#It takes Hundreds of years for them to even get ready to split

[bewitched-hours]

Hi, I hereby request you to do the Part 3 of Yandere! Alien Paycheck x Reader with Smut Please.

But its okay if you don't want to

Anyways Ty and Bye!

-Anon💗🖌️

"Open my shell? Why of course~" /ref Seriously though, Idm. I may feel like a nun writing smut but the best way to get better at something is through practice. I've also had @rhaine16 waiting for this and a couple more anons so now to throw this into the enclosure like I'm feeding lions- /j

Like the previous two times, the reader's pronouns are She/They (Which I totally didn't mess up on with part two-)

The day of the double moons was drawing closer and closer, reducing your time to decide.

You knew that you wanted to be with Elliot and Chance forever at this point but were you ready to see your new body in such... Action..?

You felt like this was a more difficult question than it probably should be. But your reactions to the topics were so adorable to Elliot and Chance with one of them always teasing you about it.

They knew it was a hard decision and assured you you had more than enough time to think on it, considering life on this planet could survive for hundreds of years, sometimes even thousands.

But you only grew more curious and needy as you thought about it.

It even got to a point where you'd cling to them and ask them to stay home with you which Chance had surprisingly more trouble saying no to.

But how could you blame them for finding your needy state adorable?

It wasn't until you finally decided to take home a book on anatomy that you began to understand.

Of course, you'd hide this from your boyfriends. The teasing that would ensue would probably turn your entire body red...

So you read it in secret, setting yourself alarms to make sure they wouldn't catch you studying your- and their- anatomy down to the reproductive system. It was surprisingly similar to how it worked back on earth but for some reason the antennae on top of one's head played a big role in it all.

For females, it apparently had the ability to surround oneself in some sort of scent to express lust and attract her partner(s)'s attention.

For males, it can be used to find a partner's sweet spots and help deliver immeasurable pleasure.

The parts themselves were interesting to see in pictures though.

Apparently you now had retractable teeth hidden in your fleshy walls in case any male is thinking of taking advantage of you.

Maybe that's why you hadn't found many cases of... Actually, maybe that's a topic for another time.

But the males? Their dicks were apparently split... Tentacles- it was straight up tentacle-esque dicks that were able to form together for the 'normal' way or split into little tentacles for hitting multiple spots at once.

The thought made a shiver run down your spine. Was it one of curiosity, horror or perhaps even some excitement? Why not all three?

Some days you'd find yourself trying to work off your ever-growing needy behaviour but to no avail. It would only ever drive you to climax and then leave you wanting more. It really was hard to ignore, especially with Chance and Elliot definitely knowing about it and just not bringing it up out of respect for you.

And even though you did read about how common it was on this planet to have sex regardless of relationship status- especially with the fact religion was nearly non-existent- you couldn't help but feel a guilty pleasure thinking about your boyfriends dressing fancy for a ceremony and then getting messy all for you...

One evening, they noticed you were a little more quiet than usual and had paused the movie you were all watching to check on you. You were all sandwiched together so Elliot and Chance could have equal parts of your affection without worries so they only had to sit up to give you a proper look over.

"[Reader], is something on your mind?" Chance's worries shone through his face so obviously with you...

"I've... Been thinking..." You started quietly, knowing they were fully focused on you as they held you with such gentle hands that made you guilty for what you were about to say next.

"I need you both to fuck this need out of me before I go crazy..." You barely choked out the words with a sheepish look on your face, watching them get flustered over your request before Elliot took a deep breath.

"Sweetheart, we could get you checked on if you feel something's wro-" He wanted to speak, clearly believing you must be mistaken with your wants but you cut him off with a passionate but quick kiss on the lips.

It satiated your grown need for them just a little but it was all the confirmation you needed for your decision. "I want you both inside of me... How we do it is of little concern to me but I need it..."

A silence feel amongst the three of you with Elliot and Chance giving each other a look before carrying you off. "Luckily it's already a double moon so we could consider the day our ceremony~" Chance chirped happily as you practically melted in Elliot's arms as he was having you in a bridal carry.

The heat of your collectively growing lust actively fed into the tension as you internally reminded yourself of what to expect.

Gubby was on the sidelines just meowing angrily until her automatic feeder went off and she practically dashed to the kitchen... She really just became a glutton ever since she got here...

Luckily you were too caught up in your own excitement to care.

And it wasn't like your boyfriends were gonna let you escape now.

By the time you've all gotten to the bedroom and undressed, your face flushed at the sight of them wasting no time to make sure you were comfortably squished between them with Elliot making sure to sing little praises into your ear from behind and Chance gently holding you at the front to let you watch his tentacles carefully slide into your entrance.

It was exciting, you were nervous but it felt so right that you let out small whimpers which only seemed to encourage them to go on.

You soon felt Elliots tentacles joining too, a small gasp escaping your lips as the two of them made sure to carefully look for all of the right spots. All the little sweet spots this species had at various points within your new reproductive system. And the way they felt around for them made you whine and whimper more for them.

It was hard for them not to lose themselves over how cute your noises were.

"You're doing perfect, [Reader]~ Just a little longer~" Elliot whispered softly, holding you in place to start marking your skin with little bite marks. "Our perfect little wife~ Just as it should be~"

You felt a short moment of bliss, followed by the two of them grinning. They've found the first one and you could no longer tell which one of them had which tentacle as one of them began caressing and teasing it to make you squirm in Chance's grip.

Your breath grew more desperate and sharp, their names coming out of your mouth like honey as you whined and begged for them not to stop.

Not like they were planning on that anytime soon though...

They could tell you were enjoying it, letting them feel around and practically abuse your sweet spots until you could only think about them.

"Look at you~ Taking us with such a pretty face~" Chance cooed, a low chuckle escaping him as you watched him with pleading eyes. "Fuck... I'm gonna lose my mind..."

It wasn't long by now until you could tell them apart inside you.

Chance was more eager and impatient but Elliot was the complete opposite. Patient and gentle.

It drove you insane and you weren't even ashamed to admit it.

They could tell how you melted under their care and revelled in your cries of pleasure and anticipation.

Then, just as you were getting close... They slowed down.

You whimpered and begged, looking at them both as you saw their playful smirks.

"Nuh-uh-uh~ We want to have some more fun with you before you get your release~" You heard Elliot whisper with a sudden hint of hunger lingering in his voice.

"As much as we would love to, you're simply too adorable like this and we gotta make sure you'll be as obsessed with us as we are with you~" Chance chuckled, the hunger in his gaze even more intense than you'd have guessed...

"No... Please..." You begged, squirming as you tried to get them to move again. Instead, they lightly played with your sweet spots to make sure you'd be driven to the edge but never truly feel the sweet release of that building orgasm.

They were being cruel on purpose at this point. But before you could protest, Chance began nibbling at the other side of your neck while Elliot simply moved his head down to do the same.

They were both leaving their marks on you while toying with your pleasure.

"We've gone all this way... So, who do you belong to~?" Chance's words snapped you back out of your pleading state. "Don't be shy~"

You almost didn't hesitate, knowing what they wanted to hear. "You guys~ I belong to you..." You whimpered, your mind being filled with nothing but that chase for pleasure.

Filled with nothing but them...

"Good girl~ But we want our names~" Elliot's sudden assertiveness almost made your arousal deepen.

This time, you didn't hesitate. "It's you~! Elliot and Chance-" you let out a sharp gasp, feeling your sweet spots being attacked again.

"Come on~ Say it again~ We didn't quite hear it~" Chance chuckled, listening to you whimper some more as you were driven to desperation.

"Elliot~! Chance~! I belong to you~!" You finally managed to get it out fully, quickly feeling their tentacled dig deeper into you and stimulating all of your sweet spots at once to finally allow the built up pleasure to release in a cry of ecstasy.

Unfortunately... Something told you this was just the beginning of a long night with your new husbands...

Not like you minded it though~

If y'all ask for any more I might have to start a series with a Masterpost lmfao (Like I'm not already planning to do for the Mina stories)

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 137

 What happens after a Halfa dies? What happens when their bodies of flesh can no longer hold the power of their soul? What happens when they’re no longer alive despite the fact they can never truly die?

 What happens when their soul finishes incubating in its cocoon of meat and bone that’s warped and twisted over an immeasurable amount of time? When the soul leaves a body that refuses to stay down because death is not an option? 

 What happens when a Halfa finishes incubating in their first form, and splits? What happens when mortals not understanding what they’re doing in their hubris, causes one to do so early? 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Contronyms

Contronym

A word that has two meanings that are opposite or nearly opposite.

Example: Left means both “leave” (two people had left) and “remain” (How many people are left?), which are antonyms.

An antonym is a word that is opposite in meaning to another.

Contronyms are also known as Janus words.

Janus was an ancient Roman god with two faces that looked in opposite directions.

Another term for these words is auto-antonym, or a word that means the opposite of itself.

Technical terms for this phenomenon are enantiosemy, enantionymy, or antilogy.

Examples of Contronyms

Cleave

Comes from two different Old English words, clēofan and cleofian, which is how it got these two opposite meanings.

Cleave: to split, to separate (Owen swung the axe down hard in order to cleave the log into two even pieces.)

Cleave: to adhere closely, to stick (Young beaver pups cleave to their mother in the water until they are strong enough to swim on their own.)

Dust

When used as a verb, is a contronym.

Dust: to wipe the dust from (Every Saturday, he would dust the nicknacks on the bookshelves to keep them clean.)

Dust: to sprinkle with a powder or dust (The baker liked to dust their pumpkin bread with just a sprinkle of cinnamon.)

Overlook

Overlook: to fail to notice, perceive, or consider (I hadn’t finished the last two homework questions, but I hoped my teacher would overlook it and give me full marks anyway.)

Overlook: to look after, oversee, or supervise (The manager was required to personally overlook the transfer of valuable materials every evening.)

Sanction

Sanction: to authorize, approve, or allow (My parents wouldn’t sanction video games in our home because they thought they were too violent.)

Sanction: to penalize (The school said they were going to sanction the students for arriving late to class.)

Weather

The word weather is a contronym, but only when used as a verb.

Weather: to expose to the weather, to disintegrate (The paint on the house was chipped and weathered from the decades of rain and snow.)

Weather: to endure (We weren’t sure that we would be able to weather the storm if we didn’t find shelter.)

Back Up

Back up: to support (Ultimately, the scientists were unable to back up their claims with hard evidence.)

Back up: to retreat (The zebras backed up when they spotted the alligators in the water.)

Fine

The adjective fine has the potential to lead to some real misunderstandings about just how excellent (or not) something is.

Fine: of superior or best quality (To prepare for the Queen’s visit, the household staff cleaned the fine linens and polished the best silver.)

Fine (informal): satisfactorily, acceptably (Sandra thought her performance was fine, but nothing special, so she was surprised when she won second place.)

Original

The adjective original is an example of a contronym.

Original: belonging to the beginning of something (Despite being hundreds of years old, the painting was still in its original frame.)

Original: new, fresh, inventive (While sitting in the bathtub, the inventor was struck with an original idea.)

Pitted

The contronym pitted often causes confusion at the grocery store.

Pitted: having pits; in the sense of “mark or indent” (The sailor’s face was pitted and craggy from the wind and salt water.)

Pitted: having the pit removed; in the sense of “stone of a fruit” (My mom reminded me to buy the pitted cherries, because she didn’t want to take out the stones herself.)

Bound

Bound is an example of a contronym that has two different meanings because it actually has two different etymologies. The first meaning comes from the Old English bindan. The second meaning comes from the Old Norse būinn, “to get ready.”

Bound: tied, fastened or secured with a band or bond (The Mountie rushed to save the woman who was bound to the railroad tracks.)

Bound: going or intending to go, destined [for] (With all of their talents, the band was bound to be a success.)

Source ⚜ More: Basics & Refreshers ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[phoenixcatch7]

Luo binghe dies.

The system offers the widowed husband resurrection, the ability to continue the world even after the 'true' story has ended. Because the world cannot exist without its protagonist, it comes to a halt. No time will pass until he is revived.

Sqq gets dragged through stories and universes by the system, trying to wrack up the 10,000 points needed. It takes a long time. Far too long. He plays too many roles, spends too years unable to truly settle, goes through so much it all starts to blur together.

Seeing this, an unsatisfying, boring ending without closure getting ever more likely as Sqq continues to fail to remember why he's doing it, the system releases lqg, sqh and the ghost of lbh from the stasis of their world and sends them after him. As the only one with any real understanding of the situation, sqh takes the lead. After chasing his footprints through a handful of worlds (that sqh can sort of recognise, and he adapts rapidly) they are finally find him. But he can't recognise them. He's seen too much, been too much, hidden himself away in more and more layers, not wanting to think if anything outside of the immediate problems. He can only recall the reason he set out in the vaguest terms, deflecting and outright interrupting when pressed.

So lbh manages to pull them into sqq's psyche.

From there, it's like a really big, five dimensional onion. Each role Sqq has taken solidified into another barrier between him and the worlds he was forced to live in and lose in rapid succession. Nothing, individually compared to the world of pidw, but added up they're quite the defence. Inside each layer is a false Sqq hidden in the crowd wearing someone else's face, and an item or location important to that version of him that'll take them through to the next layer.

Each time, they find another thread to the peak lord they lost. Another habit, or memory, or trivia comes back to life. It gets easier and easier to identify him no matter the body he wears. They share stories about him during rests, or moments of travel, to help the others identify him too. They kinda sorta maybe bond.

Then, finally, after a world of zombies and inter sect wars, they find a mimicry of qjp, and Sqq at the table. He's confused but delighted to see them. Even sqh gets hugged. He's shaken at their story, but over the moon at finally reaching 10k points and more than ready to return to reality.

Congratulations! The system says, and offers them their return to the real qjp, with the points needed to save lbh and with it, the world.

Lbhs eager hand on the yes button is clamped in a vice grip.

Sqh is looking at Sqq. Sqq furrows his brows in confusion.

Every transmigrator can see the system. As such, every version of Sqq can see the system.

However.

To the outside world, there is no system. There cannot be a system. To play their role, a transmigrator pretends to not have a system. They do not see a system, they do not hear it, there is nothing there. They play as a native.

This shen qingqiu cannot see the system.

He too is a role.

Lbh presses decline.

They search the house. Fake Sqq, User 002, lets them with mild befuddlement.

In the bedroom, over the bed, they find the rip.

There is a glowing city of glass, a thousand people of every shape and size on the streets. Thousand more race past in cars and buses and trains. By the nature of the dreams, their appearance does not stand out, and they've learned quick how to adapt from the crowd.

They have no clue how to identify him, but for the hundreds of variations they've met. They know his tics, his stance, the way he words his sentences. The way he frowns when confused. By now, they would know him blind and deaf - and they're going to need to.

They split up. They meet back up when the sun starts to go down. Cultivators can work without rest, and they're all highly levelled. They keep searching, unwilling to give up, but they've been doing it for a while, not wanting to pause at the last stretch. They're tired, stressed and jittery from the flashing neon lights and constant roaring sounds and unmoving smog.

A man walks past at 2 in the morning with a luo binghe phone case. A luo binghe key chain. A luo binghe lock screen identifiable from ten paces.

Airplane feels it would be justifiable to punch him.

But he recognises them on sight. Probably. He seems (entirely bro platonically) entranced by his xianxia husband, so it's hard to say.

Congratulations, congratulations congratulations! The system says. Good things should be said three times!

The man startles.

Ten thousand points, lqg says, grabbing him by the wrist. Let's go.

The system doesn't break them out this time. Instead, they treck back to his apartment, where his bedroom computer is the only light.

FIN, it says, and underneath a blinking cursor in an empty comment box.

In the computer, shen yuan says, with the certainty of a dreaming mind.

In the computer?

In the computer, he confirms, shoving sqh forward. The computer is the rip. Aight, sqh says, and reverse girl-from-the-ring's himself back to reality.

He lay on a bed. Looking up: a white, gauzy canopy hung overhead, with finely crafted perfume pouches hanging from the four corners. Looking down: he wore a green robe of an ancient style. Next to the pillow lay a paper fan. Looking to his left: three handsome young men, also in that ancient style.

The one closest to him burst into tears and kissed him full on the lips.

[shiorihyugawrites]

The Devil's Bride

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Chapter Twenty Three

The tension was palpable in the makeshift planning room. Levi stood at the head of the table, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group of scouts gathered before him. Mikasa sat silently, her head down, her fingers nervously gripping the fabric of her scarf. Armin, visibly distressed, leaned forward on the table, his hands clasped tightly as if in silent prayer. Jean, Connie, Sasha, and Hange completed the group, their expressions a mix of grim determination and deep unease.

No one wanted to be here. No one wanted to do what they were about to do. But they all knew it was necessary.

Levi’s voice was calm but unyielding as he addressed them. “This is our only chance to stop him. Eren’s actions in Liberio made it clear that he’s willing to cross any line to achieve his goal. The rumbling isn’t just a demonstration—it’s genocide on a scale this world has never seen. If we don’t stop him now, millions will die. We cannot let that happen.”

Hange sighed deeply, their voice tinged with regret. “We’ve all seen the horrors Marley inflicted on Paradis. We know what the world thinks of us. But wiping out everyone beyond the walls? That’s not the answer. There’s good out there too. We’ve seen it.”

Armin nodded, his voice soft but firm. “I still remember Ramzi, that little boy in Marley. He was just a kid, trying to survive in a cruel world. He and his family were so welcoming to us even though they were refugees with little. If we let Eren go through with this, we’re no better than the people who oppressed us.”

Jean crossed his arms, his jaw tight. “I get it. I do. But this isn’t just about stopping Eren. We’re going up against the Jaegerists too. They’re everywhere now, and there are hundreds of them at the farm. It’s not going to be easy.”

Levi’s gaze narrowed. “It’s not supposed to be easy. None of this is. But that doesn’t change the fact that it needs to be done.” He turned his attention to Mikasa, who hadn’t spoken a word since the meeting began. “Mikasa. I know this is hard for you.”

Mikasa’s head jerked up, her wide eyes filled with anguish. “Hard doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she said, her voice trembling. “Eren isn’t just family to me. He’s… he’s everything. I can’t—” She stopped, her voice breaking. “I don’t think I can hurt him.”

Levi sighed, his expression softening just slightly. “I’m not asking you to kill him. You’ll be with the others. Your job is to deal with the Jaegerists. Leave Eren to me.”

Mikasa’s eyes widened. “You’re going after him alone?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Levi replied, his voice firm. “You won’t do it, and the rest of you don’t stand a chance against him. Eren isn’t stupid. He knows we’re coming. He’ll be above ground, ready to transform the second he senses trouble. If we try to take him head-on, he’ll wipe us out.”

Hange leaned forward, their brow furrowed. “So what’s the plan, exactly? How are we going to split up?”

Levi’s gaze hardened. “Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, and Hange, you’ll handle the Jaegerists. They’re the real barrier between us and Eren. I’ll take care of him.”

Jean frowned. “Levi, even if you take him by surprise, Eren can transform in an instant. Are you sure you can handle him alone?”

“I’ve faced worse,” Levi replied curtly. “Besides, I’ve known what Eren was from the moment I met him in that cell. A monster that can’t be controlled. He’ll never bow to anyone, and he’ll destroy everything in his path to get what he wants. That’s why I’m doing this.”

Armin shook his head, his face pale. “But he’s not a monster, Levi. He’s still Eren. I know he’s gone down a dark path, but there has to be another way.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t the time for sentimentality, Armin. Eren made his choice. Now we have to make ours.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of Levi’s words sinking in. Finally, Hange stood, their voice resolute. “If this is how it has to be, then we’ll do our part. But I hope you’re wrong about him, Levi.”

Levi didn’t respond. He turned and began gathering his gear, his movements deliberate and precise. The others followed suit, the room buzzing with quiet activity as they prepared for the mission.

…

The farmhouse loomed in the distance as the group approached under the cover of darkness. Levi signaled for the others to stop, crouching low as he surveyed the area. The farm was deceptively quiet, but Levi knew better than to assume they’d gone undetected. Eren was too smart for that.

“We’re splitting up here,” Levi whispered, his voice barely audible. “Stick to the plan. Deal with the Jaegerists quickly and quietly. The longer this drags on, the more time Eren has to react.”

The others nodded, their faces grim. Mikasa lingered for a moment, her gaze fixed on the farmhouse. “Captain… don’t kill him if you don’t have to.”

Levi didn’t respond, his eyes hard as steel. He adjusted his gear and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the rest of them to their task.

As they crept closer to the farmhouse, the tension in the air was suffocating. Mikasa’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with memories of Eren—the boy she’d grown up with, the man she’d sworn to protect. She clenched her fists, steeling herself for what was to come.

The tension in the air was suffocating as Hange signaled her team to advance. Jean, Connie, Sasha, Armin, and Mikasa followed closely, their ODM gear primed for combat. The night was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that sets every nerve on edge. The intelligence they had received pointed to a secret stronghold of the Jaegerists hidden beneath Queen Historia’s farm. If they could strike here, they would deal a devastating blow to Eren's faction by capturing not only his wife and Floch but even Queen Historia herself.

Hange’s voice was calm but firm as she whispered, “Remember the plan. Stay sharp. They won’t go down without a fight.”

Jean clenched his fists. “We’ve got this.”

Armin looked pale but resolute. Mikasa, however, was uncharacteristically tense, her hand gripping her blades tightly. Her thoughts were entirely on Eren. If Levi succeeded in dealing with him above ground, this fight would determine everything.

As they approached the large, steel-reinforced door embedded into the earth, Hange gestured for Sasha and Connie to place the charges. Moments later, the deafening sound of the blast shattered the silence, and thick smoke filled the air as a smoke bomb was thrown inside. The team flew in using their ODM gear, prepared for an intense battle.

But there was nothing.

The room was empty.

“What the hell?” Jean’s voice echoed through the cavernous space as his blades gleamed in the dim light.

Hange’s eyes darted around, scanning the area for signs of life. “Stay alert! This has to be a trap.”

Before anyone could respond, the ground trembled beneath them, and then it happened—a flash of blinding white light as a titan transformation erupted, illuminating the bunker like a miniature sun. The sheer force of it knocked several of them off balance, and a deafening roar reverberated through the air.

But Eren didn’t transform into his titan body. Instead, a massive structure of hardened crystal burst forth from the ground, encasing Hange, Jean, Connie, Sasha, and Armin in an instant. Their shocked faces were frozen behind the translucent barrier, their weapons useless against its impenetrable surface.

Mikasa, however, reacted instinctively, her Ackerman blood driving her reflexes. She fired her grappling hook upward, narrowly avoiding the crystallization as she swung to safety and anchored herself to the ceiling. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked down in horror at her comrades, now trapped and helpless.

“Eren!” Mikasa’s voice was filled with anguish as she spotted him standing calmly in the center of the bunker. His expression was cold, detached, as if the people he had just trapped were nothing more than obstacles in his path.

“Why are you doing this?!” she demanded, her voice breaking.

Eren’s gaze met hers, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something—regret, sorrow—but it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. His voice was low and steady as he said, “This is the only way.”

Mikasa’s blood ran cold. What did he mean? And why was he here, underground, instead of above ground where Levi was supposed to confront him?

Panic gripped her. If Eren was down here, then who the hell was Levi fighting above ground?

…

Levi moved silently through the farmhouse above, his blades ready. The place was deserted, eerily so. Every room he checked was empty, but he refused to let his guard down. This was Eren he was dealing with. If anyone could pull off a misdirection like this, it was him.

As he approached the last door at the end of the hallway, he paused. There was movement inside. His hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment as he listened carefully. The faint sound of a rocking chair creaking reached his ears.

Levi placed his hand around the doorknob and pushed the door open cautiously, his grip firm on his blades. What met his eyes wasn’t what he expected.

Sitting calmly in a wooden rocking chair, her hands resting lightly on her lap, was Aurora Jaeger. She looked at him with an expression of serene defiance, her platinum blonde hair glinting in the dim light. The juxtaposition of her calm demeanor against the chaos Levi knew was happening above ground only unsettled him further.

“What the hell is this supposed to be?” Levi growled, his eyes narrowing. His instincts screamed at him not to underestimate her, no matter how unassuming she appeared.

