#i know i know one constant companion would be boring

[the-p-in-lgbtqa]

The Doctor: humans die so soon :( they're so weak :( and they age :(

Jack: I'm literally undying and unaging –

The Doctor: damn can't get rid of this bitch :/

Jack & Ashildr: Doctor our immortality is literally your responsibility. And if you take us with you you won't have to worry about putting us in danger !

The Doctor: I need to get away from this bitch as far as possible

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader)

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up. 

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors.  He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again. 

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board. 

 There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently. 

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one. 

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail. 

You have to be alive and in good condition. 

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected. 

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. 

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in. 

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after. 

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage. 

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting. 

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really. 

It started with Old Lady Sal. 

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen. 

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf. 

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland. 

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over. 

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can. 

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion. 

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly. 

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck. 

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero. 

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame. 

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid. 

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake. 

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door. 

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother. 

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise. 

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words. 

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain. 

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer. 

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul. 

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together. 

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you. 

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers. 

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth. 

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later. 

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead. 

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface.  The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands. 

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions. 

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

 He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight. 

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table. 

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys. 

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently. 

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips. 

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones. 

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression. 

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants. 

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers. 

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again. 

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones. 

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders. 

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff. 

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too. 

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package. 

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck. 

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days. 

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen. 

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin. 

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner. 

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave. 

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs. 

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you. 

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly. 

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance. 

- You serious? 

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up. 

- Wait. 

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue. 

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe. 

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily. 

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin. 

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes.  If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender. 

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins. 

[star-ocean-peahen]

The more you think about Jason Grace's life, the more fucked up it gets.

Like, the whole "joined Camp Jupiter as a three year old" thing. We already know Camp Jupiter is fucked up because it places heavy importance on a child army, despite having plenty of demigod adults at hand, but they straight up recruited a three year old into the military. He showed up and got promptly stuck in a barrack for the rest of his childhood.

Like, why?? Why on earth would they do that instead of giving him to someone in New Rome to raise and inducting him into the legion at a respectable twelve??

And who raised him anyway?? A rotating cast of nineteen-year-old demigods?? His bunkmates in the Fifth?? If he was a young teenager I could see that, but he arrived when he was three, was he even potty-trained??? Did he just grow up being educated by bored teenagers and ghosts, watching as demigods arrived and served and retired, being told that he had to be the greatest of them all?? Did he have any other children to grow up with?? Did the legion even consider him different than the other recruits, or did he have to shovel unicorn dung when he forgot his phonics and live with the constant threat of perhaps being sewn into a bag of weasels??

I find it odd that Jason, as a demigod who grew up in a demigod's world, doesn't have his unique perspective explored more. I find it especially odd that the difference between his childhood and everyone else's is ignored. However difficult and varied everyone else's backgrounds are, they've at least attended a school. They had parents, and family, and a home, at least at one point. They had mortal toys and dwellings and communities that weren't merged inextricably with the myths. They knew where they came from. Do you think Jason, with his powerful, kingly father and impending destiny, ever felt like he didn't know who his family was?

I also find it strange that he doesn't seem to have a very wide network of friends from Camp Jupiter? He has Reyna, who he trusts and works with and depends on. He lists Hazel and Frank among his friends, but they look up to him as a role model. He mentions Bobby and Dakota familiarly, but never again. He's familiar and on good terms with basically everyone—but the only person he seems to consider as a close friend is Reyna. And that wouldn't be odd if he hadn't grown up at Camp Jupiter. He doesn't seem to have any constant companion—anyone he considers his family until he meets Leo.

Maybe he and Leo bonded so well because they both knew what it was like to grow up transiently. To have any constant in your life, and know that the day you would move on or they would move on was fast approaching. Maybe the reason he looked at Camp Half-Blood and admired how united and familial they seemed, and wished Camp Jupiter could be similar, was that he could see in them the family he wished he had.

Honestly, I feel like meeting Thalia should have left him in a lot more turmoil than it did. He grew up with no family but a god for a father, and here's a person who wanted him. Someone who always wanted him because he was Jason, and not the demigod son of Zeus. Maybe even someone to whom he mattered more than his destiny.

I really, really wish we'd gotten to see more of the contrasts between him and Percy. He is explicitly the Romans' version of the hero Percy is, except he's the hero first, and the person second. Jason did everything right! He did everything perfectly, and Percy still got where he did without being trained for it his entire childhood. He's got such a better reason to resent him than "bad vibes". They could have been foils for each other hhhhhhhrngh.

