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rosieofcorona · 8 months

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A Light To Break All Shadows

Just a fluffy little Halsin x Tav fic to keep the darkness at bay. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading! 💕

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Tav is eyeing Halsin suspiciously from the opposite end of Art’s bedside, where he’s been keeping watch over the sick man for days. At least, Halsin thinks it’s been days– perhaps three (or maybe four?) at the most. It is difficult to keep track in the Shadowlands.

At any rate, he cannot answer her immediately, which means his answer is insufficient.

“If you have to think about it,” Tav continues, “It’s been too long.”

She has a point.

He is exhausted, as they all are, but cannot bring himself to rest. They are so close– he is so close– to finding the child that will save them, to ending the hundred-year darkness, to restoring light and balance to the land.

And Art Cullagh, ill as he is, is the key that will unlock their victory, so Halsin feels as though he must protect him every moment, must stay by his side in case he should wake, or take a turn.

For days, he has persisted, spurred on by his stamina and willpower. For days, he has waited and watched. Now the idea of sleep falls on him like a spell.

“It is my duty.” He protests. “I will see this through.” “You will,” she agrees, “When you wake. These people will need you in the days to come. And they will need you to be rested.”

She is playing to his sense of responsibility, he knows, but he is too tired to argue. Reluctantly, he nods his agreement.

When he rises from his chair, it seems that all his centuries of existence catch up to him at once, his joints and muscles burning. He feels old and sore and weary as he drags himself toward an empty bed.

“Go on,” Tav commands gently. She feels like a mother nudging a child off to sleep. “Even the greatest leaders need rest.”

“Then you ought to rest yourself.”

She laughs at that, though Halsin means it. He knows so few who are so capable, so resilient, so kind. She has already accomplished so many things that he could not, not in hundreds of years of practice.

“You flatter me,” Tav smiles, but Halsin shakes his head.

“You are extraordinary.”

His gaze is on her when he says it, on her eyes and mouth and hands, the way her armor cleaves to her, the way her weapon rests against her hip. In another place, another time, another life, he would have had her already, would have known her inside and out if she asked him to.

And she had asked him to, once, before they came here. He remembers. At the time he had denied her as gently as he could, in the knowledge that what was growing between them, if cultivated, could later prove a distraction, a weakness.

But gods, he had wanted her then. He wants her still.

Yet such urges, much like sleep, must be suppressed. At least for now.

Tav stares back at him with wide eyes until she feels a flush come over her cheeks. She turns her face away, just slightly, so that Halsin will not see.

“Well.” She clears her throat, and redirects. “I’ll rest before we go scouting tomorrow. And I’ll watch Art while you sleep.”

“As you say.”

**********

In his dreams, he is back in the Shadowfell, that sunless, cursed place.

At his feet are bodies, Harper and druid and shade alike. He knows their faces, their names, their stories. Here is Atlan, a boy from his own grove, no more than eighteen years of age. Halsin had cured him once of pox, had later mentored him in the healing arts.

And here, Jehan the Harper, who had just received word that his wife was expecting. Twins, he’d announced, over a round of drinks at Last Light.

And Moranna, the Selunite priestess who had blessed them again and again on their journey, had prayed over them and shielded them to the best of her ability.

All lost to the shadows, corrupted beyond recognition. All dead, cut down by his hand.

Halsin does his best to avoid stepping on them as he presses onward, each step a battle of its own. The weight of darkness seems to crush him, seems to drain the very life out of his body.

His god is nowhere here.

There comes a voice through the black night, distant, disembodied. Halsin, the shadows whisper, and whisper again, closer. Halsin.

Wildly he turns and swings his glaive, hitting nothing, the panic rising in his throat, and–

“Halsin!” Tav exclaims, blocking a swing of his fist with her forearm.

She is sitting at the edge of his bed looking concerned, frightened even. His skin is slicked with sweat, his breathing heavy, his body tangled in the bed linens.

Immediately, a white-hot shame rushes over him, that he should be the one to cause her fear.

That he should strike at her, even unconsciously, his savior, his ally. His friend, though that is too weak a word for the feeling that grows within him, wraps around his heart like wild ivy.

“Forgive me,” he pants, “I was–”

I was lost in the darkness, he means to say, I was frightened and alone, but the words stick in his throat like flies in honey.

Yet Tav seems to know already, a tenderness softening the furrows of her brow. Not pity, he notes. Understanding.

She has seen equivalent horrors, has seen friends fall and foes flourish and still, and still, keeps fighting toward goodness, toward light. He aches with the thought that she might have such nightmares, that she might know firsthand how he feels now.

But she soothes him, reaches out to wipe the sweat from his brow, her touch as light and cool as an evening breeze.

“It’s alright,” she promises. “You don’t have to explain. You are safe here.”

Halsin lets out a breath he’s been holding for too long. It has been many years since he was last comforted, truly comforted. He is so accustomed to doing the comforting that he has almost forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end.

Tenderness is no stranger to him– many of his lovers have been gentle, have been sweet– but none have ever known his burdens, none have carried them, taken them on as their own. Here is one who has, who does, who will, if he will let her.

He takes Tav’s hand in his and guides it, flattens her palm over the rabbit-fast beat of his heart, breathing deeply, willing it to slow. He wants to say, Thank you, then, I love you, but it’s too soon, he thinks, too desperate, no matter how true.

“Thank you,” Halsin allows, and swallows the rest.

Tav smiles at him then, a soft, bright thing, like a single star in the night sky. The true last light in the Shadowlands.

“Shall I stay with you?”

“Art–,” Halsin starts, but she shakes her head calmly, knowingly. “He’s sleeping soundly. Seems his bad dreams have come to visit you.”

“I do not wish to burden you with something so trivial.”

“You could not burden me,” Tav says quietly. “But I will leave, if you prefer.”

Her thumb strokes over his chest, her hand still pressed against him. His pulse quickens again at so intimate, so innocent a touch. Halsin wonders if she can feel it.

“I prefer your presence, always. But you need your own rest.”

“Very well.”

Her palm slips from him as she rises to her feet, and he thinks for a moment that he’s made a mistake, has waved off her kindness, dismissed her.

Rather, she motions for him to move over and climbs slowly, wordlessly into the bed next to him. He finds himself lifting the sheets for her, inviting her in without hesitation.

She’s changed, he realizes as she comes close, her armor cast aside for the day. Her nightclothes make her look, make her feel smaller, softer. He wants so badly to slip his hands beneath the fabric, to see how soft she is beneath.

“Is this alright?” Tav whispers, looking earnestly into his eyes. Her fingertips flit over his cheek, brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you alright?”

The bed is small and Halsin is not, and she is pressed against him like a flower between the pages of a book. He can only nod.

“I will rest here then, with you.”

In the gentlest act he can or will ever remember, she leans forward and kisses his eyes as if bestowing a blessing upon them, a ward against the darkness.

**********

Halsin wakes again in near-total silence, save the gentle inhale-exhale of Tav’s breathing beside him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, and for the first time in a long time, doesn’t mind.

Instead, he is aware of how peaceful he feels in this moment, sheltered from the dangers beyond the inn, aware that at one point or another he had let go of his worry and settled deep into dreaming. The earlier tension in his muscles has melted into a tired ache, as if he is returning from a very long walk in the Grove.

And she is here, wrapped in his arms. A light to break all shadows.

He can’t be sure when it happened. The shift had been imperceptible, like the feeling of falling asleep, or falling in love.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin x tav #my fic #halsin x reader #halsin x fem! tav #fluff #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #but mostly just so soft #like it was a delight to write something so sweet #my writing #bg3 fanfiction #halsin romance #bg3 halsin #halsin fanfic

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ethereal-night-fairy · 7 months

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Silver Tongues, like Bullets

Werewolf!141 x female reader

Trusting four men in the forest when you were lost was possibly the stupidest thing you could have ever done. Now you find yourself scrambling to escape their clutches.

Warnings: MDNI, Dark themes, implied kidnapping, manipulation, hunting, mild injuries, manhandling, non-sexual touching, non-con touching.

The lovely @gogh-with-the-flow came up with the name for this. (I love you xoxo 💋)

Silver Tongues like Bullets Masterlist

Words: 3.7k

-27/11/2023 present time

Your feet race through the jagged terrain trying to find any hint of a trail to lead you back into town. Though it was near impossible to see. Your only friend was the crescent moon creating a gentle stream of light to guide your steps as you hurried across, dodging trees and bushes. The air sliced against your skin like icicles but you know you couldn't stop. They might be hot on your trail. You could almost envision their hot breaths coming out in pants as their morphed forms chased after you. Large bodies on all fours tearing up the forest in pursuit of your scent. But they weren't behind you, they couldn't be you haven't heard them in a short while. It was a miracle you even managed to evade their claws this long. God knows how you managed to get this far.

Had someone warned you that you'd be chased by four beasts who you had sought help from at one point you'd think they've gone completely mad. Maybe you've gone completely mad. Maybe this was all a dream and your brain is just trying to wake you up. Your legs were numb from the cold but you continued running, you couldn't stop, not now. You prayed that you'd just wake up in your warm bed. To your cozy home and familiar town. You ran through a particularly thorny bush, creating small cuts all over your arms. But you still continued even though all you wanted to do was lay down and hide somewhere until morning. Until you could see clearly and find a way back. You crane your neck trying to make out sounds over your laboured breathing and pounding heart. The blood rushing into your ears was making it difficult to hear anything noteworthy. Maybe you had lost them or maybe they thought you were too much trouble and had gone back but you were thankful nonetheless.

The trees start to thin and your heart feels like it'll force its way out of your chest. Were you approaching a road? A trail? It didn't matter your force to your legs to run faster. When you finally break through the treeline and onto the dark road you look around frantically. Cars!? Were there any cars nearby? You try to listen to the best of your ability as you calm down your breathing. Hot breaths condensing into the cold night. Your legs felt like jelly and standing up straight was proving to be a problem. You crouched down slightly, giving yourself a moment when you finally hear the smooth rumble of an engine. The light blinded you for a second when you saw the vehicle turn from the bend. You cover your eyes but stand off to the side so you don't get hit, waving your other hand like a mad woman hoping to get noticed. The lights get dipped and you get a better look as the truck slows to a stop.

The familiar black truck has your mind reeling. Your blood runs cold much colder than the air that was cutting blood circulation in your toes and fingers. You recognise the truck of your kidnappers. Fate seemed to be enjoying your torment. She wouldn't be putting you in such a predicament if she didn't. The car lights shine on you comically as if you're a criminal that just escaped prison. Before anyone could hop out you turn to run into the forest. It didn't matter how much your limbs hurt, you were going to escape!

You only get two steps in before you're grabbed by the back of your shirt. But you hadn't heard the doors open. Were they out in the forest waiting for you to slip up? Another pair of hands restrains your arms behind your back. You scream and claw trying to weaken their hold. Fighting tooth and nail trying to escape but you just weren't strong enough to rival the two holding you. Your hands were numb, much like the rest of you. You couldn't really feel if your blows were creating any impact.

You only see who grabbed you when you were pushed cheek down on the hood of the car. Soap had your arms twisted behind your back sporting a very deep scratch to his left cheek and many more on his arms that you had left before escaping. Ghost held your neck fully covered in his usual getup. It was firm but alot gentler than Soap. His gloves felt warm against the back of your neck. But you didn't let it placate you. You let out a huff of curse words and try kicking your legs backwards as the truck doors slam shut.

“Aye will ye give it a rest!”, Soap hold you tighter making you wince from the pain. He was clearly angry at you but was holding back for your sake. Wouldn't want to hurt their mate too badly now. You already didn't like them.

“Hands off”, you hear the clear rumble of the Captain's rugged drawl. Suddenly all the warm from your body disappeared, the two men had stepped back giving room to their Captain. Gently a hand ran down your back and spine causing you to shiver. You whine and place your face into your hands knowing you weren't going to escape tonight. You didn't want to look at them and you didn't want them looking at you. The fear and shame of failing was eating away at your insides. Not to mention the punishment that was coming when they finally bring you back to the cabin.

“It's ok luv, we've got you now”, it's Gaz's sweet voice that breaks the tension in the air as Price continues to rub your back gently trying to ground you. You wanted to collapse in on yourself to get as far away as possible as you could from these men. Gaz being the most deceptive of the four. He lured you in with sweet words and promises only to lock you up. You had trusted him when he said he'll get you home. That promise never came to be. How many days has it been now? Maybe weeks have gone by. You couldn't tell anymore the days have started bleeding in together. You wondered if anyone was looking for you.

“Let's get you back now shall we? We can figure out an appropriate punishment when you're safe and sound”, Price's voice vibrated through the silent forest where even the owls gave him authority over the night. You don't know why he was posing it as a question, it wasn't like they were going to listen to you. Your tears obscure your view as you're led to the back seats with Gaz and Soap. Soap stays silent holding one arm while Gaz coos and shushes you gently wiping away your tears holding you close, warming your cold body from being ill dressed in the elements. The truck starts the sound of the engine being the final nail in the coffin on your attempted escape.

- 23/11/2023

The leaves under your feet give a loud *crunch* as you stomp your feet through the familiar hiking trail. You come to a halt when the road breaks up into four different directions. You pick a path and start walking without much of a care. Your latest arguments with your parents had you fleeing to the comfort of the forest. You didn't understand why they wouldn't let you leave, you wanted more from life, more to experience, just more than this tiny town could offer you. You had finally gotten your dream job in the city after working tirelessly to improve your photography portfolio. You did all you could do to make sure you were always the best behaved child. You made it a point to do well in your studies and do your best to make your parents proud. You made sure to get a job a soon as it was legally allowed. You supported yourself throughout college even going as far as giving your parents money when you could spare it. Yet they still denied you their love and support when it came to things you wanted.

Your parents wanted you to stay close for their own convenience. They wanted you to stay to help them rather than pursue your dreams. They've been guilt tripping you since you graduated from college to not to leave town. That they needed your help with your younger siblings. That it was unfair and selfish of you after all they did to raise you into adulthood. That you would never make it in the city. That you wouldn't amount to anything without their help.

Leaves and twigs snap under your feet as you trudge through the rough terrain of the forest. Your anger and frustration carry you onwards despite your fatigue. Your camera in hand as you stop from time to time to take scenic photographs.

Time passes and the sun begins to dip in the sky, you suddenly come to a halt realizing that path you thought you were on now had turned into mud and grass. You quickly glance around trying to figure out what part of the forest you found yourself in. There was no trail in sight. Maybe you had steered off course when you were following that white rabbit. How long had you been walking for? You crane your neck to listen to try to hear some sounds of civilisation, cars, voices, dogs, anything to give you an indication that you haven't gone too far. But you were greeted with the wind rustling through the trees and some small birds chirping. You were too far in. The heavy feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach but you refused to let it consume you.

You glance at the sky. It was late afternoon, you knew the sun would be setting in a couple of hours. You wrack your head on what to do.

“Think! Think! What did I learn in scouts? Resources! What resources do i have?”

You pat your pockets to find anything useful. You grab your phone to turn it on again. You didn't have anything else on you except a warm jacket and your camera. Regret was simmering in the back of your mind as to why you stormed out like you did. Your breathing becomes labored as you try to prevent a panic attack. The screen loads up to show you you've missed several calls from your parents and a few from your siblings. Your bars are low so try to get to some higher ground to get a signal to call them back. You climb a tree leaving your camera on the ground nearby to get better reception but you could only manage one bar. You try calling a couple times before the call finally connects.

“Mom? Mom!, I'm in the forest. I think I'm lost. Mom?”, you try to speak but your mother's voice comes back broken and in a static state. She couldn't hear you. You try your best to communicate with the signal you had hoping she could piece together enough broken words to send help. You strain your arm up trying to get a better signal when your foot slips on a branch and you come tumbling down. The call cuts and you groan out in pain.

Your hands scrabble for your phone looking to see if it was damaged. The phone to your utter disbelief had landed on the boulder nearby and had shattered the screen to the point of it being unusable. You curse and shout in anger and frustration at your horrible luck.

You had stayed put after letting out your anger. Hoping that maybe your mom had understood enough to send help. The sun was getting low in the sky, you didn't have anything on you to build a fire or some sort of shelter so your best option was to conserve energy and wait to be rescued or try finding a trail in the morning. Not to mention the nasty bruises you were nursing now. You had tried looking around the vicinity to try to find a trail to follow after your phone broke but it just felt like you were going deeper as the fog got thicker the more you walked. So in the end you had to turn back. Not that it made much of a difference the fog was settling where you sat on a pile of leaves to protect yourself from the cold ground. It was doing very little from starving the cold from your ass though. The warm jacket you wore wasn't feeling so warm anymore as the heat of early autumn was disappearing with the setting sun.