Aurora didn’t flinch. She tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes locking with his. “Captain Levi,” she said softly, her voice carrying an unsettling calm. “I assume you’re looking for my husband.”

“Don’t play coy,” Levi snapped, his blades rising slightly. “Where is Eren?”

Aurora didn’t answer, her gaze steady but unreadable. Her silence only fueled Levi’s frustration. He took a step closer, pointing one of his blades directly at her.

“I’m not in the mood for games,” Levi warned. “If you don’t start talking, I’ll end this right here.”

For the first time, Aurora’s calm exterior faltered, but not out of fear. Her lips pressed together in a look that could almost be described as remorseful. “Eren is fighting for Paradis,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like you should be.”

Levi’s jaw tightened, his grip on his blades firming. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he spat. “Committing genocide isn’t ‘fighting for Paradis.’ It’s cowardice. It’s monstrous. And you? You’re just as much of a monster as your husband.”

Aurora flinched slightly at the word “monster,” but she held her ground. Her voice was steady as she responded, “You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly. Do you know what it’s like to live as a slave in Marley? To be treated as less than human? The world wants to slaughter us all, Captain Levi. We don’t have a choice.”

Levi let out a derisive scoff, his eyes cold and unyielding. “Don’t talk to me about hard lives,” he snapped. “We’ve all suffered. We’ve all lost people. But that doesn’t make mass murder okay. There’s always a choice, Aurora. And you chose this path. Don’t try to paint it as anything else.”

Aurora’s eyes flickered with a mix of defiance and sadness. “The world has never given me a choice,” she said quietly. “The only person who has ever cared about me—truly cared—is Eren. He’s the only one who’s ever seen me as more than a tool or a burden. Even if the world sees him as a devil, I still love him.”

Levi sneered. “That’s pathetic,” he spat, taking another step closer. “You’re pathetic. Hiding behind your excuses, clinging to him like he’s your lifeline. You know what I see when I look at you? A killer. A cold-blooded killer who murdered the premier and framed some poor idiot kid for your crimes. At least have the guts to own it.”

Aurora stiffened, her hands clenching in her lap. For a moment, Levi thought he saw a flicker of guilt in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “I did what I had to do,” she said, her voice firm. “For Eren. For our family. And I don’t regret it.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed as he closed the distance between them, his blades mere inches from her now. He didn’t like how calm she was, how unshaken she seemed. His instincts screamed at him that she was up to something.

Aurora’s lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile. “You’re a meticulous man, Captain,” she said suddenly, her tone shifting. “I noticed it from the day we met on the airship. You double-check everything, don’t you? Every detail, every movement. It’s admirable.”

Levi’s brow furrowed. “You want a medal for your observation skills?”

Aurora let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “No,” she said, her smile fading. “I just wanted to point out that your meticulous nature is what brought about your defeat today.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed further. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded.

Then he felt it. A strange tingling sensation began to spread through his body, starting at his fingers and toes. His muscles started to stiffen, locking up despite his efforts to fight it. The blade in his hand slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor as his legs buckled beneath him.

“What…” Levi’s voice was strained, his breathing labored as he fought against the paralysis overtaking him.

Aurora rose slowly from the rocking chair, her movements deliberate and composed. She walked toward Levi, her hands still resting lightly on her abdomen.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she said softly, crouching in front of him as he struggled to stay upright. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But I have to protect my family.”

Levi’s eyes burned with fury as he glared up at her. “What… did you do?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Aurora’s gaze was steady, almost apologetic. “Aconite… or you might know it better as Wolfsbane,” she admitted quietly. “A paralytic. I coated it on all the doorknobs you’ve been touching since you entered the farmhouse. It’s not lethal,” she added, as if that made it better. “But still, this is the end for you.”

Levi’s head spun as his body grew heavier with every passing second. He cursed himself bitterly, anger and frustration boiling beneath his frozen exterior. His instincts had screamed at him not to trust Aurora, yet he had hesitated. Now here he was, paralyzed on the ground and at her mercy.

His vision swam as Aurora knelt beside him, her face calm yet tinged with regret. Her fingers were deft and steady as she pulled out a syringe from her herbalist's bag. Levi’s heart sank when he saw the viscous liquid inside.

“This is my special elixir,” Aurora said softly, almost apologetically, holding the syringe up for Levi to see. “I developed it on accident you know. But it has been quite useful to Eren and I. I modified it for you though, I don’t want you to suffer. It’ll quick and painless, but effective. I’m sorry, Captain, truly. But this is a cruel world, and I can’t let you kill Eren.”

Levi’s teeth clenched as he fought against the paralysis. He tried to will his body to move, to grab the blade lying uselessly on the floor beside him, but nothing responded. The humiliation of being rendered powerless, the anger at himself for underestimating her—it all burned within him.

“I should’ve… killed you… the second I walked in,” Levi forced out through gritted teeth, his voice rasping and weak.

Aurora paused, her hand trembling slightly as she held the syringe. “Maybe you should have,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. “But even though I don’t want to, I have to do this. You’re not just some enemy, Captain. Eren respects you. He used to look up to you. I didn’t want it to end like this.”

Levi glared at her, his eyes blazing with fury even as his body betrayed him. “Don’t you dare… justify this…”

Aurora’s expression hardened. “This is about survival,” she said quietly, pressing the syringe to his arm. “I have to protect my family.”

Just as she began to push the plunger, the door burst open with a deafening crash. Aurora barely had time to turn her head before a blur of black and red stormed into the room.

“Mikasa,” Levi rasped, his voice barely audible as relief and dread warred within him.

Mikasa Ackerman moved with lightning speed, her blade already drawn and pointed at Aurora. She kicked the syringe from Aurora’s hand, sending it skidding across the floor, then slammed Aurora back into the wall with a single, powerful strike. Aurora cried out in pain, crumpling to the floor as she clutched her abdomen protectively.

Mikasa didn’t give Aurora time to recover. Her blade hovered inches from Aurora’s throat as she snarled, “You’re done.”

Aurora coughed, her breath shallow as she looked up at Mikasa with a defiant glare. But before Mikasa could do anything else,, a deafening rumble shook the farmhouse. The floor trembled beneath their feet as a familiar white light illuminated the room.

“Eren…” Mikasa whispered, her blood running cold. She knew he had followed her up here.

The wall beside them crumbled as Eren Jaeger stepped into the room, his expression cold and unreadable. His partial titan transformation dissipated as he walked forward, his piercing green eyes locking onto Mikasa and Aurora.

Behind him, Floch and a group of Jaegerists stormed in, their rifles drawn and their expressions fierce. The air was thick with tension as Eren’s gaze shifted to Mikasa, then to Levi’s prone form on the floor.

“Mikasa,” Eren said, his voice low and laced with warning. “Let her go.”

Mikasa didn’t move, her blade still poised above Aurora. Her heart ached as she looked at Eren, the man she had known since childhood, now a stranger to her.

“Eren, stop this,” Mikasa pleaded, her voice trembling. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”

“There is no other way,” Eren said flatly, his eyes hardening. “Let her go, Mikasa.”

Mikasa’s hands shook as she glanced down at Aurora, who was still crumpled on the floor, her breathing ragged. Mikasa’s instincts screamed at her to act, to end this here and now, but the overwhelming presence of Eren and his Jaegerists left her with no options.

Eren’s expression darkened when Mikasa didn’t lower her blade. “I won’t ask again.”

Tears stung Mikasa’s eyes as she realized there was no reasoning with him. With a sharp inhale, she made her decision. In one swift motion, she sheathed her blade, scooped Levi’s limp body into her arms, and darted toward the nearest window.

“Mikasa!” Floch shouted, raising his rifle, but Eren raised a hand to stop him.

“Let her go,” Eren said, his voice devoid of emotion. “She won’t get far.”

Mikasa smashed through the window with her ODM gear, the wind rushing past her as she soared into the night. She clutched Levi tightly, her heart pounding as she landed on the roof and darted toward the treeline where her horse was waiting.

Aurora sat up slowly, wincing as she cradled her abdomen. Eren was at her side in an instant, his hands gentle as he checked her for injuries.

“Are you okay?” Eren asked, his voice soft but filled with urgency.

Aurora nodded weakly. “I’m fine. The baby’s fine,” she assured him, though her voice wavered.

Eren exhaled deeply, his hands trembling slightly as he helped her to her feet. He turned to Floch, his eyes blazing with fury. “Find them,” he ordered. “But don’t engage. Just track them.”

Floch nodded and signaled to his men, who immediately set off into the forest.

Eren’s attention returned to Aurora, his gaze softening as he gently cupped her face. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not Levi, not Mikasa. No one.”

Aurora leaned into his touch, her own hand resting on his chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I almost…”

Eren silenced her with a kiss, his lips pressing firmly against hers as if to reassure her that everything would be okay. When he pulled back, his eyes were fierce with determination.

“We’re in this together,” Eren said firmly.

Eren cradled Aurora in his arms, his steps steady but urgent as he carried her toward the farmhouse’s small medical room. She leaned against his chest, her breath shallow but steady, her arms weakly wrapped around his neck. His jaw was tight, his emerald eyes flickering with unspoken emotions. He didn’t want things to go this far—Aurora almost killing Levi, Mikasa turning her blade on Aurora, and his former comrades actively opposing him. But deep down, he knew it was inevitable.

His friends would never understand. They couldn’t see what he saw.

Aurora opened her eyes slightly, her fingers brushing against his chest. “Eren…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry… I didn’t want it to come to this.”

Eren’s grip on her tightened as he shook his head. “Don’t apologize,” he said firmly, his voice low but filled with conviction. “You did what you had to do to protect us. I just… I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Aurora’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “I love you, Eren,” she whispered, her voice cracking with exhaustion and emotion.

Eren leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice barely audible. “I’ll protect you and our baby, no matter what it takes.”

When they reached the medical room, one of the Jaegerist medics hurried over, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Aurora in Eren’s arms. Eren laid Aurora down gently on the cot, his hands lingering for a moment as if reluctant to let her go.

“Make sure she and the baby are okay,” Eren said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The medic nodded quickly, already beginning her examination.

…

Meanwhile, Historia Finds Eren

Outside the farmhouse, Historia paced anxiously. She had heard what happened—how Mikasa had intervened and how Levi had barely escaped. The events were spiraling further out of control, and even she was beginning to feel the weight of Eren’s plan. When Eren emerged from the medical room, his face was a mask of stoicism, but Historia knew him well enough to see the tension in his clenched jaw and burning gaze.

“Eren,” she called, stepping forward. “We need to talk.”

Eren stopped, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. “What is it?”

Historia crossed her arms, her voice steady but edged with concern. “What are we going to do about Hange, Armin, Jean, Connie, and Sasha? They’re still crystallized underground, aren’t they?”

Eren’s expression darkened slightly, his eyes narrowing. “They’re alive, but they can’t interfere. I made sure of that.”

“You know they’re conscious in there, don’t you?” Historia pressed. “They’re aware of everything.”

“I know,” Eren replied coldly. “But if they had their way, they’d try to stop me. I can’t allow that.”

Historia frowned, her blue eyes searching his face. “They’re our friends, Eren. Do you really want this?”

Eren’s voice was calm but firm. “What I want doesn’t matter. What matters is protecting Paradis. They don’t understand what’s at stake. I’ve already seen the future, Historia. If we don’t act, we all die. Every last one of us.”

Historia bit her lip, conflicted. She had always trusted Eren, especially after everything they had endured together, but even she felt the weight of his decisions pressing down on her. “And Aurora?” she asked softly. “Is she okay?”

Eren’s gaze softened slightly, the hardness in his eyes momentarily fading. “She’ll be fine. Right now, I just need her safe.”

Historia sighed, shaking her head. “Fine. But what about phase two? If you want this to work, I need to address the public. The citizens already see you as their savior, but we need to cement their support.”

Eren nodded. “Do it. Announce that the Jaegerists have officially taken over the Scout Regiment. The Garrison and Military Police are next. Once we have the people on our side, there’s nothing the remaining military can do to stop us.”

Historia hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I’ll prepare the announcement.”

As Historia walked away, Eren leaned against the wooden railing of the farmhouse porch, staring out at the fields surrounding them. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The events of the past few hours replayed in his head—Mikasa’s blade pointed at Aurora, Levi’s narrowed eyes full of suspicion, and the knowledge that his former friends would never stand by his side.

They didn’t understand. They couldn’t. He had seen the future. He had seen the destruction that awaited Paradis if he didn’t act. The world wouldn’t stop until every last one of them was wiped out. He had no choice but to move forward, even if it meant crushing those he once cared about.

His thoughts drifted to Aurora. The guilt she carried was palpable, and he hated that she had to bear it. He knew she had killed the Premier to protect him, but he also knew the burden of that act weighed heavily on her conscience. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t hardened by years of fighting and loss. But she was strong in her own way—strong enough to stand by him, to protect their family, even when the world was against them.

Eren’s fists clenched at his sides. He wouldn’t let anyone take her away from him. Not Levi, not Mikasa, not the military. Aurora and their unborn child were his entire world now, and he would burn the rest of it to the ground to keep them safe.

…

The next morning, Historia stood on a makeshift stage in the center of Capital Mitras. A crowd had gathered, their murmurs of curiosity and anticipation filling the air. Behind her stood Floch and several Jaegerists, their presence a clear show of strength and solidarity.

Historia took a deep breath, her hands steady as she gripped the edges of the podium. “Citizens of Paradis,” she began, her voice carrying across the square. “We stand at a crossroads in our history. For too long, we have been oppressed, threatened, and treated as monsters by the rest of the world. But no more. Today, I stand before you as your Queen to declare a new path forward—a path led by the man who has proven himself to be our savior, Eren Jaeger.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a chorus of support. Historia waited for the noise to die down before continuing. “The Jaegerists have officially taken control of the Scout Regiment, and we are working to unite the remaining military branches under one cause. Together, we will secure the future of Paradis and ensure our survival.”

As the crowd cheered once more, Eren watched from the sidelines, his expression unreadable. Aurora stood beside him as she listened to Historia’s speech. She felt a mix of pride and apprehension—pride in Eren’s determination but fear for what lay ahead.

Eren leaned down, his voice low as he whispered in her ear, “This is just the beginning.”

Aurora nodded, her grip tightening on his arm. “I know,” she said softly. “I trust you, Eren.”

As the crowd’s cheers grew louder, Eren’s resolve hardened. There was no turning back now.

~

Masterlist | Patreon

Join my Taglist

Note: I am three chapters ahead on patreon:)

Tags: @prettiergemini @Datshittuebrat @mxnst3rz @thirstyb-ches @nironasaran @xngelsau @multifandom-03 @ackermansbest @anything4yoongi @blmcd57110 @jaeg3rb0mb @may-machin  @Estella-novella @852853

[cloakedsparrow]

Bat Family AU wherein it’s Janet Drake who survives the Obeah Man’s attack instead of Jack.

Tim’s already Robin, she’s in the coma, and all that. However, when she wakes up, things are a little different. She still buys the mansion next door to Wayne Manor, but she’s happy to accept any help Bruce wants to offer in regards to Tim so he can just say “I’m going to Bruce’s” and she’ll just check that he either did his homework or is bringing it with him. She doesn’t expect Tim to help with her treatment or transport and certainly doesn’t expect a fourteen year old to help out at Drake Industries.

She hires a physical therapist to visit the house every day (Dana, so she’s still a part of Tim’s life, if in a slightly smaller role). She still hires Mrs. Mac as their new maid. She also hires a driver, as well as a new COO to help her bring Drake Industries back after it had gone stagnant in her absence.

The twist? The COO is Talia Head (aka Talia al Ghul).

When Janet learns that Talia has two sons -one, barely a few years older than Tim, the other, a few years younger- she suggests they move into the mansion with them while Talia looks for a place (it works out well enough that they end up staying long-term). Talia introduces Bruce and Tim to Damian early (Jason initially hides out in her side of the mansion since he’s not ready to see Bruce yet and Talia is not forcing his hand on that). Damian is still a spoiled brat at first, but since they’re introduced as allies rather than rivals, Tim and Damian end up getting along great once he’s settled down a bit (and with Talia, Janet, and Jason working together to help him).

Talia killed the Joker upon moving to Gotham (no way was that clown getting near any of her boys again) so while Jason’s mad at Bruce, he still feels he has a parent who loved him enough to cross that line. It also helped to counter Shelia’s betrayal a little and balance out his feelings about parents overall, particularly his mother figures. One mother loved him and tried her best but was given a bad hand, another gave him up to the Joker to save herself some trouble, the last severed ties with her father (whose thumb she’d been under for hundreds of years) and risked the ire of the man she loved to protect him.

The younger boys (Tim & Damian) pretty much split their time between Wayne Manor and the Drake Mansion.

Which gives Janet and Talia plenty of time to build up Drake Industries and take over the Court of Owls on the side.

Instead of making/controlling the talons as the previous Court did, they put them to rest and just send Jason or a few of Talia’s trusted assassins (including Pru, who came to Gotham with her) to fill in the role.

Jason learns more about how and why Tim became Robin this time, so while he’s still pissed at Bruce, he doesn’t take any of it out on the Boy Wonder or anyone else. He even helps with Tim’s training (and his English homework). Jason still takes over a good portion of the Gotham drug/arms circuit and gets to do his big dramatic reveal to Bruce/Batman after fucking with him a bit, only it’s as Talon. His new plan is more of a Bat-level EXTRA guilt trip that keeps going on even after he’s started accompanying his little brothers to the Manor. And he’s a little more focused on protecting his little brothers.

Until Jason decided he wanted the do said big dramatic reveal, Bruce had no idea that the Court of Owls was real or that Janet and Talia had taken it over. He knew something had shifted in Gotham, some cases were going too easily and someone was taking out certain threats before they could become an issue. He’d be working under the theory that there was a new vigilante in town.

It had honestly been driving him a little nuts that he couldn’t find them -that’s part of why Jason decided they needed to get everything out in the open, it was stressing out Tim & Dami.

Neither Janet nor Talia will bow to Bruce’s wishes regarding anything, and he won’t bow to theirs, so the three of them end up working together as equals in a way Bruce doesn’t usually do. He ends up actually liking it, as it makes life a lot less stressful when he isn’t assuming full responsibility for everything and everyone around him.

Alfred, Clark, and Diana have each thanked Janet and Talia in their own way. Dick thanked Janet but he still doesn’t like Talia.

When Cass enters the picture, she gets two honorary moms, Babs gets to just be the cool big sister without all the extra stress, Jason, Tim, and Damian are immediately her adorable little brothers who would totally kill for her, and Bruce is a notably less emotionally constipated control freak, so she has a much easier go of everything.

Cass stabbed some asshole in the throat?

Talia: “It’s isn’t as though he died, Beloved. And good job not getting blood all over your new suit, Cassandra, dear.”

Janet: “It was HIS knife, Bruce. She was defending herself. I don’t know about you, but I would certainly prefer that Cassie comes home in one piece over her being more gentle with the criminals you encourage her to confront.”

Jason: “What, you’d rather have ANOTHER dead kid on your conscience, old man? Then maybe stop sending KIDS out to do your dirty work while expecting them to hold back against MURDERERS, PSYCHOPATHS, and TERRORISTS. Good job, Cass.”

Damian: “Tcht, she didn’t even do any permanent damage, Father.”

Tim: “Cass knew what she was doing. Aside from the visceral shock, is it really that different from hitting someone in the head hard enough to knock them unconscious? He’ll probably have less long-term damage than those henchmen you took out Tuesday night.”

Babs: “Oh, did the poor child murderer get hurt? We aren’t all in this to make ourselves feel good, Bruce. Some of us want RESULTS. Good Job, Cass. I brought some of that ice cream you liked. It’s in the freezer upstairs.”

Dick: “So, no one died; a child’s life was saved, plus any future victims if he’d gotten away tonight; two unsolved murders have been solved, so their families at least get some closure; the killer is in the hospital, under the GCPD’s watch, breathing on his own and there was no permanent damage done to his esophagus or vocal chords. What’s the problem, here, B?”

Alfred: “Forgive me, but has anyone explained the rules to Miss Cassandra beyond ‘no killing’? Because if not, then I do believe she was merely following the rule while using her skill to it’s most effectiveness. Why would she have used a series of blows to line him up for a nerve strike or knockout when she could disarm him and incapacitate him with one swift move?”

Bruce: “Alright, alright. You’ve all made your point. Obviously, we need to have a sit-down to discuss methods and motives and come to an agreement. In the meantime, I’m glad you’re alright, Casandra. And good job saving that child’s life tonight. Why don’t you get changed and take your ice cream to one of the dens upstairs to relax?”

[captainsimagines]

meet me in the afterglow || Halsin BG3 || Part One

Summary: She aided everyone, himself included, and he hated how useless he felt. But if he were to simply open his eyes, he would see that she too was losing her mind.

Pairing(s): Halsin x Durge Drow Tav

Trope(s): Slow Burn; Fantasy; Established Canon Scenes; Male Love Interest POV

Based on the Song(s): Afterglow by Taylor Swift

Total Word Count: 30,000 +

If you would rather read on AO3, here is the link

This is a single one-shot, split into 2 parts.

Warnings: This story deals with heavy sexual situations, strong language, canon-typical violence, self-harm, fantasy elements, emotional backstories, past memories of necrophilia, the "Dark Urge", "resist dark urge" storylines, past rape/non-con, attempted sexual assault, and minor character death. You are responsible for your own media consumption. This work is strictly 18+ only. This is purely fanfiction.

Author's Note: Look at me, venturing into a new fandom. Well, I've been apart of it since December, but this is my first BG3 fanfic! Don't ask why it's so damn long and why I didn't split it into chapters. Easier this way in terms of posting, lmao. Anyway, it's summer vacation, I've got my teaching credential and Masters degree, and we're writing fanfics again!!!!!!! If you're not typically of this fandom... Hop on this train, you will not regret it. Buy the game. I swear. Love you.

xxMoni

---

The first time Halsin heard Tav scream was during the invasion of the Last Light Inn, when Mol was snatched by a devil and Rolan dodged a blade as he reached to grab her. Tav had climbed the roof in time to see her being flown in the direction of Moonrise, and that was that. It was an angry scream, one that surprised him and Jaheira alike. Since finding Mol’s eyepatch and defeating Ketheric, Tav hadn’t made a sound resembling it. 

Good, he figured. There was no sense in acting reckless when the facts aren’t known, and a level-headed leader would serve the greater good. He had wanted to slip and scream his frustration for years now, but who would that benefit? Halsin found that if he and his companions held it in for just a while longer, then soon they could find peace, harmony, balance—he had to believe that.

For three hundred and fifty years, Halsin explored the minds, souls, and the willing bodies of countless people. He has taken and been taken, suffered and accepted, led and also been led a fool. Besides the shadow curse, there was nothing that truly haunted him to the very marrow of his bones. He was everything an Archdruid was expected to be, and that included being an expert at hiding one’s fear to level the playing field. 

But recently, he’s been haunted by an odd feeling in his stomach. Thaniel and Oliver were healing together, Ketheric Thorm had been defeated, and he and his companions were readying their supplies to take the two-night trip into Baldur’s Gate. There shouldn’t be anything else plaguing his muscles, and especially not his digestion. Not even the bear could truly keep food settled for long. He suspected that as the land healed, he felt it. He felt each vine untangle, each pebble overturn, each sick creature drain and die. He was usually familiar with plant life dying and sprouting anew, but this was something else entirely. It was the undead dying, the sickness shriveling, the living succumbing and promising their return. It was a sickness extinguished, a sickness that apparently needed to pass through him and any other person connected to nature in the surrounding area. 

He excused himself after dinner, and waited for the oddity to start.

Just as he nearly slipped into trance, the flap of his tent smacked him in the face. 

“Now that we’ve healed this land, where are you going to fuck off to?”

He grumbled, opening his eyes to meet those of a seemingly unbothered Tav. 

Halsin had a bit of a crush. A crush on the violent, self-serving narcissist drow who was going to get them all killed before they faced the real threat awaiting them in Baldur’s Gate. Granted, Halsin formed a bit of a crush on most people he encountered, but Tav was different. The feelings had snuck up on him.

