#but she ended up gutting like all of her morals to climb the ranks and is currently sitting in ‘it’s not the right time’ limbo

[arolesbianism]

Finally got around to designing some of the oldest members of the og magic cat world story, yknow only took me like 5 years fhfksgkfg

[heresathreebee]

Dirty Water

Benny 'Borracho' Magalon x Robyn Banks (Black!OC)

Summary: Robb met a couple of shady characters calling themselves cops. Well it just so happens they are, and they're worse than she first thought.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k words

Rating/Warning(s): +16 Mature | kidnapping, mild torture, tied up, wanna be clear: IRL I do not condone hooking up with a person who kidnapped you or was complicit in kidnapping you, it just don't work out like that in reality

AN: so basically I'm gonna write and post this in whatever order I please, then go back and figure it out later. Since my brain has jumped back on the Pascal bandwagon, it's hard to focus outside of his body of work but I'm still coming back to this story with relative ease.

Just when she'd started to warm up again, a another shower of ice cold mop water was pitched over her head. Robyn sputtered and coughed, trying not to swallow the suds in her mouth or let them see her cry to keep the dirt out of her eyes. From the shadows that danced beyond her eyelids, she could tell the alleged cop who called himself Nick was crouching in front of her. 

"Last chance, sweetheart," the dirty cop said. "Tell me how you know Tony D'Onofrio." 

Fuck. 

Seven years ago, two federal agents walked in on officer Robyn Banks being sentenced to traffic duty. She didn't mind– she was fed up with the secrets her colleagues were forcing her to keep anyways. Maybe stepping down could help her clear her head, maybe give her time to compartmentalize those events and feelings. Only now could she say that the rest of her career was already out of her hands. 

"Those agents on that file? They approached me about D'Onofrio. Said he was my moby dick. Made a big deal about 'justice' and 'law and order' and 'the sanctity of the badge." Robyn spit more mop water onto the floor and continued, "I told them I didn't know what the fuck it had to do with me and they just sorta looked at each other." 

The blond man– Nick called him Z, she thinks– crossed his arms. "Quit jerkin us around, Banks, get to the fucking point." 

Nick held up a hand. "Easy, tiger. I asked for a story and that's what I'm hearing. Keep going, Robbie." 

Robyn scowled on the inside. "They told me he was my father. More like a sperm donor than anything, he probably didn't even know I was alive." 

"Now that is interesting," Nick purred. 

He cut the zip tie binding her arm to the rolly chair and handed her a towelette to wipe her eyes. She dared not reach for the tie on her other arm, lest her captors think she's pulling a move to escape. Instead she dabbed the sweat and mop water that soaked into the skin of her neck and face to pause and think about her next words. 

"That was the basis of the deal. I join their investigation undercover, see if I can get somewhere with my connection, and help them put one of the biggest crime bosses on this side of the coast away for good. In exchange, I get to call the shots, they'd put in a good word with my CO and elevate me to detective status instead of beat cop." 

"Thought you liked being a beat cop," the one in the silk flamingo shirt said. 

"Apparently nobody believes that." 

"So," Nick steepled his fingers beneath his aquiline nose in thought, "your end of the deal wasn't even your idea? How does that work?" 

"Sounds like she got something else out of it," the bald man in the white polo accused. 

Robyn glared at him, but she didn't contradict him. If she wanted to be listened to, she needed to stay calm. Stay calm, stay alive. Go home with the minimal amount of PTSD. 

"Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?" When nobody raised any more objections, she continued. "I agreed to their terms. Next I know, I'm climbing the criminal ladder, dropping bread crumbs about my parentage, two years goes by, yada yada yada, and then bam. I have a meeting with the heir apparent to the Italian mafia. 

"At that meeting I told Tony D'Onofrio he knew my mother and that I knew they had been dating around the time I was born–" 

"Conceived–" 

"Yeah that– he stared at me for so long I forgot how to breathe and then… he… believed me." 

A pin dropped somewhere in the empty parking garage. A dog barked wildly a mile away but could still be heard in the silence that followed. Robyn still couldn't believe he'd bought it either. 

"He just… believed you," Nick said skeptically. 

Robyn could do nothing but shrug. "I never got the details, I couldn't ask my mom about it and Tony never gave me any indication that he knew about me before that meeting. He just asked me what I wanted and did it." 

Nick dragged his eyes over her form, shivering and glistening, and then-- "what did you ask him?" 

Robyn felt her eyes gloss over as she tried to remember what mysterious force compelled her to say the exact right words. "I told him all I wanted was for him to know, to see him with my own eyes and know he was real. I said I didn't need any favors or special treatment. I just needed some closure." 

That was all. And the agents had been fucking furious with her. They had accused her of using them, of being a traitor and a spy for D'Onofrio or a mastermind cat-woman type villain and all manner of other terrible things. They were ready to pull the plug on the whole operation when Tony had offered her a better job. A job where she would come face- to- face with every schmoe on Tony's payroll. 

"Tony offered me a job 'running errands.' Not quite in his inner circle but higher in his ranks than I had any business being," Robyn said. "Most of the people doing these jobs were kids, easy to get around the city undetected and reliable. Now he knew I wasn't a kid but I guess he wanted to see more from me, put his best eyes on me to see if I was legit." 

Nick nodded and stood up (his knees popping like broken branches). He walked over to Murphy in the flamingo shirt and passed a few inaudible words between them. Robyn wasn't skilled in the art of lip reading, and failed to catch anything from Murphy except the word 'pointless.' It rubbed her the wrong way, sending a spark of fear through her that quickly dulled back into the numbness of being helplessly bound to a chair. She needed to finish this soon before she completely cracked. 