Just. This lonely, idolized, child soldier's life hurts me.

[griseldabanks]

WIP Tag Game

Rules: If you are tagged, you have to work on your WIP until you write a sentence that contains at least one word from the sentence given to you by the person who tagged you. Then post that sentence and tag as many people as you want. Tag-backs are not only allowed, but encouraged! >:)

I've been tagged roughly a bajillion times over the past couple of months, but haven't done much about it because I've been on a writing hiatus in the wake of finishing the first draft of my WIP. But I'm trying to get back into writing regularly, so I'm going to start a new thread, and tag back everybody who tagged me! >:D

@rainintheevening

It didn't take a genius to understand what Qui-Gon was getting at.

@winterinhimring

The dead became one with the Force, and the Force was a Jedi's constant companion.

@rainintheevening

And yet, Obi-Wan still couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment.

@authortobenamedlater

And if he didn't leave even the slightest crack open for the Force to seep through, that meant Qui-Gon couldn't reach him either.

@winterinhimring

A child with his fingers in his ears, demanding to know why no one would talk to him.

@bunnyscar

Accept the shame, then let it go.

@winterinhimring

Learn from them, and they will help you grow.

@bunnyscar

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan envisioned his lungs filling with stale air from the years he had languished here on Tatooine.

@kraytwriter

Opening eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, Obi-Wan turned to look at Qui-Gon again.

@kraytwriter

“I was there.”

@kraytwriter

All he could see was his master's eyes, full of sympathy and compassion, understanding and acceptance.

Lol, all of the words I chose were very boring and generic, but there you go XD And yes, if I mentioned your name multiple times, consider yourself tagged that many times.

[bearhugsandshrugs]

Glory Hole Fic – Gortash x Tav

Oh yeah I'm hitting you with the slutty hand gif. Now go and read the fic under the cut.

E | 2.5k words | Chapter 1/2 | Gortash x Tav | AO3 Link

“Go ahead, make yourself comfortable. I’ll go around and help you get settled on the other side. If there’s anything you need, ring that bell.” Tav’s eyes fell on a copper bell with a string just in arm’s reach from the soft bed she’d be lying on. She nodded towards the matron.  “Thanks.” 

This would be exciting. After making her way to Baldur’s Gate with the strange set of companions she’d collected – of whom a surprising amount had wanted to sleep with her, much to her dismay as she was trying to keep it professional – she had finally found a brothel that was so well hidden, only the most exclusive and most knowledgeable of clients would find their way there. Over the past weeks Tav had been burning up with need. It had been hard turning down Lae’zel, then Astarion, and finally Halsin, and her sessions with herself were far from enough to clear her mind from the constant influx of images her mind would torture her with. So. She had decided to call in some favors and get herself fucked in the establishment that called itself “Wholesome”. 

The word play was a little cringey, but the place was not. At any given time, there were only three rooms accepting clients, each of them divided into two parts so clients and workers wouldn’t see each other. On her side, Tav had a comfortable bed for her upper body, a carafe with water, and towels to clean herself up. On the client's side was a side table with lube, massage oil, toys, and of course towels and water too, plus alcoholic beverages of their choice. Both sides were hidden from view from each other by a wall with a hole on hip-level, through which Tav now positioned her lower body. The matron was already waiting for her on the other side, guiding her legs into holders made of leather that were suspended from the ceiling and could be adjusted by the customers however they wanted.  Her ass was lying on a more practical extension of the bed made out of hardwood – sturdier and easier to clean. Being spread open like this, naked and depending on the whim of whoever was on the other side, was already turning her on. She couldn’t wait to get started. The matron pulled at the cord that tightened a dark cotton curtain around her hips, an extra precaution so the privacy for both sides was being kept. Rumor had it in select circles that some bored noble women and men went to Wholesome to get fucked or fuck, anonymously and with no one the wiser, and the secrecy was crucial to the brothel’s existence.  

Tav heard the matron leave, and after a few moments she could make out a conversation outside her room.  “I have something special for you today”, she heard her say. “It’s her first time.” The voice of the man was dismissive. “I don’t like virgins. You know that.” “Oh, she’s not a virgin. But it’s her first time selling her body.” There was a pause, and Tav felt her heartbeat quicken. If he decided to choose her, he’d come in any time now. The anticipation sent a short burst of heat to her core.  Instead of a reply, the door on the other side opened, then closed, as strong footsteps strolled into the room. There were sounds of fabric shuffling, then a glass being filled and, after a brief moment, being set down. 