Tav often spoke of utilizing the gifts the Dream Visitor had offered them, but he had never seen her actually consume an extra tadpole. Tav loved to fill Astarion’s and Gale’s heads about godhood, about revenge, but Halsin was there when she almost murdered Araj for suggesting Astarion bite her, and even accidentally wandered in on her and Gale watching the stars he had conjured. Hell, she was the first to grant Karlach that long-awaited hug. And when Shadowheart had the chance to prove herself worthy to her dark Lady, something raw flashed in Tav’s eyes. Something that ultimately persuaded Shadowheart differently. 

The only thing Tav had done recently that really pissed Halsin off was recruiting Minthara at Moonrise. What kind of person forgave someone who threatened a whole Grove? A whole civilization? His people.

But that was the thing: Tav was a person willing to forgive. Well, maybe not forgive. Forget, more like.

And he had forgiven her for the murder of Alfira because, Oak Father preserve him, he believed her confusion. Her surprise. Her… urges. Hells, he came close to killing Kahga back at the Emerald Grove. 

“Who says I’m fucking off anywhere else?”

Tav snorted, his curt response certainly something he’d been working on for a while now. He had remained civil with her, polite even. But the way she spoke to him had him questioning his abilities. He had cultivated mountains of patience over his long years, but she was just too good at breaking off pieces. No way she would be able to flatten him, but he worried himself over the prospect. 

“You’re seriously going to follow us to Baldur’s Gate?”

“I am no stranger to the city.”

Tav plopped down beside his bedroll and fiddled with the strap around his arm. He fought hard to keep so much as a twitch from his face. “It’s a shitty place. You’ll probably find one tree. Maybe two.”

“Do you want me to leave your side?”

Her expression held steady. “No. Just wondering what your plans were.”

Despite her attitude, Halsin had no doubts about whether or not Tav wanted him to remain. He never dropped hints about him leaving after the shadow-cursed lands were no more, and he completely expected to make the trip with everyone else. They helped him here, why wouldn’t he help them to the end? 

“Then you’ll have me. I will remain at your side until you have no use for me, or until my body can give no more. You need not worry about sudden disappearances or ill remarks from my end.”

She rolled his words around in her mind, the points of her ears wiggling slightly. “At least now I can see you in city clothes.”

He sat up slightly, his smirk wide. “Have you been fantasizing about what I would look like in such clothing?”

“Armor is a drag. I’ve been fantasizing what everyone would look like in silks and cotton.”

He hummed, settling back down and placing his hands behind his head. She definitely was a weird one. He couldn’t say for certain if she fancied him or not. She had inquired about past lovers, but hadn't pressed further when he mentioned bedding alone. She had joked about feeling lonely at nights and went so far as to wink at him, but she gave those same winks at Wyll. She had even fought to venture into the Shadowfell with him, but that same ferocity rose when she encountered Rolan fighting shadows alone. She was difficult to read, but he had only himself to blame. So occupied by the shadow curse, he had failed to get to know her. Or any of his companions, really. 

“I think I liked dresses before all of this,” she shared, surprising him. 

“What kind?”

She thought about it for a second, honesty in her lilac features. “The revealing kind. Where the lining dipped to my navel and my thighs were out.”

He was no stranger to such clothing. He had indulged in similar attire in his youth. “I imagine you would look beautiful in them.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“But I think I also really liked elven armor.”

Halsin’s laugh came out as more of a grumble. “Is your drow armor unsuitable?”

“It doesn’t show off my curves.”

He couldn’t contain his smile. “Of course. What was I thinking?”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. Her tent was pitched near Astarion’s, so he doubted she was looking to bunk with him tonight. This was her routine every night—check in with everyone, speak for a few minutes, maybe share a bottle of wine, and return to her own bedroll. Except this is the first time since rescuing Thaniel from the Shadowfell that she visited him.  

It was something he had thought about during their long travels. Did he say or do something that made her avoid him? Did she consider him a burden, only adding to their troubles without the promise of a cure for the damned tadpole? Volo had tried to do what he advised against, and Tav sported a pale blue eye because of it. 

But it looked good on her. Anything blue looked good on her. 

“You’re allowed to hate me, you know.”

He blinked an eye open, studying her vulnerable expression. Besides making questionable decisions and being rude to strangers they encountered, it was not enough to make him despise her. 

“I do not hate so easily.”

“You hate goblins.”

“They threatened my people. People in need.”

She hummed, “Taking in Minthara was like a slap to the face then.”

“There are other things to consider. Such as, you did not risk the grove when you first met her.”

“I killed a tiefling out of pure blindness. In my own camp.”

“And do you regret it?”

“I—I think I do.” She shook her head, as if arguing with her thoughts. “I also really wanted to kill Isobel.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have.”

He sat up and sighed. Tav rolled her shoulders, uncomfortable with his closeness. He did his best to slide to the edge of his tent, but his frame wouldn’t allow much distance. “Are you here… to fight with me?”

Tav grumbled under a breath, avoiding his eyes. “Not exactly.”

He nodded, though confusion still weighed him down. “Then tell me how to best speak on this matter.”

“I don’t understand you,” she admitted, scooting to leave his tent. 

They had something in common, then. 

“When you’ve been alive for as long as I have, you come to understand those around you just a little bit more. Speak or don’t speak, I will not draw my blade. I know it is what you crave. You have fought everyone in this camp with your teeth, almost killed Gale when he confided in you about the orb, almost staked Astarion before you allowed him to feed from you. And you held a knife to my face when you rescued me from the goblin camp. If you wanted to kill one of us, you would have done it by now. If you wanted to kill me, you would have tried.”

Tav laughed and crossed her arms. Halsin averted his eyes from her muscles. “Tried,” she drawled.

He smiled again. “You would not succeed.”

“I take that as a challenge.”

“Take it however you’d like,” he said, sighing as he rested his head back onto his bedroll. “Now, will I receive some peace and quiet tonight?”

Tav squinted her eyes, a glint of mischief peeking through her long lashes. “Annoying oaf of a druid.”

“Annoying brat of a drow.”

That made her grin, teeth and all. Then, quieter, honestly, “Maybe all that torture I endured made me forget. Maybe it made me the way I am. Better today, but…”

Gods, he almost forgot. The odd necromancer they had encountered beneath Moonrise. What she said she had done to Tav, over and over, he could not imagine. First to be kidnapped, reduced to a wailing mess, cataloged like meaningless scraps, and pinned back together only to be ripped open again? And still, Tav did not remember. Thank the Gods she didn’t, and that the necromancer’s slices were simply numb visions. But to smell your own blood on a mind flayer pod, to have a vague recollection of betrayal, to walk right back into your prison…

He kept his voice soft, and tried to make his eyes speak better words than what he could currently form. “Do you mean violent?”

Any ounce of wisdom he carried seemed to die in front of her. She made his tongue twist, his mind rattle.

“Perverted.”

He said, forcefully, “You’re not perverted.”

“That’s why I speak with you, Halsin.” Tav opened the tent flap and stepped through. Her smile dropped, and he was no longer granted the privilege of a real one. “You say all the wrong things.”

---

“I’ve thanked you once already. Don’t be greedy.”

“You’ll find I’m exceptionally greedy,” Tav responded, clinking her beer with his wine. Rolan looked to the floor, fumbling as he tried desperately to flirt back. Halsin almost wanted to help the poor wizard, but that would probably do more harm than good.

“Darling, you’ve made the tiefling blush! How sweet!” Astarion observed, flicking his polished nails across his lips.

Tav shrugged a shoulder, then downed her beer in one go. “Don’t sweat it, Rolan! I have that effect on everyone!”

“Oh,” he lamented, his lips turning downward. Almost as suddenly, he corrected himself. Shoulders straightened, Rolan cleared his throat. “I thank you instead for clearing the road to Baldur’s Gate. When you can, make a visit to Sorcerous Sundries. I’ll give you a lovely discount on some scrolls.”

“Gale would certainly—”

“Gale would be appreciative indeed!” their resident wizard cheered, reaching to shake Rolan’s hand. “I plan on doing a little perusing of my own, of course. But any promise of a discount on some scrolls is certainly something I wouldn’t pass up! I say, Rolan! You and I need to speak one-on-one soon.”

Rolan stuttered over a breath. “That—Well, I’ll probably be preoccupied with my apprenticeship. But yes, that would be quite informative.”

“Gale, stop flirting with my favorite wizard. I wanted him in my bed, not yours,” Tav joked, winking at the blushing tiefling. Cal and Lia, listening at the other end of the bar, sputtered through their drinks.

Gale gasped, “Your favorite wizard? My word, how ugly of you, Tav! I thought we had something special.”

“Your—Your bed?” Rolan choked out, his smile growing. Halsin looked to Tav to tell her to cut it out, but what he saw was… authentic. Tav wasn’t joking, nor was she toying with the tiefling. She genuinely wanted to spend a night with him. Their banter had stretched from the grove to these cursed lands and Tav was nothing if not direct with her intentions. 

He and Tav shared banter… So it led Halsin back to his looming questions with no answers. Did he say or do something that made her avoid him? Was he a burden?

“Offers on the table, Rolan. I don’t ask twice,” she teased, ignoring Astarion’s gag and Gale’s responding chuckle.

“That sounds—” Rolan started, but his attention was pulled by a few of the tiefling children running up behind him. In their flurry of questions, he met Tav’s eye. “Apologies.”

Tav waved a hand and tried her best to smile at the children, who were now pulling at Rolan’s robes. Cal and Lia came to his aid, even going so far as to grab the children around their waists and run in the opposite direction. 

Rolan cleared his throat. “As much as it irks me to admit… I hope our paths cross again in Baldur’s Gate.”

Tav let her disappointment show for half a second before turning in the direction of the exit. Karlach, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel had claimed Isobel’s old room, while Wyll, Astarion, and Gale claimed the room where Art had been resting. Halsin had already mentioned he wasn’t going to rest tonight so he could help the tieflings pack, but he wondered where Tav was going to sleep. The only other room still standing was currently occupied by Rolan and his siblings, while the tiefling children were bunking with Dammon in the barn.  

Halsin quickly caught up with her, clearing his throat to gain her attention. “You were very forward with the tiefling.”

Tav shrugged, stripping her gloves from her sweaty hands. “We could die tomorrow. Might as well let my true desires show.”

“And that’s what desires you?”

She smirked. “Got something against tieflings? Or is it wizards, Halsin?”

“Not at all what I meant.” 

He followed her quietly until she led them to the lake’s edge, just a few feet away from Dannis and Bex. Tav chucked her shoes off and tore the corset from around her waist. It was a black and red corset she had looted from Minthara’s office back at the goblin camp, but her fellow drow seemed to not recognize it. Since rescuing her, Tav had made it her mission to try and get Minthara to notice. As if to say, I rescued you but I also bested you once before. Though he hardly spoke to the sharp-tongued drow, he understood her avoidance. Minthara had gained alliances in an unlikely place and vowed to fight by their side, an oath as strong as all others, and did not waste her breath on a petty argument. Especially an argument with her narcissistic Underdark kin.

“I meant to say, that I admire that in a person. I have been alive a long time and you so little, and yet you reach for what you want with ropes of experience.”

It was true. Halsin was no stranger to honey on the tongue or the caress of another. Sometimes he forgot that others have not racked up a roster like he had. Though, he wasn’t exactly keeping track. Every lover he had chosen had been sacred, willing, enthusiastic. It was nice to see others indulging, even if he did not feel the call right now. 

The bear hadn’t felt the call for a while now. Even back in the Emerald Grove, his only companion had been his hand. He didn’t know what changed. 

Tav sat down and leaned back on her hands, watching Dannis and Bex as they swayed in each other’s arms. When they had rescued Dannis from Moonrise a few nights ago, Halsin had been witness to their emotional reunion at this very lakeside. With as many people on his mental list of lovers, it would make sense that he had been in love before. But watching them reunite and cry in each other’s arms… Halsin realized he had never felt love in the way one was supposed to. Lust, admiration, respect—those feelings he was familiar with. Feelings that were reciprocated and cherished. This was different, foreign. 

Was he broken? Had the bear truly taken over that aspect of his life so much? Druids became more like their wildshape the more experienced and older they grew, and it wasn’t unheard of that some animal attributes bled into their daily lives. Or their physique. Nature had been his one calling as Archdruid, and though the realization that he had sorely missed out on the connection Dannis and Bex shared plagued his heart, he didn’t regret devoting his life to the Grove.

“I woke up on that nautiloid with absolutely no idea of who I was. I knew my name, and that was it. Along with a burning rage and desire for blood, I strangely felt free. In a way. This is me letting loose. Being the person I feel like I could have been,” Tav explained, her brow furrowing. Dannis and Bex shared a final kiss before retreating into the inn, giving both her and Halsin grateful nods. Tav sighed, “My memories, or the scraps of them at least, are tainted in red. I want new colors, Halsin.”

He sat down beside her, drawing his knees up so he could lay his arms across them. “I always imagined the color of lust as a light purple. When bodies connect in the most intimate of meanings, it is that streak of purple only the sky can mimic. A purple that only occurs in nature.”

“Poetic.”

“I’ll leave the poetry to Wyll.”

She watched the lake sway, now absent of dark creatures at its shore. He wondered if shadow-cursed creatures actually had also thrived underwater, but no one had reported such horrors. He wasn’t ignorant to think that the fish hadn’t shriveled, that the water wasn’t undrinkable, that the echoes of the Underworld hadn’t been waiting for bare feet.  

“I gave you all colors, you know.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Karlach is pink. As much as my blood yearns for the blood of others, I do not like the color red. Karlach is pink because she makes the darkest of places lighter. She makes my days lighter.”

He wouldn’t have assigned her that color, but Tav’s reasoning made sense. Karlach had a lot of blood on her hands, but blood would fade the more one scrubbed. 

“Gale is purple, of course. That damn robe he got abducted in is scorched into my brain,” Tav laughed. “Astarion is a dark blue. When I look at him, oddly enough, I have this intense feeling that his eyes were blue before he was turned. Blue like the sky he’s been cherishing these last few months.”

Halsin would be lying if he said Gale in purple didn’t stir something within him. After acquiring new robes or armor, Halsin always volunteered to dye it. Purple was instinct for Gale, but he had always found himself dying Astarion’s clothing red. Perhaps now he would reconsider.

“Lae’zel is orange,” Halsin added, grinning when Tav clapped her hands and cheered.

“Exactly! She doesn’t touch any other fruit besides those!”

He continued, ignoring the odd jump of his stomach. “Shadowheart is the color white. Her new hairstyle has nothing to do with it. You know, I was nervous when I saw her leaving camp with a dagger tucked away. Glad to know my nerves were unfounded.”

“Black washed her out,” Tav agreed. Her smile faltered as she picked around the dirt absentmindedly. “Black, however, is Minthara’s color. She radiates such… torment. Mentally, that is. As much as she tries to mask it, I can see right through her. And I think she sees right through me. We’re both terrified, and too angry to admit it.”

Terrified. In all the time he had been traveling with his companions, Halsin didn’t stop to think about what would happen if they lost. Tav had created this image of pure leadership, where everything that needed to be solved had a simple solution. Even Lae’zel portrayed as much. He did have moments where Tav’s questionable actions led him to believe someone would die, but not that anyone would kill them. 

“You just admitted it to me.”

Tav grumbled, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them. “The Oak Father will have your balls if you utter it to anyone else.”

“Didn’t know he answered to you.” He couldn’t help the blood flushing his cheeks.

“The gods love to hear me whine.” Tav's sarcasm coated her words and eye roll alike. Then quieter, angrier, she said, “I remember screaming for some.”

His chest caved in slightly, a burst of sympathy melting along his ribs. He had believed the Gods abandoned him when he was tied to that bedpost in the Underdark. He had believed the Gods abandoned him when the shadow curse prevailed and his fellow Druids didn’t run fast enough. He had believed the Gods abandoned him when the last of his family passed and he lowered them into the ground. But ever since, the Gods have answered his prayers. His Drow patrons couldn’t keep their disputes civil and he escaped after three, confusing years. He had sprinted fast enough to avoid the dark tendrils lapping at his paws and was fortunate enough to lead Rethewin’s survivors to safety. He was able to say a final goodbye to his mother. Even now they listened when he was rescued from that horrible goblin camp.

He didn’t quite catch if the Gods had answered any of Tav’s prayers yet since she herself doesn’t remember anything that happened prior, but he had it on good authority that every battle they’ve survived since had been blessed.

“And Wyll?” he asked, his tone softer as he reverted the topic of discussion back to color assignment.

“Green,” she answered quickly. “He reminds me of a park I used to walk around. A distant memory, a broken one. But I see him sitting in that green field, surrounded by wine and grapes and a lanceboard.”

He hadn’t spoken to Wyll all that much yet. Karlach and Gale were the two he found himself conversing with most often. Wyll always spoke of Baldur’s Gate, and though Halsin enjoyed hearing about their companions’ lives beforehand, he found that he did not have kind feelings for Wyll’s father. When he tried to maneuver the conversation away, Wyll always brought it back. 

And it made sense. Just as Halsin was preoccupied with the shadow curse and his role in its creation, so was Wyll and how he would prove to his father that his transformation was for the good of his citizens. Perhaps when his head was clear and his father found acceptance, Halsin would be able to speak to Wyll freely. To speak without thinking about how the city would be better off in Wyll’s hands instead.

Halsin wanted to punch Duke Ravengard in the fucking face. 

“And me?” he asked.

“Guess.”

“I assumed green, to be honest.”

Tav shook her head. She turned to him fully, the lilac of her face bright beneath the moon. For the first time since they had met, she showed him vulnerability. He knew it was killing her to do so. “You’re gold.”

Something foreign fluttered in his chest. “Gold?”

“You shimmer when you wildshape. But also, when you’re standing in the sun, your gray hair shines gold instead. You’re so damn joyful all the time and it reminds me of the sun. You’re sunlight incarnate, Halsin.”

He had been called wise, inspirational, large, and handsome. He had been called ruthless, uncontrollable, wild, and arousing. Never in his three hundred and fifty years had he been compared to sunlight, or directly called it. 

But he was sunlight to her.

She shook her head, a light chuckle beneath her breath. Then she stood and walked back in the direction of Last Light. Slowly, waiting.

“What color am I?”

She shifted her stance. Afraid of her own question, the answer it might bring. The truth of it. Halsin did not see her as a red tone. Far from it. Even her sleek red-orange hair wasn’t enough to classify her. Though red yearned for her, she did not want to claim it. There was a fire behind that fight, a fire that licked higher the more she resisted its call. Even in the midst of battle, drenched in blood, she did not harvest its bounty. Her and Gale were always the quickest to the stream, washing away the brutality. Gale out of pure disgust. Tav out of need. 

“You and I are at odds most of the time. We are two colors that clash, yet find a way to coexist in one setting. You are silver, Tav. The same color as your sword, of the lash of your words, of that fire in your eyes.”

“A silver menace, am I?”

He shrugged, too in his own head to truly argue it. “Silver is also the color of the ripples in water.”

“Ripples are the consequence of a disturbance.”

“They are proof of influence.”

She crossed her arms for warmth. Backing away, she pointed one finger at the sky, her grin nearly obscured by shadow. “And the color of the moon.”

---

The second time Halsin heard Tav scream was in camp a few nights later. A breathless one, but no less bone-rattling. The sound reverberated into his bone marrow, sucking out half and poisoning the rest. His first thought was Mol, that he had to save her this time, that a repeat of the grove was unacceptable and he finally had a chance to make things right. This was a job for the Archdruid. No tiefling would hurt under his watch. 

His second thought was that Tav was dying, and he needed to get up so his silver menace had a fighting chance. 

“Get away from him!”

Halsin woke from his meditation and caught a glimpse of a short, gray creature scurrying into the bushes. The further it retreated, the quicker its laughter came. A sound that scraped against his spine-bones, horribly akin to a goblin’s. 

He looked over his shoulder and watched as Tav held her shaking hands in front of herself. She breathed slowly, shutting her eyes as whatever troubled her began nudging at her once confident composure. 

“Tav?” he said lightly, slowly standing to his full height. In the campfire light, she was beauty incarnate. All her fine features threatened to stop his heart, his senses. And when those senses catapulted themselves into his brain, he saw pure fright on her lovely, scarred face.  

She trembled as she stepped closer to him, gagging on her next words. “Restrain me.”

“What? What’s happened?”

“Halsin,” she croaked. She glanced around camp, fidgeting even more as Shadowheart and Astarion poked their heads out from their tents. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to give into these urges if you don’t restrain me. I can’t control it—I’m trying—but I’m going to slaughter you in your sleep and all of your thoughts about me will be true—”

“Calm, Tav. I am awake, I am unharmed.” He took a step closer. “These urges… They are the ones you mentioned when you asked if they were possible effects of the tadpole?”

“Halsin,” she whispered, terror laced within those two syllables. “You piss me off, but I don’t want to kill you.”

That made him chuckle. “I will not let you.”

As quickly as he finished that sentence he saw the glimmer of a blade behind her back. She lurched forward, aiming for his heart. He reacted too late, but not late enough to get stabbed. An arrow whipped between them and lodged in Tav’s shoulder, sending her to the cold ground. Halsin yelled, panic gripping his stomach from the sight of her blood. 

“Wyll, give me the rope,” Astarion ordered, his skin somehow paler. He threw his bow to the side and immediately began tying Tav’s feet together. Wyll held her down by the shoulders, cursing when she managed to twist her neck far enough to bite him.

“What’s happening?” Karlach demanded, running up to the group. Nervous, caring hands burned with panic instead of the usual fury.

Tav thrashed, screaming wildly as Wyll bound her hands. He did his best to lean down and whisper in her ear, his horn smacking her cheek. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t right, I’m sorry. 

“Dear Gods,” Jaheira breathed. “Not another one.”

Halsin had witnessed Jaheira mid-battle and post-battle. He understood that the older druid put on a face, the same face he perfected when he was at the grove. To be stoic in the face of chaos, of evil, was a necessary talent. But here, Halsin saw the mask fracture as she examined Tav’s mannerisms, her moans, her darkening eyes.

“What does that mean? Speak plainly, Jaheira,” he told her. The jump in his voice surprised him.

She huffed, sliding to Tav’s left side so she could check her pulse. At the same time, Shadowheart casted a calming spell. “I have only met one other who resisted the urges. The call for murder, of blood on the tongue, of death in every orifice of the body.”

Minthara blinked, her brow scrunching. “It cannot be!”

The pure terror lacing Minthara’s exclamation—ice pricked his veins.

“A Bhaalspawn,” Jaheira confirmed. “A tadpole-infected Bhaalspawn, at that.”

“A Bhaalspawn?” Karlach choked, though Halsin swore it was on a laugh. “In our camp? If my parents could see me now! Oh, this would make for the best How was your day? story around the dinner table!”

Gale rubbed at his chest, an awkward sound coming from him before he spoke. “That means Orin knows her from before the tadpole.”

“It means Orin tortured her and planted the tadpole herself, I am sure. When she betrayed me, she spoke of another that I now know was Tav. What she did, how her screams sounded—I was not fully listening as she was making an example out of me as well,” Minthara shared, her tone deadly. It was the most Halsin had ever heard her say in one sitting.

“Why wouldn’t the Emperor say anything?” Wyll cursed, quickly snatching his hand back as Tav tried to bite him again.

“It wasn’t its secret to tell,” Lae’zel said, though there was more hatred in her answer than understanding.

Tav shot forward, headbutting Jaheira and flipping onto her stomach. Just as her teeth nearly plunged into Astarion’s forearm, the vampire smacked an annoyed hand to her forehead. “Ah, ah, ah. We ask before we bite.”

“The spell wanes. Calming her emotions is not possible,” Shadowheart said, gritting her teeth. Jaheira, paying absolutely no mind to the bruise on her forehead, took over for the cleric.

“Hit her over the head with this pan,” Karlach offered, offense painting her face after Gale smacked it from her hands. She went to retrieve it, this time holding it over her head so Gale couldn’t reach it.

“Jaheira and I will stay with her,” Shadowheart spoke, her worry etched deep in the frown lines by her lips. “We will need—”

“My sword is yours,” Lae’zel volunteered, pulling her blade out to lie across her lap. She sat with her back straight, eyes focused. A soldier on guard, disguising her concern for a friend.