Nick returned to her side, chasing some pepto bismol with a flask of what smelled like tequila in it. "That's a very sweet story, Robbie, really it is. But… what I wanna know is why you're not in this file." 

"That's not what you asked me," she griped, then backpedaled into, "I'm trying to tell you why I'm not in the file. But in order to tell you that, I have to tell you what was left out of the file first. I'm getting to the point, I just… there's a lot of shit to sift through." 

Nick nodded like a patient father (yeah, right). "Just the good parts then." 

"Yeah," she nodded quickly, "just the good parts..." 

"The good parts, uhm. Well he did learn to trust me. I barely had to do anything just… let him try to kindle a relationship between us. I started calling him dad at his request, nobody bothered me or questioned me after that and I didn't abuse it, expect on the downlow giving info to the feds. He liked that about me– he liked me. We'd talk about my mom and he'd let his guard slip, started taking me to his meetings and asking me to deliver his important paperwork." 

"I let him think I was with him and documented everything I could for six more years." In truth, she had had some doubts. About putting him away and the vacuum of power it would create, about the dichotomy of good versus evil, about her career. In that last year, she had actually warmed to the idea of becoming a detective and getting to do work with her own moral backbone and not someone else's. "We made the arrest January 19th and put him away for a dime." 

Nick leaned so far forward in his chair Rob had to lean back. "This is the part where you wrap it up, sweetcheeks." 

Robyn gulped. "Gomer and Valentine pushed me out. They'd been acting really strange at the end, wearing these shit eating grins and looking at each other, and then they iced me out. Had me fired on the grounds that I was too close to the perp, used a fucking Christmas photo for evidence. There went the Italian mob's heir and seven years of hardwork, and I wouldn't even be mentioned by name in the case file. No testimony, no credit, just a dishonorable discharge and dumped on my ass in the streets." 

"Wow." Nick rubbed a hand down his face like he was the exhausted one. "That's quite the story, princess." 

He looked at each of his mates, every face stonier than the last. Especially the silent one's, the latino guy. Then he looked back at Robyn and smiled with a lot of teeth. 

"I do have some questions though, if you'll let me." Sure like I have a choice. "Now it wasn't public knowledge you were in on the investigation, but I find it hard to believe your dad's lackeys didn't know it was you who turned him in. And what I find even harder to believe is that they'd let you live for it." 

Robyn said nothing. There was a part of her that didn't quite grasp it either. When she had arrested him, when she'd slapped the cuffs on him herself and read him his Miranda rights, after the shock of her betrayal wore off, Tony had congratulated her. 

"I'm proud of you, kid. You may be a narc but at least you got your head straight. You got guts, kid." 

As far as she understood it, his last order as the leader of the mafia was not to harm her in any way. Nobody bothered her. They still knew her face on the streets, sent glares her way but never touched her. One of his underlings had come to her place and suggested she skip town permanently just to be safe. It was not a courtesy she ever expected from anyone let alone a man with a reputation for high profile robbery and murder. 

She didn't know what to expect. "I guess he really did love me." And Nick left it at that. 

~

Robyn was unbound, blindfolded, and dumped right back onto the street those so called cops had snatched her from. Her legs shook as she walked the last block to her place, utterly miserable and in desperate need of some sleep. Maybe tomorrow she could figure out what the fuck her life had come to. She showered (and cried) and picked up the half drunk beer from her fridge and brought it out on her front steps, taking a sip of the flat beverage and wishing it was something stronger. 

People passed below her on the streets, never once looking up. The traffic never disappeared but it did lull this time of night. She didn't mean to– barely noticed she was doing it– but she found a pack of cigarettes in her overcoat and lit one up. 

"Next time," she promised herself. I'll try to quit next time. 

Just as she was beginning to ease the tension that had been weighing on her all night, a man climbed the steps to her building and pointedly slowed down to a stop a few feet away from her. She chanced a glare at him and found him no stranger which was somehow infinitely worse. 

"Fuck off," her nerves got the better of her, "I told you everything, can't I at least get some sleep first?!" 

The man lifted his hands in defense, carrying a bottle in a brown bag in one of them. He was, well, he was the handsome one. The Cuban with the neck tattoo and broad shoulders. His eyes seemed a lot softer now Despite the dark setting. 

"Swear on my life, I'm not here for Nick." He took a single step up, waiting to see how she'd react, and when she didn't run, he took another and set the covered bottle down next to her before backing off. Still skeptical, Robyn carefully unwrapped the thing, revealing an expensive looking wine label. Dark red. "It's an apology," he explained with his hands in his pockets, "Nick thinks he's this big, clever actor but he can be a real bully when he drinks." 

Robyn gave him the 'do I look like an idiot' eyebrow and he had the decency to look at his feet. "We could really use your help with this, Banks. Nick forgot to mention the part where Tony was put on parole for good behavior. He'll be out tomorrow." 

"He what." That's just the thing isn't it? The case that ended her career permanently and he just got to walk off after only serving two years of his sentence. That was the real crime here. Robyn gritted her teeth, gripped the neck of the bottle and squeezed. She started shaking it like it was her criminal father, or the weasel federal agents who took her credit, or the dirty cops who kidnapped her tonight. 

Borracho looked concerned. "Do you need a corkscrew or– " 

Robyn shrugged off her jacket and looked him dead in the eye as she wrapped it around the base of the bottle and gently banged it on the porch step until the cork exploded into the air (along with a third of the bottle's contents but whatever). Borracho raised a hand to protect his face from the spray, and turned away to hide a silly grin. 

"Nevermind," he said, shaking the excess drink off his hand. "Listen, if he calls you about anything, please let us know." 