You prayed someone would find you soon or pray that you lived to get back home on your own tomorrow. But with the way the icy wind was chilling you to your bones, you growing weary. Sitting in one place wasn't keeping you warm, you needed to keep moving to create some friction and get blood flowing again. So that's what you did. For the next 20 to 30 mins you jogged on the spot and did some jumping jacks to starve of the cold. And it worked until you tired yourself out and sat down again.

You kept your ears open to in hopeful delusion that you'd hear footsteps or maybe a group of campers in the distance that could help you. You waited and waited craning your neck when you heard the slightest snap of a twig or a whistle that sounded human. But maybe you were going crazy. Or maybe you were actually right and someone else was in the forest. You keep hearing distant whistling but it stops just as quickly as it starts, making you second guess yourself....

You hear the whistle again! And again this time closer! You get up slowly, your legs numb from sitting. You steady your feet the best you can gathering your belongings as you follow the sound of the gentle tune. The sun was setting and you needed to hurry before it got dark.

You weren't paying attention to your surroundings even though you know you should. This was how you got lost in the first place. But in your cold and desperate mind you needed to find the source of the whistling before the night forest claimed you as its own. You stumble and trip as you make your way to the gentle humming that was resonating through the trees now. The fog got thicker and got harder to see but you continued on especially with the blanket of darkness looming closer. The trees seemed to be growing hands the longer you stayed in one spot so you had no choice but to keep moving. The whistling had stopped suddenly, making you panic as you stood still. Thinking your mind was playing tricks on you but then the humming started and you continued to follow the comforting sound. You couldn't find a direction to follow without it. It was difficult to see more than a couple feet from where you were standing with the fog so thick. You had tripped and fallen many times scraping and bruising yourself further. You probably looked a sight. At least your camera was ok. It was probably running low on charge though.

In the distance you saw the soft glow of fire? Or some sort of lamp, you didn't know and you didn't care. You continue to approach it. Light meant civilisation right? Someone lived here, you could ask them for help. With the distance you had trekked today you hadn't realised how sore you were especially now that the adrenaline had worn off and your tender muscles were screaming from the falls you endured. The ground underneath you evened out a little as you got closer and it became much easier to walk.

Finally you reached the clearing. And look up towards the large cabin in front of you. The fog surrounded it ominously but you didn't seem to care. Your mind wasn't functioning properly due to the cold. You beeline for the open fire once you see it. You glance around quickly to see if anyone was around but there wasn't. But meat was roasting on the fire as you fell to your knees trying to get blood flowing to your fingertips. You glance at the cabin when you warmed up enough, there was a single oil lantern on the entrance but the cabin itself was dark. As if no one was inside. But there was a truck parked up on the side. You've never seen this cabin before, was it always here? Or perhaps you've never come close to this section of the forest to really notice. The best option was to wait for whoever was cooking this meat you think to yourself. Guessing from the size of the freshly cut meat it might be for a small group. You hoped as much anyway; a group of friends enjoying a trip to a cabin. You sat near the fire staying warm salivating from the smell, you hadn't eaten anything since early morning today. It was beginning to take a toll on you.

The soft whistling started again from the edge of the forest where the trees dwarfed the cabin. You hastily get up to get away from the fire not wanting to come across as rude to your potential saviors. You stand there awkwardly waiting for someone to emerge from the tree line, rubbing your hands together while blowing on them.

The heat in your lungs condenses into steam as you let out huffs of air. A figure emerges from the fog, someone tall wearing a red flannel shirt carrying wood and an ax. It's only when he gets closer do you notice does he sniff the air and stop dead in his tracks to look up. His coal eyes pierce you with great intensity. You stare back not really comprehending the situation. You wanted to say something, to let him know you weren't a threat, just someone who was lost and needed a little help.

But your throat seized up and the chilly air freezing up in your lungs preventing you from speaking. The temperature took a dip despite you being near the fire. He took long measured steps towards you as you stood frozen and unable to look away or speak.

Your mouth hung open trying to get words out but it felt like your muscles had stopped working. His eyes glowed orange from the fire as he got closer, his muscular body standing taller as he approached shoulders drawn back in a defensive stance. His dark skin looked radiant under the glow of the embers, his sweat shining on his exposed chest where two buttons were undone. You look down at your feet when your eyes locked with him for the briefest second. You don't think he appreciated you ogling his toned body.

He crouches down, adding a few logs to the dwindling flames and tossed the rest and the ax to the side like it weighed nothing. He got up again and fixed you with a stare, posture still defensive. Waiting for you to say something.

“I'm lost”, the words finally left your mouth in a hurry not wanting to anger this man when you were hoping to receive his help. “I-I didn't m-mean to intrude, I-I just heard some whistling. And I t-thought maybe you c-could help me find my way back”, you stuttered a response even through your nerves as the man continued to stare for a bit, his eyes dissolving of hostility.

“What town are you from?”, he asks gently while rotating the meat.

“Milster”, you say softly hoping he'd know the way back.

“Night has fallen and the forest is covered in a thick fog. We won't be able to show you the road back until morning”, he explains gently while proding the meat.

“We?”

As if on cue you see two more well built men appear from the three lines just like the man in front had a few minutes ago. They were all 6 feet or taller by reference to your own height. The blond one, a head taller than his friend.

It felt kinda intimidating that all of them were so fit. One had a knit mask over his face while the other was rocking a very questionable mohawk. Another man appears behind them with a very old fashioned beard but it suited him. He had a rugged charm about him and a friendly face to compliment it. They were all conversing while bringing in their hunt, not particularly paying attention to what was in front of them. The man roasting the meat goes over to where they were.

They came to a halt a few meters away from you. They all turn their head to bore their eyes into yours. You swear they glowed an amber hue for a second. You awkwardly shift your feet from side to side not knowing what to do. After they shared a couple hushed words they all came over towards the fire. The one with the mohawk came towards you while the others stayed on the other side of the burning wood, analyzing you but not in a hostile way. Almost as if they were viewing a small animal in the wild. Except for the mohawk, his eyes told another story.

He circled you like he was sizing up prey. A cold shiver made its way down your spine despite the heat from the rekindled fire. Your nerve endings were screaming at you to run or hide, muscles twitching in your legs trying to get you to move. He finally came in front of you again making direct eye contact. His ocean eyes transfixing you in your place. His boyish smirk exposed his overly sharp canines. It unnerves you completely.

You shouldn't be here! You shouldn't have asked for help! But before you can backtrack and leave the area his deep Scottish accent rings out.

“Aw ah poor little bunny, lost are ye? Dinnae worry we'll help ye find yer way home."

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maniacwatchestheworld · 4 months

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We Need To Talk About Danny's Power Level.

I was hesitant to make this post, but the more I think about it and the more I see... We really HAVE to discuss this. Generally speaking, I really don't want to be seen as someone who is trying to ruin people's fun within this fandom. I want to inform, and while I have issues with some of the very prevalent ideas in this fandom, I don't want to tell people what they should or should not be making! I want people to follow what they find fun to create! But this power level thing...? I think that it has some rather concerning implications to it that need to be examined and discussed! This is an actual, decently serious problem, and after considering it for a time, it occurs to me that I may be one of the few people in this community that recognizes this issue as an actual issue and has the authority to speak on it...

You NEED to stop making Danny so incredibly overpowered in the DPxDC space.

Now please don't misunderstand me. I understand the value of a good fun power fantasy and making Danny more powerful than God can be fun and cathartic if you have a negative history with the Christian faith. But this insistence on the Ghost Zone being The Most Important Thing Ever and Danny being The Most Powerful Entity Within It is actually actively warping how people interpret and think about DC canon as well as certain characters within its canon to the point of unrecognizability as well as robbing characters of what makes them interesting, the point of their stories, and their agency within it. But most importantly of all, all of this is just... Generally, genuinely dismissive and shitty towards most religions, cultures, beliefs, and faiths that people practice, ESPECIALLY the faiths of POC and other minorities. And this is specifically an issue that DC does not have and that people within this space are making an issue by refusing to let the Ghost Zone and Danny have some limitations.

So that you understand where I'm coming from, please understand that I'm a person of color (I'm half Filipino) and that I'm Buddhist (a religion that I decided to convert to and embrace after a lot of thought and soul-searching, even if I'm not very good at practicing it). It also needs to be stated that in the DC universe, all religions and faiths are true and real at the same time, and they all have more or less equal footing as any other faith or religion or mythology explored in this multiverse. Christian heaven and hell are real. Reincarnation is canonical to the DCU. The Greek Pantheon is real and they are just as real and powerful as the Norse Pantheon. (By the by, just to let you know, yes, people in the real life modern day do actually actively worship both of these pantheons today.) Different alien planets have different faiths, and there is precedent for them being real as well. (Hey! Fun fact! Kryptonians are polytheistic!) It does seem that some form of animism is real within the DCU (within concepts of The Red and The Green)! And there is even representation for indigenous African faiths and beliefs within this shared universe! One of the genuinely wonderful things about the DC universe is that all of these faiths are real, they're all valid, and they are all more or less on equal footing to one another! If all the religions and afterlives and gods of each pantheon went to war with one another, it would genuinely be difficult to know who would win, or who would even stand a chance of coming out of this conflict alive!

In fact, a lot of characters and storylines within the DC universe are actually DEPENDENT on all of these faiths existing and being equally valid at the same time. Do you know where Billy Batson gets his powers from? The phrase "SHAZAM," if you didn't know, is actually an acronym for the names of the gods and heroes that he derives his powers from. (Solomon, Heracles, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles, and Mercury.) And it's implied that each person with SHAZAM powers has different heroes and gods that they derive their power from! (Black Adam derives all of his powers from the Egyptian Pantheon. Mary Marvel derives all of her powers from female gods and heroic figures.) Many of Wonder Woman's stories involve her interacting with various different pantheons. Xanthe Zhou gets their powers from traditional Chinese folk ancestor-worshiping practices. Ragman is a Jewish character whose suit is a powerful Jewish artifact- a suit made out of the souls of sinners that was created to protect the Jewish community. Sun Wukong is an actual character in the DCU and he is JUST as overpowered and immortal ×500 as he should be! And there are like... At least 3 entirely different characters that either are iterations of, claim to be, or pull their powers/inspiration from Anansi! DC celebrates a lot of faiths and religions and are bringing in more beliefs and faiths into their universe all the time! TONS of characters derive their powers from their religions, faiths, and beliefs! And DC celebrates them all as being real and valid to all who practice them! ... And you want them all to be forced to be under the same umbrella and less important and powerful as Danny and the Ghost Zone...

Bringing up ideas of ghosts and afterlives are always going to be loaded subjects because they often inherently rub up against actual living people's practiced religions and beliefs. But a belief in ghosts and dimensions better suited for them is also a valid belief that real life people have. And there is precedent for these beliefs also being real within DC canon. But DC only manages to get away with crossing over as many faiths as it does by saying that they are all real, valid, and while you might see less of some pantheons and more of others, they all exist and are doing their own thing just like they do in real life, just off panel... Are you beginning to see what the problem is...?

In the DPxDC fandom's eagerness to incorporate Danny into the DC universe and to make him powerful enough to go toe to toe with the likes of Superman, it seems that most people immediately overcompensated and that no one has really thought to slow down, stop, and actually think about what they are implying. Because the most common headcanons that I have seen regarding the Ghost Zone and other afterlives and religions? It's that they are all parts of the Ghost Zone, but are all ultimately subordinate to it. And since Danny is the Most Powerful and Important Person in the Ghost Zone... This implies that all religions, faiths and beliefs are less important and are indeed subordinate to the Almighty Danny. That all deities and the people following them should just bow down to Danny's might. This is something that DC, in spite of all of its flaws, has managed to avoid. These religions are REAL religions! Actual faiths practiced by actual people! We are NOT talking about dead, irrelevant pantheons that no one alive worship anymore! We are talking about living, active faiths and religions, some of which colonizers have tried to eradicate from the world! Some of these faiths have been suppressed! Some of the people who practice these beliefs have faced genocide for them! And so saying that the Ghost Zone is bigger, better, and that Danny is more important than any single other faith and afterlife...? THAT'S A SHITTY THING TO DO! You are literally doing the shitty Christian missionary thing, but with a fictional afterlife that consists of fictional characters that you know are not actual religious beliefs! You're landing on the sandy polytheistic shores of the DCU and declaring that the Ghost Zone is actually vaster than every faith already in the DCU and that Danny is more powerful and has authority over your gods! That your beliefs and faith and religion should just take a backseat to the Danny power fantasy! That your real, lived religion is not more important nor should it be respected when Danny is in the room! Of course the Buddha should bow down to Danny! Of course the Jewish people should renounce their faith and worship Danny instead because he's better and more powerful than the Jewish God! Why should people pray to their ancestors when Danny ultimately gets to decide what happens to everyone's ancestors!? If they want good things to happen to their ancestors in the afterlife, they should pray to Danny instead! Not like any form of prayer works or matters in this universe anyway because Danny is Almighty! And he doesn't hear the prayers! By making all faiths subordinate to Danny within these stories, you are saying that anyone who practices these beliefs and faiths within these stories are not valid in their beliefs. The only belief that matters and is real in this universe is the Ghost Zone and whatever will appease Danny the most. And while the characters in these stories are not real, the religions, beliefs, and practices they engage in ARE. And so you are implying that real people's faiths and religions don't matter. You are just dismissing real faiths and beliefs as not something worth thinking about or respecting within your works! You are saying that this fictional American white teenage boy and his goopy green land is more important to you than just being respectful of real people's faiths, beliefs, and religions. That your power fantasy is more important than saying that a person is valid for holding on to their beliefs. That when it comes down to it, that you would rather people choose your Danny power fantasy over their religion being portrayed as important and valid. That is honestly insulting. And really alls that you've done is impose monotheism onto the DC universe. You're just enforcing monotheism on people with extra steps. But instead of it being the Christian God, you've put Danny in that position. THIS IS A SHITTY THING TO DO! THIS SHOULD NOT BE THE DEFAULT HEADCANON THAT PEOPLE HAVE IN THIS FANDOM! PLEASE STOP!

Please understand. I know that you didn't do this on purpose or mean to imply this intentionally. I know that you didn't realize that you were insulting and undermining actual faiths and religions by pushing these ideas on the fandom. If one or two people had these thoughts and headcanons and didn't think very much about what they are implying, this would not be a problem. But for this to be the default is VERY disconcerting! As a Buddhist, it does feel genuinely shitty and insulting to imply that Danny has authority over the Buddha and that he outranks and is more powerful than Sun Wukong. It's not fun to think that my beliefs matter to you less than continuing to play with your Danny power fantasy. That you don't think that the pursuit for enlightenment and inner peace is real or worthwhile. That you would find my pursuit of compassion over everything else to be silly, stupid, and laughable when stood next to Danny. I know that you don't mean it. I know that's not what you meant to imply. But it is what you imply by making every faith subordinate to the Ghost Zone. And as someone who has a faith that is so often seen as subordinate to others and just a silly little play fantasy that doesn't matter and isn't real, it's depressing and uncomfortable to see this community as a whole unknowingly echo these sentiments. People in real life don't think that my faith is valid. People don't believe me when I say that I'm Buddhist. And as someone who is Filipino on top of that, I can't help but to think about the utter tragedy of my ancestors being forced to convert to Christianity or die. To forget their beliefs, pretend they never mattered, and embrace Jesus. To be forced to believe that their indigenous beliefs didn't matter. And so many of those indigenous beliefs are now lost and forgotten to their living ancestors (including myself) for it because to the Christians, their belief in Jesus was ultimately more important to them than just letting the Filipino beliefs and religions peacefully exist as they were. It's uncomfortable to me that you would rather I just embrace this view of Danny and let him be more important than and be an authority over my religion. That I should just be comfortable in Danny being more important and better than every religion that people actually practice in real life. That I should just forget the insult to my and any other religion that you make by placing Danny as more important than, and to "just have fun." But I can't. And these ideas are everywhere in this fandom. Even in stories where it shouldn't matter or doesn't need to be present, it's there. This reminder that you don't take my faith seriously- these ideas that Danny is more important than my faith are ubiquitous to this community. An issue that wasn't present in either of the original source materials. Because they thought about it and so went out of their way to not imply it. But here, people are just not willing to make that courtesy for even a second.

But it doesn't have to be this way. You can do better! I know that you can do better. And it isn't even difficult to do! All that you need to do better is to simply... Just... Think about it. When you imply or say "all afterlives are part of the Ghost Zone" actually think about ALL afterlives! Christian and Atheist and Greek ones, yes. But also Asian and Native American and African and South American ones too! Is that kind of thought fair towards Native American faiths, Buddhists, Jews, Hindus, Palestinians, Hellenists, Animists, and every other person and group that practices a faith? Or does this have majorly fucked up implications towards some or all of these people? If the answer is yes, you can proceed, but you need to be mindful of that fact and just think about it, even if only a little. Even if it's just a small acknowledgement that you don't know what you're talking about or that you are choosing to ignore some of the fucked up implications you're making here for the sake of the story in the tags. I just want you to take a moment and think through the implications of what you are making, and to make a choice on whether you should proceed or reconsider things. If you choose to proceed with the fucked up implications, that's fine. It means that you can do so with other mindsets in mind and can possibly use these ideas in interesting ways! At least you made a stance to possibly be shitty towards some people for the sake of your fun. At least you made the choice to say that some people's beliefs just don't matter to your story. This is a neutral statement. Some works of art are just not made for some kinds of people. And that's fine. But it is always better to knowingly acknowledge and make that choice than to pretend that it isn't there. And if you didn't realize that's what you were doing? If you reconsider and choose to turn back on this idea? At least you made that choice and didn't just passively follow the rest of the crowd to get here. Hopefully, thinking about it will make you more mindful about your art in the future and therefore make it better! The only thing to do about it is to acknowledge that you weren't thinking about the implications, but that you changed your mind, and move forwards with your life.