Suddenly, a hand was on her left foot: warm and strong. Tav flinched instinctively, surprised by the unexpected touch, earning her a low chuckle from the other side.  “So”, the voice she’d heard earlier began, “You want to get fucked like a whore?” Her lips trembled as she fought a reply. She wasn’t allowed to talk, not on her side. He knew that, of course. The clients could say whatever they wanted – they had absolute power, while the only sounds that were allowed out of her mouth were sounds of pleasure – or pain.  Tav wasn’t going to ruin her chances of doing this again within the first minutes. So she kept quiet.  “Studied before coming here, I see”, the voice mocked, running his hand along her leg and up her thigh. Oh, he was full of himself. She wanted to kick his face, but her leg was held firmly in place. On the other side, there was a chuckle, obviously loving her reaction. But there was something else, tugging at the back of her mind: Where did she know that voice from…

A slap against her cunt pulled her back to reality as her mouth yelped in shock. 

“Ah, nice to meet you”, the voice laughed, bringing both hands to the insides of her thighs, scratching all the way down to her knees. The pain was delicious.  Tav took a sharp breath in as the man dug his nails into her skin again and again, leaving her thighs sensitive to even the slightest touch. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of whimpering, having understood almost immediately that this was a game to him. When she didn’t let out the desired sounds, he pinched her so hard she cried out. 

He laughed, voice smooth and low, then dipped two fingers to her entrance.  “Wet already”, he murmured, almost as if to himself, spreading her slick between her folds. Tav sighed. Yes. She was wet. She couldn’t wait to have him inside of her. The way he teased her, mocked her, promised great things to come.  The man on the other side pulled his hand away as she heard him fumble with his clothes. She felt him line himself up against her, then seemingly change his mind as he dragged the tip of his cock across her folds in slow, deliberate motions.  “Say please”, he demanded, voice low. He knew she couldn’t do that. But her hips bucked against him, a wordless plea, that wasn’t quite enough for him. Another slap, this time precisely against her clit, made her gasp. “Come now”, the man continued, “You can do better than that.”  Where did she know that voice from–

The next slap was even harder and immediately followed by two more, and he finally dragged out the whimpers from her mouth that Tav had refused to let him have. He chuckled, satisfied, then pushed himself inside of her without further notice until he was completely buried in her cunt. “Ahhh”, he sighed, pulling out slowly before shoving back in with force. “What a tight little cunt you have.” Tav moaned at the sudden praise, clinging to his words as they gathered even more heat between her legs. There was a small laugh on the other side in response to her sounds, and he brought his hands to her hips, just behind the curtain, pulling her down on his cock while he started to fuck her in earnest.

The way he filled her up sent shivers down her spine. Tightening his grip on her, the stranger started to roll his hips, his cock rubbing against a spot that made her mewl. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he seemed to enjoy himself as well, his breathing growing heavier and heavier the longer he fucked her. Tav wanted to reach for him, wanted to run her fingers over his back, wanted to slap his arrogant mouth, but she was stuck on her side of the hole, clenching her fists in frustration.  “You like that?”, came the voice from the other side, and she groaned in response, not even caring anymore that she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”  He... stopped. 

Tav felt like her body was on fire, and she wailed as she realized he had paused on purpose, interrupting her climb. On the other side, his fingers ran lazily over her thighs again, softly pressing against the reddened skin, still sensitive from his scratches.  “Me doing all the work does not seem particularly fair, does it?” Tav stared at the ceiling in confusion. Wasn’t this the point? “If you want to come on my cock, you need to earn it.” She swallowed down the reply that had already formed in her throat and instead just let out a shaky breath. He heard that. Of course. Chuckling he loosened the cord from the privacy curtain. What was he–

“Since it’s your first time as a whore, I’ll let you help yourself”, he said, his hand sliding underneath the curtain and beckoning towards her. “Don’t be shy now.” She knew the stranger wanted her to take his hand and let him pull hers to the other side, something that was allowed if both parties agreed, but she had an idea of her own. With a smirk she yanked his hand upwards, and he grabbed her waist for balance, as she brought his free hand to her breast. The sigh she heard from behind the curtain  was divine. Inside of her, his cock twitched against her walls as he squeezed her tit, hand full, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger until she moaned. Her hips bucked upwards on their own, and the scoff he let out was as sexy as it was venomous. He pinched her nipple so hard she cried out, then blindly slapped her breast, hitting her surprisingly (and painfully) well. His hand retreated behind the curtain while Tav gasped for air, trying to breathe away the pain that was flowing down from her breast to her core. 