He pointed to the bag, which had a phone number on it. "Don't let your work be in vain." 

"You try that line on everybody?" Rob was feeling a little facetious in the face of mercy, over tired from the revelations, and pissed off by these fucking pigs. "Your good cop, bad cop routine needs some balance. Did you know I was kidnapped today? Now this wine is a start but you'd better step it up, good cop." 

He started to walk away but she called out, "I got Nick, Z, and Murphy. Clocked 'Gus' by the name written on his underwear. Which one are you?" 

"Benny," he threw back, and disappeared into the nighttime traffic. 

"Benny," Rob scoffed. "Cute ass." 

Robb drank the equivalent of two glasses, then passed out from exhaustion. She slept dreamlessly and tried to forget last night had ever happened. Benny, in the meantime, returned to the office where his crew was huddled around a phone receiver. 

"Don't appreciate you throwing me under the bus, B," Nick growled from his seat. 

"Shup up and drink this," Benny pushed the glass of raw eggs closer to his boss' hand, a so called 'hangover cure'. Nick shrunk back a little.

"Told you she'd be sweet on him," Z elbowed Murphy in the ribs and ignored his protesting 'um actually I said that.' 

"Wouldn't call her sweet," Benny said, grunting as he took up residence at his own desk. "She looked like a feral cat." 

Nick laughed. "Yeah well don't go getting mixed up with that pussy, B, we've got work to do." 

It was gonna be another long night for everybody. 

[whumptopia]

In the Underdark

d&d oc ladywhump commissioned by @silentlygo

content warnings: female whump, minor character death, graphic violence, blood, and brief mentions of nausea

—

Baenviir is not unfamiliar with the Underdark. She is half-drow, after all. Her dark blue skin is a testament to her heritage. Below the surface of the sunlit world, she knows what dangers to look out for. She treads lightly, her golden eyes peeled at all times. This is not her first time in the Underdark, and she prays it will not be her last.

She cannot confidently say the same for her current traveling companions, however. Her faction has tentatively formed an alliance with another group in an attempt to strengthen their numbers. They need all the help they can get if they hope to stand a chance against the new threat brewing in the Underdark. Still, she doesn’t exactly mix well with her new associates. She’s never been the most sociable or quick to trust, especially not down here where lives can be so easily snuffed out. It’s best not to grow attached.

And yet… Gaheris.

She tried to ignore the human man at first, but putting him out of her mind proved to be extraordinarily difficult considering how loud he was. Granted, you could never be truly loud in the Underdark if you wanted to stay safe, but Gaheris’ talkative manner pushed at the boundaries of safety. Most of the members of her group ignored him, signifying the divide between the two factions, but she once made the terrible mistake of muttering a sarcastic remark in response to one of his over-the-top attempts to unite the two parties. Upon hearing her speak, he immediately directed his efforts toward her, and she’s been stuck with him ever since.

The thing is, Gaheris isn’t a bad person. In fact, he’s rather obnoxiously noble. He’s not helpless, either, with his knight-status, gleaming armor, and longsword. She has no real reason to reject his acquaintance, and yet…

It’s the Underdark. Not exactly the best place to make new friends.

Baenviir may not be unfamiliar with the region as a whole, but she is a stranger to the caves her party is currently navigating. Her and Gaheris walk side-by-side down the path, situated somewhere near the center of the group, their weapons strapped to their belts and their packs slung over their shoulders. They’ve been traveling for days, and even though she would never admit it, she’s exhausted. 

Gaheris playfully nudges her shoulder. “Nothing like a pleasant stroll through some creepy caves to brighten the spirits, eh?”

Baenviir shoots him a glare, taking a step to the right to create some much needed distance between them. “Just wait until we come across a Beholder. That’ll really lighten the mood.”

The knight chuckles, amused. His green eyes glint in the dim light of the caverns. “Y’know, down here it feels more like we’re on vacation than anything. I mean, everyone we’ve met so far has been so hospitable.”

She snorts. “Yeah? Like the kobolds we ran into the other day?”

Gaheris grins. “Exactly!”

“One of them bit Valeheart’s calf like a rabid dog would,” she points out, cringing when she visualizes the nasty infection the human man is currently combating.

The knight falters slightly. “Well, we can’t all be winners.”

“You don’t mean that,” she says, well-aware of the goody-two-shoes morality hidden underneath his teasing.

“I don’t,” he admits, giving her a sideways smile, “I just like getting under your skin. I have to repay you for those drow lessons somehow!”

Baenviir hums in acknowledgement. It’s true he owes her for the kindness and attention she’s bestowed upon him. After all, she isn’t handing out drow language lessons to just anybody. He’s her only student. She doesn’t intend to make him pay her for her tutelage, however. She’s only helping him because she wants to. Besides, it gives her something to do.

She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can form words, a bloodcurdling scream echoes throughout the chamber. The sound stops her heart and sends chills rolling down her spine.

Immediately, her hands fly to her scythes, her fingers curling instinctively around the hilts as she scans her surroundings. She can’t pinpoint where the commotion is coming from at first, but, a moment later, an arrow soars over her head and lodges itself into a traveler behind her. The attackers must be charging from the front, then.

Gaheris unsheathes his sword, standing close beside her in a display of loyalty. He won’t leave her. Whatever threat comes, they’ll tackle it together.

In a matter of seconds, the previously peaceful cave descends into chaos, battle cries and magical blasts filling the air. Their travel formation immediately dissolves as enemies break through their ranks. Orcs, armed to the teeth and seemingly intent on slaughtering them all, rush forward. Baenviir grips her curled, poisoned-soaked blades and clenches her jaw, feet spread wide in a fighting stance. An enemy strikes down the party member in front of her, but before the orc can turn his attention to her, Gaheris slashes his sword across his abdomen, spilling his guts. Baenviir cuts his throat for good measure, ducking to the side to avoid being crushed when he topples to the ground.