Halsin and Wyll carefully flipped Tav onto her back. “Are we absolutely positive this is what afflicts her? Maybe she inhaled some spores from your pack—” he tried to reason with the older druid. 

“Urgh—To taste a druid’s blood would be a carnal delight—to dig his heart out from the depths of his ribs and feast upon the muscle. To mutilate his corpse over and over and over—”

Jaheira’s chuckle was void of humor. “Ignore the wisdom of an old crone, why don’t you?”

“Halsin, are you sure you want to listen to this?” Shadowheart asked.

Yes!—he wanted to scream—he was a healer, it was his duty, he would do it for anyone else.

But something else ate away at him as he watched Tav squirm and suffer, biting at her own cheeks when the absence of his flesh famished her. This felt personal somehow, as if everyone else was merely an obstacle on her way to him. He was her target. 

Yet, he didn’t feel threatened. If he was her target, then so be it. She was the one person his body wouldn’t let him abandon because it knew she wouldn’t abandon him.

Tav choked on her saliva as she yelled, “Your bones would be put to good use inside my—”

“I can handle it,” he announced, the nerves in his shoulders loosening. Karlach and Wyll reluctantly returned to their tents as Halsin settled down beside Jaheira. 

“Come back to us, little one,” he said, his voice a hushed whisper. “I know you are still in there.” 

Tav whimpered, registering his attempt at calming her. Helping her.

“Feel the grass beneath your cheek. The soil wetting your skin. Let the Oak Father tend to your mind. Let nature pull you from this dread. It can take it. You can will it.”

“I—I’m sorry.”

Astarion diverted his gaze, swallowing a gulp of air his body didn’t need. He blinked rapidly before stalking into the trees, Gale trailing close behind.

Tav was his best friend. Devastatingly enough, the one friend here who had not yet claimed their own autonomy. Someone who was being controlled, forced to move and act at the will of another. His spawn blood stole his choice and allowed others to steal bits of his soul. Tav’s tainted blood stole her choice as well, but forced her to steal the souls of others. 

To be at the will of something sinister, to be forced to say and do awful things because something compelled them to… Halsin’s heart clenched at the comparison. But it leaped as it finally understood why Tav and Astarion were attached at the hip. How they could possibly heal each other. 

According to Tav, Halsin said all the wrong things. Maybe Astarion was her one source of truth.

“Do not apologize to me. There is no need.”

“I am sick.”

“You are fighting,” Jaheira clarified.

Tav sobbed, whipping her head from side to side. “I’m sorry, Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart waved a hand, her smile small. “I didn’t feel like sleeping, anyway.”

The hours passed slowly, painfully, until the worst of it cleared. Lae’zel woke Karlach and Wyll to inform them, and Jaheira retreated to the dimly lit fire to regain some strength. Shadowheart sat back and waited, another spell prepared. But Tav sat up with her help, then calmly sent her away. 

It was just the two of them, quiet enough that Halsin could hear the beat of her heart.

She breathed in deeply, her burnt-orange hair falling across her face. She looked so… small. Defeated. Nothing like the fighter she had presented herself to be these past few weeks. Sweat stained her night clothes, yet she dug her toes into the dirt to find a sliver of warmth. 

“They say silver is supposed to keep evil spirits away,” Tav laughed brokenly.

He nodded. “That they do. That it does.”

“And yet, I can still see myself in the mirror.”

Halsin didn’t think she was trying to insult Astarion in the same sentence, but he understood what she was trying to say. A vampire equaled an evil spirit, and thus Astarion couldn’t see himself in mirrors. What plagued Tav was evil no doubt, and yet she was forced to see herself.

“Silver also promotes healing.”

She shook her head. “That’s your job.”

After a long pause, she whispered, “No one can heal from this. He’s in my blood. I am his.”

They didn’t say anything else. 

Tav watched the weakening flames until the sun came up, and Halsin watched her.

---

“Um, excuse me? I can’t find my mum.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

Honest to the Gods, Tav could have simply smacked the poor girl and the physical lashing would have been less traumatizing. The young girl visibly recoiled, taking a small step back and almost tripping over her orange cat. Halsin reached out, but she moved further away.

Minthara snickered at Tav’s comment, though she didn’t aid in the verbal beating of the child herself.

“She had these spots all over her face and chest. She went out for some herbs and was supposed to come back already. Said she’d be four days at most. That was a tenday ago, though,” the girl mumbled, Yenna, and played with the loose thread of her sleeve.

“Sounds like your mom’s dead.”

“Tav!” Halsin scolded, something alarmingly bold rising within him. Tav made no indication she was affected by his outburst. Neither did Minthara.

“May I remind you you’re speaking to a child. In the middle of a refugee camp,” Gale said, brushing his hand through the warm air. His tone was lighter than his own, thankfully. The only other time Halsin had seen Rivington so crowded was days after the shadow curse rippled through the land and pushed the first round of refugees in.

“Which makes my observation that much more factual,” Tav stated, boredom polluting her fine face.

Astarion choked out a laugh, resting a delicate hand over his heart. “Oh, darling. I’m sure we can find you another squirrel to kick that doesn’t have opposable thumbs.” 

Tav rolled her eyes. Astarion continued, “You were so quick to shelter poor Arabella. What’s different now?”

“I would die for Arabella. I don’t give a shit about her.”

Yenna, surprisngly, chuckled. Tav snapped her gaze to the girl, raising an eyebrow. 

Halsin cut off their line of sight, stepping in front of Tav. He asked, his tone ghostly like a warning, “Do you give a shit about children?” 

Again, Tav gave nothing away as to whether his threatening aura unnerved her. Instead, she side-stepped him and reengaged the girl. “What uses do you provide?”

“Gods, you’re miraculous,” Astarion swooned.

Yenna straightened, lifting her freckled chin. “I can cook.”

“Gale cooks for us.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Ah!” Gale bent a knee, the crack obvious. “That would be I! Do you know your way around spices?”

Yenna grinned, sticking her chest out as she placed her small fists on her hips. “Mum taught me! Said I could rival the best chefs in Baldur’s Gate someday!”

“It’s settled then! I have a new apprentice.”

Minthara clicked her tongue. “One more mouth to feed.”

Gale gave Yenna a miniature version of their map and showed her where to find their camp. The girl scurried away, calling after her cat. Minthara and Astarion quickly left as well in search of some fashionable day clothes, leaving Halsin to deal with Tav’s attitude. 

The drow watched as Gale engaged in yet another bright conversation with a local, her scowl deepening. Confusion settling in.

“What color does the girl give off?” he asked her, a futile attempt to quiet both her annoyance and his anger. She stayed watching Gale and did not move when he settled right beside her, their shoulders brushing.

“Don’t know yet,” she said. 

He shook his head. Though it didn’t measure close, Halsin was slowly approaching the level of outrage he had felt when confronting Kagha. “You were too harsh.”

Tav hummed, then turned to strut down the hill to buy some fish. Completely insensitive and horribly remiss. “Best show her what to expect from me early on, no?”

She handed the fisherman some coin and waited as he bundled the fish. His stomach grumbled, but it wasn’t enough of an attempt at distracting from the matter at hand. 

“Lay aside your pride for a moment. Show kindness to children, would you?”

“That’s your job. Not mine. I have bigger matters to attend to.”

Whatever happened to the gut-wrenching apology she spewed a few nights before? What happened to the kind soul he saw save the tieflings twice over without question, the soul who defended Astarion every chance possible, the soul that almost regurgitated her breakfast while building the courage to tell Arabella her parents had died? 

“I didn’t think you so ugly.”

He said it before his mind weighed the consequences.

“Oh? Well, I know that’s not true. I have plenty of suitors. I have fucked plenty of people. No complaints.”

A mask just as fitted as Astarion’s, it seemed.

He followed close behind, sneaking a refugee some coin as she traveled the road back to their camp. He called out, but she did not turn to him. 

“Your beauty is not what I am commenting on. You are turning ugly inside, and I do not blame your blood for it. No sane soul deprives a child of food and shelter, even if it’s for one night.”

She shrugged, her hair blowing in the wind.“I am not sane. Don’t you get it, Halsin?” 

He nearly ran into her when she stopped and turned, crossing her arms in defiance. “I am weak, and I will give in to these urges soon enough.”

He snarled. “I didn’t take you as fragile and pathetic.”

Her eyes flickered with something… pained. As if he stung her. Then as quickly as it appeared, it disintegrated into the poisoned pot she stored most of her emotions in.

“Maybe I should have killed you the other night.”

“Strike me with your words all you want. I can take it.”

But it actually did strike him deep for some reason. So badly it nearly made him wince. She laughed, the sound piercing through the air and slicing him in two. 

He didn’t talk to her the whole walk back.

---

“Do you hate me?”

Halsin perked up at Yenna’s small voice. He nearly fell forward with the weight of his head as he forgot he was lounging in wild shape by the campfire. He located Tav and Yenna by the barn, Scratch and the unnamed owlbear running circles around them. 

“Hate is a strong word,” Tav mumbled, the cleaning of her boots uninterrupted as Yenna sat down next to her on the log. She kept a respectable distance, twiddling her thumbs. 

“I seeked someone kind-looking,” Yenna explained.

“I am quite beautiful.”

“I didn’t say that.” To that, Tav did halt her work. She turned to meet Yenna’s eye, the poor girl trembling as she tried to redeem herself. “Wait! I only meant that you looked kind, too.”

Tav straightened, her brow scrunching. “I’ve never been told that.”

“Don’t your friends tell you?”

“They’re not my friends.”

A blatant lie, Halsin thought.

Yenna frowned. “Oh. That’s sad.”

Clearly exasperated, Tav set down her boots. “What do you want, Yenna?”

The girl’s blue eyes widened, a small smile sneaking onto her face. “You know my name.”

“No, shit. I have functioning ears.”

“Well, if you don’t hate me, then why were you so mean to me?”

Tav shrugged, but didn’t pick up her boots. Instead, she leaned back and pulled her long hair into a bun. Yenna watched her, fascinated by the fair highlights in Tav’s hair. Yenna had mentioned to him that her mother kept her hair short out of necessity, that it was easier to steal the essentials without the threat of leaving a strand of hair behind. Now, Halsin bet she would grow it out.  

Tav, the silver ripple in the water. 

“I’m dangerous, kid.”

“There’s a bear in our camp right now.”

“Besides that.”

“And a Sharran—”

“She’s reformed.”

“And a vampire!”

Tav pointed a finger. “The kindest vampire you’ll ever meet, too.”

“How can he be kind, but you are not?” Yenna argued, squinting her bright eyes. Tav met her stare, unfaltering, and in that small moment Halsin recognized Tav’s unmistakable admiration. With Mol, that admiration spawned the moment she foolishly asked for her to steal the idol. For Arabella, it had been when Tav found her parents in the House of Healing—the knowledge that it would crush her spirit, but not her soul. Yenna’s growing confidence in a singular conversation was what was winning her over. 

Tav sighed, angling her gaze to him by the campfire. Halsin quickly feigned sleep. “I almost hurt that bear for fun.”

“Oh.”

“Everyone had to tie me up and hold me down until my mind quieted.”

Shame laced each syllable. Yenna scooted closer to her on the log. “So, you were mean because you didn’t want to hurt me with your hands?”

“I’m surprised I haven’t killed the dog or the owlbear,” Tav muttered, then jutted her chin up, “Or that cat of yours.”

They sat in silence for a good minute, Yenna watching Tav continue to wash her boots and Tav side-eyeing the girl. 

Halsin actually believed he should have been harsher with Tav when they first encountered the girl, but perhaps he failed to see right through her. Tav had aided him always, aided multiple others and merely joked about coin in return. And when Tav had burrowed into his past, with his permission of course, and saw the weight of responsibility he had put on his own shoulders… They saw in each other what others couldn’t: the inescapable need to form such a mountain of righteousness so that it casted a shadow over their countless wrongs. But it was near impossible climbing the height they had measured themselves.

For what Tav had almost done to him, why subject an innocent child to the possibility?  

“Thank you for telling me,” Yenna said, then softly poked Tav’s upper arm. A childish gesture, one that seemed to shock Tav still for a moment. 

Clearing her throat, Tav said, “Just keep your distance from me while I sleep, okay?”

“Where’s your tent?”

“Right next to Astarion’s.”

“Good. Vampires don’t die easily.”

There was a noticeable quirk in Tav’s upper lip, a movement that had Halsin’s stomach swooping and the bear audibly groaning.

“Set up your bedroll near Karlach’s tent. She’s the only one here who is physically capable of stopping me.”

“What about the Githyanki?”

Halsin thought about it for a bit, too. If Tav were to have another uncontrollable episode and she did not provide them warning like last time, who would be able to restrain and who would succumb? Halsin would like to believe his reflexes were spotless, but he had been nicked in battle one too many times already. It was Astarion who watched his back, muttering about what a disposable, yet practical shield he had proven to be. Astarion could definitely outmaneuver Tav on dexterity and flexibility alone. Gale, Wyll, and Shadowheart would probably react too late. Jaheria would put up a good fight. Lae’zel and Karlach were the only two Halsin knew could survive the bloodshed.

“Well, she camps far away from us,” Tav said, pointing to the tent closest to the barn’s exit. “Not because she doesn’t like us, but because if there’s ever an attack, she’ll swing first.”

“And she’ll go down first.”

Tav winced. “I think that’s how she shows she cares. It’s the only way she’ll ever let it be known that she’d die for us.”

Oak Father preserve him, he never noticed that before. The bear whined, and Halsin turned his heavy head to try and catch a glimpse of the fighter in her tent.

“I’m not so scared of you anymore,” Yenna declared, smiling brightly. She was missing her left canine. 

Tav hummed, “I’ll make sure to treat you extra poorly in the morning.”

---

“Final question,” the blacksmith said, his voice lowering an octave. “Would you be able to turn your weapon on those closest to you?”

Tav lifted her gaze, irises darkening. “What kind of question is that?”

Halsin made to step forward, but the blacksmith clocked the movement before he fully could. A twisted smile painted his sweaty face. Tav did not balk, nor did she raise a weapon. She merely inspected him, tilting her head to the side as if the angle offered more. 

“It allows me to know just how sharp I should make your blade, how heavy I should make the handle. Should your blade drive through the meat of the one you love most, oh so easily? So easily that the spray of their blood angles directly into your waiting mouth? Should I make the handle light so that when your troubled hands tremble, you are still able to strike true?”

Astarion shook his head as if the words he was hearing were coming from the tadpole itself. He muttered a quiet what the fuck beneath his breath.

“Forgive us,” Halsin interrupted, his face drawn tight. “But we are no longer in need of your services.”

The blacksmith took an audacious step right into Tav’s personal space. Halsin acted quickly, throwing his hands out to push at his armored shoulders. The blacksmith stumbled, but his smile did not falter. 

“You have already tried to steal this family’s breath, have you not? You have imagined what their insides look like, what wonderful necklaces you can wove from each string they offer?”

Halsin growled, his eyes burning gold. “I will savor your own if you do not walk away right now.”

Tav looked up at him, her surprise sincere. As if she truly believed he wouldn’t risk his life for hers. He had told her he would back in his tent in the shadow-cursed lands, promising his ears as well for when her mind needed relief. At this very moment, he would draw his staff and return whatever vile energy the creature before them harbored back to the Oak Father, where his vengeance striked true. Anything for her, for it was the least he could do.

But before anyone could pull a blade, the blacksmith cracked his own neck in a gruesome display of brute strength. His shoulders lifted then popped. His back bent forward, and his feet turned inward. And in a single burst of red, a pale woman stood in his place. Even paler eyes accompanied her vicious aura.

“Blood-kin! You would have this mountain of a servant speak for you?” she laughed, her sultry voice penetrating his chest. It made his heart beat wildly, made the bear cower. “Oh, but I do so enjoy the taste of druid.”

Tav snarled, her fists clenching as she stopped herself from striking a fellow Bhaalspawn. “Orin.”

“Took you long enough,” she judged, wringing out the final cracks of her neck. “It seems my poking and prodding did little to disturb your mind-matter. Or, did it?” 

She winked at Halsin, then circled the two as if they were trapped in a glass box. “Do you not remember who you are? Who we were? What you have done?”

“I remember enough.”

Orin giggled, and swiped a bloody hand across Astarion’s chest. The pale elf stood his ground, but Halsin saw the way his throat bobbed.

“Tell your orc to move aside. My eyes crave the fighter you have become. Though, I much prefer you dripping with innards.” Orin smiled until her red teeth practically took up half her face. A pretty face, Halsin secretly admitted to himself. But there was no lust behind that truth. She looked up at him, taking that same hand that touched Astarion and running it down his own chest. The armor protected him from feeling such grimy fingers, but she pushed and swiveled them the longer he stood still. 

“I can easily step through you,” she threatened, standing on her tip-toes so her foul breath met his nose.

“Step through me, then.”

When the feeling of her slick tongue met his chin, Halsin froze. His stomach dropped a million miles into the Oak Father’s soil, and his nerves splintered one by one. He was back in the Underdark, chained to the most spectacular of bedposts, throwing his head back in shame as the drow matron rode him, as her claws tore across his throat—

Tav gripped Orin by the back of the neck and flung her several feet away. Orin caught herself on an unfinished blade and used it to stand again, paying no mind to the slice in her palm. Her smile held, but a few strands of blond hair broke free from her neatly-kept braid. 

“Have you fucked this one, blood-kin? Have you sucked him dry? Have you come on his thin lips? On his wonder of a cock? Have you killed him, fucked his corpse, and revived him yet?”

“You truly are the bitch of the Gate, aren’t you?” Astarion bit, picking at invisible dirt beneath his fingernails. “Let it be known that if you step through the druid, which I would love to see if I’m being honest, you would have to go through me next. And I am very hard to kill, darling.”

“A challenge! To kill the undead over and over and over again! So many possibilities.”

“Yes, how wonderful. If your bitch-self is able to do that, you would then face the githyanki. And there, you absolute swine, is where you would crumble.”

Tav stepped in front of Halsin, even daring to raise a dagger at her sister. “They are not the only ones who would aid me in your defeat, Orin. I’ve recruited Minthara, and she holds the most brilliant of grudges.”

Orin finally frowned. “Father will see us battle soon enough, Tav. That is the name you chose for yourself all those years ago, no? Oh, wait. Excuse me. The name your mother chose for you.” 

Tav's jaw tightened. 

“How she screamed and whined and begged you not to kill her and your adoptive siblings. How she writhed even as Uncle lifted you from her corpse.”

“I look forward to sinking my teeth into your fucking neck, sister.”

“And I will writhe with the pleasure of it, my dear slaughter-kin.”

Orin disappeared, and Halsin regained feeling in his legs. He reached for Tav, and for the first time since they had met, he took her hand into his own. Her fingers intertwined with his, the size difference settling something dark within him. 

“I can teach you my technique,” Astarion said, his light voice clearing the stale air. “It’s all in the turn of your jaw, see. Then place your canines delicately over the carotid—”

“Tav,” Halsin whispered, squeezing her hand.

“She’s a shapeshifter. A fucking doppleganger. Orin can infiltrate our camp and kill us all.”

Astarion moaned, his worry expertly concealed. “She won’t be able to. We know one another.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “If I repeat it multiple times, maybe I’ll believe it, too.”

“You’re scared?” Tav asked, absent of judgment entirely. Her tone was more sad, if anything.

“She’s terrifying,” Astarion confirmed with a laugh. Then, more seriously, “And she will not touch you.”

Tav shook her head, her grip on Halsin’s hand strong. “I don’t think she’s going to stop coming after us until I accept her duel.”

“Dueling for what exactly?” Lae’zel finally sheathed her sword, but her yellow eyes followed each gust of wind, each insect that flew across her vision, each movement her companions made.

Tav grimaced as she said, shame dripping off the two words, “Bhaal’s chosen.”

Lae’zel straightened. “Is that what you want?”

“You have no opinion on the matter.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

Tav pulled her hand from Halsin’s, and he immediately felt the coldness seep through his skin. The action was almost enough to deafen him from Tav’s next announcement. 

“Let’s see what Gortash has to say.”

He scoffed, though he didn’t mean for the sound to signify displeasure. “His opinion is allowed?”

“He knows about Orin. More than me, considering. I should use all the weapons in my arsenal.”

It took everything in him not to outright fight her. Instead, he nodded and immediately regretted it. “You know best, I suppose.”

Her readied insult died as she didn't expect him to fold so easily. She was left looking up at him, studying his eyes for any change. She was fighting herself, fighting something besides her need to battle his every word. 

She cleared her throat, hiding from his gentle stare as she asked, “Could you make me that tea later? The one that’s a little bit spicy.”

He bowed slightly. “Of course.”

“And you—you can share a cup with me, if you want.”

Halsin swore the gold glimmer he possessed dripped along his ribs. “Until later then.”

He watched Tav walk away with Astarion at her side, their arms locked and her head resting on his shoulder. What he would give for that level of closeness with someone—with her, even—instead of people simply using him and vanishing within the month.

“She is strong. We are strong. We will assassinate Orin and leave a trail of blood for her followers to lick clean,” Lae’zel firmly established, her presence doing nothing to quell the sudden emptiness plaguing him. 

“Is it wrong to doubt our abilities?”

Lae’zel clicked her tongue. “Am I to give the old druid wisdom?”

He chuckled, “Advice, more like.”

Ever since embarking on this mission, Halsin questioned his right to give advice at all. The Grove almost fell because he went chasing after the past, he nearly banished Minthara without hearing her plea, and he allowed Mol’s capture because he was too enthralled by a comatose Flaming Fist. Jaheira could take up the mantle of wise druid. He wasn’t worthy of it anyway.

“There is no room for doubt in this fight. We must press on, and worry about the consequences afterwards. Pray that there is an afterwards, that there are consequences.”

He and Lae’zel decided to buy some desserts for the group, wholeheartedly believing that sugar might make everything weighing their shoulders down just a little bit more light.

---

“Tell me about your time in the Underdark, please?”

Halsin never thought he’d bring the topic up ever, especially to a friend. Sometimes there are things best kept hidden away for the risk of all the original emotions carved into his skin bleeding freely again. He had never told anyone, truly. When hinting at it, he kept the story brief. The more serious aspects were always downplayed, and he purposely skipped information so that he didn’t need to reteach himself how to forget.

But as he sat on his bed at the Elfsong with Tav cross-crossed on the floor, sipping the spicy tea he had made, he felt the need to tell her a little more. He had a feeling that she would be able to handle it, and that he would be able to bear the repercussions.

So he told her. Every last detail, down to the smallest he was sure he had forgotten a hundred years ago. But this time he could not smell the drow matron’s perfume, or taste the patron’s poisonous saliva. He couldn’t feel their lingering touch, no, not when Tav held out her empty teacup and softly asked for more. 

“Perhaps that’s why you hated me in the beginning.”

A genuine laugh jumped from his chest. He savored the growing smile on her lovely face. “I have never hated you. Was I skeptical about a female drow saving me from the goblin camp when Minthara camped right upstairs? Yes.”

She smirked, then took a long sip of her filled tea. The events from earlier that day had seemed to evaporate in each sip, and it made him damn near giddy to know it was his tea doing that. 

Tav caught herself before she could lower her gaze, her eyes meeting his hazel ones. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Though it was something plenty of people had uttered before, it still gave him a sense of calmness. Of reassurance. “Once you’ve lived for as long as I have, bad memories begin to turn into something distant. Numb, almost. And with enough time, their past associations change.”

“You’ve… you’ve convinced yourself it didn’t happen?”

No. Triggers existed, but they were rare for him. Orin’s tongue had transported him to that bad place, but Tav’s touch brought him back. “More like I have convinced myself that it was not as bad as I once thought it to be.”

He survived. And though it was entirely non-consensual, he had enjoyed some days. There was shame in that, shame he will carry forever. 

“It wasn’t your fault. You deserved better, Halsin.”

His shoulders fell before he could collect himself. Tav noticed, like she always did. 

“You did what you had to in order to survive, and they met a violent end. A fitting end.”

He actually never found out what became of his captors, but it wasn’t likely they survived a week-long ambush. “I—Thank you.”

“Are you alright?”

“The stress of today. Of yesterday. Of what’s to come. It’s really taking its toll.”