Now just to be entirely clear, I'm not telling you that I want you to feel guilty about being inconsiderate towards other faiths. That doesn't really do anyone any good. I won't get any satisfaction from you feeling guilty about it or internally punishing yourself for it. Just actually give what you might be implying more thought in terms of religion next time and do better. It's alright to make mistakes. We are all just human and we all make mistakes. Sometimes we don't even realize when we've made a mistake. Just strive to do better next time, be more willing to let go of these ideas that you're so attached to, allow yourself to see things from another perspective, and move on. Sometimes, it's better to just leave things alone. Sometimes you shouldn't meddle and try to rework ideas that were perfectly good on their own to begin with. Sometimes nothing that you personally can add will be a positive contribution. Sometimes the only thing that interfering will do is over-complicate things and rob the idea of what made it so interesting and powerful in the first place. But it's okay to leave it alone. It's going to be okay. I'm not angry. Just disappointed and a little frustrated. But it's better if you are able to just drop these things and move forwards with mindfulness in the future.

As an alternative, I think that it would generally be better for the Ghost Zone to just be its own thing separate from the other afterlives. Equal to other afterlives and not all-encompassing of them. It can be connected or related to other afterlives, but being greater than them as a whole is just a very uncomfortable and cruel implication. You don't need the Ghost Zone to be the most important thing in the multiverse. And Danny does not need to be the most powerful thing in existence. Please. It's okay to have power fantasies. But the invincible overpowered stronger than all Gods Danny should not be the overwhelming norm here to the detriment of everything else. It's only when you let go of Danny NEEDING to be the MOST important thing in the multiverse can you start to really dive into some of the more interesting sides of characters on their own terms and not on yours! Like... Did you know that there is one ghost character in DC called The Spectre and that he's the literal personification of the wrath of God? Did you know that Xanthe Zhou as a spirit envoy is actually half dead and half alive? Did you know that The Wizard Shazam is actually, secretly an aboriginal god? Did you know that in the DC universe that Judas Iscariot still walks the Earth to this day, doing vigilante work to atone for his betrayal of Jesus? Did you know that Ra's Al Ghul's mom has met and hung out with some of the demons that Sun Wukong fought against in Journey to the West? Hell, did you know that Damian is Buddhist!? Imagine that. Danny coming in and telling Damian that he's more important and more powerful than Damian's entire religion. That the Buddha is just a lackey of his and that he rules over all afterlives, including nirvana and cycles of reincarnation. I'm certain that Damian would take that very well and accept it wholeheartedly! Don't you agree with me?!!?!???!

I personally think that all of this is better and more interesting if characters, their religions, and ideas in general are able to interact with Danny's world on their own terms without being forced to fit within Danny's box! You don't need to try to force everything within DC's universe to fit inside Danny's. DC wouldn't ask for Danny's universe to conform to theirs! They would just add everything that Danny's universe has to offer on top of everything else they already have! And trying to fit the entire DC multiverse within the scope of Danny's universe... It's too small a box for too large of a universe! Sometimes you can just let things not be deeply connected. And sometimes things don't need a complicated explanation and it can literally just be magic. There's nothing wrong with trying to tie everything together in a neat and succinct way. But sometimes you need to pull your view out a little and look at what you're doing and genuinely ask yourself if what you're doing actually adds depth, or if it does more harm than good and makes everything worse, make less sense, and more complicated or not. It's okay to fall down the rabbit hole sometimes. I completely understand that happening and do it all the time! Just remember to be mindful about it!

Either way, if you're going to insist on desperately clinging onto these ideas of Danny being the Most Important and Powerful Thing in the Multiverse to the detriment of literally everything else, that's fine. But just be honest with what you're doing and why. This isn't a Ghost King Danny AU. Kingdoms don't have unequivocal power over other and all kingdoms. It's a God Emperor over all Gods Danny AU. Nothing wrong with that concept in of itself. Just tag it properly as something like "God King Danny" so that I don't have to deal with it and the implications you're making about my religion with it. That would be enough! I would be happy with that! Just make your choice. Think about what you're doing, why you're doing it and choose. If you choose to keep going, that's fine! All the more power to you! Have fun! But be honest about what you're making. I may not like it and think that it's an overdone, overplayed idea at this point, but you're free to do it! So go forwards and make what will bring you joy! But now that you've thought about it a little, hopefully you'll continue with a little more knowledge and foresight. And hopefully that will make your work even more interesting and better for it! And if you decide to change course, I'm glad that I was able to sway you and get you to see things from my perspective and come to my side on this. At the very least, hopefully this will help to vary up ideas within the fandom a bit and you won't just take ideas that are happening in this space entirely for granted and as givens! I have so many ideas on interesting ways that these intersections can go and characters that you can use, and ways to look at this community that offer so so SO many interesting story directions! I'm so happy that you've decided to come with me on this journey! You're going to make something great, I'm certain of it! So let's make something wonderful together! I believe in you! There's a lot of fun to be had! ^.^

#ghost king danny #dcxdp #infinite realms au #god king danny #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom x dc #religion #religious discussion #religion tw #religion talk #danny phantom

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itsabardknocklife · 6 months

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Things the Baldur's Gate Fandom Needs To Know About Mystra

The current Mystra is the third Mother of Magic and she was originally a mortal human woman named Ariel Manx.

Ariel was the second daughter of a wealthy merchant and she liked to sneak out at night to go partying in the clubs.

While out clubbing one night, Ariel - known as Midnight among her friends - met a conjurer named Tad who introduced her to magic and brought her to Mystra's temples.

When Ariel was 21, she attracted Mystra's attention and began to feel as though she were being watched. Whenever this happened, she found that her ability to cast spells increased and that spells that she once found difficult were much easier.

In 1358, when Ariel was 26, the ALL gods were cast out onto the Material Plane by Ao because Bane and Myrkul were being little shits and making yet another power grab, like they do.

The Original Mystra was extremely Unhappy about being thrown out of the heavens and tried to march back up the Celestial Stairway to reclaim her place of power.

Ao did not take kindly to this, and promptly had Helm kick her ass.

Unfortunately, Mystra dying is Bad For The Weave, and Ao had to replace her.

He picked Ariel.

When she was 26.

Immediately after she kicked Myrkul's bony ass in a duel that took place in the sky over Waterdeep.

In order to make the transition easier, Ariel took up the name of Mystra so that

27 years later, Cyric and Shar conspired to kill her so that Shar could take over as the Mother of Magic and spread her Shadow Weave over the land.

Instead of granting Shar control of the Weave the way she hoped, the new Mystra's death/disappearance caused the Weave to collapse, taking the Shadow Weave with it and kicking off what is known as the Spellplague.

Unlike the last two times Mystra was killed, everything went kind of nuts. Magic faded, blue fire raged across the land, killing everything it touched and then raising them into ghouls, the landscape became warped, it was Bad.

The only good thing to come out of the Spellplague was the Dragonborn, who were released from thousands of years of enslavement as a result of the blue fire blowing everything to shit. Hooray for the dragonborn!

Anyway.

Over the next hundred years, things calmed down and the magic… sort of returned, but there were a lot of changes to how magic worked. The Mother of Magic was a non-entity, her presence unfelt even by the famed Elminster of Shadowdale.

At least, not until 1479, when he found her possessing a bear and guarding a hoard of magic items she'd stashed while mortal.

She sent him out to go find new candidates to become her Chosen, and he came back a few weeks later after gorging on the magic of a few of Mystra's other Chosen and gave her enough juice to "return."

Three years later, the Second Sundering started when Bhaal's last two descendants fight to the death and resurrect him as a result.

At this point, ALL the gods are out there recruiting people to become their Chosen right, left, and center. It's a race to become the strongest god in the pantheon, with the winners being decided based on who has the most followers.

This goes on for five years, with the Second Sundering coming to a close in 1487. This was when Mystra became fully restored as a Goddess, with the Weave returning to its original strength.

Over the next two years, MOST of the gods drop their Chosen like they're hot and go quiet, resulting in the rise of clerics as mortals struggled to understand why the gods' behaviors changed so drastically from before.

Mystra was actually one of the few who kept in contact with her Chosen while a few others (such as Ellistraee and the Dead Three) chose to remain on Toril in Avatar form.

In the year 1491, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep finds the Netherese Orb and has his silver flame (the mark of Mystra's chosen) consumed by it.

12 years after Mystra - once the mortal woman known as Ariel Manx - recovered from her near-death experience.

Please, I am begging you. Stop portraying Mystra the Ultimate Evil and Gale as her Innocent Victim. Their whole relationship is so much more complex than that. Mystra put so much trust in Gale and simply asked that he not cross her boundaries in return, and Gale, in his own words, "sought to cross [those] boundaries." He's a man who heard no and decided that he wasn't going to stop trying until that no became a yes.

I'm not saying Gale is the villain in this, but I am saying that both Gale and Mystra are complex individuals who are both flawed in different ways, and reducing them down to Good and Bad is doing them a disservice.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #bg3 mystra #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #d&d lore

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freakadr0id · 2 years

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Oh my GOD, I just realized why Donnie acts so weird in Man vs. Sewer. I always thought his behavior was odd in that episode, particularly in his nonchalance towards finding and saving Raph - but I had the most random thought occur to me during work that TOTALLY explains it. I'm sure some people have probably pointed this stuff out already, but I wanted to put this out there anyway.

The episode 'Man-vs-Sewer' is a personal favorite of mine. I love the episodes where the boys are just goofing off, and this episode is that plus some. We see get to see the boys having fun for a bit at the start of the episode, but it also adds a bit more depth to some of the turtles. We see a really surprising side to Raph's character with his fear of being alone, and Leo gets to shine a bit as a leader and hint at his true potential.

However, I was always a bit puzzled by the way Donnie and Mikey were written in this episode. As a rule, Rise is pretty good about keeping its characters, well, in character, so their behavior struck me as kind of strange, particularly Donnie's.

If there is one thing Rise NAILS about Donnie's character is showing that despite struggling with emotions and empathy, he is still NOT AN ASSHOLE. Donnie genuinely and deeply loves his family - he just has a hard time expressing it externally.

'Man-vs-Sewer' kind of stood out to me as an exception to that, however. At this point, Donnie's care for his brothers is an undisputed fact, so why does he seem so unconcerned about finding Raph after being separated? Even for Donnie, this seems like an ooc level of indifference towards the well-being of his brother (at least that's how I saw it).

Except, it isn't. In fact, this episode only reinforces that Donnie does care for his family, it's just a *bit* harder to see here.

One thing many neurodivergent people struggle with is a sudden change in plans. When they expect to do something that day it can be very difficult for some neurodivergent people to deal with it emotionally and can lead to immense frustration or even shutdowns. Since Donnie is confirmed to be, at the very least, autistic coded, this would absolutely apply to him as well.

The turtles planned to have a nice, relaxing day floating along New York's sewers and enjoying a small break from all the stress of finding the Dark Armor. No fighting, no mystic metal, no foot clan. Just a calm day of fun without a care in the world - only for it to be ruined by a bad pass and a lost brother.

I know if my plans were ruined like that, I would be in an absolutely FOUL mood. It can be hard to transition into a different mindset when the expectations for the day change like that, and it can make anyone frustrated, but Donnie doesn't appear to be that way. In fact, he's acting extremely casual.

Even though everything he was going to do today was upended and his brother is now missing in the New York sewers, why does Donnie seem so unconcerned about the whole situation?

Answer: It's a coping mechanism.

It would be very easy for him to be a bit more annoyed and frustrated at the whole situation (I definitely would be), but he isn't. Instead, he avoids getting overwhelmed and emotional by continuing through the day as if nothing has really changed.

The whole time they are finding Raph, Donnie behaves as if they are still on a peaceful, carefree mini-vacation. He makes snide jokes and jabs toward Leo, enjoys the drinks he brought in his shell, and constantly reminds the others that it is his "day off." If he can act as though he's still relaxing, it becomes easier to adjust to unexpected alterations in his day. This isn't Donnie being willfully inconsiderate towards Raph being lost and alone, this is just him trying to manage with the sudden changes the best he can in that moment.

If Donnie really was an uncaring asshole (as some may be inclined to believe given his apparent lack of empathy), he simply would have resumed their original plans, or been more vocally resistant to going after Raph. Instead, he joins his brothers in their search, and although he may not provide the best input for finding Raph because of his coping method (his brain is in "day off" mode which is why he keeps missing clues about Raph), he is still making an effort.

In a way, the episode which I thought portrayed a slightly out-of-character version of Donnie actually provides yet another example of how Donnie really loves his brothers, despite how it may seem on the surface.

~-~-~

(Actually, depending on the way you interpret his character, the same can be said for Mikey in this episode as well. Mikey is always a bit of a goofball in the show but in this episode, it is dialed up to 11. He also doesn't seem to much care or effort into finding Raph and acts like a child who managed to snag one of their parents' energy drinks. If we consider that maybe he is also struggling to adapt to the changes of the day, this could be him adopting a similar coping method to Donnie, it is just amplified because of his hyperactive behavior and personality.)

#damn I am continually impressed with how well Rise writes Donnie #seriously there are so many ways they could have really butchered his characterization #esp. as an autistic/autistic-coded character #but 9 times out of 10 the writers show that they *get* Donnie #and that they take time to consider how they portray his character in a healthy and positive manner #they have a couple missteps here or there #but overall Donnie is written just brilliantly #I hope I explained this well enough #I'm kind of thought dumping after this came to me in a vision during work #and I HAD to make this after I got home #shit this ended up way longer than I intended #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie #rottmnt donatello #rise donatello #analysis #character analysis #I guess #not my greatest work #but it'll do #let's play the 'will it show up in the tags game?'

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nc-vb · 10 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧, & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡

sowwy. i thought of this at 3am and now it’s 6am and the idea of this just makes me sad. so y’all need to be sad with me, ok?

summary -> the sun sets, the moon takes its rightful place amongst its people, and the truth comes out.

pairing → dan heng x gn!reader

warnings → sfw, hurt, angst & comfort triple threat.

wc → 1.3k

Ethereal. There'd been no other way to describe it; no other word comes close to begin to explain the sight before you. Clad in a form unrecognizable to you but one as familiar to him as if it were the back of his own hand, Dan Heng parted the sea of the Scalegorge Waterscape like a god. And yet, of course, it was him.

For all your time aboard the Astral Express, you knew each of its passengers harboured a secret or a shame or two. You never pressed or pried or pondered, not even once. Especially to Dan Heng. An unopened book, you often times had to guess what he'd been feeling within a moment. This, too, you were fine with, because whenever he did decide to open up to you, even just a little, you'd been elated. Whatever amount of trust he had in you, even if only a smidgen, that'd been enough for you.

But this was big. A huge secret. Dan Heng is beside you. And yet, not.

At this point in your Trailblazing, you'd only ever encountered the Vidyadhara species here, on the Xianzhou Luofu. Not only are they a long-life species, but they're also descendants of the Aeon of Permanence. Equipped with tails and horns, ones that you couldn't help but stare at in awe (poor Lady Baiju had been victimized by your intense staring until she'd offered to let you touch them, only to learn of their soft-scaled nature; the horns? Just as soft).

But seeing them on Dan Heng is... a different story. Somehow, you're finding it difficult to meet his eyes, but you feel him staring at you, now, so very vehemently so, even while locked in conversation with Jing Yuan and Lady Fu.

Why are you avoiding him? You feel so strange, the longer this behaviour persists. After learning of his story's details, your heart screams at you to comfort him, to pull him aside and give all of your promises to him during his unease. But instead, you decide to walk away from their strategy session to face Phantylia — it's simple enough, just take her down, right? You don't need to hear all the details — and instead, face out at the open waterscape just steps away from you, perched on a shattered pillar.

And eventually, when Dan Heng confirms his presence is no longer required before the two, he makes his way over to where you sit, now absentmindedly fiddling with the grip of your weapon. You bristle upon hearing him approach, and he wonders if you would've reacted the same if one of the others had approached you; if it were Caelus or March or Mister Yang, would you have shot such a concerned look over your shoulder?