She doesn’t spare a moment to gloat (she’s too much of a seasoned warrior to gloat). Spinning around, she lunges toward the nearest enemy, stabbing the orc in the thigh, making her howl in agony. She manages to land a punch, and the blow leaves Baenviir winded, forcing her to take a step back. Before her opponent can strike again, she slams both her blades into the orc’s chest. The metal sinks in deep, past cartilage and slipping between the bones of her ribs. Blood spills from the orc’s lips, and Baenviir rips her scythes free, her teeth bared in ferocity. The orc falls at her feet, and she moves on.  

Her golden eyes narrowed in determination, her heart pounding furiously, she searches for Gaheris in the mess of carnage. As she makes her way through the crowd, cutting anyone who comes too close as she steps over the wounded and dying, worry seeps through the cracks of her mental fortress. What if he’s already been slain?

Finally, she spots him several yards away, engaged in battle with two orcs, his expression twisted into a snarl. Before she can even start in his direction, a sword slashes his side, leaving a sizable dent in his armor. From where she stands, she can see his mouth fall open in a pained yell, but she can’t hear his voice over the clamor of battle.

Her pulse spikes, and she sprints forward, leaping onto the back of the orc who attacked her friend, slicing his neck. Her scythes dig so deep, she nearly decapitates him, his hot blood gushing onto her hands. Even though he’s dying, the orc manages to grab hold of her and throw her off. She lands on the rocky ground with a thud, grunting. One of her blades slips from her hands, and as she rolls over to reach for the handle, a heavy boot connects with her side. Pain blossoms across her ribs, and she groans. Curling into herself to protect herself from further damage, Baenviir awaits the next blow. 

It never comes.

She opens her eyes just in time to see Gaheris finish off the orc who attacked her, his longsword running him through. With a huff of effort and a boot planted against the orc’s protruding stomach, he wrenches his weapon free, staggering back as he does so. Baenviir snatches both her scythes and climbs to her feet, kicking the back of the orc’s knees to ensure he goes down.

Panting, she looks the knight in the eye, searching to see if he’s alright. He shrugs, gesturing to his wounded thigh. His leg armor has been penetrated, and red drips from the gash in his trousers. Baenviir’s stomach flips at the sight. He won’t be much use in a fight with an injury like that.

“Baenviir!”

The shout pulls her gaze from Gaheris’s wound to his face, which is alight with a primal fear that can only be found in the realm of death. His wide eyes are looking past her, so she spins around, and—

Another body slams into her own, knocking her back several feet. She trips over a dead body and loses her balance, her arms pinwheeling as she falls backwards. She faintly expects to land on the stone path, but instead she falls on uneven ground, her body tumbling fast down a slope that ends in darkness. Her heart drops into her stomach as she spins, completely out of control of her own movements, propelled down the steep embankment. Over the sound of blood rushing in her ears, she can hear Gaheris scream her name.

She crashes into a boulder, and pain explodes across her vision. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she’s out like a light.

—

When Baenviir wakes, she almost wishes she hadn’t. Her head aches like her skull has been split down the middle, a deep crevice in the bone that can never be mended. She’s dizzy even though she has yet to open her eyes, and she fears she’ll be sick if she dares to sneak a peek. Parting her lips, she sucks in a reedy breath. Her chest aches, even more so when her lungs expand. Her ribs must be bruised, if not fractured, from the battle and the ensuing fall. As she measures her own pulse, she takes stock, shifting ever so slightly. Her outer left forearm itches in a way she knows means she’s been cut, either on jagged rock or an enemy’s blade. Her right knee throbs as well. All in all, she’s a mess. She’s lucky to be alive.

Eventually, when she thinks she can stand to bear it, she opens her eyes. Her light of sight is black, stars sparking along the edges, and she grimaces as her stomach rolls. If she doesn’t want to throw up, she’ll have to take things slow.

Baenviir wills herself to be patient, suffering through minutes at a time, blinking repeatedly as her eyes adjust. She’s at the bottom of the embankment she was pushed down, further away from the faint light emanating from the crystals on the ceiling of the cave but not too far down to be trapped in total darkness. She can’t hear a single sound. The battle must be finished, then. She wonders who won. She assumes the orcs did, otherwise her party would’ve rescued her. Or maybe not. She would’ve assumed a missing person dead after a fight like that. Gaheris would’ve searched for her, though. He wouldn’t have left her behind. 

Unless he was dead.

Dread stirs within her at the thought, and she forces herself to sit up. She feels wretched, but she knows she can’t stay down here forever. She’ll die of dehydration or be devoured by some wild creature. Crawling onto her knees, she reaches around on the stone ground for her scythes. She has no hope of survival without them. Movement hurts her right knee, the cap bruised in the fall, but she grits her teeth and powers through, trying to cover as much ground as possible. Finally, several feet higher up on the slope, her fingers brush against the familiar hilt of her weapon. She heaves a sigh of relief and grips the blade tightly, hugging it to her chest. She finds its sister soon after.

Once she’s strapped her weapons to her belt, she attempts the feat of standing. Leaning against a stalagmite for support, she hoists herself up, wavering as she struggles to remain upright. Her body is weak and trembling, but after a moment or so, she’s steady enough where she won’t immediately pass out and fall on her ass. 

She takes a deep, slow breath, mentally preparing herself for the grueling climb up the slope back to the road, but an odd noise catches her off-guard. Pausing, she cocks her head to the side and listens. She hadn’t noticed it before, too distracted by her own pain and frantic search for her weapons, but a strange keening sound is coming from up ahead. It doesn’t sound like an animal. It sounds like a person. 