“Oh, I like you”, the stranger said, bringing his fingers to her clit. “But believe me, you’ll do yourself a favor if you do as I say.” He started to squeeze, lightly at first, but increasing in pressure as Tav started to sob, trying to yank her hips away from him, but the leg holders kept her in place. It hurt. More than she wanted it to, so much so, that it wasn’t enjoyable anymore.  “Stop, you piece of shit”, she cried out hoarsely, breaking the house’s rule if he decided to tell on her, and she slid her hand through the curtain as he’d asked. Seeing her follow his request, the stranger broke off his assault on her clit.  “That sounded beautiful”, he murmured, his voice deep as it extended a peace offering, “and I shall forget it ever happened.”

Rolling his hips into her, he took her hand in his as he started fucking her again, an intimate gesture that was hotter than it had any right to be, especially in the middle of this brothel. Tav knew he wanted her to touch herself, but there was an unspoken agreement between them to give her a chance to recover, to reset from the pain. So she enjoyed him pounding into her, pushing his cock in and out while she tried to meet his thrusts with her hips. 

When the stranger decided enough time had passed, he stilled again, chuckling behind the curtain. 

“Ready, little whore?”

Ignoring his tease, Tav reached tenderly between her legs, trying to find a pace she enjoyed while knowing full well he was watching her get herself off. The man was humming with approval as she sighed, starting to fuck herself on his cock and her hands. Having less room for her to move her body meant she couldn’t get a lot of friction, her cunt clenching around his cock instead in desperation, trying to find those sweet spots again that he’d been hitting. No, she had to rely on working on herself with her fingers, rubbing her clit, while the stranger ran his hands up and down her legs and otherwise stood still. 

She knew her body well, of course. The past weeks had brought her more opportunities to distract herself at night, alone in her tent, than ever before, and it didn’t take her long to find that high she’d been chasing again. From the other side, the voice groaned as he watched her movements turn frantic. 

“Such a good whore”, he sighed, and Tav moaned at the praise. “I wish I could see your face, mouth hanging open while you get yourself off on me.” There were more whimpers from her, and the idea of him seeing her face, seeing her eyes half closed with lust, made her legs tremble. “Maybe next time I’ll fuck your mouth”, he cotinued, his needy tone sending sparks to her cunt, “Let you choke on my cock.” Tav gasped, she was close, and her hips had started to set their own rhythm against their static partner, that stranger, who’d come here to stand still and watch her bring herself to climax using his dick like a prop. 

“Fuck”, he groaned, apparently realizing she was about to come, and pulled out of her. Tav nearly cried at the loss of him inside of her, but instead his mouth was on her in an instant, his hand grabbing her wrist and stilling her fingers, while his tongue swirled around her clit. The sob she let out was guttural, and she bucked herself into his face, imagining she could ride him properly, without the wall dividing them. Her hand reached for his head, wanting to steer him, and she had to pull strands of hair aside to actually reach his forehead. Long hair, that had fallen into his eyes–

This time it was Tav who cursed out loud, realizing who this voice belonged to, understanding whose face she was just fucking, learning whose tongue was eating her out. As Lord Gortash’s image formed in the back of her mind, that thought pushed her over the edge. She moaned as her hips jerked into his mouth, his teeth slightly grazing over her sensitive skin as she came apart. When she was done, he licked a long streak from her entrance to her clit with the full width of his tongue, before standing back up. 

“Delicious”, he praised her, and now that she knew who he was, she couldn’t unhear it. How had she not realized–

Gortash started to pump his cock in his hand, the rubbing sounds unmistakable, and it took mere moments before he groaned, spilling his seed on her, the warm strings dripping down between her folds. “Fuck”, he moaned, his free hand still on her waist. “I think you’ve ruined me.”

Grateful for the house rules of not being allowed to talk, Tav stared at the ceiling and tried to gather her thoughts. Her breathing was still shallow and quickened, and her heart was beating in a rapid rhythm trying to process what had just happened. He didn’t know it was her, she realized. He couldn’t. There was no way–

She heard him clean himself up on the other side, then stroll back over to where she was lying. “I’d wipe my cum off you, but honestly, I think it suits you”, he said, voice low and full of mockery again. Tav’s mouth ran dry. “Goodbye.”