Your name feels a little acidic, sitting on his tongue, so he forces it out to relieve him. You swallow, and turn away once more, only to shuffle to the left of the broken pillar to allow him room to join you. And he does, albeit in caution, because for some reason, you have your guard up against him now.

He raises a hesitant hand that curls around your waist, his other following to hold onto your right arm’s sleeve, and in the corner of your eye, Dan Heng spots you biting down on your lower lip and glancing down at him. The expression you find on his face tells of two things— his eventual apology for his unintended deceit, and, that he has so many things to say, but knows not where to begin.

“Dan Heng,” you call, your voice soft— he easily recognizes it as the one you choose to use when you find yourself having to lecture March 7th, or when you’d chastised Caelus for digging through the trash for a chance at finding treasure. You never shout, but your firm, monotone voice is enough to make even a guiltless criminal flinch. Now, you’ll use it on him, the man you once called your “first and only love”. Now, you’ll call him a pretender, a liar, a fraud, a— “are you okay?”

For the briefest of moments, his mind stalls, his heart quick to follow. It’s hard to breathe all of a sudden, he finds. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and despite your very specific reservations, you throw your arms around him, hands running smooth across his back and between his shoulder blades.

Dan Heng doesn’t want to cry. If anything, they’d be tears of frustration — toward his circumstances, toward his past life’s relationships, toward you, toward himself — and if he started crying, he just might not stop. So he speaks, instead, finally breathing, and hoping the distraction helps.

“… are you mad at me?”

It barely does.

“At you? Never.” You, too, exhale a long breath, one you must’ve been holding for a while, and part from him. “At myself, for thinking the unfair thoughts that I am? For behaving the way I’d just behaved before? Extremely. I’m angry. I’m embarrassed. I’m… I’m sad.”

Dan Heng’s grip on you tightens from behind, and he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Why are you sad?”

You can’t bite back the chuckle that’d settled in the back of your throat. It’s not one of humour, either.

“Because I’m just a human,” you answer, tone light, but still embittered. “I’m just a human… I’ll grow older and older until I die, and you’ll stay the same as you are for decades, for centuries. We won’t grow old together. But you knew that. Time passes so differently for the two of us. And eventually, you’ll have to leave me; you’ll have to move on and leave this… this speck of ash I’ll become behind.”

Dan Heng’s lips part in horror. “N-No, I— no, please, don’t… don’t say any of that. I… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I was… I never wanted to hurt you by omitting the truth, but it was too hard for me to say anything… yet.” This time, saying your name leaves his tongue dry, and it’s left heavy in his mouth. “I’d planned to tell you eventually. Soon.” In his lap, he twists his fingers around, the anxiety welled up inside him pulling out his old habits. “It… isn’t easy for me to speak about my past or my lineage, and I’d been trying to come with a way to talk to you about it.

“And… I’ve felt the same way for as long as we’ve been together, you know.” You turn to him, hearing his words pass through clenched teeth. “That one day, you’ll… you’ll just be gone. It… isn’t fair.”

“Dan Heng…”

“I thought… you were mad at me,” he adds lowly, “with the way you were ignoring me before.”

“… for a second, I was,” you murmur back, instantly feeling guilty. “But when I joined all of you, I made a promise to myself to not ask questions, and to not be offended if any of you had any secrets you wanted to keep to yourselves. I-I think that, because you and I are together, I started to want to know more about your past… not thinking it might’ve been so painful that you wanted to leave it be. I’m sorry.” Your head instinctively bows a little. “It was selfish of me to act like that. I’m sorry.”

Dan Heng wastes no time in grabbing you from around your shoulders and pulling you into him again. You huff, blinking quickly to send away the tears lining up along your eyelids.

“Don’t apologize. I was… inconsiderate. I promise— I’ll be with you for as long as you wish for me to.”

You raise your hand to rest it atop one of his, and squeeze.

“… I wish it could be forever.”

@trailblazernet :)

#trailblazernetwork #dan heng x reader #dan heng x yn #dan heng x y/n #dan heng #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr

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wheelsupimagine · 3 months

Text

Meant to be -Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x FemReader

Word count: 3.2k words

Warnings: mentions of s3 e16 and s4 e24, angst and fluff

Summary: A case reminded Spencer of his past and you the only friend he had in high school, what if one day you two meet again in DC.

Being a resident genius had its favors, the team bets everything on him and he could always retrieve this but this case was different, it was difficult it got personal.

His edict memory is a blessing but not when a case like this reminded him of his past - Alexa Lisbon.

Then he wished he could forget everything for once in his life, but he will always remember.

When Spencer stepped out of the plane, he felt like he could breathe again, but his mind still raced - this case was an emotional roller coaster for him and the best way for Spencer to calm down was to go to his favorite bookstore.

The moment Spencer stepped into the bookstore he felt relieved, the familiar smell of old books and fresh coffee felt like home and no other person was in sight.

"Hey Spencer though case?!" Miranda the owner of the shop asked.

"Hey Miranda, yeah it was."

"Okay, your coffee will be ready in a bit, the bookstore is almost empty just one more person is here."

Spencer nodded but he was surprised that someone else would be here at this time still Spencer didn’t let himself bother knowing he would probably not even find this person.

Spencer left Miranda and made his way deeper into the bookstore. He was so invested in finding a new book, that he totally forgot about his coffee till he heard his name being called.

"Spencer Reid?" A stranger called his name

He turned his head and then he saw you.

Y/N Y/L/N.

What Spencer didn’t tell Derek was, who got him down from the goalpost back then - it was y/n, after that night you two spent more time together - Spencer could always come to you, and you two never talked about his problems and struggles because when he was with you it didn’t matter, once or twice he talked with you about his mom but mostly he just enjoyed your company and felt like a decent kid with a friend.

When he graduated high school, he never looked back but after 14 years you stand now in front of him right here in this bookstore in DC.

"Miranda asked me if I could bring you your coffee before it gets cold." You said and pointed at his coffee in your hand.

"My god Spencer, I can’t believe it’s you." You continued.

"Thank you y/n." Spencer took the coffee from you.

"It’s been a while, you look good by the way."

Spencer blushed, but he didn’t say anything back.

"Ähm yeah it was nice to see you again, I don’t want to bother much longer." As you attempted to leave, Spencer stopped you.

"Actually I could use some company if you like… Only if you want to obviously, I would understand if you don’t want to…" Spencer

rambled, but you stopped him.

"I would love to keep you company Spencer."

You two sat down and drank your coffee and talked. Spencer found out that you moved here two years ago because you got a job offer at the Walter Reed hospital and nothing held you in Las Vegas. Spencer talked to you about his job in the FBI, you asked him about Diana and it surprised him that you still knew her name, you two had a great time together until you caught Spencer off guard.

"Spencer, how are you really? You have very dark circles under your eyes."

"I…I haven’t slept really, it was this case that reminded me of something in the past." Spencer sighed and didn’t dare to look you in the eyes.

You knew where his mind went, you rubbed Spencer’s arm.

"But look at you now, these High school jerks and Alexa are definitely regretting this now." You looked at your clock.

"Hey Spencer it’s getting late, I have to wake up early and honestly you need some sleep too."

Spencer's mimic changed from happy to sad in one motion.

"Oh, I understand. Yeah yeah, you should leave you need your sleep." Spencer took his distance from you, thinking you wanted to leave because you already had enough of him.

"Spencer hey, if you want we can exchange phone numbers so we could meet again."

Spencer’s lips curved into a smile.

"Yeah, I would like that."You exchanged numbers and you both left the shop together.

Sadly you two had to split ways, Spencer insisted on walking you home but you promised him that it wouldn’t even take 10 minutes till you were home. Spencer started rambling about unsafety and what everything could happen in 10 minutes.

"Wow, now I might think I have to stay with you forever." You joked

but Spencer was stunned and it caused his cheeks to turn slightly pink.

"I just made a joke Dr. Reid, okay. Would you feel better if I wrote you when I made it home save in 10 minutes?" You asked him.

"This would make it slightly better. But.."

"But?" You asked confused.

"You lied," Spencer said.

"What?"

"You first said you would be home in less than 10 minutes now it’s exactly 10 minutes." Spencer smiled and you laughed.

"Come home safe Dr. Reid."You smiled and turned around making your way home.

When Spencer arrived home, he thought about going to bed immediately but you crossed his mind again and when he looked at his phone he saw that you hadn’t wrote him yet. So instead of getting in his pyjamas he sat on his couch and waited for your text.

After 10 minutes and 45 seconds, you texted him letting him know you made it home safe.

Spencer:You are too late.

Y/n:What?!

Spencer:You are exactly 45 seconds too late. Next time I call the FBI.

Y/n:haha. I am so sorry dr Reid, I changed into my pajamas first.

Y/n:You didn’t need to stay awake for me

Spencer:But I wanted to make sure that you save.

Y/n:Thank you Spencer but you also need to sleep.

Spencer:Good night Y/n sleep well.

Y/n:Sleep well genius.

Over the last few months, Spencer and you met at the bookstore when your jobs allowed it. Otherwise, you two stay connected through messages and phone calls. Even the team noticed a shift in Spencer’s mood and as the man Derek is he asks him about it.

"Hey, pretty boy, who’s got you on the phone like this?"

"What do you mean, I use my phone like I always do."

"No boy wonder, for someone who rarely uses his phone in his free time, you are really caught up in it now." Derek laughed.

"Is pretty boy in love?" Derek asked and wiggled with his brows.

"Derek please can you leave it, it’s nothing," Spencer answered and didn’t dare to look Derek in the eyes.

"Okay Spencer, I let it slide for now but just so you know I care about you and if there is someone in your life that makes you happy, I just want to know."

Paperwork days for Spencer were never a problem, he accepted it cause it needed to be done but now with you in his life, he loved paperwork because it meant he wasn’t away on a case and with you having the morning shift, it gave you two the chance to meet up after work and he enjoyed your time together, he feels like he can be like himself with you and he hasn’t laughed so much since he met you.

But your jobs didn't allow this too much, either you had the night shift or Spencer was out of town for a case and he hated this, he hated when you weren’t around, he hated it when you two were in the same city but didn’t get to see each other and even though he loves his job, he couldn’t wait to come home, to see you - he missed you.

Cases also mean for him that he barely has time to call you.

Currently, Spencer has been away for a week already, this case going longer than he thought it would take, Spencer lay on his motel bed and tried to find the breakthrough for the case but nothing came to his mind.

He put the papers aside and looked at the clock, it wasn’t too late in DC yet, and he was unsure if he should call you, it’s nothing you usually do so that Spencer could stay focused on the case but honestly, he needed to hear your voice tonight, so he tried to call you hoping you aren’t already asleep.

"Spencer? Is everything okay?" Your voice sounds raw.

"Hey, yeah everything is okay. Did I wake you up? I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to, it was a stupid idea to call you, you obviously slept, and your voice sounds raw. I should-."

"Spencer, breath, everything is fine. I didn’t sleep, I - I just rolled around, I was thinking about you."

Spencer was stunned by your confession, he stayed silent but his heart was beating very fast.

"So yeah, what’s on your mind, Spencer?" You asked breaking the silence.

"We don’t come forward with the case and I...I wanted to hear your voice." Spencer confessed.

"Sometimes it takes more time to find the perpetrator but the only thing that matters is that you will find him. I miss you but please stay safe there."

"I will y/n, I promise."

"Hey, Spencer."

"Yes, y/n."

"Why don’t we meet when you come back, we could order takeout and make a movie marathon at my place nothing fancy." You suggested.

"Yeah, yeah I would like that."

"Good, I will see you soon, good night Spencer."

"Good night y/n."

A few days later the team finally caught the unsub.

As the team flew back to Virginia, Spencer wrote you to let you know that he would land in the late afternoon and asked you if you two wanted to have the movie marathon tonight which you accepted.

Spencer didn’t even realize that he smiled like an idiot until Derek pulled him out of his thoughts.

"You pretty boy what got your smile like that?" Derek asked Spencer.

"Uh n-no-nothing," Spencer said but his cheeks turned 10 times darker every second.

"Sureee Spencer."

Spencer didn’t say anything.

"Hey Spencer," Derek said.

"Yeah."

"It’s good to see you like this," Derek replied. He left Spencer alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t wait to see you tonight.

Spencer arrived at your apartment complex 10 minutes too early, he first waited in his car, drumming his fingers on his bouncing leg, trying to calm himself down but he failed miserably, so he stood in front of your door 7 minutes and 43 seconds too early but it was okay, in that time he tried to get his breath under control.

But before Spencer got his breath under control, you already opened the door.

"Man, I thought you would never knock at my door." You greeted him.

"How-how did you know I stood in front of your door?" Spencer asked.

"I saw you parking your car 5 minutes ago, I waited for you.”

"Oh yeah I didn’t want to be late here but I also didn’t want to be too early, I didn’t know if you were ready yet," Spencer explained.

"It’s okay Spencer but next time just knock you could never be annoying to me, even if you're too early you can sit on my couch like right now."

"I will quickly make the popcorn, you can look for a movie we could watch." You suggested and Spencer sat down and looked for a good movie to watch that you also liked, when you returned with the popcorn and other snacks, you sat down next to him but not too close, Spencer still didn’t decide what to watch.

"I-I don’t know what to watch, movies that I like are mostly not the type from others," Spencer admitted.

"Okay mhm, what do you think of Star Trek?"

"What?!" Spencer was completely shocked.

"Ähm okay was that a bad request?"

"No, no it’s- it’s great actually, I love it, I didn’t think you would like these types of movies," Spencer admitted.

"I am full of surprises Spencer."

So you watched the Star Trek series and after some time you both fell asleep, no one knows who fell asleep first maybe it was you or him but for sure was that you both bumped your heads, after a phone went off - it was Spencer’s.

"I’m sorry, I’ve got a case, is your head okay?"

"Yeah, yeah is there enough time for coffee or do you have to leave immediately?"

"No, it looks really important I have to leave now, but at least the case is here."

"Okay, good luck, be safe."

"I will be." As Spencer was about to leave he turned around once more.

"Hey y/n?"

"Yes, Spencer."

"I had a lot of fun last night."

"Me too, maybe we couldn’t do it again sometime?"

"I would love to, bye y/n."

"See you soon doctor, come home to me in one piece."

Just when the door felt shut, your phone started ringing, it was the hospital.

"Hey, y/n. Is it possible for you to fill in today, maya is sick."

"Yeah sure, I am on my way."

Spencer just visited Abby one of the remaining survivors, in the middle of their conversation Abby got aphasia, which scared Spencer, this stain kills people in a short amount of time and right now he couldn’t do anything.

Then he thought about you, and he had the urge to talk to you, even though he may get in trouble for this he needed to know you were okay.

"Spencer, is everything okay?" You said quite in panic.

"Yeah, yeah sure why wouldn’t it be… I.. I just wanted to hear your voice and I wanted to know if you are okay."

"Everything is okay, besides I have to work today."

"What !! I thought it was your free day?"

"Yeah, change in plans, one of my colleagues is sick and they asked me to fill in, but it’s fine, it’s a quiet day." You lied to Spencer, nothing was quiet on this day.

Hey, Spencer, it looks like I’ve got to go out there again. Look out for yourself and maybe if you’d like we could out soon.. like on a real date, maybe?"

"..I would like it, yeah, that would be great."

"Good, stay safe Spencer. Bye"

"Goodbye, Y/n. Take care of yourself. See you soon."

You both hung up with a smile and at least forgot the scary situation for a few seconds, before you got out again and took care of the anthrax-infected patients.

Spencer and Derek made their way to Nichols a possible suspect in the anthrax case. When they arrived Spencer had cut himself briefly on the thorn bush but it didn't stop him and continued to walk with Derek closer to the house.

Before Morgan and Reid entered Nichols's private lap, Derek got a phone call, Reid made his way into the lab and left Derek behind.

As Derek ended the call, he realized Spencer was not behind him. Derek ran towards the house calling for Reid and just when he arrived at the house, Spencer closed the door from the lab and told Derek he couldn’t get in there just then Derek saw the broken test tube with Anthrax in it.

Spencer was a step closer to death.

You took the mask from your face and took a deep breath and you finally broke down, you started crying, it was too much for you, seeing all those vulnerable people and you can’t do anything to help them, you can only try to make this stay as comfortable as possible.

You knew what this job meant, you can’t save everybody but this is not fair, how can a human being so heartless and let these people perish?

You took another deep breath and then you thought about Spencer, hopefully was okay, far away from this situation but deep down you knew he wasn’t, he is in the FBI of course he is involved but please let him be okay.

You needed to hear Spencer's voice, so you called him.

"Y/n…" Spencer began to cough.

"Spencer.. what's happening. You don’t sound okay."

"Everything is fine." Spencer coughed again.

"Spencer…no matter what is happening…"

"Y/n listen." Spencer cut you off.

"I love you Y/n… everything is gonna be okay but I've got to go now. Then Spencer hung up and you didn’t get to answer him.