Baenviir starts in the direction of the noise, dread and hope both finding a place in her heart. Squinting in the darkness, she can make out the shape of a body lying at the bottom of the hill. Cautiously, she approaches, unsure if the figure is friend or foe.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” a male voice hisses, and her ears perk up. Could it be?

“Gaheris?” she whispers. 

The swearing stops. “Baenviir?”

She lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding and hobbles over to him. He looks like he just regained consciousness. He must’ve been knocked down the embankment as well, left for dead like she was. 

He smiles at her, struggling to sit upright. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”

Warmth blooms in her chest. She’s relieved that he didn’t abandon her and that he’s still kicking—for now, at least.

“You hurt?” she asks.

He leans against a boulder, groaning. “Always cutting to the chase.”

“You still have your weapon?”

He shrugs, but the motion seems to cause some discomfort, judging by his grimace. “Probably around here somewhere.”

Baenviir hums and crouches down beside him. His armor is dented in several spots, and his face is a mess of bruises, but her eyes gloss over those minor injuries. What really bothers her in the cut in his thigh, a deep gash that’s still oozing blood. 

“We gotta deal with this.” She reaches for his armor, unlatching the lower half and discarding the metal pieces before moving on to rip apart the seams of his pants, prying the fabric away from his skin.

Gaheris grunts, squirming. “Can I at least keep my clothes on?”

Ignoring his weak attempt at a joke, she takes the scraps of fabric and ties them together, wrapping them tightly around the wound. “You’ll bleed out if I don’t take care of this. Either that or die of infection.”

“What about you?” he asks, looking her over. “You hurt anywhere?”

“Nothing that’ll kill me,” she says, tying a knot that makes the knight wince. “But climbing back up that hill will be a challenge.”

“You’re telling me,” he grumbles, glaring up at the cave ceiling high above them. “Can’t wait to get out of this miserable place.”

Baenviir nods silently, sitting back on her heels. They need water, food, and medicine. Their packs were likely ransacked by whoever won the battle, but there might be something left on the road. Maybe they’ll find enough supplies to get them to the next settlement. If they’re lucky, they won’t die from their injuries.

“We shouldn’t wait any longer. We’ll only grow weaker by the minute.”

Gaheris frowns deeply at the thought of scaling the embankment. She can understand the sentiment. 

“C’mon. Let me help you up.” She extends her hand, but he waves her off.

“Don’t think I can stand,” he says, shifting to his hands and knees, “I’m gonna have to crawl.”

She purses her lips, wanting to argue. There’s no point, though. She can’t support his weight as well as her own. 

“Go slow,” she orders, “and keep a lookout for your sword.”

He grunts in assent, and she turns around, shuffling toward the hill.

As soon as she starts, she realizes she’s better off on all fours, her hands digging into the rock as she pushes herself up one step at a time. Her wounded knee sparks in protest, and her ribs creak with each inhale, but she grits her teeth and forces herself to continue. She has to do this if she wants to live. Every couple minutes, she glances over her shoulder at Gaheris to make sure he’s alright. If he slips and tumbles back down the hill, she doesn’t know what she’d do. He’s several feet below her, his limbs shaking from effort, and whenever she asks how he’s doing, he simply nods, too busy panting to speak properly. Will they have the energy to go on once they’ve reached the top? Or will they simply collapse?

Climbing the embankment takes significantly longer than it did for her to roll down it. By the time her fingers touch the dirt road, she’s soaked in sweat and suffering from a pounding headache. All of her muscles ache from exertion (likely a combination of the battle, her injuries, and the climb), and she flops over onto her back, closing her eyes. 

“Gaheris?” she asks, too tired to lean over the edge and see how far he’s come along. “You almost done?”

She doesn’t get a response, and as the minutes tick by, her concern grows. She begins to consider helping him up the rest of the way, but before she can will herself to move, the sound of heavy breathing indicates his arrival. With a heave, he rolls over next to her, his face pale and drawn. 

“Are you gonna faint?”

He makes an expression that seems to indicate he might, but after gulping down air like a dying man, a bit more color returns to his cheeks. 

“I…” he says, patting his sheath, “I found my sword.”

True enough, the weapon has been returned to its rightful place. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.” He wipes his brow, closing his eyes. “We should probably look around for leftover supplies.”

Baenviir turns her head and scans the road. She sees nothing but orc and human bodies. “We have time. Let’s just rest a minute.”

“For once, you have a good idea!” he exclaims, breathless, and despite herself, she laughs. Shifting to get into a more comfortable position on the ground, she allows her eyes to slip shut once again, her hands resting on the hilts of her blades. This won’t be their last time in the Underdark, not if she can help it. 

[leswansong]

Letters To You - A Royal AU

Summary: A story of a Knight and a Princess told through a selection of Letters.

[ A03 ]

   To My Loyal Knight,

October, 23rd, XX43

  My love, I worry for you, I hear the war is getting worse, I wish there was something I could do to help you, but there is nothing I could do from the confines of my white cage, the lords and ladies of the court are growing frustratingly annoying none of them seem to care about the war down south, they continue to worry over petty little things, I've never considered how sharp the stake knives actually are.

  There are some days in which I wish I wasn't who I was, I wonder if you and I would have met, would we have had enough time to form the bond that we did or would we have fallen in love with someone else, these questions plague my mind, more often of late.

  I long for the day your able to come home so I could kiss those red lips of yours, the days we spend running through the forest without the weight of the world on us.

  But I must confess that I'm writing to you for another reason, one that I hate to tell you in this trying time.

