and eventually she would find a door inside the walls.

can I have the templates for the circle thing you did? thanks anyway!

Heya, beautiful anon

Here you go (also I got them off Google )

China: What did you do?

Skulduggery : Remember when you told me not to burn down the sanctuary

China: YOU BURNT DOWN THE SANCTUARY!!!!!

Skulduggery: No, I had the fire put out almost immediately this is a success story

there are animals called dikdiks

larrikin, seeing shudder summon a gist that rips out of his chest and annihilates everyone in the room,