You tried it a few more times but he didn’t pick and now it felt like your world broke down, you burst into tears knowing couldn’t do anything.

After Spencer and Dr. Kimura may have found the cure for this anthrax, Spencer finally gets to go out of the lab and go to the shower, but as Spencer untied his tie, Dr. Kimura sees the cut Spencer got from the bush and the situation just got more dangerous, hopefully, the cure was in the inhaler.

When Dr. Kimura came in with a newly infected anthrax patient your heart skipped a beat - it was Spencer.

He was in an awful state and for a moment you didn’t know if he would survive this.

The situation finally got under control with the confirmation from the lab that the cure was in the inhaler, the last survivors and Spencer were able to be cured and now it was a matter of time before Spencer woke up.

When you walked towards Spencer’s room, you saw a man sitting by Spencer and eating his jello that you put on his table, just then Spencer woke up and immediately asked if there would be more jello.

As you arrived at Spencer's room you couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Hey." You've said as if a stone fell from your heart.

"Hi." Said Spencer with a smile on his face.

You both wanted to say so much more but with this muscular man in the room who you didn’t know - there was an awkward silence there.

"Okay, I think it’s my time to leave. Have fun lover boy." The man said and left you too alone.

"You’ve scared me, Spencer." You sat down on the bed and took his hand in yours.

"I didn’t mean to do this and I am sorry for what I said, I would understand if you don’t want to see me anymore, I mean with what I said I took this.." Spencer rambled.

"I love you too Spencer."

"WHAT?! Really?"

"Yes Spencer, of course I do, I've loved you since we first met back in Las Vegas."

Spencer cupped with both hands your face and you leaned in and then you two kissed for the first time.

"So you still want to go out with me?" You asked.

"Of course Y/n." You both hugged and Spencer's face was crooked in your neck.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Yes, Spencer."

"Before we go out on the date, can I have some of this jello?" Spencer asked shyly but you just started laughing.

"Of course, my love, you can have as much jello as you want."

Man - when I wrote this it felt from length okay but now I feel like it’s a little rushed maybe you could give me feedback if I should get more in detail with the story and the conversations.

I am still very new to writing and it feels super though to write Spencer so that he still has his character traits and doesn’t sound like a totally different Spencer.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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cloverthebarbearian · 6 months

Text

Do You Think Of Me...?

Rolan x AFAB/OC, NSFW, 6,034 Words

A fic inspired by an incredible piece of fanart by @sammakesart, the full image of which is a patreon exclusive that is well worth the money and has been living in my head rent free for weeks. For WEEKS. (Ref Sheet for OC)

"I mean. We live in the tower now, yeah? And its Big and all, but we still like to have rooms near each other. I don't know, it feels safe… comfortable, after everything. To know we're close by. But it also means, sometimes, things aren't always… private…" Clover slowly took sips from their pint, eyes still locked on Cal's darting gaze. Biting his lip, knuckles white in his lap. Clover's eyebrows raised, "Okay? And?" Cal lowered his head, "Pleeease don't make me say it…" Lia threw her head back and nearly yelled out in exasperation, "GOOOODS Cal you're such a BABY sometimes. Listen, Clover… Clover. We know," she shoots Clover an intense stare, "We knoooow things. About Rolan. Things no siblin's should know," her hand reached out to grab their arm, "An' Rolan? Reeeeeeaaally misses you…" a knowing smile crept up on her face. Clover's cheeks felt warm, but they weren't even sure why. The gears in their head not fully turning as the alcohol worked through their veins. "What… what do you mean?"

It was a lively evening at the Elfsong. Swarms of friends deep in drink and song flooded the tables of the tavern, the Hero of Baldur's Gate among them. Busy catching up with Cal and Lia, Clover took a healthy chug of their pint amidst the laughter around them.

"And THEN he tried to tell us 'an unseen servant would be more useful'," Lia continued her ranting, "Like, sure Rolan. Good luck gettin' an invisible jester ta' help with your customers."

Apparently, Rolan had been particularly difficult to work with this past week. Between drinks, Lia was busy retelling all of his criticisms and complaints over his siblings earnest attempts to help him run Sorcerous Sundries. Now that he was the Master of Ramazith's Tower, he had to learn all of said Tower's secrets - on top of learning to run an already successful business. Admittedly an overwhelming task as is, and likely even more so for a perfectionist like Rolan.

Cal followed Lia's complaints with his own, "I get that it's been a lot as of late. But you'd think the man would be grateful to have the extra hands about! And it's not like the patrons are complaining. Hells, some bloke even tried to ask Lia on a date after shift!"

Clover raised an eyebrow to Lia at that, who simply shrugged and sipped her own drink, "He was like, 60 years old at least. Or maybe 600. I think he was an Elf? Besides, if anything, its Rolan who needs someone to ask 'em out. Hopefully someone to help yank the stick from 'is arse." Clover snorted out a laugh in response.

"You really think that would help?" They pondered aloud, "Gods, I can't even see Rolan out on a date. Let alone finding someone attractive. That man only seems to care for Tomes and the Weave," Clover chuckled to themselves, "I mean hey, Mystra's single now, maybe I could set them up..."

Cal and Lia shot each other knowing glances, poorly hidden smiles curling at the corner of their lips. This was a look that Clover recognized immediately. That token Sibling Telepathy. Clover dropped their pint on the bar with a thud and planted their palms on the counter, shooting them their own knowing glance.

"Okay," they pointed between the two of them, "What's all this?"

The siblings eyes darted at Clover and then each other, trying to hide their bubbling laughter.

"Us?" Lia said sarcastically, hands raising up in feigned innocence, "Nothin'! Nothin', honest."

"Y-yeah," Cal said with a lilt in his voice, "You're totally right that Rolan doesn't even find anyone attractive, even. The mans practically a… a Eunuch!"

Lia groaned, "Cal, ew."

Clover rolled their eyes, "You two clearly know something. Some weird secret that I guess I'm not privy to," They folded their arms across their chest, "Very rude to withhold information from the person who's saved your lives on probably, Seven different occasions at this point?"

"Oh c'mon Clove, you can't hold that against us forever," Cal groaned.

"I actually think I can," Clover retorted, "Until you've saved my life seven times, at least." They picked their drink back up and finished the final gulp, tapping their mug against the counter with a wink in request for the barmaid to top them off once more before turning back to Cal.

"Alright Bud, I know you can't keep a secret. So, what the Hells are you two keeping from me?" Cal suddenly turned a bit pale, eyes wide.

"Clover, y-you know I don't do well under pressure…"

Clover leaned in closer to him, their barbarian eyes narrowing, a bite in their voice, "Exactly."

Lia, now tiptoeing between drunk and utterly sloshed, ran her finger around the rim of her cup, giggling to herself, "Clover… you're gonna make'm piss 'imself."

Cal groaned, "Listen, I'll tell you. But it's just. It's weird! It's weeeeeird, Clove."

The dwarf grinned to themselves in victory, "Alright, then. Spill." Lia stared at Cal with a sly grin.

"Yeah Cal. Tell 'em Rolan's little secret~" Cal groaned once more, shoving his face into his palms.

"Okaaay," Cal relented, "Gods above, I… Auuugh, so. How do I even…" he was struggling to find his words, "I mean. We live in the tower now, yeah? And its Big and all, but we still like to have rooms near each other. I don't know, it feels safe… comfortable, after everything. To know we're close by. But it also means, sometimes, things aren't always… private…"

Clover slowly took sips from their pint, eyes still locked on Cal's darting gaze. Biting his lip, knuckles white in his lap. Clover's eyebrows raised, "Okay? And?"

Cal lowered his head, "Pleeease don't make me say it…"

Lia threw her head back and nearly yelled out in exasperation, "GOOOODS Cal you're such a BABY sometimes. Listen, Clover… Clover. We know," she shoots Clover an intense stare, "We knoooow things. About Rolan. Things no siblin's should know," her hand reached out to grab their arm, "An' Rolan? Reeeeeeaaally misses you…" a knowing smile crept up on her face. Clover's cheeks felt warm, but they weren't even sure why. The gears in their head not fully turning as the alcohol worked through their veins.

"What… what do you mean?"

Lia's smile turned even cheekier as she threw her head back - fake, exaggerated moans falling from her lips, "Ohhh~ Fuuuck, Clover- Yes Clover, please! Take me jus' like that," her speech slurred as she rocked her hips in frantic thrusts. Cal lowered his head onto the bar's tabletop as Clover's eyes went wide and their face went fully flush.

"Oh, my Gods…" they muttered to themselves, lifting their pint back to their lips. Lia's mocking cries turned to raucous laughter.

"I'm jus' saying. If anyone could get that man to relax…" she lifted her cup in Clover's direction before taking another hearty swig.

Suddenly, the gears in Clover's skull decided to start working. Frantically.

"Well, then," they announced, hopping off of their bar stool, "maybe I should go get the job done."

Cal and Lia once again exchanged wide eyed stares with each other, "What, like… like, right now?" Lia asked, as if shocked into a sudden sobriety. Clover chugged their nearly full pint in a handful of large, thirsty gulps. The final drops of liquid courage they needed before slamming the glass back onto the counter.

"Yeah, I guess like, Right Now. Y'all've had a hell of a week, right? If I can help…" Clover smiled to themselves, "It's kind of what I do," they gave Cal a cocky grin, "I will count this as saving your life, again. Mark me up to eight."

"Gods dammit," Cal let his head fall back onto the bar. Lia began laughing, clasping her gut as she bellowed.

"He should still be closing up at the Sundries!" Lia started hollering after Clover as they began to leave the Elfsong, "We'll stay here tonight, so take your time!"

Clover heard Cal stammer out, "Lia, that's disgusting!" Before walking into the cool night air.

Sorcerous Sundries was but a brief walk away. And Clover couldn't help all but skipping towards their unknowing wizard, his dirty secret at the forefront of their mind...

The open doors of Sorcerous Sundries allowed a pleasant breeze to flow through the lobby. Rolan took in a breath of fresh air, busying himself balancing the account records of sales for the evening. A small crew of mage hands floated around him, carrying stacks of sales records, tomes to be organized, sorting through everything from profits to taxes to local investments.

He'd typically give himself the time to pat his own back at his creative means of multitasking. If only his mind weren't so overcome with the newfound pressures being Ramazith's Master have brought him. Yes, the Sundries was a success trade business. Yes, the tower held treasures and secrets and power aplenty. But Gods, had Lorroakan ever opened a checkbook in his life? The debts this man owed, the back taxes and unkept promises Rolan was now forced to follow up on. Though grateful to not have a cane to his jaw, the stress of picking up his former Master's mess was taking its toll.

The faint footsteps of a guest entering the building could be heard across the tiled floors.

"Ah, terribly sorry but we are closed for the evening- Oh," he glanced up from his busy work to see the Hero of Baldur's Gate approaching the Sundries counter, "it's You," he mumbled, the voice of customer hospitality lost in his tone, "What do you want?" He questioned, adjusting the pair of reading glasses sat atop the point of his nose, glancing back down at his records.

Clover hesitated a moment, "Ouch, not the warm welcome I was anticipating. Is this how you treat all your customers?"

"I don't anticipate you're here to purchase something," Rolan remarked, focus fully back on his paperwork. The mage hands organizing the storefront flitted around Clover's head as they continued to approach the counter. Rolan just barely took his eyes from his work to peak up at the dwarf in front of him. He paused, "Did you need something?"

Clover slid their hands across the countertop, "Oh, what? I can't just… happen to be in the neighborhood, dropping by to say hello to an old friend?"

Rolan rolled his eyes back to his work, "We're friends now, is it? And here I thought you were nothing more than my siblings overpaid babysitter," Clover's head cocked to the side.

"You don't pay me."

Rolan flipped to a new page on his countertop.

"I know."

Clover rolled their eyes, strumming their fingers against the polished wood, pondering how to get to occupied wizard's attention. He was dressed so casual - his robes gone, wearing just his loose undershirt and fitted trousers. Emboldened by the alcohol still buzzing through their bloodstream, and their newfound knowledge of Rolan's secret desires, they decided to walk themselves behind the Sundries counter.

"This space is for employees only," Rolan commented, without looking up from his records. Clover paid him no mind, walking up to him and lifting themselves onto the counter directly in front of the Wizard, who responded by sighing. Exhausted and irritated, he hung his head, laying his palms down on the counter before him, "Would you kindly be an utter inconvenience somewhere else? I'm trying to work here," he gestured to his documents, but couldn't seem to look the barbarian in the eyes.

"Oh, Rolan, I'm hurt," Clover responded, "Is that really what you think of me? I'm just an, 'utter inconvenience'?"

"Right now? Yes!" Frustrated, he finally found himself looking at Clover's face. But rather than maintaining his building rage, his breath caught in his throat.

They were much closer to him than he initially realized. He could see their mismatched eyes so clearly. Clear enough to see - no, smell - the magic enchanted in the blue glass eye to his left. He could also smell the heavy alcohol on their breath. Though their dwarven fortitude kept them composed, the sour wheat smell of beer was unmistakable. He found it mixed beautifully with their natural sent of musk, the sugar plum soaps he knew they preferred, and that faintest whiff of copper, from all the blood that often soaks their body after battle. Caught in the sheer aura of them, he nearly didn't register as Clover's hands gently gripped at his forearms resting at their sides.

"I'm sorry," they lied, "I must be a real bother right now. I'm sure you're thinking of a million different ways to get me out of your hair," they made a point of dragging their right hand up his neck and tangling their fingers into the hair on his nape. Without even thinking, Rolan's hands moved from the countertop to hesitantly reach for their thighs. Fingers hovering, as if touching them in earnest would cause them to vanish.

"Don't you just wish there were some way you could… shut me up?" Clover's heavy gaze flitted between his eyes and his lips. Rolan swallowed a lump building in his throat, and (unsuccessfully) tried to will away the growing pressure in his pants.

"C-Clover, what are you-"

"Tell me something Rolan," they interrupted, using their free hand to remove the glasses from his face. Their noses brushed against each other as warm breath mixed in the air between them.

"Do you ever think of me when you cum?"

Rolan's entire body shuddered, from head to toe to the tip of his tail. His fingers clenched around their thighs as he pulled their bodies flush.

"I…" He choked, holding his breath for a second that felt like an eternity, before letting himself go.

"Yes," was all he managed to say in response. Spoken in a heavy breath - a whisper, a moan, a prayer. They were already so close, neither one knew who moved first. But as soon as the word left his throat, their lips crashed together in a frenzy.

There was no patience, it was not gentle. Clover fueled by liquid courage and Rolan fueled by sheer desire. Tongues tangled as shared saliva slowly dripped from the corners of their mouths. They kissed each other as much as they breathed each other in, only pulling apart once Rolan bit Clover's bottom lip. Tugging at it gently, just barely breaking skin with his sharp incisors. Chests heaving as they both took a moment to collect themselves. Rolan lifted a hand in the air, eyes lidded and unfocused. With a flick of his wrist, Clover could hear the doors to the Sundries closing and locking shut, as the lights inside dimmed to the gentle flicker of that magical blue/green glow of enchanted flames.

"Well, someone sure knows how to set the mood," Clover quipped, draping their arms around Rolan's neck and leaning back in for a kiss. Which he returned, deeply, but briefly, before breaking away from them again. Clover whimpered in disappointment, trying to pull him back towards them. But Rolan's hands reached up to their arms around him, stilling their movements for a moment.

"Clover…" he whispered, his voice deep and aching, "Why are you here?"

He looked confused, almost scared, his burning yellow eyes glowing in the dim lighting, unwilling to look at them. It hurt Clover enough to not laugh in response, but they never thought Rolan capable of being so dense.

"Is it… is it not obvious?" Their fingers played with his hair. Rolan scoffed, smiling weakly.

"It just feels, surreal. It feels like I'm dreaming…" Clover lowered their head to catch his gaze.

"Well, you're not," they said softly, "but let's pretend that you are. Let's pretend this is a dream," they nudged against his nose with their own, trying to catch his lips, "You're dreaming. And I'm here," they whispered, "What do you want to do with me?"

Something stirred in Rolan's chest. Without looking at them, he captured their lips again, sliding his fingers beneath the hem of their shirt. He began to lift the cloth upwards, but stilled himself, pulling his lips away just for a moment. Clover smiled, whispering approval to continue before catching his lips again. Rolan pulled their shirt up, the hem resting on his wrists as his thumbs traced the shape of their skin, cupping their breasts as he passed over them.

Clover stilled their kiss briefly to let out a moan, and Rolan took the opportunity to remove their shirt completely before returning his kisses to their lips, down their chin, down their neck. Clover's arms wrapped tightly around him, hands holding the back of his head as his tongue traced a wet line from their neck downwards. He explored their skin, finding the shallow dips between their collar bone, kissing down lower until his tongue and hands met their puckering nipples.