  My Father, The king, and lord of the land we call home has started the search for my husband, He didn't even tell me until one of them had arrived, but I must inform you that I put up quite a fight at the dinner table right in front of my intended, I'm glad to say that they retracted their proposal soon afterwards. I won't be able to stave off all of them, I wish this war would end, I wish it would end so that there will be no more bloodshed, I wish it would end so children could have their fathers back, mothers their sons and you, I wish it would end so I could hold you in my arms, I dare not care who sees, I want it to end for you.

  I wish I could end this letter on a better note.

Your Princess, Marinette.

-x-

  My Dearest Lady,

October, 31st, XX43

  Those stake knives have been known to have protected your family from many murders, whether or not they are apart of the same set I do not know but please don't kill them, members of the court, until I return, I wish to see you fight. But if you find that you can not hold yourself back, I know that you want to make them suffer but please make the kill quick.

  I wish I could come running home to your loving arms and whisk you off your feet, but I must confirm that the war is growing worse, we lost 24 men from blood fever last night, I've lost count of how many on the battlefield all for a measly 10 feet. This war will need a resolution soon I fear that I will soon join the many numbers of the dead, but I don't wish to talk of war, your letters although short and so far between are my only glimpse of the world outside this war that I now call home.

  Your Father searching for your husband is not a bad thing, I made peace with the fact that you will never truly be mine no matter how high up the social ladder I climb, my only wish is that your husband treats you like the Queen you are, but I'm sure your wonderful parents wouldn't let you marry someone you weren't happy with, if they don't I know of a small farmhouse up north were no one would look for you. I'd hate to suggest that you leave your duty to the county but if you feel the need, My Lady.

  I passed by a small village today, I've been moved further west closer to bigger fight, we claimed the lands to our north, they seemed to have retreated, I sense a trap being set and I'm the lamb being sent to the slaughterhouse I plan to double back for a few days although I doubt my Sargent will allow me, he will most likely have me shot for cowardness, but maybe I'll fame sickness he might send me back south.

  Hoping to hear your voice soon.

Your loyal Knight, Adrien

  -x-

  My Loyal Knight,

8th November, XX43

  I write this letter to you urgently as I need your council, I write this as I myself am still processing this revelation.

  You, my Love, came to me in a trying time, My older Brother, named after my father, had passed from a riding accident, his body was never recovered, our enemy to the west claims that he is alive and well, they say that he has married their daughter, the weight of what they say has been backed up by a letter written in his hand and a photo of him and his wife and child, their request is that I give up the right to the crown among many other requests, I wish to surrender to that request but I'm still unsure something seems wrong, if they already had the key to the thone why start a war, I know my parents would have accepted the marriage and gladly called her family but this war, this war has made my once soft parents into people I hardly recognize.

  I wish that I could tell you all of their demands it might help you council me better, but I dare not risk it.

I will most likely write another letter before I receive yours.

  Waiting for your response.

Marinette

  -x-

  My Dearest,

11th November, XX43

  If you feel as If something is wrong please trust your gut, we know where its lead us before and it had yet to fail us, but I do think it is od that they started a war, I suggest that you do some digging but please My Lady be discreet, I don't want to have to storm a castle for you.

I wish I could come home, it sounds like you need me there.

  Currently pretending to be a sick soldier.

Your Loyal Knight, Adrien.

  -x-

  My Knight,

13th November, XX43

  Please don't return home just yet, you may just be my only hope of answers, I need you to stay on the front lines, I may just have a plan, I cannot explain it now i need to iron out the details, I want there to be the least amount of risk involved for you.

  Still trying not to kill the members of the royal court.

Your Princess, Marinette.

  -x-

  Princess,

15th November, XX43

  Please tell me that the task you have in mind will be an easy one?

  Have you noticed our letters are taking a shorter amount of time to arrive?

  Hoping that the quest you plan to send me on will be a short one.

-Adrien.

  -x-

  Adrien,

17th November, XX43

  Do you doubt my abilities?

  It certainly seems like it, but I must inform you that is task will be long, it will keep you away from me for many moons.

  If you don't want to do it, I'm okay with that, I could always find someone else.

  I'm having our letters fast-tracked through the ranks, turns out being the Princess gets you special privileges.

  Dreading the thought of attending a ball.

Your Lady, Marinette.

  -x-

  My Love,

20th November, XX43

  I knew that your title would come in handy somewhere.

  I do not doubt your brilliant mind, I know that if you were to put your plan into action you would have plan A though to Z.

  I am disappointed that the cost of this mission may take me away from you for longer, but if it ends this war I shall do so, No price is too steep to pay for you.

  Please tell me that you are going to wear a bright red dress for the ball.

Waiting eagerly for your reply, Adrien.

  -x-

  My Knight,

25th November, XX43

  Just for you I shall wear a red dress, I hope that there will be at least some talk of the war, I can't stand to be in a room of rich pompous fools talking about nothing but the latest fashion, on any other occasion I would love it but not in this dark time, I would much rather talk about the ways to stop this horrendous war.

  My plan is almost complete.

  I hate to ask you but is there someone you trust, someone who would be willing to put their life on the line. I tried my best to make this a one-person job but it would put too many variables into play, a second person would eliminate so many risks. I need to know soon as it is of great importance.

  My handmaiden is growing suspicious of my letters I may grow quiet for a few days, please don't worry about me, I don't want to arouse suspicion from my parents, they seem to suspect that someone holds my heart. Maybe they would approve of us?

  I still have so many thoughts that I have no idea how to put to paper.

  Currently wondering how to hide these letters.

Your Princess in a tower, Marinette.