She nodded, looking down at her tea. “Don’t tell anybody this, but I’m terrified of what’s to come.”

The pure honesty in her voice… Halsin couldn’t breathe. 

“If you ever suspect I am Orin, ask me what Shadowheart’s favorite flower is. It’s a night orchid.”

The thought of Orin infiltrating their camp at all was enough to frighten even the bear, so much so that when Halsin attempted to bring him forward, that gold glimmer sparked and faded at his fingertips. 

“Shouldn’t the question be about you instead?”

“Shadowheart has only ever told me that. It’s one of the only things she remembers about herself. Orin would never know.”

Smart. He tried to think of something his companions had told him in secret, or something he had told them, but his mind fell blank. It wasn’t that he failed to get to know them properly, but that whenever he would lend an ear, he was simply the first of many. Which, in retrospect, was a proud thing. They were comfortable telling him first, but he did not hold their secrets for long. 

“If you ever suspect I am Orin, ask me about my mother. If my response isn't that she's doing well, you will know.” He was harboring no secrets of his own, besides the stirring of his heart for the drow sitting in front of him. “Everyone knows I am the last of my line. Orin would know it.”

“And if she takes someone else’s skin?”

“You know your companions well enough, no? It was me you were having difficulty with.”

Tav chuckled, and gulped the last of her tea. Standing, she went to grab his empty cup from his hands. “Thank you for the tea, Halsin.”

And before his mind could attach its wits to his mouth, he softly returned, “Anytime, my heart.”

Tav stilled, the cups rattling against each other as she held them close to her chest. Halsin counted the passing seconds, grappling with his common sense as his mouth formed around invisible words. 

Since joining this merry journey, his wisdom had plummeted to the depths of the Nine Hells. Stupidity flourished in his old, druid soul—

Tav scurried back to him, a dark blush coating her entire face. She planted a quick peck to his cheek, right on his tattoo. 

The gentleness of it lingered until he fell into a deep trance.

---

“Get away from me!”

Halsin startled awake, tripping over the damned sheets of his bed. He had never had blankets before. Or a mattress. Sure, when he shared beds with lovers he rested for a few hours, but he did not indulge in city culture while at the Grove. The only person who had a mattress was Nettie, and only because her back needed the support. 

Halsin wiped at his eyes to find Astarion backing away slowly, finding refuge by Tav’s bed. When the back of his knees hit the mattress, Tav stirred. She was up in an instant, a dagger pulled from underneath her pillow. 

“How in the Hells did you get in here?” she hissed. Meeting his eye across the room, he understood the signal to wake the others. One by one, as Tav and Astarion attempted to calm his siblings, Halsin shook his companions awake. Lae’zel and Jaheira took to the dark corners, Wyll and Gale spread out but lay low, Shadowheart drank a potion of invisibility, and he, Karlach, and Minthara picked up the heaviest of weapons to stroll straight into the quarrel with. The other vampires stared at them with bright, glowing eyes. Bristling, nearly twitching with each excited breath they took. 

Why didn’t Astarion’s eyes glow? Had the tadpole taken that feature away as well?

Tav succeeded in persuading Leon and Aurelia in seeing the truth behind Cazador’s lies, much to Astarion’s displeasure. He wanted her to lie, to tell them that they could all ascend by killing Cazador together. Halsin’s chest seized as he witnessed the craving of power in Astarion’s demeanor, and as he caught Tav hesitating in her speech. 

One of his siblings saddled closer to Karlach, mindful of the flames, but took a sniff nonetheless. Karlach recoiled. The spawn swallowed, ignoring Karlach’s reaction and Minthara’s glare, all to catch a whiff of his own blood. The spawn’s eyes glowed brighter, their irises vibrating uncontrollably.

The red glow was hunger. 

Astarion was no longer hungry. 

“By the absent Gods, Astarion… I believe you,” Leon said. But Aurelia clutched her stomach and groaned, whispering to Leon about how they couldn’t refuse orders. That Cazador was forcing them to kidnap Astarion, and a deal between them might as well be a joke. Leon pushed his sister behind him as he braced for a fight. Devastation glowed in his eyes, and he muttered a quick apology before he pulled a dagger from his pocket. 

Astarion raised his chin, empathy shown on his face. In his tone. “You can tell Cazador that when I find him, I will tear him limb from limb. I will smile upon his rotten corpse.”

Tav received the first slash. By stepping directly in front of Astarion. The pale elf’s eyes widened as he smelled her blood, her sacrifice. The very concept of mercy seeped from his mind altogether. He cut through his siblings desperately, dodging their blades and spells. 

Shadowheart stuck a blade in the spine of the smallest of the spawn, and fell backwards as they simply disappeared. Called back to their Master. Her blade lay bloody on the rug before it was suddenly picked up by Leon himself. 

And before he could drive it into her throat, Lae’zel burst from the shadows and tackled him. Her roar cracked through Halsin's eardrums, and an equally grating one sounded as she buried her blade deep in his abdomen. Same as his sibling, Leon disappeared from the Elfsong. 

It was pure luck he and his companions outnumbered them. He had just finished shooting an arrow through the shoulder of one aiming for Jaheira’s heart when he heard it. 

A quiet, garbled gasp. 

Tav gripped the dagger’s handle with both hands, leaving it inserted in her stomach. She merely stared at Aurelia. The spawn stared back, her lips trembling and head shaking in disbelief. 

Halsin was behind her in an instant, gripping her hair and swinging her to the floor. The spawn yelped, the last of her siblings infecting their camp. She scrambled backward, whatever she saw in Halsin’s eyes frightening her enough to abandon her own bow. He lifted her and slammed her against the wall, taking pleasure in her groan of pain. 

“Cazador would never let you die here, and yet you drive a blade through my friend’s skin?” he yelled, slamming her again. 

She cried, “Astarion! Please! He ordered us here, he ordered us to kill anyone who stepped in the way! I could not refuse. I could not refuse, I could not refuse, I could not refuse—“

Again and again she repeated it, tears staining her cheeks and drenching her collar. She thrashed, her throat clenching on itself. Again, again, again, again—

“Let her go, Halsin,” Astarion begrudgingly ordered, his bloody daggers limp at his sides. “She cannot disobey.”

“What and let her kill us? Let her take you?” he screamed over his shoulder. 

Minthara stepped forward, observing Aurelia with a sneer. “No,” she drawled. She sunk the broken tip of an arrow in the spawn’s throat. “We merely send her back.”

In a snap, she abandoned her orders for the sake of forced survival, following the rest of her empty-handed siblings. Halsin immediately dashed for Tav, kneeling in front of her to inspect the wound.

“Let me,” he said, his heart pounding.

“No.”

“Tav—“

“I told him I’d protect him and I almost failed tonight. I deserve this.” Still, she did not let go of the blade. The second she pulled, she would bleed out.

Halsin forced himself to breathe normally, shock enveloping his senses. Was that why she got involved with everyone and everything, put herself first in the face of danger, so she could somehow relieve their pain and take the brunt of it? 

“You deserve… pain?” he asked carefully. He had met others who self-harmed before, but he had never treated them directly. Nettie had always taken the lead role in those cases. And perhaps he wasn’t the best person to ask for help either, because his aged brain could only suggest they stop. 

Now, he understood why Tav did it—why she believed she deserved it. And instead of simply telling her to stop, he wanted to heal her from the inside-out so no thoughts like that ever afflicted her again.

“I deserve to be broken and pulled apart all over again, Halsin. I deserve to remember that torture Orin made me suffer.”

She tried to step around him, but Lae’zel’s glare halted her. He caught her arm before she could find an alternate route. 

Her breathing quickened. He loosened his grip, but still managed to tug her closer. To grip the blade’s handle himself. “It is a blessing you do not remember any of it.”

She smiled ruefully, fatigue dimming her eyes. “What do you think my punishment should be? More stabbings?”

“None whatsoever. Now, please let me tend to your wound.”

“If she really wants to break me, all she has to do is give me my memories back,” she laughed, though it was pained. From self-hatred or from the wound, he did not know. “But in her eyes, it would be a gift.”

Without much struggle, he laid her down and wordlessly instructed Wyll to bring fresh water and clean rags. She stared as he worked around the wound first, silent but present. Though no emotion painted her face, Halsin knew he wasn’t being scrutinized. There was something deeper there. Something akin to admiration, something holy. 

When Wyll returned and gripped Tav’s hand as Halsin quickly pulled the blade out, Halsin let his mind settle. He drowned out her cries and worked tirelessly, stitching her insides with magic and muttering sweet words under his breath. He didn’t think she was listening, but he said them just the same. 

“I couldn’t let them take him,” Tav breathed, her eyelids fluttering. “I think I was just as bad as Cazador, and if he had been taken…”

“You must not compare yourself to true evils, my heart. For you are not the person in absent memories, nor the person Orin wants you to be. I have it on good authority that Astarion would agree, and would kill you himself if you even matched Cazador in cruelty. For that, there is hope in your atonement yet.”

Somehow a smile broke through her exhausted face. “You are too nice to me.”

Halsin pulled the bedsheet over her healing stomach. And because she was barely conscious, he found the confidence to say, “Trust me, I am more than what I ever was when I am with you.”

---

“There’s absolutely no way, you little shit.”

Halsin had to blink so Tav’s words were processed fully. The way she spoke to children… At this point in their journey, there was only a sliver of guilt as he admitted he found it sort of funny.

Mol puffed out her chest, fists on her hips and face absent of an eyepatch. “Surprised to see me here? Well, right back at ya! Glad to see ya made it here in one piece!”

Tav listened intently as Mol described what she’d been up to all this time, all the trinkets she acquired roaming the Lower City, her new position in Guild. 

“Get away from my pockets, child,” Jaheira sneered, but there was a hint of pride hidden in her voice. In her slight grin. Something akin to respect. 

“I don’t need your scraps, ya old weirdo! I’ve got Nine-Fingers up my sleeve, a certain devil protecting my hide, and a handsome ol’ wizard slipping me scrolls whenever he can!”

Jaheira was unruffled by her insult, which made Mol even more assured. But the second she met Halsin's stare, a muscle in her jaw jumped, giving her away.

“Tell me you did not make that deal with Raphael, Mol,” Halsin pleaded.

“None of your business, tree-hugger.”

Wyll sighed, closing his eyes. “Raphael may talk sweet, but he’ll cut you quicker than you can beg. Whatever he’s promised, know that it cannot be met without repercussions or consequences. I should know, Mol.”

Tav set a gold chalice back on the wooden crate, leaning over to check out Mol’s jewelry collection instead. “Is that how you escaped Moonrise? And got your eyesight back?”

Her monotone voice confused the small tiefling—Why would two men care more about her situation? But Halsin recognized the trick. No sense of urgency, unlike all the other times she and Mol had met, would get her talking. Wanting to expand on her deal with Raphael just so she could prove that all she’s accomplished so far measured up to the way Tav saw her. 

“What’s the big deal now? I got out, and now I’ve gotta hold up my end.”

“Which is?” Wyll pressed. 

“He gave me a damn eyeball back! The deal could have been a lot worse.”

“Mol,” Halsin grumbled. 

“Thievery is my domain, druid. I’m his little thief.”

Wyll leaned in. “That’s all that was exchanged?”

Mol's nose curled. “Where’s ya head at, ya thick warlock? Of course that’s it!”

Wyll’s shoulders dropped. Halsin had never spoken to Mizora in the time she lounged around the Elfsong. Never asked Wyll to elaborate on their daily check-ins. Never asked about the other missions she had sent him on. Whatever Wyll shared with him, the group, Halsin was grateful for. 

Now he couldn’t stop wondering what his hands would look like wrapped around Mizora’s throat.

And he couldn’t stop the worry from hitting him square in the chest as Tav said her goodbyes. Would they leave Mol to the Guild? To Raphael’s slimy grasp? She and Yenna would probably get along, and Gods knew Yenna needed another girlfriend besides Karlach. 

“Here,” Mol said, handing Tav a pouch of coins and a sealed letter. “I trust you’ll deliver this for me?”

“Stupid assumption.”

Mol rolled her eyes. “Deliver it, will ya? It’s going to your favorite tiefling wiiiiizaaaarrrrd.”

Tav mimicked her voice, flicking the young tiefling off before turning on her heel. 

They can’t leave her here, they can’t leave her here, they can’t leave her here… He can’t leave her here.

“Astele would sooner die than harm a child of the Gate,” Jaheira whispered to him. “And the child is smart enough to gain her trust in time.”

“This is no place for a child."

“No, it isn’t,” Jaheira agreed, raising an eyebrow. “But what of Geraldus? He made his choice, and it was an honorable one. I tried to stop him and got put in my place by our resident cub. What of Arabella, wandering alone and told to simply trust the Weave? We let her go, and our hope reigns. What of Mattis and Umi and Bex and Dannis? We cannot save everyone, but we can help them along their path.” 

“Is leaving Mol here helping her?”

Jaheira looked over her shoulder, eyeing Mol as she showed a child around her own age the proper hand movements to reach inside a pocket. “It is acceptance. It is trust. It is the knowledge that we are capable of stepping back when we have to. Mol has proven herself a hundred times over, and this deal with Raphael will only be a lesson. Besides, what hypocrite you are for telling the same devil you would consider his offer about the crown instead of disagreeing immediately?”

Perhaps Jaheira was right. For years, Halsin had put the needs of others on his shoulders regardless of their weight. Unoccupied now, his days felt empty.

Tav was doing the same and it seemed like only he could see the true consequence of it. Everyone else in their camp was occupied with their own predicaments, Jaheira now having to find and stop Minsc, so no one had seen Tav’s height lowering. Without the threat of the shadow curse, he was no longer blind. Though their companions cared for Tav’s wellbeing, they could not see past their own mist. He did not blame them—he was strong enough to help her, nourish her, lift her. By helping Tav, he would help himself.

“Does this change our plans with Raphael?” Wyll asked, worrying his bottom lip. 

“No,” Tav promised. She pushed the doors open and ignored the grumbling from the two guards eyeing her every move. “We kill the bastard, steal the hammer, and make damn sure Mol never finds out.”

Easier said than done.

---

The third time he heard Tav scream was when she delivered the final blow that brutalized Lorroakan’s insides. With her sword lifted high and Karlach’s boot in his neck, Tav sliced open his abdomen and pulled out his large intestine. Wet and red, Tav squeezed, seemingly savoring the squelching noise that bounced off the windows of Ramazith’s Tower. 

And when she moved aside to let Dame Aylin through, Halsin savored the sound of his spine splitting upon her blessed knee. 

They had stopped at Sorcerous Sundries right after seeing Mol, the coin purse all too tempting for Astarion. When they arrived and took immediate note of the bruises scattered across Rolan’s handsome face, Halsin knew they wouldn’t just be dropping off the coin. 

Rolan had done a good job at keeping his composure until the questions began. 

“I can take the beatings. When I mess up a spell, his beatings are a practical way to make me get it right the next time. My track record is impressive—”

“Discipline is to be given with purpose,” Lae’zel had bit, snarling. “Your bruises are scattered. Careless. Smack a soldier’s hand for fumbling their blade, not their cheekbones. Break a child’s fingers for stealing, not puncture their stomachs. Lorroakan is toying with you, tiefling. That is no good teacher.”

And when Rolan confirmed it, Tav’s face had fallen flat. Scarily detached. Lae’zel had a similar reaction, but she nodded her head as if agreeing with the unspoken decision amongst the group. 

Lorroakan would be dead before the sun set. 

Now, Rolan panted as he hurried to their side and examined what was left of his old Master. “He’s really dead. The bastard’s dead.”

Tav looted Lorroakan’s corpse and passed Gale the magical trinkets she would have no use of. 

“And I seem to be out of scrolls,” Tav commented, wiping blood from her forehead. Standing up with a groan, she did her best to give Rolan a true smile. But the fight was tough, so much so that she had spent most of her time throwing healing potions to Karlach, who insisted on being in the middle of it all. “Would the new Master of Ramazith’s Tower kindly sell me some? I’d be willing to pay double.”

Rolan’s eyes watered, but that signature arrogance seeped through as he straightened his shoulders and sketched a bow. Silver menace, Halsin thought. He and Tav were so similar.  

Rolan’s eyes lit up as he remembered, “I promised you a discount.”

Tav waved a bored hand through the air. “You promised Gale a discount.”

Rolan closed his eyes for a second before throwing himself into Tav’s arms, holding her as tightly as his sore arms allowed. Tav stiffened, her cheek squished against Rolan’s hard chest and the top of her head directly beneath his chin. She met Halsin’s eye and found only encouragement. 

She wrapped her arms around the tiefling and squeezed, her eyes closing in comfort. 

“Master Rolan… I quite like the sound of that,” Rolan joked, clearing the sentiment from his throat. “I shall move Cal and Lia in at once!”

“I’m going to need as many wizards in this upcoming fight with the Absolute. I would like my favorite wizard at my side.”

Astarion snickered beside Gale, even going as far as poking his elbow into his ribs. Gale simply waved him off. 

“You will have the full force of Ramazith’s Towers at your service.” Then, softer and sweeter, “Thank you, Tav.”

Tav practically sparkled. Halsin forced himself to look away, only to meet Karlach’s knowing gaze. 

“I’m just sorry I can’t kill him again,” Tav said. “Know that you are always welcome at our camp. That you can always ask for our help with bitchy customers or entitled explorers.”

“And you will always have a room here if you need it.”

---

Halsin found her on the roof of the Elfsong, Lakrissa having whispered the hint when he inquired about Tav’s whereabouts. With a wink and a promise of a drink later, Lakrissa confirmed what he had worried about. People were starting to notice his feelings, his desires… People were starting to see right through him. 

Tav finished tying her hair up when she looked over her shoulder and smiled. It hit him so hard he fumbled over his own feet, a blush crawling up his neck. Tav pretended not to notice, and said nothing as he moved to sit on the cushion beside hers.  

As she looked over the balcony’s edge, watching the birds fly in triangles and the leaves float through the wind, Halsin watched her. Her skin was lighter than Minthara’s, and the pale burn stretching diagonally from the top right of her forehead to her bottom left cheek definitely set them apart. He wondered if she picked up that scar from battle, from her early days as a Bhaalspawn, or from the torture she had endured and forgot at Moonrise. She had never commented on it, nor did anyone bring it up. Yet, Halsin prayed it was a simple story like his own scar, nothing fancy, and that the brutal violence that seemed to follow their heels was altogether absent. 

With her hair up, he was able to outline the scar. Unable to control the desire to run his thumb down the extent of it. But he reeled it in, and sat beside her with his hands in his lap. 

“You know… I at least have an excuse for my violence. Lorroakan was just a bastard,” Tav suddenly shared, a worn chuckle breaking through. “But then again, going off of my logic, Orin has a valid excuse, too.”

“Orin is a different breed.”

Her mouth fell into a frown. “If she would have been kidnapped and infected with a tadpole, you would be sharing your tea with her. Rolan would be thanking her. You would be confiding in her.”

Halsin did not believe that true for one second. Orin was frightening, and the added effect of a tadpole was sure to make her everyone’s worst nightmare. Still, he replied with, “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

Tav grumbled, unsatisfied. What else could he say? That she got out but her sister didn’t? That she was given a new chance at life and her sister was still wreaking havoc underground? Was he supposed to feel sorry for Orin? 

“I am one God’s chosen,” Tav whispered, then turned to him with a flicker of hope in her mismatched eyes. “But do you think I can pray to another god?”

“Yes.”

“Is your Oak Father free?”

“Silvanus?” he asked, the fluttering of his heart nearly booming in his ears. He wondered if she could hear it, if her own matched his rhythm. “Look at where you sit. You are surrounded by his creations, even if they are muted in this city. The air you breathe, the ground you walk on, the flowers you smell. Silvanus asks for little in return, other than nurture nature, each other, and yourself. If you are worried about whether or not Silvanus will hear your prayers, do not be. He hears them, and does what can be done.”

“I have killed hundreds of people. I have mutilated their corpses, stolen their coin, desecrated their gravesites.”

“Forgiveness is something all gods offer.”

“But do I deserve it?”

No longer a boom, but a crack echoed through his ears. 

“Does Astarion deserve it after all the souls he brought Cazador?” he asked.

“He’s changed,” Tav declares, defensive, “And the gods never answered him.”

“Perhaps his change and his current situation is answer enough.”

Yet another thing that maddened him. Why did no God answer Astarion’s pleas? Why was he discarded, as were his siblings, and forced to endure two-hundred years of pain? Why did Astarion have to change at all to gain recognition? He was split on whether Silvanus would help an undead creature, one who couldn’t even harvest the sun's bounty. Did the Oak Father consider Astarion an undead with a soul in need of saving, or an undead with nothing but a masked scent?

Would the Oak Father consider Tav a soul worth saving after she had stolen the very souls he sprouted? Was change enough for both her and Astarion that he would practice benevolence?

Tav sucked in a deep breath. Shame suddenly etched across her face, as did an unsatisfying flush in her cheeks. Her mouth opened slightly around an invisible word. He waited, and offered an encouraging smile.

“I don’t remember kissing anyone who wasn’t dead,” she admitted, her voice wholly dejected. As if this one admission was enough to squander any acceptance from Silvanus. “My memories are vague, of course. But I do remember one man. His heart was beating. I don’t think I ever killed him.”

Halsin had to tread carefully or else the reopening of her wounds could prove dangerous. 

“Did you want to kiss your victims?”

She paused. “I think Orin wanted me to.”

“Do you see Orin in those memories?”

“I see her laughing.”

What in the Hells was their dynamic like? Though not related by blood, Orin had played the role of evil elder sister and Tav the role of evil little one. But had Orin been the most depraved of the two? The most abhorrent and wicked? Was Tav a subject of immorality, but able to control her urges more often? To be a Bhaalspawn and to not resist the urge to maim… Tav’s blood was diluted, while Orin had been pumped full.

If Orin had been kidnapped and infected, Halsin wholeheartedly believed he would have died by her dagger that night, that the Grove would have fallen, that the shadow curse would have never been lifted. 

“She may have ordered me to do that stuff, but I still did it. I killed to honor my father, but kissing them? That was to satisfy Orin. To satisfy something darker than the urge. And when we saw Rolan today… I snapped. All I could see was his unwillingness to adhere to Lorroakan's insane orders. I saw his fear. And if any of my victims had felt that way, then avenging Rolan was as much of an apology as I could ever give them.”

To live a life with the knowledge it wasn’t entirely full, that there was a separate personality all along…

Halsin cleared his throat, shuffling the slightest bit closer to her. She stayed where she was, but marked his movement. “Do you remember anything else about that man you mentioned?”

Tav thought about it for a second. Something curious flashed across her face, but he couldn’t name it. “I—I just remember a gold hand.”

Dragonborn, maybe? He didn’t voice the theory obviously. 

But what he said next surprised him enough that his mouth dried instantly. 

“Would you like to kiss me?”

Tav’s eyes widened. “I don’t know how.”

“I can teach you.”

She chuckled, embarrassment evident in how she twiddled her thumbs. Her nails clinked together, the shine of the purple metallic polish sending a shiver down his spine. Oh, how it would feel to receive fresh, consensual scars from her. 

“The Oak Father won’t call it a disgrace?”

“I am positive he won’t,” he assured her. He moved closer, careful to not loom over her. Their knees touched. “I can be your beating heart.”

“And you want this?”

This was the time to be truthful. To bathe in the confidence he had cultivated and perfected by his hundredth year. To admit to her that what he was feeling was something else entirely than what his body had told him to feel for years. “For a long time, if I’m being honest. I go where my heart leads. It would be a lie to say you haven’t surprised me. Encouraged me, astonished me. You are magnificent. A beacon of hope, even if the shimmer is burning you from the inside-out.”

“I don’t want to simply be another notch on your belt.”

“Do not ever reduce yourself as such. My heart does not stir lightly,” he tried to reason, tried to pretend that her words didn’t hurt.

“But that’s what it is, Halsin. I appreciate the gesture, but I respect your place in nature. You are a creature who cannot stay in one place for a long time, and granted I am, too. Though I see myself moving with only one person on my arm, forever. If I ever beat this curse of mine, I want the choice. I want the opportunity. And I want to be someone’s only choice, selfishly.”