"Fuck, Rolan..." Clover moaned, gripping his head by his hair and pushing his face into their chest. Rolan responded in kind with a deep, purring moan. His lips fully encompassing their nipple while his tongue traced around it. Quick, frantic flicks of his tongue followed by desperate sucking left Clover's chest bruised and swollen. When Rolan lifted his head up for a breath, he kissed Clover once more, then returned his focus to their other breast, making sure he provided both with equal pleasure.

The sounds leaving Clover's mouth were bordering on sinful. They had their legs wrapped around Rolan's body, kicking their shoes off their feet and rocking themselves into him. They could feel their own arousal pooling between their legs. Their hips bucked aggressively as Rolan took the stiff bud on their chest between his teeth, and pulled. Clover threw their head back and whined in pleasure.

Rolan smiled, his hands leaving the curve under their breasts and traveling down the soft skin of their torso. He hooked his fingers under the fold of their waistband, tracing his sharp nails across their skin towards the center of their pants. He began to deftly untie the laces of their trousers. Clover unhooked their legs from behind his back so he could pull the rest of their clothes from their body.

Rolan ran his hands along Clover's thighs as he removed one pant leg after the other. Fully exposed, Rolan took a step back to appreciate the creature in front of him.

Clover's chest was heaving, their pale neck and chest marked red from all the kisses and bites Rolan left on their skin. Their legs were spread wide open for him, the folds of their cunt dripping and twitching in anticipation. They had one hand propping themselves up on the countertop, but the other was dancing across their skin, tracing the ghost of Rolan's own fingers in his absence. They shivered, the chill of their bare skin mixed with anticipation.

"I know you're enjoying yourself," Clover mumbled, breath heavy with lust, "but if you don't come back over here and touch me, I'll-"

Rolan nearly tripped over himself returning to their embrace. He grabbed behind their ear with one hand, pulling their hips into him with the other, kissing them so deeply Clover could feel him shaking against them, before pulling away from them abruptly.

"What are you limits?" He asked in haste. Clover's response was hazy and confused.

"My… what?"

"How far are you willing to go with me? Do we need a… a… a signal? A safeword? To tell me to stop, or…" His hand tightened against their waist.

Clover smiled. Even in a situation like this - sat here completely naked, their body visibly yearning for him - he was so nervous. So mindful. They reached their hands under his chin and kissed him softly.

"We can do whatever you want," they kissed him again, a gentle laugh escaping their lips before saying, "though I wouldn't mind being thoroughly ravaged by you."

Rolan let out a sharp, sudden laugh. Or perhaps a grunt, even. Something almost animal.

"Then I hope you'll allow me to indulge myself," he responded, before quickly dropping to his knees. Hooking his arms behind Clover's thighs, he pulled them to the very edge of the counter, letting their legs drape over his shoulders. A wild look flashed across his eyes before he began planting kisses along Clover's inner thighs. Kisses, and bites, not shying away from biting hard enough to draw blood between their legs. Clover gave a sharp inhale, causing Rolan to glance up at them, an unspoken question.

Clover ran their fingers through his hair, clenching their legs a touch tighter against his back, nodding for him to continue. He purred again, a sound Clover's core was beginning to respond to in kind, before biting their soft inner thigh once more, creeping closer to their center. They smiled and shuddered, letting their head lull back, "Do all tieflings purr like that?"

Rolan licked the blood from their thigh, kissing their skin ever inwards, "Only when we're excited," he responded, before sliding his thumbs up between the folds of their cunt, spreading them open for him. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of their desire, and ran his tongue up their dripping arousal. He sucked their clit into a kiss, rolling the sensitive nub against his tongue.

Clover's hand immediately went from a fistful of Rolan's hair straight to his horn, pulling him in closer, "My Gods, Rolan - Fuck!" They nearly screamed as his mouth explored them. Thighs gripped tightly against his head, their hips rocking with a sudden urgency. Rolan could hardly control himself as he moaned, and gasped, and devoured their cunt. The nectar dripping from their swollen lips worth more to him in this moment than air to breathe.

He slid his tongue inside of them, holding the lips of their pussy open between two fingers with his left hand, and carefully massaging their clit with his thumb. Rolan could feel the inner walls of Clover's sex trying desperately to clench around him as he ate them out, and lulled his eyes up to look into theirs.

Clover was putty under his touch. Their chest was heaving, sweat building on their brow. Their cheeks were flush, their eyes were watering. Seeing the way their body responded to him made Rolan's dick twitch painfully beneath the restraints of his pants.

He slid a hand around Clover's thigh. A feeble attempt to loosen the barbarian's grip, which they thankfully understood. Rolan leaned back a moment for a breath of air before standing tall and crashing their lips together, allowing Clover to taste their own sweet musk of arousal. They had draped their arms around Rolan's neck, while the wizard frantically attempted to remove his own garments. Clover caught on to his movements and began assisting in removing his shirt as he wrestled with his own trousers. Both parties having a difficult time as they refused to let go of each other's lips in the process.

"I hope - it's not - to forward," he said between kisses, "But I - I," he grabbed Clover's face and held them in a deep, steady kiss, before pulling them away, "I think if I - If I don't have sex with you this instant, I may - I may go mad."

He took Clover's hand and brought it down to his throbbing member, though he let them take their own time in touching him.

They looked into him, a coy smile and devilish gaze behind their eyes. They gingerly took the tiefling's erection in their hand, and Rolan's knees all but buckled in response. He had to grip onto the countertop to stop himself from collapsing. Clover laughed quietly under their breath, stroking his cock with increasing fervor.

Rolan kissed them again, quickly tracing his mouth from their lips to the crook of their neck. Clover wrapped their legs around the small of his back, guiding the tip of his dick towards their desperate heat. They rocked themselves against him, sliding the length of his shaft between their slick folds. They could feel his entire body tremble against them, hearing the sweetest whimpers escape him as his face remained buried in their shoulder.

Barely audible, he tilted his head toward their ear and weakly begged them, "Clover… please…"

They traced the end of his cock back to their pulsing entrance and rolled their hips against him, allowing the tip to gain entry. They could feel Rolan's breath catch. His hands found their way to Clover's hips once more, holding them steady at the edge of the counter as he slid his entire length inside them with ease. The complex curves and ridges of his infernal features could be felt within Clover's walls.

"Rolan…" His name fell from their lips in a desperate moan as the tip of his cock reached the deepest parts of them.

Rolan stilled once fully sheathed, Clover's cunt pulsing and throbbing against him in pure anticipation. They rolled their hips ever so slightly. Rolan cursed in response, his voice shaky and low.

He began to drag himself out of their pussy once more, almost reluctant to leave them, until just his tip was teasing the entrance of their hole.

Rolan slammed his cock into them, hands fixed upon their waist so firmly his nails were threatening to break skin. He gave Clover a few long, powerful thrusts like this. Dragging himself out nearly in full before burying himself within them.

Soon enough the long, drawn out strokes were replaced with closer, more frantic thrusts. Rolan's hips barely leaving the embrace of Clover's own as he humped them like an animal in heat.

Rolan lifted himself from the shallow curve where Clover's neck met their shoulder. He pressed his forehead to theirs, grunting hard as he fucked them. Clover's hand gripped the back of his neck as they held his wanton gaze.

"How long have you wanted this?" They asked, panting, their hold on his neck tightening, "How long have you wanted to fuck me like this?"

Rolan's pace picked up, keening under his partner's commanding presence.

"Since - Since Last Light," he stuttered between his heaving breaths and desperate thrusts, "S-Since you saved - saved them. Since you s-saved us. Since you - Ah - since you freed me of - of my tormentor - and made me Master of this Tower," his movements grew sporadic and urgent as he spoke.

Clover laughed as they moaned, "Oh fuck, Rolan, that's right. You're the Master of this Tower now," They gripped him by his hair and gently yanked his head back. The whimper that escaped Rolan's lips at their touch was pitiful. Clover began running kisses up and down his neck, before tracing their tongue below his ear.

"Fuck me, Master Rolan," the lust dripping from their voice was intoxicating. Rolan's hectic and rhythmless thrusting sped up, his moans entirely debauched. Clover could feel their cunt clenching around him as they inched towards their own release.

"Yes, Clover - Fuck!" Rolan moaned and whined as he felt them on the edge, "Take your Master's cock. Take me just - just like that," Clover's grip on his hair tightened as their mouth opened against his neck.

"Rolan!" They nearly wept as they came over his thrusting cock, juices spilling out of them with every shallow plunge.

"Gods, Clover, I'm - I," he could barely finish his attempted warning before Clover caught him completely by surprise, pushing him out of them and dropping onto their knees. They gripped his cock as the shaft pulsed beneath their touch, laying the head of him against their tongue. They stroked him frantically, his member still sticky and wet with their juices.

"Fuuuuck!" Rolan's hands fell to the counter as a powerful orgasm ran through him. His legs shook as thick lengths of cum released into Clover's mouth. Strings of his spend so long they reached across their cheeks and nose. Clover smiled as they rubbed him through his release, sucking on his head to milk every last drop of him.

Once the last of the aftershocks finished running through him, Rolan dropped to the floor to join his equally exhausted partner. Their backs resting against the counter shelves. Slick with sweat, heaving chests, swollen lips, both covered in marks from each others touch.

Clover leaned their head against the wizards shoulder. Rolan placed his head atop theirs, turning and planting a kiss in their hair. Clover ran their fingers on the floor absentmindedly. Rolan took notice, and slid his own hand across the floor a touch, gently nudging his sharp claws against the dwarf's rugged, calloused hands. They responded immediately, interlacing their fingers with his own.

They turned to look up at the man who had just well and truly fucked them near senselessness. They had never seen him so disheveled. His hair was loose and curling with is sweat. He was still panting, this likely being some of the hardest physical work a magic user like him has had to do in quite some time. Still naked, Clover took the time to examine the man's infernal features. The spikes and grooves on his chest and shoulders that so starkly contrasted their own soft and squishy stomach and thighs.

They took their free hand and ran it up his chest, tracing the bumps under his skin. Rolan jumped at the unexpected touch and looked down at his partner, equally debauched. He laughed as he attempted to wipe some of his now drying spend from their face, instead opting for a quick prestidigitation. Clover smiled.

"How are you feeling?" They asked. They weren't really sure what to say, now that the deed had been done. But they were here to help him relax, after all. They should at least find out if it worked.

"How am I feeling?" Rolan responded, almost in disbelief, "That's a rather loaded question, I mean... I still feel like I must be dreaming -"

"But you're not," Clover interrupted, planting a kiss on his shoulder.

"I… yes. Okay, yes, but I'm not," he sighed, resigning to the truth of the situation, "Then I feel like… I feel like I just, um…" He cleared his throat, "I feel as though I just bed the most beautiful creature in all the realms. Gods, in my place of business, no less. I hate to see the mess we've made in proper lighting," He trailed off into his thoughts, almost embarrassed by circumstances.

Clover climbed onto his lap, straddling him in an attempt to get his full focus, "Thank you ever so much for the very literal explanation of our current situation," they expressed with a playful mocking tone, their hands running up and down his arms, "But I do in fact mean how are you feeling, emotionally. Do you feel okay?"

Rolan sat still for a moment. As if he truly needed to consider whether or not he felt okay after all of this. Clover's heart was pounding, suddenly worried if this was a bad idea. That is until Rolan reached up for their face, pulling them in for a tender kiss. When he let them pull away, he held both their hands in his own.

"Clover, I feel incredible. And I feel… confused? But the incredible aspects outweigh the confusion. And perhaps we can discuss the confusion some other time, because right now, I… I'd really like to bask in the incredible."

Clover smiled, and nodded, leaning into Rolan's chest. He wrapped his arms around them, breathing deeply of their scent, committing it to memory. As exhaustion fully took its hold on them, they melted into each other's embrace.

The morning light crept through the stained glass dome of Sorcerous Sundries in a dance of rainbow prisms. The twinkling causing Rolan's dreary eyes to squint tight before slowly opening.

He was sat on the floor behind the Sundries front counter, still undressed, with an equally bare dwarf sleeping soundly against his chest. The memories of the night before washed over him. Clover's body flush against him, calling out his name as they came with him inside them. It all sent a renewed wave of arousal crashing through his body.

That is, until he heard a shout from the busy streets outside, and the reality of his current predicament crashed over him even harder.

"Oh Gods," he glanced around himself. Papers strewn across the floor. Various bobbles lay in disarray, likely dropped by the mage hand assistants last night once he lost concentration on the spell. Drops of his own errant spend now dry on the shelves. Stains of sweat and what other fluids he could only guess marking the floor beneath them. He palmed his face, rubbing his temple between his fingers before rousing his partner from his arms.

"Clover, get up," he started to lift himself from the floor as his companion groaned, "Get up, damn you! We fell asleep," he was whispering, as if someone outside might overhear them. Clover sat themselves upright, eyes still closed.

"Yeah… We fell asleep. People tend to do that when they're tired…" Clover mumbled.

"We fell asleep in the Sundries you idiot!" Rolan was trying to dress himself while cleaning up after last night's… experience, "We have to leave - No, you have to leave. I have to finish cleaning up before I open," his movements were frantic. Clover watched him dart around, still sat on the floor. He conjured a quick bust of himself - a modified version of mirror image, perhaps? - swearing as he attempted to fix his hair. Clover yawned, lazily picking up their own clothes and dressing themselves at a snails pace.

Still sat on the floor, Rolan found himself tripping over them as he aimlessly paced around the counters. Stacks of paperwork flew from his arms as he fell. Clover tried to reach out and break his fall, though it did little help.

"Bugger it all!" Rolan slammed a fist against the tiled floor, propping himself to his knees, "Could you PLEASE get up and either help me, or leave!" He shouted in Clover's direction.

They both froze, Rolan held his breath.

"Y'know…" Clover slowly stood up and walked over to the wizard kneeling on the floor. At this height, they were at eye level with each other, "Calling someone an idiot and demanding they leave the morning after you've fucked them silly? Not exactly the best impression one wants to make," they tried to joke, lifting a hand to his cheek. Rolan didn't comment, his gaze locked onto the floor.

Clover sighed, pulling his head to their chest as they held him. Their strong arms felt both soft and secure, the rhythm of their heartbeat providing a sense of grounding Rolan didn't even realize he so desperately needed. As Clover spoke, their voice reverberated against his cheek.

"I'm no mage, Rolan," they started, one hand gently stroking his head as they spoke, "I can't detect your thoughts, or calm your emotions with a spell. I can't compel you into a zone of truth and force you to be honest with me. But I can tell when someone is overworked, and overwhelmed," they squeezed his head tighter for a moment before releasing him and holding his face in their hands. He looked up at them, his eyes glossy with tears he refused to shed.

"You need a break, you stubborn jackass," Clover said with a smile, "There's nothing wrong with that. I think the city will survive if the Sundries is closed for a day or two. And if you're truly that worried I'm sure I could convince Gale to come visit and-"

"Absolutely not," Rolan interjected sternly, clearing his throat, "Forgive me, but that man has no idea how to speak to patrons without coming across as a pretentious, pompous, know-it-all."

"Oh, but you do?" Clover retorted with a grin. Rolan seemed shocked at first, then smiled back. Chuckling to himself, he reached up to hold Clover's hand, pulling it from his cheek and planting a deep kiss against their palm. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, still holding Clover's hand.

"I'll set up the portal upstairs to take you to the washroom of the tower. Let me finish with what I had started last night, then I'll come join you," Clover cocked an eyebrow.

"You'll come join me, eh? In the glorious, magical washroom of Ramazith's Tower?" They tried to tease him, but he simply turned to them with devious look in his eyes.

"Yes, I'll be joining you. After I finish cleaning up the mess you made," he leaned down to their ear, "Be grateful I'm not forcing you to help," he said sweetly, kissing their cheek. He raised his hand and flicked his wrist, the familiar sounds of a transportation portal wooshing to life on the floor above them, "Now, off with you. I don't need any more distractions, especially if you'd like me to get this finished quickly."

Clover smirked as they began to walk off, "Whatever you say, oh great Master Rolan," a shiver shot up his spine as they dragged out his title across their tongue. He tried to compose himself, but his tail flicked with excitement as the dwarf ascended the staircase.

"I'll be waiting."

#rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #tav x rolan #I am holding a delicious beautifully frosted cake with 12 bags under my eyes bloodshot & weary please accept this humble gift I made

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underdark-dreams · 5 months

Text

[ch1] - [ch2] - [ch3]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.4

The morning before everything changes, Rolan and Tav wake up together.

Tags: Smut, Fluff, Confessions, NSFW | Word Count: 4,409 [Read on AO3]

A low grumble of thunder brought her gently from sleep. The sounds of rain floated back to her ears; the downpour had slowed to a steady shower during the night.

Against her back, Tav felt the steady rise and fall of Rolan’s chest. His arm had curled around her to tuck his hand between her ribcage and the mattress.