  -x-

  My Love,

28th November, XX43

  To hear that you'll be wearing red has me smiling, if it is still fashionable please wear the one that stopped my beating heart, I sadly must inform you that my sister is currently married to one of those pompous fools, but please continue to insult them as my sister is currently too chicken to do it herself she doesn't know the power that she now wields, please remind her that she is now a member of the royal court, not a frightened goat and shouldn't be concerned with what she says unless it is ill against you and your family.

  But yes My Lady I do have someone I trust here on the front lines with me; I still consider you my most trusted, but Nino is a close second.

He is still considering the risks as he is the only provider for his younger brothers and sisters, although I believe that he will agree.

  There is little to no action here now, it's starting to worry me, others have noticed as well. We can tell something is happening, maybe our enemy is waiting for a reply?

  I grow wary every day, I fear sleeping, the silence is deafening. There were days in which I wished that the firing would stop now all I wish for is their return.

  I'm going to see if I can return home for a day, I need to return to normalcy for a day.

  Maybe I'll see you soon.

Your tired Knight, Adrien.

  -x-

  Dearest Adrien,

3rd December, XX43

  It saddens me to hear how this war is affecting you, the sweet shy loyal knight that danced with a princess and won her heart within a single song now sounds broken and extremely saddened. I wish I could wave a magic wand and bring you home to me but not even my reach extends that far, the best I can do is fill you with hope and my love from afar.

  I do hope that you could return home but I know how hard it will be, maybe it will be easier if I go to the frontlines. Do you think other soldiers would be happy to see me? I could disguise it as a morale boost, how well my parents believe that is currently unknown, but I highly doubt we would be able to be alone together, my parents would be concerned about my safety over anything else, I fear that I would cause more trouble than help.

  My Parents have considered the deal our enemy has brought of the table immensely as of late, I fear my plan may come too late, I'd hate to stall the resolution of this war but I need time. What shall I do? My heart is torn between a rock and a hard place. What this deal means to our people, I can not begin to describe, it would restore peace for a time but the impact it would have on the poor... it's hard to explain in one letter but I have read and reread the terms, so once again I seek your counsel.

  Please see the attached document.

  I ask what kind of impact this would have on our people. I also ask that you keep this letter hidden from all eyes, even friends, I cannot express the importance of this letter staying hidden.

  I've been inquiring into the lives of, I must express that there is no easy way to say this, My brother's in-laws, I've been stonewalled at every turn. I wish things could be easy for once.

  Your friend Nino wouldn't be Nino Layfayette would he?

  Patiently waiting for your response.

You Lady, Marinette.

    -x-

  Mari,

5th December, XX43

  It's hard to say how this war is affecting me, I too fear for my health, I'm afraid that this war has already changed me and I don't know how to feel. My Grandfather spoke often of how war changed him I never truly knew how much.

  I feel many men here would appreciate your visit, but I too fear for your safety, there are so many horrors that I've witnessed in these trenches, I wish to never expose you to them, but I believe that your parents need to see the effect of this war.

  I find it hard to find time to write, we've been under constant fire for the past 3 days, I fear that you may have rattled the right cages, I have a feeling they may be trying to stop you, Just promise me that you'll be careful.

  My Lady, please don't sign that contract, the conditions of the contract would destroy this peaceful country, but I'm sure you already knew that. I too find it hard to describe the effects in a single letter.

  Yes, My friend would be Nino Layfayette,

  I Await your response

Your ever-loyal knight Adrien.

  -x-

  My Love,

7th December, XX43

  Another suiter has come to ask for my hand in marriage, I dread having to meet them. Maybe once this war is done I could present you to my parents as a war hero.

  Has Nino considered your offer?

  Your Princess, Marinette

  -x-

  My Dear,

9th December, XX43

  He has, he's making some preparations before he officially says yes.

  - Adrien.

  -x-

  My dearest,

14th December, XX43

  Please, Mari, tell me the roomers aren't true, Please tell you didn't renounce your claim to the throne.

  -Your Loyal Knight

  -x-

  Princess Marinette,

18th December, XX43

  I write to you to ask if the roomers in Paris are true. A simple yes or no answer will suffice.

I only wish to know to quell the uncertainty of my fellow soldiers, not much news reaches us here on the front lines.

  I await your response,

Your loyal subject and servant, Lord Adrien of the house Agreste.

  -x-

  My Love,

21st December, XX43

  I write to you on the road to the frontlines, I fear the roomers you've heard a partly true and more complex than you could imagine.

  I'm sorry that I left you in the dark for so long, I barely caught your letters before they reached the castle. It has grown extremely dangerous in the capital. I didn't give up my right to the crown, my parents stripped me of it, I fear they are being influenced by someone, so I fled the capital, I'm sure you can understand where exactly I'm headed.

  you are the only person I trust in the world.

  Please don't worry about me I'm not travelling down the main road, I'm disguised as a nurse.

  I'll soon be with you - Your Princess, Marinette

  A serious tone doesn't suit you.

  -x-

  Mari,

 23rd December, XX43

  You know how I feel about you coming to the front lines, I know I can't stop you but I can urge you to be careful, the roads are dangerous. I hate to think of something bad happening to you.

  Please be safe - Adrien.

  and yes I know a serious tone doesn't suit me, I was worried.

  -x-

  24th December, XX43

  Adrien, I ask that you turn around.

Wanna Buy Me a Coffee?

                                                 Drabble Master List

[murderincrp]

PROFILE LOADED... 「SONG DABIN」「SPD」「TWENTY-SIX」

“Twenty-six-year-old CAPTAIN. He works for the SEOUL POLICE DEPARTMENT.”

✘ THREAT LEVEL HIGH. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION...