“I—”

“I am not asking you to change yourself for me,” she said, her breath quickening. “I know there have been plenty of lovers and there will be plenty more. But I have stolen loves from so many people. I have stolen their opportunities. It does not feel right to indulge, and it doesn’t feel right to indulge with you.”

“Perhaps I mistook our relationship, or rather our… tension, wrongly” he explained, masking his pain.

She let out a frustration moan. “I want you, but only if you’re just mine. And I can’t have you, because that’s not my fate.”

She believed that she did not deserve him. That he was a prize? Halsin couldn’t think of himself as such, nor could he believe that she was punishing herself so. But as he remembered how she stepped right into the path of danger when Astarion’s siblings attacked, how she did not want to be patched up, it finally made sense. 

Atonement. Atonement in the form of punishment. The punishment of loneliness. 

Like Gale, who hid himself away after absorbing the darkest Weave. Having no one to speak to besides Tara, besides letters with his mother. Who tried his hardest to create distance between him and Astarion, but failed when the vampire lured him with nothing but sweet, honeyed words. Like Karlach, who tried her hardest not to sneak away at night to visit Dammon. But with the Elfsong so close to his newest forge, she could not help overstepping her self–inflicted choice. Like Wyll, who made a deal with a devil and accepted exile. Who couldn’t speak the truth and fell into the belief that maybe he wasn’t ever meant to. Who would rather his father hate him from afar than know what he had become.

“What do you believe is your fate?” he asked, perhaps a little too harshly.

“To help all of you. Save Baldur’s Gate. And then die.”

He stood, his muscles straining as he tried to relax. He gripped the balcony’s edge. She did not move from her spot, frozen as she stared and burned through the back of his head.

And like Gale, Tav had chosen to blow up any chance at long-term redemption. Like Karlach, Tav had chosen to burn when it was all over. They had all chosen wrong.

How to prove to them that they were worth everything and more, how to prove that the world was better with them in it? How to prove to Tav that he wasn’t sure he was a wild heart anymore, and that maybe, just maybe, she was the reason. 

Selfish as she was apparently, he wanted to prove that he was ten times worse.

“A single kiss then. I ask nothing more, and expect nothing else in return.”

The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow upon her scarred face. The heat was touching her, and oh how he envied it so. “Why?”

He turned, lifting his chin so that all she could see was sincerity. “Because you have been deprived of it. Because you are over a hundred years old and do not remember the caress of another. Because Bhaal has made you desensitized.”

“So, pity then?”

“Because it would be your choice.”

She glanced down at her hands, at the brick beneath her cushion. Whatever quarrel she was having with herself looked tiring. And Gods did he want her to relent. 

“Out of everyone here,” she breathed, “I don’t know why I only want to kiss you.”

His own breath came faster as she stood and walked to him. Placing a hand upon his chest, she caressed the fabric. Curiosity bloomed in her irises, and he let her roam for a minute or so. Let her have the chance at feeling another living being. She rested her palm over his heart, and muttered her count.

“Ten,” she said, closing her eyes, “Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…”

“Endless,” he confirmed, reaching up to take that same palm in his hand. Though he recognized the lust in her eyes, he also saw the fear. He was so much taller than her, so much older, and in her opinion, good. But she had forgotten the bloodthirst he had in the goblin camp, the hand he had wrapped around Kagha’s throat, the fact that Isobel had fallen all those years ago because of his blade. If they were comparing their misdeeds, they were equal.

“Whenever you say stop,” he said, leaning down so their lips brushed, “We stop. Okay?”

Tav did her best to nod, but Halsin recognized that dazed movement anywhere. She was floating. 

“Come back to me, little one.”

With that, the glaze in Tav’s eyes disappeared. She leaned forward, pressing further until their lips moved as one. Halsin used a single finger to lift her chin, the kiss slow. He was in no hurry to rush it, no hurry to end what should be their only kiss. This was a transaction of sorts—

Tav wrapped a desperate hand around the back of his neck, pushing her upper body against him. In turn, their kiss deepended. Nearly ravenous, but full of all that bashfulness she had expressed earlier. When was the last time he had participated in such a chaste kiss? In his youth, surely. His past lovers were scattered, none staying around for more than a month. And he was just as guilty when it came to long-term predicaments. The bear roamed, and he answered its call. 

But here, with Tav’s lips molding so beautifully into his own with innocent need, he experienced the combination of love and lust. He wanted to continue kissing her, no matter where it led. He wanted to kiss her tomorrow, no matter the bear’s torment. He wanted to kiss her always, and be all she ever wanted. 

Tav pulled him in deeper, hungry, gaining more confidence as he followed her lead. He didn’t need to teach her anything, it seemed. Whether this was instinct or because she too felt the overwhelming desire to burrow into his skin, Halsin was more than happy to be her practice doll, more than happy to explore all impulses. Good or bad. 

Gods save him, good or bad. 

“Kiss me harder, please,” Tav pleaded, the gravel in her voice causing him to harden. He made sure his hips didn’t meet hers. But she was pushing deeper, stepping forward and neatly entangling their legs together. Halsin backed up, mindful of the balcony’s edge. He sat carefully and let her push herself between his open legs, and at this angle they were practically face to face. Tav kissed him harder, slipping her tongue over his bottom lip. A question. 

He opened his mouth and finally tasted her, groaning lowly. When they arrived at the Gate, their fruit assortment expanded. Here they were able to indulge in more than just apples and oranges. Tav tasted of kiwi and the lemon she squeezed in her morning tea. She tasted of the butter buns he always caught Karlach stealing, of the cinnamon cookies Yenna had tried her hand at baking yesterday. He knew he tasted of that same tea, but Halsin had found himself indulging more in grapes and cinnamon rolls Cher Rover saved specifically for him. Separating from Tav now would be a crime to everything sweet. 

“Halsin,” Tav rasped, her slender hands coming around to cup his scarred cheeks. He kept his own at her waist. “A single kiss.”

“A single kiss,” he repeated, sharing her breath. He dove in for more, their statement ignored and the two unbothered. They could extend this single kiss for hours and technically be right.

She suddenly gasped, stiffening against him. Her face pulled tight.

“Tav?” Halsin tried, worry spiking to the point he tried standing. Tav did not move, her grip on his shoulders too strong. 

Her eyes were watery with sorrow as she opened them. “I had a vision of pushing you off the balcony.”

Halsin held his breath. She made no move to do so. 

A nervous laugh escaped him. “I could just shapeshift into a bird, my heart.”

She waited, her mouth opening and closing awkwardly. The mere absurdity of the situation drew a short laugh from her, her eyes clearing simultaneously. She slid her hands down his neck, then settled them on his chest. Pulling back so their noses brushed, Tav nudged him slightly in question. Halsin nodded, completely basked in the glow of her exploration. Tav traced his curves and grooves, his scars and age marks, starved for touch alone. And when she reached his waistband, he pulled back to ask the same of her. 

She nodded, and he moved his hands up. 

Together they learned the whispers of their fingers and just how long they could hold their breaths. Together they slid their bodies closer, moving against one another to apply the necessary pressure needed to reach that delectable edge. Halsin kept his thick thigh planted between her legs, groaning as Tav rolled her cunt against it, chasing her high at a slow pace. 

Though she was desperate to feel such bliss with a willing partner, she did not rush it. Halsin didn’t want her to either. He would stay up here for hours, learning her likes and dislikes, learning how to properly sketch the length of her body with his tongue. 

“Gently,” he coaxed, bringing a hand up to tangle at the back of her head. He pulled her face from the crook of his sweaty shoulder and held her there, burning their gazes together as she took his order into consideration. She slowed her movements but bent deeper, so much so that her weight alone forced him to swallow down the savageness of the bear. “That’s it. There you go. I want you to learn your body first before you learn mine.”

“Fuck,” Tav rasped, bringing both hands to his head to mimic his grip. Halsin bit his lip to keep from pushing his hips up. She moved faster, no doubt the glow in her stomach at a full frenzy. 

“So beautiful,” he continued, his voice now at the lowest register he’d ever heard. Everything about this felt different—her scent relaxed his very core, her weight fought and won against the weight of his responsibilities, her noises sank deep into his chest and melted along his ribs. In his three-hundred and fifty years, he had never experienced such a connection. He would like to believe that he had been attentive to past lovers, but Tav… He wasn’t even actively providing the pleasure and yet she had destroyed his concept of sex from the inside-out.

“Make yourself come,” Halsin said, tempting her even further by pulling her in for a searing kiss. Tav whined, her hips losing their rhythm—

The hatch opened before Tav reached her climax, paralyzing her against Halsin’s chest. He held her tighter, and shot daggers at their intruder over her trembling shoulder. 

Wyll stood on the ladder wide-eyed, clutching his chest as if the scene before him had prompted heartburn. His face flushed with embarrassment, and he stuttered over his apology. “I can just… go get fresh air in the street.”

As the hatch shut, Tav removed herself from Halsin’s protective grip. He could not stop his body from reaching out for her.

“Tav.”

Backing away on wobbly legs, she did her best at offering a practiced smile. “Goodnight, Halsin.”

Later, when they rescued Minsc and dealt with the aftermath, Tav avoided his eyes and overcompensated with their newest arrival. Loud jokes, prolonged questioning—it made Halsin want to hide away forever, or until his beating heart called another’s name.

---

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Tav whispered, though her moan gave her away. Her slender fingers rose along his hips, tugging at his waistband. He had left his shirt behind, embracing the chill of nature. If he was going to bed Tav in the flowerbed near the Elfsong, he would do so with as little clothing in the way. The quicker his flesh met hers, the quicker the fire in his heart would settle. Though, Tav’s panting gave it the oxygen to thrive. Her tongue licked the flames, burning him brightly, to the point he dropped to his knees with all thoughts scorched except one. 

He devoured her, swiping his tongue along her slit and soaking up all she gave. She yelped, her fingers combing through his loose hair. She had taken his braids out one-by-one hours ago, massaging his scalp and whispering sweet-nothings along the sensitive skin of his pointy ears. Now, she gripped and pulled, relishing in the vibrations his groans made against her most intimate flesh. She pulled him in deeper, slapping one hand back against the stone of the building. Their companions could surely hear them—the windows were knocked open. And the thought invaded just as quickly as she came on his eager tongue: Astarion or Shadowheart—Gale—watching from the windowsill and getting themselves off at the same time. Learning from watching Halsin feast, from watching his cock drive into the beautiful woman wailing his name. 

“Halsin,” Tav breathed, pulling him up to stand. He let her use her strength, let her be in charge, guiding him in all places. “Fuck me. Fuck me until I can’t help crying your name. Fuck me and claim me as yours, forever. Come inside me, mark me as yours.”

The bear nearly broke loose, territorial to the highest extremes.

Halsin drove into her slowly, deeply, the squeeze stealing the air in his lungs and threatening to knock him out. She felt divine, like nothing he had ever felt before. He had many lovers, but none had wrapped around him with both sex-crazed madness and lo—

Halsin sucked in a gust of air, shooting upward in his bed. The beds at the Elfsong creaked when one changed position, and he had no doubt he had awakened someone close by. The nearest bunk to his left was Minthara’s, and Astarion to his right. But neither moved to indicate they heard him or scented his obvious arousal. 

Cursing softly, he laid back down and tried to steady the beating of his heart. Tav was far away enough, bunking near Karlach tonight, that she wouldn’t suspect anything. Hear anything. And he prayed the two nearest him wouldn’t hate him for this. 

Halsin reached below the sheets and gripped his hardness, shutting his eyes as that touch alone threatened to make him audible. Slowly he dragged his hand up and down, stopping at the tip to swipe. The quicker he got this over with, the quicker the shame could come and go. 

Tav had not sought him out after their kiss and… heavy-petting session, but he had seen the heat in her eyes. A promise that she had enjoyed their time together, his touch. The memory of that silver fire had him moving his hand faster. He reached to cup his balls with the other, biting his lip as the pleasure at the base of his spine grew. He remembered how her hips moved over his, how her mouth tasted, how her arousal smelled. How he had to keep the bear caged, and that made his grip on her even tighter. But it seemed Tav liked that, liked his roughness, and wanted to deliver the same amount. 

The pleasure built and built, until it finally erupted. Halsin choked on a shout, grinding the side of his face into the pillow. Pulling until he milked himself dry. He lay there panting, eyes shut as the guilt slowly crept along his extremities. 

“Darling, I at least have the good graces to please myself in the comfort of my own tent or in the bathroom.”

Halsin froze, and his stomach rotated when Minthara’s voice answered the vampire.

“Lies, Astarion. You haven’t pleased yourself in weeks. You have the wizard to thank for that.”

Astarion choked on his retort, but said nothing to contradict it.

---

“You’re here. Orin was telling the truth.”

Tav crossed her arms as she glared at Gortash, clicking her tongue when she noticed his eyes wandering. She was wearing thin armor today, tight around the waist and non-restricting around the neck. Halsin had stared for a long while before they had left their rooms, readjusting his trousers when she purposely bent down to grab her weapon of the day. She had winked, lifted her skirts to expose her thigh, and whispered a promise of lifting it higher when they returned. 

Now, as Gortash made a meal of her, it unsettled something greedy in Halsin. He had no right to shield Tav, but there was grime in the villain’s eyes. And he was done convincing himself he would feel this affected with just any lover.

Tav ignored Gortash’s initial surprise, allowing Wyll to take the lead.

“My father, Gortash. Let him go—”

“Oh, but I wasn’t talking to you, Wyll Ravengard,” Gortash snapped, a smile still playing on his pale lips. He gave Wyll an unimpressed once-over, then turned back to Tav. “My favorite little assassin… Tell me, how has the holiday been?”

"I could've done with less cultists, you absolute lunatic."

Wyll held his breath.

“I know it was Orin who kidnapped me from Baldur’s Gate. I want to know why.”

Gortash wasn’t exactly handsome, especially not when he frowned. The action seemed to drag his stress lines further. But he held himself like a man with power, and with power came confidence. 

“By the gods, they weren’t kidding. You truly don’t remember any of it, do you?” he said, huffing a simple laugh, one that scraped the walls of Halsin’s skull. “Why, it was us who orchestrated this grand design in the first place.”

The entire audience hall seemed to freeze as they processed Gortash’s outlandish claim. 

Tav swallowed, her lilac cheeks losing all color. “What?”

He made his way down the stairs, his robes swinging with each powerful stride. Tav stood her ground, but Karlach pointed her long ax at the new Archduke. Halsin inched closer to Tav as well, but he was more mindful of the rattling Steel Watch targeting Karlach.  

Gortash dismissed the metal monstrosity. He stood close enough now that Halsin smelled the city and a hint of rosemary on him. 

“The tadpoles, the brain, opening a Hells gate, the cult, everything. And Orin went and betrayed you, wanting the stones all to herself. Betrayed us.”

“It was… It was me? All of it?”

“Our raid of Mephistopheles’ lair will be spoken about in the Hells for centuries.”

“The crown…” Tav whispered, the memory of its abduction no doubt swimming in her mind. Then guilt clouded her features—for all of it. The infestation, the deaths they caused, Gale’s obsession with Karsus’s forbidden magic. She was spiraling, blaming herself for all it—

“My pretty little mastermind,” Gortash practically purred, raising a hand to gently swipe it down her cheek. Halsin growled, a low glimmer of gold coming off of him. Gortash grinned savagely. “I have tried to keep everything in order in your absence. All the things you entrusted me with.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Karlach screamed, alerting some Flaming Fists. Again, Gortash dismissed them with a simple wave.

“How do you know him?” Karlach inquired further.

Tav turned to the tiefling. “I—”

“Don’t tell me you forgot. Orin really did a number on you, didn’t she? Always a lapdog, she was. Begging to be Bhaal’s chosen ever since she learned how to whine. But she is careless, and too distracted.”

Gods, it made so much sense. The tadpoling center under Moonrise, Orin’s vendetta, Gortash’s odd truce. His chest ached with the need to hold her, to remind her that that wasn’t who she was anymore. She had changed, brought about a change in Astarion, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, Minthara—

Him. 

If he could take her away from all of this, meet her in the afterglow, he would sprint and never look back. She had done so much good these last few months and Gortash’s jealous speech was a threat to her already fragile sanity. 

“You… You worked with strategy. You had a purpose. You were determined. I tolerate Orin, but I liked you.”

He followed Tav’s distressed gaze to the golden glove encasing the purple netherstone. 

The gold hand.

“We worked all through the night, you and I. Perfecting this scheme. When you disappeared, I admit I worried for your safety,” Gortash said, his irises darkening. “I missed you.”

Halsin didn’t have to move—Tav reached for his hand and gripped it tight. Gortash noted their connection, but his smile only grew. A more tame twin of Orin’s, it seemed.

“What was I to you?” Tav insisted. “What were you to me?”

“This cannot be happening,” Karlach cringed, several dramatic gags accompanying her declaration.

Gortash rolled his eyes. “A travesty Orin erased so much. Perhaps I shouldn’t reminisce with your companions present.”

“Tell me what I did.”

Karlach gave an incredulous gasp of protest, but Tav remained adamant. 

“What you did… Enthusiastically, might I add. Seeing you now is overwhelming. The way your lips tasted, how your eyes would roll to the back of your head, your neck bared for me. I heard there is a spawn in your company… Do you give your neck to him? Do you scream for him like you screamed for me?” 

Tav snarled as Karlach exclaimed, “Liar!”

“Do not be a child, Karlach,” Gortash snapped. “Tav and I, two adults, were together even while you were by my side. I’m surprised you never met.”

“A secret,” Tav confirmed, though her statement came out more as a shameful question.

“It saddens me that you don’t remember anything but that. Perhaps we can come to an agreement over this Ravengard business.”

“What did you have in mind?” Wyll chimed in, seemingly unmoved by the revelation. If his relationship was something other with her, Halsin would too disregard Gortash’s claims. Tav’s past sex life was none of his business, neither was it Wyll’s, but the fact Gortash had such a lively role in it… The one living soul Tav remembered touching…

Something dark stirred in the pit of his stomach, its claws begging to rip open its cage and eviscerate his opponent. The bear had disemboweled plenty of enemies, but this one—this one Halsin wanted to tear apart with his bare hands.  

Gortash lowered his voice as he spoke next, enough of a signal that the surrounding Fists turned their heads. 

“I will hand over Duke Ravengard right now with a promise to keep him safe, if…” he trailed off, bowing his head to chuckle. “Listen to me bargaining. How unbecoming of me. I am a dealer, not a trader.”

“Speak plainly, Gortash,” Wyll pushed, the hair-raising tone causing Gortash’s brows to rise.

He turned to Tav. “If you agree to spend the night with me, Ravengard walks freely.”

“No deal.”

They were the first words Halsin had spoken since entering the audience hall. He couldn't give less of a shit for intruding on what was obviously Tav’s decision. 

“Halsin—” she hissed.

Gortash laid an elegant hand over his own chest. “How marvelous! Does he speak for you? Is no your answer, too?”

“It’s a no because I don’t want to touch you.”

“You begged for it before.”

Tav bared her teeth. “I won’t anymore.”

“Wyll? If you’re anything like your father, you’ll have some sense. Your father’s freedom, for her cunt.”

Wyll recoiled, his disgust multiplying as Gortash raised his hand yet again to brush Tav’s cheek. This time, however, Halsin shoved the man away. 

And was promptly held back by two Fists. Thrashing, Halsin fought to keep the bear within.  

“May the gods smite you, Gortash. May this land turn on you in your hour of greatest need,” Wyll threatened, taking the words right out of Halsin’s mouth.

Gortash raised a single brow, unimpressed. “Interesting company you keep nowadays. If you won’t give me what I desperately crave,” he drawled, causing a visible shiver to crawl up Tav’s spine, “then we shall explore other roads.”

“One more word from you and I will kill you.” The Fists were hesitant to grab Karlach, and the look she shot at them severed the idea completely. "And that was a trade, you dumb motherfucker!"

“Oh, but you’ll want to hear this, Karlach. I am on your side. I want nothing more than to save this city and rule side-by-side with Tav here. I am a fair man. And to show you I am a man true to my word, I shall warn you.”

“Threats? Seriously?” Karlach fumed.

“Not from me. By now you’ll have found out that Orin is a shapeshifter. And I warn you that she will strike soon. One of these nights, when you feel safest, she will deceive you.”

“And what do we owe you for this information?” Tav spit, lifting her chin.

Finally, Gortash intertwined his hands behind his back, seemingly aware that Tav was not going to take his absurd deal. Strangely respectful in that sense. 

“Kill Orin, reclaim your birthright, and make an ally of me.”

“Despicable piece of shit.” 

Gortash gestured at the Fists to release him. Halsin remained where he was, and he could have sworn relief flashed across Gortash’s face.  

“Kill Orin, bring me her stone, and I might just prolong the protection of your father, Wyll.” He turned back up the steps, his confidence stitching itself back into his body as it realized the audience was still looking at him. “Think about it, Tav. I am no liar, and my respect for you knows no bounds.”

That night, Tav drank herself to sleep and took residence in one of the booths downstairs. As annoyed as Alan was, he didn’t force her to leave. With the candles blown out, Tav remained curled-up on her side and blissfully unaware of the world around her. Responsibilities that once shackled her were drowned out, reality but a speck on the horizon. 

Halsin covered her with a blanket before retreating to the steps in the far corner. He sat at an angle where he could see her, foregoing sleep, and did not leave until the hangover roused her.

x

Part 2

[commissionspartybus]

I (politely) demand more batman stuff, this idea sounds great

S2 ending, they grab a briefcase and set it correctly to go back home. Hand in hand, ready to fix their lives once again and finally avoid the apocalypse.

Out of hundreds of briefcases, they grab the one missing a wire.

Using it should have killed them but stabilization came from Viktor, and not ending up stranded in space time is thanks to Five. Instead they hit the right year, right time, completely wrong universe.

They scare the shit out of the family living in the house they landed in, but otherwise are fine. Grabbing a newspaper - which was frankly ridiculously harder than expected - and realizing that they are in the world of a comic series? Less of a shock, more of a yelling match of whose fault this is.

Three factions emerge: those who want to go to the JL for help, those who rather fix this by themselves, and those who Do Not Fucking Care As Long As Something Is Done.

Diego and Luther belong to the first camp, Five and Viktor in the second. Allison and Klaus firmly in the third. So they do what they do best and split up, because this family cannot agree on a Single Goddamn Thing.

Ben, meanwhile, remembered a little girl on a tricycle who made fun of him and said without a box set he was boring. Ben then woke up again in a body in some mad scientists basement who apparently is trying to make people out of clay and science because some woman apparently was made that way. Ben is having a Shit Fucking Time.

Luther and Diego go off together to do their plan, but argue about who to approach. Viktor, who came with them purely because he happened to be in the same room during this, is displeased. Diego throws a fit and goes to Gotham while Luther, who also throws a fit, goes to Metropolis. Viktor also goes to metropolis because there really is an excellent program there for newfound metas run by some guy named Lex Luthor and he might as well get a head start on the whole powers thing.

Lex actually stops by once or twice and is really nice to Viktor, offers him additional resources and even employment. Hopefully not something he'll have to worry about but it's nice to see actual rich people be kind.

Luther drops Viktor off to these meetings though and remembers lex luthor. Luther goes to the library to double check this lex luthor is The Lex Luthor and discovers The Internent. Luther cannot believe what people are saying about his childhood hero online. Who has the gall to disrespect Superman? This cannot stand. This will not stand. Luther will make people realize how great superman is.

Diego on the other hand has a plan. He was thrown in a asylum before and has no interest in doing that again, which he's sure will happen if he just says the truth. No, he has to impress Batman. Only then will he be considered Sane and Truthful. This has nothing to do with wanting Actual Batman to think he's cool, no way. He needs to become a vigilante in Gotham and Become A Bat.

Five and Allison stick together- well, more like Allison sticks to Five because she'll be damned If it takes another fifty years to get back home. No, anytime he's out of her sight he does dumb shit that always has an apocalypse attached to it. Her morals are also starting to slip and she wants both an enabler and support beam in Five. Road trip to all the notable places in America harboring Magical and Scientific Shit to speed up the process.