She opened her eyes toward the shuttered window of Rolan’s room. It was after the city guard had snuffed the streetlamps, but before the first light of dawn—a time when the darkness outside was deepest. The room around them was blanketed with it. Despite the hour, she found her mind surprisingly clear. The two of them had drifted off before sunset, after all.

As she lay there listening to him breathe under the soft patter of rain, guilt gnawed its way into her chest. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep so easily—not without saying everything she came here to say. The Nightsong, Dame Aylin, the truth behind those runes in Lorroakan’s study.

If only she didn’t have such a damn soft spot in her heart for anything that concerned Rolan.

He had made getting to the point so difficult. Growing defensive at the slightest question; glancing at her from under his wet hair with that bedraggled yet defiant look in his eye. He was entirely too good at coaxing her off track, and he didn’t even know it.

Tav huffed a sigh into the pillow. When he woke, she had to tell him everything about his master’s plans. She wasn’t sure if she’d get another chance before everything crashed around their ears.

At the sound, Rolan’s fingers fidgeted slightly where they were pressed under her chest. Something about the motion struck her as deliberate.

“Are you asleep?” She whispered into the dark.

There was a momentary pause. “No.” His words ghosted behind her ear, sending the most pleasant shiver down her spine.

She turned back toward him on the pillow. He read her intentions and dipped his head down toward hers without a word.

Their blind aim was slightly off—Rolan’s lips landed at the corner of her mouth, but they quickly found one another. Their lips notched together.

She told herself she just couldn’t help it. At a time when so much was uncertain and painful and difficult, kissing Rolan was the easiest thing. It required no thought; it was right.

Tav shifted her arm from under her to reach for his face, and her fingers met unexpected skin on the way. Curious, she reached out to explore and brushed across the bare, textured planes of his shoulders.

“Your shirt?”

Rolan kissed her a few more times. “You're very warm,” he explained.

She grinned lazily against his lips. “We didn't have to sleep so close, you know. I can give you some room—”

“No—” Rolan’s hand flew from her rib cage to land firmly below her navel, pressing her back to him, as if she might actually leave. “Don't you dare.”

It was insistent, and combined with the warmth of his palm on her belly, Tav melted back into the kiss. He was a fool if he thought anything could take her away right now.

Their lips turned soft against each other—then seeking, then hungry. His warm breath fanned out over her cheek as his nose brushed hers. Her hand curled to find its mark at the nape of his neck. Though he’d called her warm, Rolan’s skin was positively heated against her.

It made an ache settle between her legs. When she shifted slightly at the feeling, she found that he was already hard against the small of her back. She made an impatient sound against his mouth and abruptly kicked off the covers.

“Touch me,” she implored.

“Gods, yes—”

At his soft assent, Rolan’s hand quickly slid from her belly to seek the hem of her borrowed shirt, tugging it up past her flanks.

As he did his nails skated along the skin of her thighs, and the sensation sent another flush of heat diving between them. She rolled her hips with a soft noise of anticipation.

He moved eagerly at the sound. His hand gently nudged her thighs open, dipping a single finger to swipe slickly up her folds. Her mouth parted in a satisfied inhale.

Rolan’s chin fell against the crook of her neck with a groan, and she felt the sound ring sweetly between her shoulder blades. But he moved a second finger across her, circling and teasing her slit at a pace that was almost maddeningly deliberate.

When the pads of his fingertips traveled up to brush her clit, her hips bucked into him in reflex. Tav’s hand flew back impulsively behind her head, where it met with one of his curving horns. She gripped hard.

“Gods, your hands,” she whispered. “More—”

She’d imagined Rolan’s fingers many nights alone in her tent—nights when she had only her own for company. Her imagination was nothing compared to the feel of him softly exploring her. Though tentative at first, he proved shockingly dextrous, with a control of pace and pressure that stoked the ache between her legs to a white-hot band of heat stretching tight at her core.

She’d never spared much thought for the fringe benefits of Rolan’s training. Right now—as his fingers worked a stroking rhythm across her clit, intently following her breathless directions—she thanked every god in the pantheon for his dedication to his craft.

While she panted and whined under his touch, Rolan’s other arm had curled between the pillows to cradle her neck. When he hit a pace that made a low moan rise in her throat, Rolan’s free hand touched softly over her lips. Reminding her that others were sleeping nearby.

It wasn’t fair; she wanted him to hear exactly what he did to her. Just how badly she wanted him.

He seemed to sense her desperation regardless. Rolan’s palm fit more firmly over her mouth; he flattened the hand between her legs to grind and rub her center insistently. She moaned against his hand, letting her leg fall slack. His tail had already coiled tight around her thigh to keep her spread open for him.

Pressure clenched and built rapidly inside her from the sudden friction, and she was so close, so close—don’t stop, don’t stop, please please please—she wanted to moan, cry, scream out his name. Her world focused down to the pinpoint of Rolan’s fingers grinding against her oversensitive bundle of nerves—

She came hard again his hand, hips spasming and thighs clenching around his fingers. The sinews of his forearm flexed against her stomach as Rolan continued working her through her climax, his movements almost frantic, until he tipped her over the edge to overstimulation.

With a shuddering gasp against his palm, the hand not grasping his horn like a lifeline closed around his wrist to ease him off her twitching core. His hand slid to rest over her trembling thigh instead, leaving a wet print of her own arousal on her skin.

She could only pant and squeeze her eyes shut against the darkness as tears pricked at the corners. His breath behind her was just as ragged, tickling the curve of her neck as he kissed across the exposed skin there.

“Gods…” she panted. His hand had released her mouth, settling across her clothed chest instead. “I always wondered…if you'd be good at that.”

Rolan’s teeth gently fastened over her shoulder in a biting kiss. “Somatic component,” he murmured against her flesh.

It was just absurd enough, just enough of the old cockiness she used to expect from him. A breathless laugh rose in her throat.

“You absolute wizard,” she scolded him, too sated to do anything else. Rolan only curled his arms and tail further around to hold her. She half expected a comment about how much she’d clearly enjoyed it, but his face lay quietly against the side of her neck.

Through her settling haze, she could still feel him pressing taut against her lower back. Not that she’d forgotten about him—quite the opposite. A fresh desire was already coursing through her, only spurred on by seeing him the past few days. Something she’d wanted to do since the first night he visited her tent for those innocent kisses.

Using an old sparring move, she hooked one leg behind his knees and deftly flipped their bodies to land straddled on top of him. There was shocked silence from the spot where Rolan’s head had landed on the pillow.

She took advantage of his surprise to capture Rolan’s lips again. It was a proper kiss this time, deep and heated, and she moaned when her tongue found the delicate points of his canines.

She kept herself braced high on her arms, cautious not to press against any of the bruised spots she recalled glimpsing on his chest as he changed clothing.

Cautious too not to brush against him below the waist. From the hungry way his tongue explored her mouth, she knew he was stiffer than ever.

Instead she lowered herself carefully along the crook of his side, feeling Rolan’s palm slide up under her shirt and across the bare skin of her back. It left a trail of heat in its wake.

“Let me taste you,” she said against the point of his ear.

Rolan’s breath audibly caught in his throat. She occupied herself with kissing along his ear tip until he gave a jerking nod.

As she dipped to his neck, his throat vibrated against her lips as Rolan spoke a low incantation. A ring of pale little flames swirled into existence on the ceiling above them.

Tav raised her head to blink up at them, then to Rolan’s now-illuminated face. He wetted his lips with a nervous flick of his tongue.

“I want to watch you,” he confessed hoarsely.

The words were somehow shy and lewd all at once, and they made desire coil through her stomach. For a moment she considered changing tactics and mounting him right there.

But the anticipation of watching what this might do to him was stronger. She hummed in approval against Rolan’s collar bone, shifting to kneel between his legs and continue her lips’ journey down his torso.

His chest was beautiful—patterned with mesmerizing trails of little ridges along his shoulders, his ribcage, dipping down over the sides of his hips.

“You’re so lovely,” she said against his ribs. Rolan squirmed quietly under her, but one of his hands rose to tangle in her hair.

She’d never had time to appreciate these parts of him properly before tonight. Now, for every scratch or bruise she discovered by the light of his spell, she placed several soft kisses.

Part of her could tell he felt teased. But he deserved every one—he deserved to be adored, to be touched with gentleness like this.

Rolan’s breath quickened as she made her way to the dip beside his hip bone, a sensitive spot where her lips now met with soft, smooth skin. As she kissed over him, her cheek brushed inadvertently against the straining hardness in his pants.

Rolan drew air sharply between his teeth as his cock twitched beside her face; sharp nails clenched against her scalp. Impatient hunger bloomed in her, and she leaned back to hastily unfasten his trousers and strip them off.

When his bare legs straightened on either side of her again, she leaned in to deftly run her tongue up his ridged underside.

Rolan’s head tipped back with a quiet groan, his horns pressing into the pillows behind him.

It was so tempting to just watch him come undone from her touch like that. But even stronger was her desire to make Rolan see stars with her mouth alone.

She closed her eyes and focused on working him over. She sucked him past her lips, keeping her pace slow and deliberate as she slid up and down over his tip with the flat of her tongue, over and over. She could practically feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest above her.

When she widened her mouth to take him in more fully, Rolan’s hand pulled away from her hair to stifle a moan against the skin of his knuckles.

Tav knew he was trying like hells to keep himself as quiet as possible. But she wished she could hear every starved moan and whimper her mouth wrung from him. The desire to draw those sounds from him was too strong to resist.

She began taking his cock even deeper with each rhythmic dip of her head. He was so impossibly hard; an ache settled in her jaw, only spurring her on. The ridges at his base grew slick with saliva, and each time her lips slid over them was more delicious than the last.

When she added in a swirl of her tongue at the end of each motion, Rolan cursed and whined against his hand. His other scrabbled to find purchase in the sheets beneath them. Something firm and smooth circled her waist—anchoring himself with his sensitive tail.

She clenched her thighs together under her at his reactions, feeling wet arousal pool between them again at the way he was unraveling under her.

She quickly moved her hands’ support from the mattress to clutch the ridges over his hips for greater control. With a few more teasing flicks of her tongue over his tip, she felt Rolan’s restraint begin slipping completely. His hips thrust up reflexively to follow the pace of her mouth.

“Tav, I’m—not in your—”

She glanced up without slowing her rhythm over his cock. Rolan panted as his golden eyes blazed down at her, his features screwed up in a deliciously desperate way, fingers shaking as they reached forward as if to tug her mouth off him.

With all her strength, she grabbed his wrists and pinned them down into the mattress on either side. She closed her eyes again to take him as deeply as possible, tasting a hint of salt at the back of her throat, and hollowed her cheeks to squeeze tightly around his cock as she pumped her mouth over him.

The lights above them abruptly snuffed out. Through the sudden darkness, she heard Rolan fighting to bite back a strangled sound from his throat.

Then Rolan’s hands clenched to tight fists under hers as he released in her mouth. Hot spend painted the roof of her mouth, much more of it than she’d anticipated—she fought to swallow him down without choking.

But the taste of him, the way his hips clenched and jerked against her lips—she could feel him come like this a thousand times under her and never tire of it. She stayed there until his twitching cock finally relaxed against her tongue.

Then she released him with a smooth, wet sound, sitting back on her heels and wiping the back of a hand across her mouth.

Rolan breathed as though he’d just run a mile. His arms and legs were spread limp on the mattress, while his tail had loosened to a single loop resting atop her hips. She couldn’t make out his expression in the dark, but she let herself imagine it anyway—eyes staring up at the ceiling, glassy-eyed, jaw slack. On another plane of existence.

Without a word, she slid up to notch herself back against his side and nuzzle into his shoulder. His usually clean scent mingled with sweat and arousal; she found it intoxicating, and breathed deeply along the crook of his neck.

“No one’s ever done that for me before.” From beside her face, the confession was almost inaudibly quiet.

Tav raised her head from his shoulder to peer at him through low light. Rolan’s eyes were squeezed shut with little creases at the corners, as if he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze after speaking that aloud.

She leaned in to place a long kiss on one of his eyelids. “I want to do that for you every day, if you’ll let me.”

Rolan didn’t open his eyes; his arms circled her back to pull her firmly down against him. She immediately feared the pressure on his injured chest must be painful. But he only buried his face along her hair, placing his lips at the hollow beneath her ear.

“Then stay with me,” Rolan said against her skin. “I don’t want to watch you leave again, Tav. I’m done saying goodbye.”

He could be breathtakingly direct. Tav found her heart hammering against her ribs before her mind had even absorbed the full implication of his words.

For the first time since she awakened on that beach, surrounded by alien wreckage, she found her thoughts turning to the quiet of living. Not surviving, not fighting, not searching for a cure. Just the pleasant thought of the life she might find after it was all over. A life that included him.

“I want to stay, too.” The words rose from her throat like they’d been stuck there for months. “I don’t want to leave Baldur’s Gate again, Rolan, I don’t want to leave you—”

His lips were on hers again, blocking out the flow of words before she could say anything else.

“I know I don’t deserve to ask you to wait, but I swear—just give me a few years and I’ll make a name for myself, I’m sure of it—I’ll convince Master Lorroakan to let us all live at the Tower together—”

Rolan was alternately rambing and pressing his lips over her jaw, her cheeks, her lips, his thoughts tumbling out almost ahead of his words.

As she let him go on, a deep sigh escaped her chest. Yet another absolutely perfect moment invaded by inconvenient reality.

He grew very still against her. “What is it?”

“Rolan, listen…we need to talk about the Nightsong.”

—

By the time she finished, the first light of day was peeking through the window shutters and casting the room in fuzzy tones of gray. The colors of the dawn suggested a clear, bright morning was following on the heels of the storm.

“That profane bastard,” Rolan said up to the ceiling.

Tav watched him break his silence from her spot propped on an elbow beside him. Rolan had let her get out the full tale without speaking a word; he’d only watched her intently with his flame-gold eyes.

She told him about the Shadowfell, Balthazar’s necromancy, the Nightsong and Dame Aylin being one and the same. The secret of Ketheric’s immortality, and Lorroakan’s obvious plans to continue where an objectively more powerful man had failed.

The Elder Brain at least she omitted for now—let him deal with one shock at a time.

As she waited for him to process it all, her eyes traveled anxiously over Rolan’s upturned face. “What are you thinking?”

“That I always thought he was a monster,” Rolan mused. His expression was soberly pensive. “As long as I didn’t see the full extent of it for myself, I supposed I could deny it. But I shouldn’t have given him the benefit of doubting. No good man beats his own student.”

At the words, she felt a surge of pride so strong that she wanted to grip his shoulders and shake him. She restrained herself to grabbing his jaw for a swift kiss.

“You’re right,” she said firmly. “The people who love you have felt the same for a long time.”

Rolan’s face fell at her words. “I owe Lia an apology,” he admitted abruptly.

“She only wants you to be safe and happy, Rolan. She’s been as worried for you as anyone.”

“I know—” The bridge of his nose wrinkled with discomfort. “That’s what makes it so damn difficult.”

They lay together for another quiet moment as the sounds of the waking city slowly built outside their room. She rested her cheek against him, tracing a thumb over the Infernal ridges along his sternum.

“There’s going to be a fight today,” she warned, stating the obvious, swiveling on her chin to look at him. “Lorroakan wants to soul bind a daughter of Selûne, one who only just escaped from a hundred-year prison. You should've seen what Dame Aylin did to the last man who did the same.”

Rolan considered that for a moment.

“Then I suppose first of all, we should tell her,” he decided resolutely.

Another long pause followed. From the way his fingers traced her back, she wondered if Rolan was filled with the same sense of nervous foreboding. How much easier it would be to stay in this warm bed together and ignore their reality.

Instead, she propped herself back up on an arm. “Let’s get dressed, then.”

They reluctantly rose from the warm comfort of the blankets to find their clothes. As she stripped Rolan’s shirt up over her head, she caught him eyeing her.

“Don’t tempt me,” she warned.

“You look good in my things,” he defended himself, turning away. “Almost as good as you look out of them.”

Rolan busied himself with magically removing the wrinkles from his robes. It allowed her to grin to herself unnoticed as she pulled on yesterday’s clothes. It was positively stupid how happy he could make her.

She waited for Rolan to twist his hair half-back in his particular way, then reached for the door.

“Wait—”

Rolan quickly turned back to grab something from beside the bed—the small pack of scrolls she’d given him last night. He stared down into the bag for a moment, looking a bit like a child impatient to play with a new toy. Then he stowed it safely at the back of the wardrobe and stepped back to her.

In the front room, Lia was already awake and fully dressed at the table. She wore a red and gold surcoat over her leather jerkin, emblazoned with the crest of a hand clenched against fire. This must be one of her first days in the ranks of the Flaming Fist.

She greeted them both with a yawn and pushed the kettle across the table. “Tea?”

“Thanks.” Tav sat to pour a cup—one last bracing comfort before they faced what the day had in store.

Rolan hesitated for a moment, then slid into the chair beside her. Silently, his arm circled her back to rest his palm along her waist.