WARNING: KIDNAPPING, SEXUAL ASSAULT, SUICIDE

[ BACKGROUND... ]

“Dabin, take your sister inside.”

His father had spoken in a demanding tone, voice dropping dangerously low. His father, a high rank police man with a stoic face, was failing to keep his composure in front of his children. Despite being merely 8 years old of age at the time, Dabin was aware of how crucial the situation was that they were in. He didn’t need to be told twice before he quickly led his sister up to their room.

“Don’t be scared, Hyebin-ah,” he coaxed. He was terrified himself, but he wasn’t about to show that in front of his sister. “Let’s go. I’ll read you a book.”

Flashes of red and blue lights illuminated his room, sirens drowning out the excess noises. Downstairs, policemen and women filled the living room, all wearing a grim expression upon their faces. His sister’s fingers clung onto his hand tighter, seeking comfort and reassurance. Unsaid questions hung in the air: Where is Subin? Is she okay? When will she be back? Though the adults tried their best to keep them from what had happened, it wasn’t difficult to figure out. The bits and pieces that reached their ears was enough to understand. Their oldest sister, Song Subin, was kidnapped.

Once he had managed to lull Hyebin to sleep, probably too tired and overwhelmed from the events that had taken place in a span of such a short time, he decidedly crept downstairs. His bare feet padding softly against the laminated floor, by the time he arrived to the last two steps of the staircase, his father’s voice reached his ears.

“Though it’s important to find my daughter, it’s also important that we catch this son of a bitch. We won’t let him think that we’re playing on the palm of his hand. We won’t meet his demands—”

“But sir,” another voice interjected, probably one of the officers. In the background, he could faintly hear his mother sobbing. However, when his father spoke again, it was evident that he was set on the idea.

“No. We’ll set up a trap instead.”

The room fell silent, so silent that Dabin took a sharp intake of breath upon hearing a soft creak of the floorboard. When he turned his head, wide-eyed and with his hands covering his mouth to keep any noises from escaping, his gaze met those of his younger sister’s innocent doe-eyes.

“Dabin oppa?”

“Sorry, I was just getting water,” he whispered to Hyebin, before climbing up the stairs again and rested his hand on the top of her head. “Let’s go back to your room. Everything’s going to be okay.”

However, in the end, his words were proven wrong. They never saw their sister again.

“I want to become a part of the SPD.”

His decision to follow the path of his father was not at all surprising. He had always respected his father and looked up to him, ever since he was young. Dabin was proud of the fact that his father was a hero, and dreamed that one day, he would be just like him. The incident of his elder sister being kidnapped only fueled his dream further more.

He didn’t blame his father for being unable to bring her back. No, Dabin trusted that he would have done his best to get her back. It wasn’t his fault. It was the kidnapper’s fault. Dabin believed in the good and evil. He was determined to help bring justice into the world and to make his father proud.

“I believe in you, Son.”

And this determination propelled him forward, as he quickly joined SPD after finishing his education and training in the Police Academy. With his passion, he was on a fast-paced route to become a substantial addition to the department. In a short span of time, he was able to climb up higher and higher.

It was just another one of those tragic cases, ( then again, were there any that weren’t? ), one involving drunk teens, sexual assault and the victim’s suicide. All of the evidence pointed at one person and one person only, soon leading them to be cuffed and brought into jail. Case closed, as simple as that. Though it didn’t stop Dabin from looking further into it. He couldn’t help but to sense something wrong about the whole investigation and it turned out that his gut feelings were right. Soon, he found out that the evidence had been planted and that the real offender was a son of a member from the government. When he made demands of reopening the case, he was called by a higher up.

“You’ve been working well,” he was told. “But I’m going to have to ask you to step away from this case.”

“Sir, I’ve solved the case. We’ve got the wrong guy.”

He spoke with confidence, but all that was returned to him was a cold glare.

“You just don’t understand, do you? I expected you to be more clever than this, considering you are your father’s son. Step away from the case, it’s for your own good.”

“But sir, that makes no sense. You’re asking me to turn a blind eye, despite knowing that the real culprit is out there? … Is it because of his status?”

A moment of silence followed his question. His mind buzzed, a scoff of disbelief escaping his lips. “I won’t do it,” he said, turning to leave, if not for the voice that called him back.

“I heard that your sister’s also following you and your father’s steps to become a part of our force.”

His reaction came quick at the mention of Hyebin, shoulders tensing and fingers curling into tight fists. It was a low blow. Family, especially his younger sister was his weak point.

“Don’t want to give her nor your father a hard time now, do you? Besides… Isn’t it time that you get promoted again?” the older man continued, stepping close to rest his stocky fingers on his shoulder. “Imagine how proud your father would be, to know that you did so well without his help.”

[ BEHAVIOR... ]

How would one describe someone like Song Dabin? To some, he would be seen to be a cold, stoic character, ( sort of an ass ), someone who’s got a good sense of moral, but would jump instantly into an argument if one were to go against his words. However, to others, he would be a goofy character, someone that’s rather silly, humourous and sarcastic. Dabin’s personality shifts from serious to the exact opposite depending on whether you catch him at work or not. At work, he holds himself up high, meticulous about every details and nitpicky to the point that his inferiors ( and perhaps even few of his superiors ) often find him tiring. However, outside of work, he knows to have fun and is someone easy to talk to. He’s very firm with his idea of drawing a line in between business / private life. He would never try and become friends with someone from SPD & vice versa.

Overall, he’s intelligent, though he has his moments of being a heodang / being an oddball. He has the tendency of over-thinking, always having to think over his actions before initiating it. His younger sister, Hyebin is one of the few people who makes him act irrationally.