Klaus originally joined roadtrip duo but upon a stop he noticed the most gorgeous man who was also the ugliest fucking thing he'd seen all weak. Like two malformed cats having an orgy. It was instantaneous, he Needs to either fuck that guy or find out what his deal is. This is his destiny. This Is Who He Is Meant To Find.

The justice league, meanwhile, have not gone blind to the families antics. Their main concern is the two metas going around and swiping objects of high value and power- the woman with her power to make anyone do as she says and the boys spatial jumps are unnerving. With no idea on their reasoning and the potential of the boy being an unwillingly accomplice (they are, after all, very clearly not related and with the woman's power she could just be using the boy to achieve her own ends through his) it is in their highest priority to finish this through.

Except it Is hard to focus due to extenuating circumstances.

Clark Kent thinks he's dealing with a stalker and is completely unprepared on how to actually. Deal With That. Luthor keeps taunting about how humans will reign superior and shit about legacy - will he have to keep a closer eye on Conner? Will his clone/son/brother/science gone wrong even accept it? Who Fucking Knows.

Bruce's kids keep sending him tiktoks about the newest wannabe vigilante getting his shit rocked near constantly, which isn't distracting enough to quiet the thoughts in his head that the mystery boy stealing artifacts has enough features reminiscent of his grandfather (Thomas Wayne's father) to be suspicious. And that Azrael has gone missing, again.

John Constantine is on the run from the amalgamation of gods regrets personified, and he interested in finding out what it wants with him, personally. Having some murderous church kid tag along with him because "through you (John) will lead me to what God has tasked me to find" doesn't make this shit worse at all, nope.

[kotemf]

Codywan week - day 7

This is my last (late) post for @codywanweek 2024, thank you guys for organizing this event because I sure enjoyed it. I hope you all enjoy reading the story. You can read here, on Wattpad or Ao3.

  Prompt: modern AU (teacher / university / academia AU), courting, dimension travel (by one character)

The mandalorian palace in Keldabe was under attack. It was Death Watch, only there was more of them than the haat'ade thought. There were supposed to be a few hundreds at most. These were thousands. They weren't prepared for this.

  Kote was in his room when the attack started. He wasn't dumb, didn't stay there. Just put his bucket on and went to fight rather than wait for the demagolkase to come for him. With his blaster ready, he ran through the corridors, shooting at every kyr'tsad warrior he came across.

  Making sure his blaster was ready to fire, he turned another corner. Someone was there. Only at the last moment, Kote recognized his buir's armor. He lowered his weapon. So did Jango.

  "Kot'ika..." Jango hauled Kote into a firm embrace. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

  "Why are- why are you telling me this?" Kote had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  "Not all of us are getting out of here. You have to go, Kot'ika. While there is still time. Take Boba and get out of here."

  "But I- I can't just-"

  "You can and you will. Take Boba and go."

  "I can't- I can't! I can't leave you here, I can't leave the others here!"

  "I know it's hard, Kot'ika. But you have to do it, for Mandalore. You need to run and wait for the right moment. You will defeat kyr'tsad once, when the time comes. I believe in you, ner Kote."

  "I'm scared, buir," Kote admitted.

  "It's okay to be scared sometimes, Kot'ika. What matters is that you can face your fears. I love you." Jango brought their foreheads together into a gentle keldabe kiss. After a moment, he pulled away and with a brief touch to Kote's shoulder, he was gone.

  Kote suppressed his tears. This wasn't the right time for crying. He had to find Boba and get then out of there. He couldn't fail Mandalore. He couldn't fail his buir, his mand'alor. And most importantly, he couldn't fail his vod'ika.

  It's been two years since they crash landed on Earth due to some problem with the hyper drive. With their ship broken and no way to repair it on Earth, there was no way of going back. They were never going to see buir again, they won't even know if he survived the attack. The same goes for their brothers, their friends and the rest of the haat'ade. 

  It sucked but everything could be much worse. Cody didn't even want to think about what could happen if it wasn't Obi-Wan who found their crashed ship in the middle of a forest.

  Obi-Wan Kenobi was a wonderful man. It didn't hurt that he was also attractive. And so very mandokarla. When he found a damaged aircraft in the forest, he didn't go and report it. He made sure that Cody and Boba were alright, took them home with him and helped them to adapt and to get registered as citizens. That's how Cody got the new name.

  Cody loved Obi-Wan.

  They still shared an apartment, but a bigger one now. When Cody started seeking a new home for himself and Boba because they just couldn't bunk on Obi-Wan's couch forever, Obi-Wan admitted that he enjoyed their company. They ended up renting a bigger apartment, with a room for each of them, and splitting the bills. They worked well like that. Cody cooked and made sure that Obi-Wan didn't forget to eat. Obi-Wan watched Boba when before Cody got back home from work.

  Cody liked seeing Obi-Wan engage with Boba. He was a mandalorian. They gentle way Obi-Wan spoke to Boba, how he played with the boy, might be the main reason why Cody fell for him.

  Right now, Obi-Wan was once again patiently helping Boba with his math homework. Boba excelled in English, perhaps thanks to Obi-Wan being his English teacher, but he was struggling with math. Cody was glad Obi-Wan could explain math to Boba because he had no idea how he would do it.

  It also gave him time. When he knew that Obi-Wan was with Boba in the living room, he couldn't come to Cody's bedroom. Cody didn't need Obi-Wan walking in right now. He didn't want Obi-Wan to know just what was in the package that Cody got earlier that day. Obi-Wan would definitely have questions that Cody couldn't answer just yet.

  Cody waited for the weekend before revealing the contents of the package to Obi-Wan. He cooked dinner, same as every day, only then instead of bringing the dessert right after they finished their meals, he handed Obi-Wan a carefully wrapped package. Obi-Wan looked surprised. Boba, not so much.

  Cody was nervous as he watched Obi-Wan unwrap it. He was so sure when he picked it out. But what if he picked the wrong thing?

  "It's nice," Obi-Wan said a few moments after he finally got a look at his gift. He didn't sound too convinced. 

  "If you don't like it, I can just retu-"

  "No, no, it's nice," Obi-Wan lied. Cody was sure he was lying.

  "Obi-Wan, I can tell you don't like it. It's okay."

  "No, I do like it. I just... I guess I didn't expect you to gift me a knife? Not that I don't like it, it's just... unexpected."

  Boba leaned closer to Obi-Wan. "Knife is a traditional mandalorian courting gift," he whispered loudly enough that even Cody could hear it. Boba was smart, Cody had to admit. He himself didn't even realize that to Obi-Wan, the ornamented weapon might not mean anything.

  "A courting gift?" Obi-Wan's eyes widened in realization. "I- Cody, I had no idea you felt that way!"

  "It's okay if you don't feel the-"

  "Of course I feel the same!"

  Cody didn't remember the last time he was this happy.

  A few months later, Cody found himself standing in the forest, where Obi-Wan first found them and their crashed ship. Obi-Wan was standing next to him. He dressed into a suit for the occasion and Cody thought he looked gorgeous.

  "I love you." Cody couldn't help but say it for the millionth time that day.

  "Considering we're about to get married, I would hope so."

  Cody grinned. He still couldn't believe it. He was marrying Obi-Wan, the love of his life, his amazing cyare. He held out one of his old vambraces, something he didn't even wear anymore and that Obi-Wan will probably never have a use for, but beautifully traditional all the same. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde," Cody recited the ancient mandalorian words.

  Obi-Wan took the vambrace before reciting the vows himself. He started learning mando'a shortly after Cody courted him, even if Cody assured him he didn't have to. He did love hearing the mando'a spoken with Obi-Wan's crisp accent, though. To finish the ceremony, he accepted a ring from Obi-Wan. That wasn't traditionally mandalorian but they decided that since Obi-Wan didn't posses any armor, the ring, traditional for most of the worlds in the galaxy, will be a nice exchange for the beskar vambrace.

  Then it was over. Just like that. They were married.

  Cody couldn't resist grabbing Obi-Wan, his beautiful, amazing riduur around the waist and spinning him in the air before finally kissing him. They kissed before, sure. But that was different. He wasn't just kissing his boyfriend anymore. He was kissing his husband. And Cody loved that feeling.

  Until Boba started fake gagging. Cody guessed he should've expected that from the nine years old. He couldn't say he was mad at the boy, though. Boba was a good kid, if a little grumpy. And as estranged as they used to be, being the oldest and the youngest of the brothers with almost twenty years between them, their time on Earth brought them together. Taking care of younger brothers used to be a chore but now, taking care of Boba strangely felt... nice.

  That being said... "We actually wanted to say one more vow today. If you will agree, Boba, that's it."

  Boba looked confused.

  "We were- we were thinking about adopting you," Obi-Wan explained.

  "If you don't want to, it's okay," Cody added.

  Boba looked at them, wide eyed. "You- you want to adopt me? Like... be my buire?"

  "Yes, darling. We would love to." Obi-Wan answered and in a moment, he had his arms full of a sniffling boy. Cody decided not to be offended at not being the first one to be hugged and instead hugged both Boba and Obi-Wan. His riduur and his ad. His throat was burning with tears as he said the gai bal manda. "Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Boba."

  "Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad," Obi-Wan repeated the words. Cody could tell he was crying and he couldn't really blame him.

  "I love you both so much." Cody kissed Boba's dark curls and then pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's cheek. This was the most important day of his life, he decided. It didn't matter that there was no one to witness it, no one taking pictures and filming videos. What mattered was that Cody was going to remember this day until the day he died.

[maruiin]

Hi sorry if there are a lot of mistakes here my english is very bad but i hope you like this story

brief description:Grace kills Grisha faster then Inej and saving Brekker life

The plan went completely awry, so Inez, Kaz, and I split up in the corridor near the main hall. We needed to leave; we had already attracted enough attention, as almost no one had ever seen our faces. We especially raised suspicions, Inez and I, as there were few girls in the Darkling's guard. Silently walking through several corridors, we heard voices of soldiers and panicked, stopping in our tracks.

"We'll have to split up," Inez suggested, and I gladly agreed. Being caught didn't bring me any joy.

We turn left and then part ways. Inez goes left again down the corridor, while I go straight to the end, also turning to the left. My heart pounds in my chest like crazy, and I'm trembling slightly. This kind of venture is new to me; it's not about robbing a stall or pickpocketing from drunks. The Small Palace... If someone had told me before that I'd be running around the palace dressed as General Kirigan's guard, enacting a shaky plan to steal the Sun Summoner, or rather her theft, I would've laughed in disbelief.

But fate apparently decided to have its fun with me, and rather cruelly at that. We're just steps away from getting caught by the guards, perhaps later having a personal audience with the Darkling himself and becoming enemies of the country. This wasn't how I envisioned ending my seventeen-year-old life.

The corridors are eerily similar, all adorned with paintings, large windows, ornate frames, and... everything is so white, it's making me nauseous! I'm used to darkness, the dim light of a kerosene lamp, worn-out walls, and the lingering scent of alcohol in the air. The barrel was a second home for me, after all.

I glance around at every turn, looking back, and even trying not to breathe. Damn, I'm scared, and I feel like at some point, I might start believing in Saints again. I step softly on the red carpet, but then I stop abruptly. I hear a shout from behind, but it's not the voice of one of ours. I decide to take a look, so I carefully step back, pressing against the wall, returning down the corridor through an arched doorway.

I only manage to catch a glimpse of Kaz standing in amazement a few meters away from a Grisha. The second one, ready to attack, has a hand with flames raised. I panic, and that makes me look around. I lift my gaze to my level, turning my head to the opposite balcony where Inez stands. I see fear in her eyes. Consuming fear, wrapping around her like a cocoon, but she's already reaching for the dagger in her thigh pocket.

Hundreds of thoughts race through my mind in a second, and I snatch a dagger from my belt. I won't let Inez kill them; as long as I'm alive, that will never happen. Just like her, I've never killed people in my life. I can't raise a hand against them, knowing the same could happen to me. Inez hasn't killed because she was devout, and her faith wouldn't allow her to commit such a sin.

"I didn't kill because I was scared. Scared to see the last gaze at the sky, hear the final heavy sigh. Afraid to witness the plea in the dying eyes at the last moment. Until that point, I hadn't drawn my knife with the intent to kill. But now, it's a completely different situation. Maybe I'll regret it later, perhaps it's the adrenaline coursing through me, but I have to spare Inej from her own sin and... protect Kaz Brekker.

"No!" I shout, and I can't understand whom I'm directing this exclamation to, but I immediately release the silver dagger at Grisha, aiming for his head for some reason.

So he won't suffer.

I freeze as the blade smoothly enters Grisha's neck halfway, immediately staining the steel with thick red liquid. There will be a lot of blood. I don't move, just watch as the body falls, then shift my gaze to Brekker.

I've never seen him like this. I'm certain that in my eyes, he sees not just incomprehension and fear, but also confusion, definitely not regret. Kaz has such a peculiar look... He knew I'd never take a life. Never, under any circumstances. Kaz knew that killing is as much of a problem for me as it is for Inej. But while she can kill when faced with mortal danger, I'll either defend myself or stand frozen until a bullet or metal pierces my heart.

Kaz looks puzzled. Troubled. And agitated. He stares at me, unblinking, his mouth slightly agape in astonishment, breathing heavily. I see sweat forming on his forehead, droplets rolling down his face, probably tickling his skin, but he continues to look at me. Unwaveringly. I don't look away.

I don't know how much time passes. I have no idea when the guards will catch up with us. I just keep looking at Kaz Brekker, biting my lip out of helplessness. I start to shake. The silence is broken by Inej, leaping down from the balcony, slowly approaching Grisha's corpse. She's not at ease either. Because of the force I used to throw the dagger into the lifeless body, I lean slightly forward. So, when I stand upright again, I instinctively recoil.

A lump forms in my throat. Adrenaline begins to ebb, panic surges with renewed force.

I've taken a life.

Kaz seems to realize I'm losing it, so he starts walking towards the balcony, knowing he won't be able to reach me anyway.

"Grace..."

My name sounds distant, as if I'm enclosed in a dome, in a vacuum somewhere. I step back from the railing, and Kaz takes another step forward, as if trying to stop me. And I retreat, continuing to look alternately at Grisha's body and my friend whose life I've almost taken. Taking away someone else's.

I turn around and continue towards the emergency exit, trying to keep a mental map of the Little Palace. I hear only my own name, shouted from Kaz Brekker's lips, chasing me.

I walk briskly, to avoid being caught by Kaz and Inej, the soldiers. Descending the stairs, I hide a few times behind protrusions to evade unwanted gazes. Ahead lies the final long corridor, and at the end, a small door where Jesper is supposed to be waiting for us.

"Grace!" I hear Inej's voice very close, and I turn towards her. They've been following me all this time, trying to escape just like me. Inej, usually composed, is now breathing deeply, her eyes wide open as she catches up to me, surpassing Kaz. "Grace..."

Inej stands beside me, ready to help at any moment, while I just lower my gaze to the floor, avoiding looking at her. Kaz approaches, limping more heavily on his right leg than usual. I quickly scan him, anxiously assessing his leg and overall condition. He needs help.

"Inej, go, tell Jesper to get ready for departure, I hope he's prepared," Kaz commands, but he continues to look at me. I can feel his gaze on my forehead. Inej nods obediently and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. For a fraction of a second, it feels a bit easier. But then, after Inej leaves, Kaz takes two steps closer to me, leaning slightly forward, trying to catch my gaze.

"Grace, listen to me..."

"I killed him," I whisper to myself, but I was certain Kaz heard. Unexpectedly, he came even closer, stepping within arm's reach.

"Grace, look at me," Brekker asks, not commands, and I only press my lips together, still not lifting my gaze. "Grace!" I can't resist any longer and raise my eyes, meeting his piercing gaze. It turns out we're closer than an arm's length. "Grace, look," Kaz slightly spreads his arms, as if urging me to take a good look at him. "I'm alive. And it's all thanks to you. You saved me, Grace." He speaks in a half-whisper to avoid being overheard.

"Or so that I would hear..."

"Now pull yourself together!"

Now he's not asking anymore — Kaz commands, circling around me and brushing my shoulder. I can only sigh deeply, clenching my hands into fists.

I might burst into tears

Part 2?

[hetaliaimaginesin2022]

Imagine the Allies and Axis at a rave with a female partner?? Female partner invited them to a rave! Came back from edc and I miss it already!

I'm so jealous, I've wanted to go to one for a l o n g time, I'm glad you had fun! I'll be splitting this in two posts, one for the allies (this first one) and a second post for the axis :) I hope you enjoy

The Allies' Partner Taking Them To A Rave

TW// alcohol and drug use mentioned (past and present)

America • Alfred Jones

Alfred is looking forward to attending one with you the moment you start talking about your interest in them, as in his few hundred years of being alive, he's been to more than a few raves

He's really only been to some big ones in the US though, so he's not too knowledgeable of the rave customs overseas and he will not think to research them beforehand

Because of this, he definingly rocks up in a colorful outfit more belonging to the late night EDM scene regardless of the setting, and even if he sticks out like a sore thumb, he still has a blast

He just loves the loud music and the crowded environment, using his time to mingle with the other attendees, making sure to spend the majority of his focus on you

In fact, it does not matter your height or size, this boy is incredibly strong and he wants you to sit on his shoulders at least once

When the party ends and you two walk back to your little hotel room, he's talking energetically about it, already excited for the next one you two attend together

This is a side note, but he has done acid before and, if you two are close and he trusts you, he will do it again if you two talk it over beforehand

Canada • Matthew Williams

No no no no no

He will be more than happy to help you get ready or listen to you talk about it afterwards, but he's really not comfortable with the environment

He mainly likes to spend his time in nature out on hikes, surrounded by nothing but wilderness and the chilled northern air, raves however, are a loud, crowded, and hot environment, which is exactly the opposite of how he's like to spend his free time

His one issue, however, is that he has a very hard time saying no to his darling partner, so if you ask him, he'll try his best to go to one with you

At first he doesn't enjoy it in the slightest, but after some help from you (and probably smoking a bit of weed,) he relaxes a little

He absolutely stays away from the center of the warehouse and keeps mental track of where the speakers are, and honestly spends the most of his time outside (he could hear the music from the parking lot tbh)

The next morning, even though he's very burnt out, he admits he had fun, but kindly asks you to never invite him to one again

You both spend the afternoon relaxing and recharging together in a quiet calmness

China • Yao Wang

He's around 4,000 years old, he's lived a long, exciting life full of interesting and unique experiences

A rave, however, is (unsurprisingly) not one of them

In fact, he was mainly unaware of the entire subculture before you have told him about your interest

It was very hard to convince him to go to one in the first place, and he knew he wouldn't enjoy himself as soon as he heard the music from outside the building, but he decided to bite his tongue and let you enjoy your night

The entire evening, he just looked out of place

His long hair was tied back neatly, and he was wearing his regular clothing, he had a near constant expression that looked like something crossed between vague confusion and him having a headache

He ended up not particularly enjoying the night, but at least he got to experience something you would talk positively about (plus Hong Kong thinks he's a bit cooler, so it's something)

He doesn't want to go to another one, but doesn't stop you from attending anymore and will always let you talk about them

England • Arthur Kirkland

He would never admit it, but back in the 1980's when warehouse parties started gaining popularity in the UK, he attended a few raves now and then

He much more preferred the underground rock or punk scene opposed to EDM, but a loud fun illegal event is a loud fun illegal event, so who is he to complain

He was pleasantly surprised when you asked him to accompany you to one though, and he readily agreed (he didn't necessarily express his excitement)

When he gets there, he parties

The kind of music that's playing is a bit out of his norm, but he integrates into the environment surprisingly well, dancing (or an approximant of it) along with the music with you

He doesn't tell you in full, but he's very touched that you invited him and because you felt comfortable enough to do so, he offers to bring you to an underground punk/grunge concert

Attending these kinds of events sort of becomes your guys' thing

France • François Bonnefoy

When you asked him if he wanted to go to one with you, he didn't know what to expect, though he went in excited for the new experience

He's kind of enamored with the flashy and colorful rave fashion in the US raves, and while he wouldn't dress up himself, he loves seeing any special costume, makeup, or accessories you have on for it, and he'll try his best to take any pictures for you if you ask

As for the night itself, while it was very loud and cramped, he still had a lot of fun, dancing and spending time with you

At the end of the night, he's pretty exhausted and ready to go to sleep, but he immediately takes a shower when he gets to your shared hotel room before borderline passing out

He sleeps in quite late the next morning

Later he tells you that he wouldn't want to make it a too frequent of an occurrence, but he wouldn't mind going to another one with you

Russia • Ivan Braginsky

He had never considered attending a rave a single day in his life before you asked him

Much like China, he knew they were a thing, but he didn't really know any specifics

However, seeing as you were the one who asked him, he immediately agreed as soon as the words left your lips

While he had heard you talk about raves before, he didn't really know what to expect, but as it would turn out, he's a very useful person to have around in a rave

He's fun and agreeable, and incredibly tall and intimidating, so there's automatically a bubble of air around the two of you, the other people trying their best not to bump into you or the man you're with

Plus? You'll literally never lose him!!

He's so tall that, on the chance you do get separated, he's like a beacon sticking out of the crowd

As the night closes and fades to sunrise, he walks you two home safely, talking about how much fun it was

He'd go to another one with you, though that's not saying much, considering he'd do anything just to spend time with you

[jakesuit0]

Go With Me Review

“Go With Me” manages to give more insight into multiple different character dynamics in the span of 11 minutes. Finn and Bubblegum, Jake and Marceline, Finn and Marceline, and Marcy and PB have series defining moments for their relationships, with even some super insightful Finn and Jake interaction sprinkled in. Not even the 90-minute Stakes miniseries manages to accomplish that. 

Despite Finn’s puppy love for Princess Bubblegum, Finn does not understand romance nor is ready for it. Despite this, Jake pushes Finn to bring a date to couple’s movie night. Jake and Marceline encourage Finn to pursue someone who is too old for him, albeit for different reasons. Jake has a naive view of romance, and has no frame of reference for how to help a (barely) teen human boy deal with his feelings. He views Finn as someone capable of having true romantic feelings, which Finn clearly isn’t yet. Finn immediately shoots down PB’s description of the night as “romantic”. PB declines for whistling practice. I don’t think this was just an excuse to turn down Finn. Bubblegum finds Finn's crush on her cute and harmless in the first two seasons. I think she’d be willing to humor him by attending, not yet knowing the effect that kind of behavior has on Finn. Jake gives more terrible advice, pushing Finn to keep pursuing PB. 

Marcy’s introduction into this episode is great, with the slow split screen reveal of her presence. It’s also the first of many times we see her hiding inside the Treehouse. Jake reveals that he has gotten over his fear of vampires. While Marceline can still easily spook him, it's nice that Jake has finally come around to Marcy like Finn did in “Henchman”. I love how Finn and Jake both get separate mini-arcs throughout a few episodes before they each accept Marceline as a friend. Marceline not being able to go out in the sun (before they got lazy and just started photoshopping sunscreen bottles into title cards) is already enough of a barrier to work her into plots, we don’t need Jake’s fear as another one. They had a funny workaround in “It Came From the Nightosphere”, but I’m glad they retired it. I love how they still address this development. Most shows would have just given up on the running gag without an explanation to make writing episodes easier. 

In order to make Peebles jealous, Finn and Marcy pretend to have a great banter session outside Bubblegum’s window. This leads to our first ever interaction between Princess Bubblegum and Marceline, the second most iconic character duo in the series, and one of the most famous character dynamics in cartoon history. While it takes 103 episodes for Marceline to interact with Ice King, and 170 for Lumpy Space Princess, Marcy gets to interact with a member of the main cast that isn’t Finn and Jake in season two! Even without the context from future episodes, this scene gives a lot of clues to their relationship. There is clear tension between them. It is obvious they have a history, with Marceline calling PB by her first name, something we haven’t even seen Finn do up to this point. It’s satisfying seeing how well this scene works with information provided a decade later in “Obsidian”. Marceline likes to tease PB, and Bubblegum puts up a tough exterior to act like she doesn’t care about Marcy, like she did while Marcy first sang “Woke Up” in the Glass Kingdom. It’s obvious they’ve had multiple interactions similar to this over the hundreds of years since their break up. Finn’s newfound friendship with Marceline would only force these kinds of interactions to become more frequent. This is probably the most drastic example of an episode being impacted by a later installment in the series. And oh yeah, Princess Bubblegum’s first name is Bonnibel! I love how well her first name flows with Bubblegum. It’s nice having a shorter and easier name for her than “Princess Bubblegum” that isn’t just “PB”. I love getting pieces of character biography like names and ages dropped so casually.