Lia caught the gesture. “You two sleep well?” Her eyes were sphinxlike over the edge of her mug.

“Yeah, we—”

“None of your—”

She and Rolan spoke over each other. Tav cast him an amused look. Did he really expect to keep up a pretense even now, after everything? Rolan cleared his throat.

“Fine,” he told Lia shortly. “The Tower’s cold. It was nice being warm for once.”

Lia grimaced at his expression and held up a hand. “Stop, no more. I’ll have to scrub out my ears till I reach my brain.”

“We’re going to kill Lorroakan today,” Tav added brightly.

There was a stunned pause. Then Lia’s mug hit the table with a smack. “Fucking finally, can I help?”

“Absolutely not,” Rolan warned her, his tone final. “I’ve put you and Cal in enough danger as it is. You’re not to come near the Upper City today, either of you.”

Lia’s brows drew into a suspicious line. She looked back and forth between both of them. “Why now? What’s he done?”

Rolan sat in thought for a moment. “Finally crossed a line.”

“He did that weeks ago,” Lia corrected. To Tav’s surprise, a gloved hand reached out to where Rolan’s lay on the table. It felt like a moment not for her to see.

Tav rose from under Rolan’s arm to fetch her cloak from beside the fire, making as much noise as possible as she drew it on and settled the creases.

“I'll wait for you outside,” she told Rolan, leaning to place a kiss between his horns. Then she slipped out the door to give them a moment.

As usual, Heapside was awake before the rest of Baldur’s Gate. Nearby at the great south harbor, the shouts between ship crews and dock workers had already settled into a noisy but familiar tune. The street past Cal and Lia’s was filling with a steady stream of people young and old.

Ordinary people waking to ordinary lives. No tadpoles, no Illithid invasions, no all-powerful Elder Brains. No continual threat of some new megalomaniac set on immortal godhood at any cost.

Tav watched them come and go in quiet thought. What on earth would it feel like to join them?

The door latch behind her interrupted those musings.

“You could have stayed,” Rolan told her, immediately reaching for her hand as if it was the most natural thing. She smiled as they took up the path north together.

“I figure you two haven't had much time to talk.”

“All that’s going to change soon,” Rolan replied. There was a determined spring in his step.

She laughed. “Speak for yourself. I intend to get you to myself quite a bit.”

Rolan’s only response was a low hum as they walked. When she glanced sideways, his cheek was flushed and the corner of his lips curved in an unwilling smile.

When the colorful domed roof of Sorcerous Sundries appeared before them, Tav felt the excitement fade back to a pit of trepidation in her stomach. Beside her, the shine in Rolan’s eyes had dimmed at the sight. She hated to see it, and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Just a few more hours,” she told him quietly.

“I’ll have my spells prepared,” he answered, and there was steel in his voice. He was looking past her now—toward the Upper City, and the glittering spire of Ramazith’s Tower.

“What if he surrenders?” Rolan asked seriously. “Not that I expect his pride to allow it…should we spare him?”

As Tav looked at Rolan’s bruised and marked face in the clear light of morning, she knew exactly what her answer would be.

“It may not be up to us,” was all she admitted.

Then she slanted her face into his for one more kiss. Much as she wanted to linger, she had to prepare for the day—and the conversation with Aylin could wait no longer.

As she turned away north toward the Elfsong, Rolan called after her. “How will I know when?”

“She’s an aasimar,” Tav said over her shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll know.”

#spicy #rolan x tav #bg3 rolan #bg3 lia #sage and soldier #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tav x rolan #i just want to stick these two together with duct tape

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iliketangerines · 3 months

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Can I request oneshot of Mk1 Liu Kang x Fem s/o Jinx (Dc comics) whose power is to give bad luck because of this power she always isolates herself in fear of hurting others when she tells Liu about her power he doesn't care and still loves her anyway; she is gentle and soft spoken please?

jinx, jinx again!

a/n: i changed the personality of the reader around, but i think it makes more sense

pairing: liu kang x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Liu Kang wonders where you are

you were a powerful champion, one with the power to turn the tides of luck and turn the war towards any one side

he had created you in this timeline with the intent to protect Earthrealm, and yet, you’re nowhere to be found on any speck of the planet

and so Liu Kang set out on a journey to find you, going through the sands of time to try and locate you with Geras to bring you to his side before Shang Tsung or anyone else could use your powers for evil

Liu Kang sighs and rubs at the headache forming in his head, it had been days since he had started looking

and yet, you were nowhere to be found, finding the other champions had not nearly been this difficult and yet here you were, unfindable

Geras calls over Liu Kang and points to something in the hourglass, a piece of sand stuck to the side, stubbornly refusing to fall in with the rest of them

Liu Kang raises his eyebrow and picks out the sand and opens its threads to show its life, and there you were

he scrolls through your life memories, searching for where you are, but now he sees why you were so hard to find

your power to change the tides had manifested as bad luck, and it had driven you away from society and only heightened your anxiety

and that heightened your powers, which turned into a never ending cycle of you falling deeper and deeper into your powers

and your powers had kept you away from Liu Kang, from forming connections with the right people to harness your powers

and so you lived in isolation in fear of harming others

Liu Kang rubs his chin as he tries to find your exact location, and he hums as he finds you, isolated high in the mountains, somehow surviving on your own despite everything

he summons a portal and tells Geras that hopefully he will be back soon with you in hand, and Liu Kang disappears

it’s snowing, trees covered in the soft powder, and the birds chirp quietly into the air as Liu Kang makes his way through the forest

he finds your house in the distance, a humble cabin barely holding itself together, and he knocks upon your door

he hears some crashing from within a house and a loud thud before the door unlatches, and you peek out from behind the door, eyes wide as you stare at him

your fingers twitch as you notice his glowing eyes and his lack of winter clothing, and he asks to enter

you shut the door in his face, and he can hear yourself mumbling to yourself, before you open the door again and ask who he is

Liu Kang tells you who he is, god of fire and protector of earthrealm, and he tells you he is here to recruit you in the defense of earthrealm

you raise your eyebrows and then laugh, cackling and howling even as Liu Kang stands in front of you with a stern face

you raise your hand up into the air, and the top of the doorway falls down right into your awaiting hands, as if you knew it was going to happen

you shove it back in place before telling him that that was a funny joke, but he shouldn’t have been able to find you in the woods

you open the rest of the door to reveal the sharp blade you carry, and Liu Kang raises his hands in surrender, trying not to provoke you any further

but he can see the way your hands slightly tremble and how your breath comes out a bit stuttered as you hold the knife towards him

Liu Kang says he truly is a god and he summons flames into his hand to show you

you look at him in surprise and nearly drop the knife into the snow, and you fumble with it, managing to cut yourself in the process

you hiss out in pain and press your thumb into your mouth, trying to clean the wound as Liu Kang looks upon you

he tells you he has the answer to your plight, that he can cure your bad luck if you come with him to train and defend earthrealm

you look up at him with quirked eyebrows, surprised that he even knew of your terrible luck

he summons a portal behind him, one that led to his academy, and he gestures that you can take his offer, to control your powers and make friends and to build connection

your eyes dart between the portal and your rickety home, unsure if you should leave everything behind

you always had bad luck, and it drew everyone away from you

you bounced from home to home, from school to school as your bad luck harmed everyone else and you

now, you have a chance to get rid of your bad luck, to make the human connection you so desperately craved after years in isolation

you spin in a circle and step out from under the doorway as the top of it falls down again

you don’t catch it and let it fall into the snow as you take a deep breath and take Liu Kang’s hands

he’s warm, warmer than anyone you’ve ever experienced, and he gives you a small smile before leading you through the portal to your new life

#tangerine answers #tangerine writes #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fluff #mortal kombat x reader #mk x you #mk x reader #mk x y/n #liu kang #liu kang mk1 #mk1 liu kang #liu kang x reader #liu kang x you #liu kang x y/n

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lazycats-stuff · 11 months

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Hi! If this makes you uncomfortable writing, you can choose to ignore it. I was hoping you could do male!reader, who was on patrol and the reader is kidnapped by a villain, and once the batfamily find them its to late and they were brainwashed and was now under control of a villain. (Bonus points if the villain, is actually their biological father who trained them to be a weapon before the reader got saved by the batfamily)

Once they like have a fight and the batfam knock ‘em out they bring him to the cave and try to bring his memories back. It takes a while to get his memory back since the reader is not trusting them and doesn’t talk to them because they were brainwashed to think the batfamily is bad but after a while something happens and their mind snaps and they’re back to normal and they get all emotional because they hurt their true family??

No problem. Also, I got the exact same request like this, but with gn!reader. I will do write this in male!reader and if there is somebody who is interested I will make a gn!reader version.

Summary: (Y/N) thought that he got away from his father who trained him to be a weapon. He thought wrong.

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, mentions of torture

(Y/N) didn't have a good feeling about this night. Bruce and (Y/N) were in the Batmobile, with Bruce driving. The others were somewhere in the city, stopping crimes or just closing cases they had.

" You okay (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, making a turn to the left.

" I'm not sure. I have a bad feeling? I don't know how to describe it to be honest. " (Y/N) said, knowing how Bruce always said trust your gut.

" Well, I wouldn't worry that much. Everything is going to be fine. " Bruce said, trying to ease (Y/N). He knew that (Y/N) was trained to be on alert all the times, even when sleeping.

" Okay. " (Y/N) said. He tried to relax, but it was difficult. His entire body was on alert.

His gut feeling turned out right. The Batmobile all of a sudden went flying from the back and it was flipped upside down. Both (Y/N) and Bruce were caught completely off guard. Both of them were stuck like that, upside down. Bruce pressed a few buttons and car was flipped over back to normal.

(Y/N) was kind of disoriented. Bruce looked at him for a second before he got out. (Y/N) followed, wanting to know what the hell hit them. (Y/N) froze when he saw who it was.

It was Deathstroke. His father.

" Hello son. " Deathstroke said and (Y/N) got flashbacks to his brutal training. Batman stood in front of (Y/N) pushing him back.

" Go. I will handle him. " Bruce said to (Y/N).

" I don't think so. " Deathstroke said and they were surrounded by assassins. (Y/N) saw Lady Shiva. Oh God. This was planned.

" Well detective, I would call for backup. " Deathstroke said, taking his blade out.

(Y/N) took a deep breath. Why was Deathstroke here? Why couldn't he let him go to live his life?

" Why are you doing this Deathstroke? " Batman asked, getting ready to fight. They couldn't escape the fight.

" I just want my son back. "

" So you can put him through hell again? Not happening. (V/N), go! " Bruce said to (Y/N) who ran.

" Do you really think that I won't be able to find him? " Deathstroke said and Batman started making his way through the other assassins. He was trying to get to Deathstroke, but there was too many assassins and he had to deal with Lady Shiva, he could only hope that (Y/N) would be able to contact his brothers for back up.

He is going to be tied up here for a while.

(Y/N) ran. He called his brothers and quickly briefed them. They were on their way, but knowing his father he is going to take him at the last moment, just when (Y/N) is within their reach.

He stopped when Deathstroke somehow jumped in front of him. (Y/N) froze once more. he couldn't go back with him. He couldn't go through that hell.

He was just getting free.

" Hello son. It's been a while. "

" Don't call me son. You don't have the right. " (Y/N) gritted out through his teeth.

" Well, we share blood and DNA. That makes me your father. And whatever Batman told you, you are not his son nor their brother. " Deathstroke said, taking out his blade.

(Y/N) looked around. Nowhere to go and nowhere to run. Then it's time to run. Let's go then.

Deathstroke charged at (Y/N), making (Y/N) sidestep a bit and block the blade with his gauntlet. He wasn't going to be taken without a fight.

Deathstroke and (Y/N) went on it for a long while. (Y/N) was good at holding his own, but Deathstroke was the one who trained him. Deathstroke knew his weak spots and all of his skills.

And that's why (Y/N) was down on the ground, Deathstroke's weight keeping him down. He tried to buck him off, but he couldn't. His eyes widened when he saw a syringe in his hand. Nope. Absolutely not.

" Good night son. "

(Y/N)'s eyes were closing as Deathstroke injected whatever was in the syringe. The last thing (Y/N) saw was Deathstroke's good eye and it was obvious that he smirking beneath his mask.

Bruce and the others knew that (Y/N) was taken by Deathstroke. It was obvious that it was planned in advance. Damian was the one to see Deathstroke knock out (Y/N), but two assassins got in the way of saving him. It was nothing more than psychological warfare.

Bruce was not going to have it. He called in his friends from the Justice League. If he wants to find (Y/N), he will need every single resource he can get his hands on.

The house was quieter too. Nobody was really happy and everything was just... Gloomy.

One day Superman came down to the cave, just to check on Bruce. He knew that he loved his children and they would always come first to him. No matter what.

" How are you holding up Bruce? " Clark asked as he stood next to the chair Bruce was sitting in, eyes looking at the screen that was full of different stuff.

" I'm fine. I just worry about (Y/N). You have no idea what he has been through and... My God. " Bruce said, rubbing his eyes.

" How bad was it? " Clark asked, looking down at Bruce.

" Imagine you don't know anything else but being a weapon. Your opinions don't matter, your needs don't matter. The only thing that matters is the mission. And imagine you get adopted by a man who is your enemy. "

Clark looked away for a moment. " My God. My poor nephew. "

" I know. And now I worry about what Deathstroke is doing to him. "

" I know. We still don't know the location of the base. " Superman said, rubbing the side of his neck covered by his suit.

" It's been a month Clark. I know (Y/N) is resilient mentally speaking, but Deathstroke can easily break him. He can put him back together and break him if he ever so pleased. " Bruce said, pushing his hair back.

" Don't worry. We will find him Bruce. " Clark said, patting his shoulder.

" I know. I'm just worried about the damage that will be done. How didn't I see this coming? " Bruce questioned himself, sighing.

" You need to sleep Bruce. "

" I can't. I need to find (Y/N) and need to patrol. "

" Wonder Woman and I can take over the patrol. You and the boys are going to rest for the night. " Superman said, moving the chair to get Bruce out of the chair.

" Clark, don't make use the Kryptonite. " Bruce threatened, but Superman rolled his eyes. There was no malice in Bruce's voice.

Two more months and they located Deathstroke's base. They also had conformation that (Y/N) was there. Bruce had to mentally prepare himself for whatever state (Y/N) was in. Bruce had some hope that (Y/N) hadn't been broken.

Bruce also told his sons that too. (Y/N) could be broken or somewhat the same. The Justice League was there as back up too. Bruce didn't know how to feel as they were approaching the base. His sons were more hopeful and positive about it.

They had a plan and they were going in, determined to find their brother and son. The base was huge and empty. It was eerie. After a while of searching, they found Deathstroke and (Y/N). Bruce's heart clenched at the sight.

It was (Y/N)'s old suit, the one he burned when he got adopted. Bruce took a deep breath.

Bruce refused to listen to Deathstroke and he striked. The boys followed and a fight ensued. Batman went right after Deathstroke, ready to unleash his fury at him. The other fought with (Y/N).

They didn't recognize him. Cold, dead eyes and no recognition. They were going to maim Deathstroke.

After they got Deathstroke into custody and Bruce maimed him for everything he done to (Y/N), they went back to the manor. Although, (Y/N) had to be knocked out in order to be brought back.

Bruce could tell that (Y/N) was brainwashed and tortured. He guessed it was water torture, electrical too... He sighed as he took his cowl off. He was just like when they first met.

Now it was going to take a lot of patience and talking. Jason was going to kill Deathstroke.

" B, I'm going to kill Slade. " Jason said out of earshot.

" Don't worry, I maimed him. " Bruce assured him. Everyone looked at (Y/N) who was in a cell.

" We have to make sure he remembers. Patience is key. "

It's been a month and (Y/N) still doesn't want to talk with them. They have all been trying their best, Superman and Wonder Woman tried to. Absolutely nothing.

Bruce talked to (Y/N) everyday, even showed him some videos. No reaction. Cold, dead, soulless and calculating just looking into Bruce's blue eyes.

Dick was really trying. His strategy was chatting until his own ears started bleeding.

Tim, Jason and Damian are going trying to get him to remember by talking about cases they have solved together. They tried to bribe him with his favorite foods. The ones he could eat for a long time without ever hating them.

Nothing.

It wasn't until a week later that something happened. They were all in the cave, trying their best to be normal. Damian noticed first. (Y/N) looked conflicted, not cold and calculating. He didn't say anything as he watched in silence.

" Dad! "

Everyone turned their heads, Bruce nearly got whiplash. He never heard (Y/N) get so emotional. And he never called him dad. Bruce ran towards the cell. He unlocked it and (Y/N) ran into Bruce's arms. He sobbed and held him tightly.

" I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you guys! I'm so sorry! " He sobbed into Bruce's chest.

(Y/N) was back. They were going to bounce back from this. They would help him.

They stick together and they fight together. They were going to help (Y/N) with his fight.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batkids #platonic relationships

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