And with that, he was gone. 

[dduane]

High Wizardry feels so much like a 'finale' I've often wondered if, when you finished writing HW, at the time that you thought it was the conclusion. Did time pass and you suddenly realize 'oh, I've got more stories to tell here, turns-out,' or did you simply put YW aside at the end of HW knowing you'd come back to it later when time and scheduling or other matters allowed? I mean the gap between HW and AWA isn't very long, but the jump from AWA to TWD is quite long indeed.

When I finished High Wizardry, the last thing on my mind was ending the series. (Though there's been a rumor for many years that originally "there were only going to be three books." I have no idea where that came from.) I knew then, as I'd known from when I finished So You Want To Be A Wizard, that there was a lot more story to tell.... even if I wasn't sure about where to go next.

What was on my mind, though, when I was working on that book in 1988 or thereabouts, was that the series might not have a chance to continue any further at that publisher.

Delacorte Books / Dell Publishing had been acquired by Doubleday in 1986. This was nothing like the gobbling-up of publishing houses by media giants with which we're now way too familiar. But rumors started stirring immediately that (to use the equally familiar, euphemistic phrase) "economies would have to be made" as part of the acquisition. And sure enough, they were. Dell (or its new corporate overlords) quickly started "letting go" many of its newer or less-profitable writers, to allow the company to concentrate on older, better-selling, more profitable names.

As one of the newer kids on the block, I was one of the first of the numerous writers let go. So was Jane Yolen (and ffs, who throws Jane Yolen overboard??! It's sheer fucking idiocy). But at least I'd known for a while which way the wind was likely to blow, and I was ready for it. In High Wizardry I'd concentrated on tying off all the currently hanging issues, so that readers wouldn't find themselves dealing with a corporately-manufactured cliffhanger. It's possible some of that air of finality manifests itself in HW's "tone of voice."

The Young Wizards books were then homeless in the US (in terms of any new ones coming out). But the first three books then went into print in the UK, in their Transworld / Corgi editions, starting in 1991; and they were still there when A Wizard Abroad was ready to go to press a couple of years later. That's why AWAb's first tradpub edition was from the UK, as a Young Corgi paperback; and its first US and hardcover appearance was from, of all places, the US SF Book Club—always historically a good friend to the series—with a fab cover by David Cherry. Abroad would not see a US edition again until Harcourt's Magic Carpet imprint brought it home to join its older, newly reprinted "siblings" in 1997.*

...And as for that long pause between AWAb and The Wizard's Dilemma: with the best will in the world, even an enthusiastic new publishing house will put on the brakes for a bit until a newly acquired series proves itself. Fortunately, at Harcourt it did. Dilemma came out there in 2001: and there the books remain. But their history's been repeatedly punctuated by the uncertainty that's the constant companion of midlist writers always looking ahead to the next corporate acquisition... and wondering whether they'll survive the next round of "economies."

As John Watson's been heard to say: "I'm never bored." :)

HTH!

*The timing of this sequence of reissues is possibly what started the hilarious rumor that the Young Wizards novels were ripoffs of, uh, some other writer's wizard concept. (shrug) Not my fault if some people can't read copyright dates. :)

[film-in-my-soul]

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Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

[thedevildomwriter]

The brothers help you fight through your procrastination - the older brothers

_____________________________________________________________

So, I was inspired to write this because I too have a deadline for a project coming up... (And this will be my first ever post that I’m creating??) I’ll try to post the younger brothers later this week!

_____________________________________________________________

You, of course, waited until the last minute to finish up a project before its deadline. Since you’re prone to procrastinating, you make the brothers promise to help you fight through and eliminate all distractions. 

Lucifer:

You don’t even have to force him to promise! As soon as you mention the predicament you’re in, Lucifer cracks his whip. (Whether that’s literally or metaphorically, is up to you.)

He may give you some shit initially, but once he sees how legitimately stressed you are -- he’ll ease up a bit. The eldest brother knows that lecturing you now wouldn’t solve anything.

Lucifer will make you silence your phone before it even begins blowing up with notifications. 

Once you get to work, he is a permanent fixture in your room. He’ll sit across from you, his own paperwork splayed before him, companionable silence between you two. If you aren’t entirely opposed to it, he’ll have the tinkling of piano keys playing in the background.