Marceline just wants to get back at her ex as well as have fun messing with her impressionable friend like usual. Marceline literally says her reason for wanting to help is that “it'll be funny”. Of course Marcy knows that wrestling and wolves would do nothing but upset PB. She plays these pranks at the expense of Finn, but Marceline knows to not take Finn’s crush seriously in the first place. Her “advice” is as bad as Jake’s but she isn’t stupid like Jake. 

In the process of getting wolves for Marceline’s next plan, we see how much more compatible Finn is with Marcy than PB. They’re both fun, wild animals. Bubblegum reacts appropriately to Finn putting wolves in her room. It's sad seeing her ban Finn from the kingdom. She understands she is dealing with a child and that Finn has a good heart, so she keeps the door open for when Finn starts behaving better. She knows that Finn will come around and it feels more like a parent or teacher disciplining a misbehaving child. I’m sure Bubblegum realized that this was all Marcy’s doing soon enough anyway. On the other hand, the Finn Marceline pairing is a much more fun and refreshing dynamic when compared to PB and Finn. This is purposefully highlighted and something Finn comes to realize. After his latest failure, Marcy tells Finn to forget about Bonnie. I get the feeling that another motivation for Marceline was to sabotage Finn so he wouldn’t keep dealing with the heartache she knows comes with PB.

All of this sets up a fake out that the series would turn to start pushing Finn and Marceline as a romantic pairing. Finn goes to ask Marcy out to the movies instead. Someone getting this close to Marceline makes her uncomfortable. Her reaction is to try to scare Finn away, a tactic she internalized from when she thought she scared her mother away and reinforced in the downfall of her relationship with Princess Bubblegum. Marceline misinterprets Finn’s invitation as a romantic gesture. Marceline and Jake egging Finn on throughout the episode caused this. He is only barely 13, he isn’t ready for that! I like Jake rightfully feeling embarrassed for his actions. Marcy realizes Finn’s intentions and happily goes with Finn as friends. She still can’t give up messing with Finn, with the great “no tongue” comment that went right over his head. I’m very happy the series didn’t go for a Finn, PB, Marceline love triangle. It’s nice for Finn to have a female friend without any baggage. The episode teased Finnceline for the only time in the series, and then immediately shot it down forever. Well, forget about “Bad Little Boy”. I’ll discuss that episode’s implications when we get to it.                  

Finn and Marceline ditch movie night when confronted with the onslaught of make outs. They are truly perfect friends. The episode ends on wolves tearing apart the screen after a couple proclaims that nothing will ever tear them apart. There is a joke in Spongebob that is identical to this, with Plankton instead of the wolves. There is absolutely no way that it’s a coincidence. 

“Go With Me” is the third and sadly last Finn and Marceline duo episode. While I think “It Came From the Nightosphere” is the overall better episode, I think this is the best showcase of their relationship in the series. It's great seeing these character dynamics be explored in a more sitcom-y episode.

Grade: A

[dreamersbcll]

Could you write something where Tara is nervous and/ or irritable when Sam starts hanging out with some new girl. Just some good old fashioned codependency and possessiveness

“Joyous”

i’ll do you one better.

—————————————————————————

Tara wasn’t one to complain. She wasn't. When life threw the whole kitchen sink at her, she didn’t even make a peep. Nothing got under her skin because she wasn’t afforded the luxury to dwell on it all. She had to be on her toes, ready for the next attack; the next time, she would have to protect Sam.

But lately, Tara’s biggest problem was Sam’s new coworker. Haley. A tall, blond-haired girl with radiant eyes and an infectious smile. The girl stayed over one drunken night and just never left. It was like she was a permanent fixture in the sisters’ lives or at the very least, Sam’s.

She tried; she really did. But the final straw was finding the pair curled up in their bed together, sleeping soundly. Tara remembers taking the whole image in, her hands balled up and her eyes blurry with rage.

On the bedside table, there used to be a picture of the sisters’ smiling in front of the Blackmore University sign. It was replaced with a picture of Sam and Haley smiling together in their work clothes.

Every fucking picture, video, hell, even selfie together, the pair looked fucking joyous. As if Haley made the sunrise and the planet turn on its axis. As if Haley knew which smiles Sam was faking and how she preferred to be loved.

It fucking infuriated Tara.

This sixty-forty time split was too little for Tara. She needed one hundred percent of Sam’s time. She earned that time through years of fights, bloodshed, and mutually bonded trauma.

Haley wasn’t there for the last Woodsboro bloodbath, and she was nowhere near New York. She didn’t understand what it was like to be a Carpenter. And she wasn’t going to understand. Tara wasn’t going to give her a chance.

She needed to get Haley out of the picture. Tara wasn’t stupid. She knew her big sister was the sturdy frame, holding everyone around her up, and Haley was the temporary Polaroid picture that just wouldn’t get torn up.

Again, Tara tried. She really did. She tried to hang out with the girl and listen to her boring stories about being a financial advisor and how hard it was to commute from Princeton to Columbia. She had tried several dinners, shopping trips, and movie nights. None of it worked. The girl was still a parasite stuck to Sam’s back, draining her of the ability to love Tara.

And she was fucking tired of competing for Sam’s attention. Tara didn’t deserve this half-assed treatment. Sam chose her first and decided to love her first as well.

Sam was hers first. Not Haley’s. And she would never be Haley’s.

Tara figured that if there were no picture, there would be no frame. She needed to get rid of Haley quickly and quietly.

——

Stumbling back inside her apartment, she tried to breathe in and steady her breath. She couldn’t remember the last time she had run six entire city blocks, as she wasn’t in shape for it.

Leaning against the door, she tilted her head back, eyes closed in concentration. Her blood ached with exhilaration, her chest fluttering with joy. She didn’t realize how cathartic it was to release her emotions like that.

But Tara forgot to check if Sam was home, so when the kitchen light flickers on, she knows she’s caught.

Opening her eyes, she made eye contact with her sister, who leaned against the kitchen door frame, her arms crossed, face stoic. Gritting her teeth, her face glistened with sweat, her eyes still wild with euphoria.

She was caught. But she wasn’t sorry.

Sam walked up to her, eyes raking over the disheveled image that was her baby sister. Braided hair was frizzy and tangled as if someone had yanked at them in distress. Blood smeared across one cheek, splatters flecked on blue jeans. Coupled with the torn t-shirt and blossoming bruises under the left eye, Tara had looked better.

Tara wasn’t going to apologize. She did what she had to do. She didn’t start the fight, but she damn well would finish it. Sam taught her that much.

Shoot them in the head, don’t stop until they aren’t moving. Never fuck with the daughter of a serial killer. Or the sister of one.

She pushed off the door, getting in Sam’s face, daring her to tell her that what she did was wrong. Begging Sam to make a move, force Tara to feel sorry for taking out the girl that took her spot in the bed they shared.

Instead, Sam did neither of those things. She clicked her tongue in disapproval, reaching over and rubbing the blood stain off Tara’s cheek. Tara leaned into the touch, still watching Sam’s eyes. Her face was stony, but her eyes sparkled with love and approval.

Tara grinned wide, knowing she had Sam wrapped around her finger. She smugly crossed her arms over her chest, letting Sam wipe the blood off her face.

Breaking the silence, Sam spoke one sentence.

“Did you make a scene?”

Tara shook her head, the grin making her face ache in glee.

“No. You taught me not to. I did what you showed me. And I did it so well,” she purred, enjoying the way Sam’s breath caught in her throat.

Her sister then smiled back, a real Cheshire cat grin. She pulled Tara in for a hug, the two melding into one another. Tara breathed a sigh of relief into her sister’s chest, her heart bursting with love at how gently Sam touched her.

“Took you long enough, honey. I wasn’t going to wait any longer for you to end it,” Sam hummed, kissing her head.

Tara rolled her eyes but still clung to her sister, her smile a permanent fixture for the rest of the night.

She was the original photo. Nobody fucks with the original.

[handeaux]

Cincinnati’s Domestic Servants Endured Long Hours And Harassment For A Pittance

With the dawn of the new century in 1901, Cincinnati housemaids attempted to organize a union. That collective bargaining initiative didn’t last the year but offered some insight into the lives of domestic servants at that time.

According to Jesse Partlon, pioneering woman reporter for the Cincinnati Post [26 March 1901], the president of the nascent union was Maria “Maggie” Schuler, who was employed by the family of confectioner Samuel E. Elliott at their home on Gilbert Avenue. Nora Murphy, who boarded on Hackberry Street, was vice president. Mollie Dougherty, the treasurer, “did for” Matilda Besuden, wife of tobacconist Henry J. Besuden out on Duck Creek Road.

The union organizers were hardly inflammatory radicals. Their demands involved being treated with respect, reasonable sleeping accommodations, a fair wage ($2.50 weekly!) and permission to meet suitors indoors:

“Rule 6. Members must have an agreement with their employers about receiving company. Every girl is entitled to a beau, else she will never get married, and she owes it to her self-respect not to meet him at the corner.”

According to reporter Partlon, there were about 30 members of the Housemaids Union, a minuscule sample of the women employed locally as domestic servants in 1901. The United States Census recorded more than 8,000 domestic servants in Cincinnati in 1900, about evenly split between housemaids and cooks and almost exclusively female. A weekly salary of $2.50 was typical, with room and board included. The hours were grueling, from 5:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. at night. Partlon went undercover and got herself hired at a middle-class home. On reporting for duty, the household cook outlined her duties:

“The first thing you do in the morning is fill up the furnace and take out the ashes; then you take the snow shovel and clean the walks around the house and the front pavement; then you blacken the shoes, there are two men in this house, and then brush their coats and the Missus’ skirts – you’ll find them outside their doors. After that you dust the halls. About that time I have breakfast ready and you must wait on the tables.”

You heard right – all of that was before breakfast! After breakfast was a round of sweeping, making the beds, dusting and polishing, laundry, mending, picking up after the children and pampering the pets. Despite this backbreaking agenda, the “Missus” rarely trusted the help. According to Partlon:

“My employer insisted on following me all over the house the first day I was there, and never let me out of her sight for a moment. She locked every drawer and closet in the house right before my eyes, putting the keys in her pocket. ‘You see, I don’t know a thing about you,’ she said, in answer to my look of astonishment. ‘One can’t be too careful.’”

It is no wonder that so many young women departed domestic service at the soonest opportunity. Partlon interviewed a couple of housemaids who confessed that they would prefer to work in a factory or a store, primarily because they would have evenings off. They were reluctant to leave domestic service, however, because factory pay wasn’t much better and room and board wasn’t covered.

Partlon’s exposé touched some nerves in Cincinnati. One “Missus,” writing pseudonymously as “Nanette Napoleon,” chastised the Post for printing a series of articles supporting the grievances of housemaids who were unlikely to return the favor by buying a subscription.

“In hundreds of homes incompetent girls are taken in at HIGH wages, have to be taught how to work, are trained by careful housewives whose patience never ceases, who think all the while that for their labor they will finally have a good servant, only to find that they are met with impertinence and that they have trained them for someone else, for as soon as the girl thinks she knows it all, off she goes without a moment’s warning.”

In contrast, a housemaid congratulated the Post on the articles and complained about the tricks used by employers to undercut attempts by their servants to locate better positions.

“When one woman telephones to another about a girl who has applied for employment, this is the reference that is often heard: ‘She is all right, except for something I cannot tell just at present.’ That is worse than slander, and sends many a loyal woman to ruin or an early grave.”

In general, the housemaids told the Post, women employed by Cincinnati’s wealthier families were treated fairly well. It was the parvenus who earned the ire of servants.

“Girls in middle-class families who do general housework are subjected to treatment that makes them long for other employment. Often they have to sleep in cold rooms in the bitterest weather. Often – far more often than you would believe – they are stinted in their food.”

By 1909, changes in household management and improvements in factory conditions encouraged so many young women to find work other than domestic service that Cincinnati society women complained “no one wants to work anymore.” Carrie B. Haworth, who ran an employment agency on Ninth Street, told the Post [9 July 1909]:

“The average American girl doesn’t want positions as house servant. She has too many beaus, and, besides, she doesn’t like the work.”

Still, there were enough servants employed in Cincinnati in 1909 that new apartment houses were designed with servants’ quarters on the top floor. That arrangement led to its own unique complaints, according to the Post [29 December 1909]:

“This system was considered most ideal when started, but it is now considered the most diabolical agency for gossip ever invented, say the flat-dwellers who own servants. The result is that every family in the house knows what’s going on in every other family, via the servants, who get the news from each other when they go to their own apartments in the evening.”

Among the apartment buildings cited as the worst gossip mills was the Navarre Flats, still located today on Gilbert Avenue in Walnut Hills.

According to the U.S. Census, Cincinnati’s servant population declined from 8,000 in 1900 to 3,000 in 1920 and to just over 1,000 in 1950.

[ladyinsertnamehere]

4 AM Catastrophizing

A Doolly hurt/comfort fic :)

summary: Polly helps Doom down from a spiral/panic attack

split into two parts: the main post plus a reblog

3:50 AM It was Doom's bladder that stirred him awake. The rat yawned, stretched, then sleepily waddled off to the bathroom. As he did what he needed to do, his mind started wandering. Wandering to how lucky he was to be with people who loved him for who he was, and forgave what he had done. Wandering to the time before ever having seen the hospital, to being naive and ready to face the world. Wandering to how many years they spent in that place, how many people he's seen, how many lives were lost. How many lives he was forced to take. Forced to ruin. Forced to betray, to not even get a chance to apologize, to not even get the chance to bargain for their life. Wandering to just how many souls left this world believing him a monster. And he was. He traded several innocent lives for the life of his sister. It was a selfish desire, he saw now, to keep someone that meant so much to you alive, while destroying the lives of patients who also had families and friends that meant the world to them. To save the one connection to himself rather than the hundreds of others. 3:55 His mind kept wandering. Wandering to the court hearings. To the ultimatum: either expose that hellhole for what it truthfully was, indicting yourself but making sure that pink bastard never laid a finger on anyone else; or receive government compensation in the form of a house, money, a new life, and safety for the people you love, but having to lie to do so. He was allowed to walk free, but that meant so was the heart of the operation. That nasty devilspawn faced absolutely no consequences, no punishment for all the harm he'd done, no retribution or justice to make up for the countless lives lost. He had blood on his hands and they let him walk in society. 3:57 Doom lathered their hands with soap at the sink. What if he did it again? they thought. What if he started up a new hospital - promising this one would be even better, luring in a whole new group of innocents while his wrinkled little fingers were crossed behind his back? What if he was allowed to continue practice, using the forced confessions as a bolster for his own reputation, making him untouchable? 3:59 Doom met his own eyes in the mirror. What if Cuddles is ruining even more lives, and it's all my fault? Backing away into the wall, Doom brought two hands to his muzzle and clasped the other two, hoping not to wake the others if he started sobbing. The tears prickled out from the corners of his eyes already, as he slid down the wall into a sitting, curled-up position. He could already feel his heart beating faster and his breath getting shallower and quicker, but those were soon drowned out by the fog of his mind whirring - it's all my fault. His hands started to tremble. It's all my fault. He already felt dizzy. His stomach felt tight, like he needed to expel all contents right now. It's all my fault it's all my fault it's all my - "Doom? Are you alright?" A voice came from the doorway. Polly was standing there, looking at Doom, worried. The rat was shivering and shaking, vision blurred by tears. His throat let out a deep wail without his mind's permission. "Oh, Dooby," Polly knelt down to where Doom had sat on the floor. The rat reached their arms out and curled them tightly around the fox, the faint coolness soothing his burning cheeks and mind. Polly's hands glided lightly up and down Doom's back. Doom's hitching breath steadily slowed down to match with Polly's.

[bonaxie]

We're here for you (Comfy-vember day 16)

Kakashi could take care of himself. He was 14 years old. He was Anbu. He went on missions several hundred kilometers from the village alone. He could fend for himself in any situation.

And with a wound 15cm long and 2cm deep on his right flank? Yes, of course he could take care of himself.

Of course he could stop the bleeding on his own. Of course he could bandage himself. Of course he could return to the village alone.

He just had to wait a little for the dizziness from blood loss to subside. He just had to wait until he was able to stand up without fainting immediately.

Everything was fine. He had the situation under control and everything was fine. He was alright.

Was he alright?

Seriously, who was he trying to convince?

Kakashi hadn't been alright since his father's death. Kakashi hadn't been alright for ten years. But as always, if he worked hard enough, if he drowned himself in his work, he'd get through it.

So everything was fine. He was doing fine, and he was doing just fine on his own. But apparently not everyone agreed with that, not even Pakkun, one of his Ninken who disagreed with him so much he'd just summoned himself.

"Why is it when I come you're always like this?" The dog asked with a sigh.

"And why do you always come when I haven't called you?" Kakashi replied, leaning his head against the trunk behind him and closing his eyes.

"I have my Kakashi-sense that goes off every time you do something stupid. And it happens a lot. Too often. You need to be more careful."

"I'm fine."

"Clearly." Pakkun rolled his eyes. "What happened this time?" He asked as he stood up, approaching the teenager.

"A stray kunai. But you should see its owner's state." Kakashi scoffed before wincing and hissing in pain.

"Tell me about it. Did you disinfect it at least?" The pug asked, coming over to sniff the bandage.

"No time. It was disinfect or bleed out."

Pakkun seemed to frown but said nothing. "Have you been drinking?"

"No more water in my rations and haven't had time to look for the river yet."

"Hm."

Pakkun took a step back and barked once. And the other 7 ninken appeared in a cloud of smoke.

Kakashi sighed again. A sigh that soon turned into a coughing fit.

"Urushi, Shiba, Uhei, stand guard. Akino, I need the water bottles in your saddlebags. Bisuke, I need the ration bars. Guruko, come and help me, and Bull, get ready to carry Kakashi back to the village." Pakkun ordered, taking the lead as always.

"I can walk back to Konoha." Kakashi protested weakly.

"Says the kid with his flank split open." Pakkun retorted, the other ninken springing into action.

Akino, Bisuke, Guruko and Bull moved closer to Kakashi and Pakkun, while Urushi, Shiba and Uhei moved further away, forming a protective circle a few dozen meters from the wounded man.

Akino, Bisuke and Guruko then untied the saddlebags they were carrying, placing them right next to Kakashi, who opened them one by one under the watchful eye of his dogs. He first took out the water flask and drank a little, before biting into a ration bar. Once these two things were done, he turned his attention to the contents of Guruko's satchel, the medical equipment.

"Do you think you can remove that bandage, clean up and make a new one without bleeding to death?" Pakkun asked.

"That should do it." The ninja said simply.

After dropping their saddlebags, Akino moved to Kakashi's left, while Bisuke moved to the other side and Guruko stood two meters in front of the teenager, all three sitting upright and on the lookout. Bull, for his part, had gone to stand guard behind Kakashi's back, behind the tree he was leaning against.

With his guard firmly in place and Pakkun there to guide him, Kakashi took a deep breath and changed his bandages. It was far from pleasant, but at least the wound wasn't bleeding as much as before. The ninja wasn't sure if this was good news, but it made changing the bandages much easier.

Once this was done, he stowed everything he'd used in his ninken saddlebags and went to stand up. But Pakkun prevented him from getting up by planting himself in his lap.

"What now? I've cleaned my wound, I've eaten, I've drunk, what more do you want me to do? I can't stay here forever, we've got to get back to Konoha." Kakashi protested.

"Yes, but if you just stand up like that, you'll fall back immediately. Akino, Bull, help him."

Akino and Bull immediately moved to stand on either side of Kakashi, allowing the teenager to lean on them to get to his feet.

Once on his feet, his head began to spin a little and he put one hand on the tree and the other on Bull's back to keep himself upright.

"Are you sure you're up to walking?" Pakkun insisted, sitting in front of him.

"I’m fine, I was just a little lightheaded." Replied the ninja, straightening up completely.

Pakkun didn't answer, but he wasn't satisfied. Kakashi was far too pale for his taste, and he honestly didn't think he'd be able to walk several hours all the way back to Konoha, but he also knew how stubborn the silver-haired one was.

So he didn't add anything verbally and stood up, ready to set off.

Seeing that his mama dog had nothing more to say, Kakashi whistled, calling his ninken back to him.

Bull stayed just to his left and Akino to his right, while the others moved into position. Bisuke positioned himself a few meters behind Kakashi, Guruko a few meters in front, with Pakkun riding on Bull's back. Kakashi could only catch a glimpse of them, but he also knew that Shiba, Uhei and Urushi had moved a little, positioning themselves in an arc about 30 meters ahead of the others.

And so the little troupe set off. And although he probably wouldn't admit it out loud, Kakashi was relieved to have his ninken with him. With Pakkun leading them, Bull supporting him and the other 6 keeping an eye on the surroundings, the teenager could concentrate on his walk.

And it was a complicated enough task in itself, because with every step, his wound moved a little and was impossible to ignore. And it's a good thing his ninken had summoned themselves and weren't relying on Kakashi's chakra to stay by his side, because the Anbu was feeling his reserves running dangerously low.

Despite this, Kakashi managed to walk for a good 3 hours before tripping over a large root and falling to the ground on all fours, despite the presence of Akino and Bull at his side.

"Kakashi!" Pakkun exclaimed as he jumped to the ground, heading for the young shinobi. "How about you stop being a stubborn idiot and let Bull carry you?"

"No... We've done more than half. I can hold on." the youngster persisted.

"We've been going like this for over three hours now and you can't take it anymore. You're hurt, exhausted, and it's getting dark. Let us help you." Pakkun almost implored.

Kakashi didn't listen to him and stood up, only to fall back a step later, his head spinning too much and his legs shaking too much to carry him.

"Stop being a mule. We're here for you, let us help." The pug lectured.

Okay, Kakashi thought, maybe Pakkun is right he thought, as his vision became so blurred he couldn't even make out Pakkun, who was barely a meter away.

"Okay..." He relented, panting slightly. "Okay, Bull can you-"

Kakashi didn't have time to say anything else before he passed out, slumping to the ground.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it wasn't the first time Kakashi had lost consciousness like that, leaving it to his ninken to carry him back to Konoha alive. So, inevitably, it was less easy to hoist the teenager onto Bull's back when he was unconscious, but it wasn't impossible and less than 10 minutes after stopping, the 8 dogs set off again, Kakashi unconscious on Bull's back, who was carrying him.

With Kakashi unconscious and therefore no longer slowing them down, the ninken were able to accelerate and it took them just two more hours to reach the gates of Konoha.

There, Kakashi was immediately taken to hospital, and fortunately for them, no one tried to stop the ninken from following, or to wait in the shinobi's room for him to wake up.

The first few times they'd brought Kakashi back unconscious, the hospital staff had tried to keep them out. Let's just say that these people had new scars. Teeth-shaped scars.

Never get between a ninken and their master, that was a basic rule.

Fortunately, this time there was no problem, and as soon as Kakashi was settled in his room, his ninken were at his side, standing guard.

It was in this environment that Kakashi regained consciousness.

He was confused for a moment, but immediately recognized the ceiling of the Konoha hospital. It also felt like weights on his legs. He looked around slightly and saw that his dogs were still there.

Pakkun was curled up in a ball on his chest, Uhei in the same position at the end of his bed, Bisuke was stretched out beside him, Shiba spread out on his legs and Urushi pinned down his left arm. Bull was lying on the floor, just to the right of the bed, Guruko was a little further away, lying on the window sill and Akino in the same position at the door.

They all seemed to be fast asleep, but Kakashi knew that at the slightest intrusion, they were all ready to pounce to protect him.

The young shinobi passed a loving glance over all his dogs, telling himself that even if he was alone, he was very lucky to have them by his side.

And it was with this thought that he closed his eyes, listening to his body for once and deciding to sleep a little longer.

And pinned like he was by his ninken, he had no choice but to go back to sleep. So he accepted his fate and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the slow, steady breathing of his dogs.

@comfy-vember