Any problems you come across or if you just need an honest opinion, he will always have an answer for you.  

The other brothers will be banned from your room until you’re done. You may or may not hear constant scuffling by the door and the knob rattling (Lucifer spelled the door to stay locked lmao)

He’s not a complete monster; every few hours, Lucifer will go on a tea and snack run. Once he returns, you have to remind him to refuel, as well, since he is so used to powering through. 

You don’t know if it’s just his energy or what, but you get done way faster than you thought you would. 

As soon as you look up from your work, tired but smiling with relief, the eldest brother will already be meeting your eyes with a look of pride on his face. Rising from his chair, he’ll make his way to your side and cup your cheek in his hand. 

“Well done, MC,” he murmurs, as his warm ruby eyes gaze down at you. “Now, for your reward...”

Mammon:

The KING of procrastination??

Honestly, the last person you should’ve come to lmao How many times have you had to force him to focus on studying or else he’d fail?

You practically have to beg Mammon to take you seriously. And even then, he only gives in because the desperation in your voice is fully audible. 

“Alright, alright!” He finally caves. “The Great Mammon will help ya out just this once!”

Will lay on your bed or the floor, flicking through Devilgram and/or watching videos on Deviltube as you work. 

Anytime an especially funny video crosses his feed or he sees something interesting, he can’t help but share it with you. 

“Oi, MC! Ya gotta take a look at this!”

Even after you glare daggers at Mammon, he’ll just shrug it off. “A break every now and then won’t kill ya.”

Despite having no qualms with being the one distracting you, he’ll be swift to tell you to put your own phone away. Only he’s allowed to interrupt you. (The double standard??)

The demon brother will periodically ask how much longer you’ll be. You don’t know if this is some sort of tactic he’s secretly using to light a fire under your ass or he’s just bored. Probably the latter hahaha

You end up finishing late at night the day before your deadline. The loudest sigh of relief escapes from you, to which Mammon’s head pops up from your bed in response. 

Tiredly, you drag yourself to your feet and plop down next to him. 

“Finally done, huh?” He grabs your hand to pull you to your feet again. If anything, it was more so just to give him a reason to hold it. “Let’s get outta here and celebrate! Bein’ cooped up in here all weekend deserves some type of reward!”

Leviathan:

Not much better at keeping you focused than Mammon is?

You won’t have to do as much begging to get him to do it, since Levi is the resident shut-in, but he will have to do some rearranging of his “busy otaku schedule.”

For someone who literally lives in the same house as you, he hauls enough of his stuff into your room to make it feel like he’s moving in for more than a weekend. 

Levi spends most of his time sprawled across your bed reading manga, catching up on new anime episodes, and playing some sort of new RPG game on his laptop. 

At certain points, it feels like he’s almost entirely forgotten about your existence, but then he’ll randomly have an outburst.

“Ahhh! That character’s actually the villain?!”

“Oh...Sorry, MC!!”

You can tell he feels bad when that happens. As a sort of peace offering, he up-ends a bag filled with snacks onto the table. They’re all limited edition for this new collab with one of his favorite anime series. 

“We gotta refuel! And while we take our break, you can help me enter the codes on these snacks! They came out with exclusive merch and only a select few of the codes will win!”

You give in because he’s right, right? A small break won’t hurt. 

Until he tries to talk you into watching (at least) one episode of the anime you guys had started together earlier in the week. 

That’s when you have to put your foot down. 

“Levi, you promised that you would help me NOT get distracted! Not be the one who’s doing the distracting!”

“I’m so sorry, MC!!”

After that, he resigns himself to quietly (well, as quietly as Levi can) reading in the corner until you’re done. 

As soon as you finish and collapse on your bed, he pops up beside you. 

“So, to congratulate you on a job well done -- we can watch that anime now!”

“Levi, it’s 2am!”

[cool-cowboy]

Summary:

In which an android Leon reveals some features to his model you were not aware of beforehand, then gives you a prime example of how he's better than a human man. I have no idea where this came from, just popped into my head and I figured someone out there would enjoy, so yeah, enjoy!

Tags:

Android Leon S. Kennedy, Obsession, Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Master/Servant, alternate universe, Dirty talk, grinding, overstimulation, forced orgasm, babbling, crying

Blurb:

“I just… Didn’t know you had… Those kind of features.”

“Sorry. You’ve never expressed feelings of lust before, only now your heart rate is picking up, perspiration levels above average... Would you like me to enable sexual interaction in the options menu?”

Text:

“Leon, I’m home!” I tuck my shoes into their little spot beside the door, shucking off my jacket and leaving it on its hook, wandering through and into the family room, spotting him, standing perfectly still along the wall, blue neon swirling around his eyes, the only tell I get when an update is underway, other than his lack of response. I decide to leave him be, walking off into the kitchen, getting my things ready to cook supper, the lighting brighter than I like it in the evening, my trusty android friend not awake to employ my usual light and ambience settings, the quiet a little disturbing when I’m so used to the light music he puts on when I arrive home.

I cook in relative silence, making a meal for one, missing the chatter of my robot companion, curious to hear about his update, why it’s taking so long. It’s not traditional, the purpose I have for owning a device like him, usually they’re nothing but a housekeeper, someone to take care of the home and complete menial tasks, but I don’t find that useful, just enjoy having someone around, a friend, something like that. I’ve never assigned him a task, but he craves it, gives himself objectives if I can’t, tries his hardest to cater to my needs even if I don’t speak them.

I sit down with my meal, eating in quiet, seated at my little island, his chair empty, the space a little cooler than I like it. I’m bored, never used to quiet anymore, not with my constant companion making sure to keep conversation flowing, his devotion to me seeming more real than it probably is, his care programmed into him, but there nonetheless. He’s been speaking about feelings lately, if he’s capable, something that would usually get him sent in for a reset, but I don’t mind, and I do think he’s capable, his mind is superhuman after all.

“There you are.” He’s human, on the outside, looks perfectly believable, could walk around with me and have no one suspect he isn’t a normal man, the only difference what’s on the inside, some mechanical shit I have no idea how to explain, and AI that lets him know what I’m thinking, his intelligence unmatched, his mind full of anything I could ever want to know.

“How was the update?” He takes his seat beside me, straight-backed, his formality with his mannerisms something that took me a while to get used to, his speech slowly morphing to mimic mine, a comfort thing programmed into all androids to give a sense of familiarity, comfort with something often viewed as subhuman. His eyes glow blue, ready to rattle off the specs he’s downloaded, his voice a little more robotic than usual, his script taking him over.

“Update 16.2b, major tweaks under the belt, more realistic orgasm simulation, bugs fixed regarding the timed orgasm system, facial expressions refined, new commands available, more realistic erection phases, see more online at Update dot my android dot net.” I sit there, mouth gaping, not sure at all what to say to all that, never even thought about using my friend in that way, was never told I could, if I did want to. “Is something wrong?” I set my fork down, pushing my plate back, my appetite gone, some unwarranted butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

“I just… Didn’t know you had… Those kind of features.” He looks at me, eyes flashing blue, scanning my vitals, something that used to seriously creep me out, but doesn’t bother me much anymore, it’s habitual, a way for him to see how I’m feeling, get truths I’m not willing to give.

“Sorry. You’ve never expressed feelings of lust before, only now your heart rate is picking up, perspiration levels above average.” I don’t say anything, embarrassed he can tell so much about me, know my curious wants against my wishes. “Would you like me to enable sexual interaction in the options menu?” I can’t answer, too busy freaking out in my head, his blue eyes back to normal, still seeking information, always, gaze flitting over my face, small movements of my hands, his inspection leaving me on edge.

“So… You can feel pleasure?” I’m curious, though I’ve never wanted to use him, in any capacity, just wanted someone around, company, not a lover, especially not one who’s not in control of their own actions, autonomy not something he has much of, other than the settings I could turn off to let him have a little free reign, giving him permission to mill about while I’m gone, do as he pleases. He’s staring at me, head cocked, brows furrowed a little, his expression terribly human, inspecting me, trying his hardest to deduce my thoughts, his pointer finger drawing out calculations absently on the countertop as they run through his head.

“Not technically, pleasure is a chemical reaction, my form is just a simulation. I do feel it, the receptors go off when I complete a task. It’s new in update 14.6a, meant to be a better drive to please the owner. I assume you mean sexual pleasure, though. I can simulate it, up until orgasm, mostly realistic, other than the secretion part.” I have no idea why I’m just now hearing about this, most people would probably jump on the opportunity to have a partner so in tune with their body, literally able to do a scan and know what you need.

“Do you enjoy it, though? You want to?” He looks at me, my eyes, not doing any scanning, just looking at me, giving me a few seconds of quiet anticipation.

“You’re important to me, whether it’s programming or not, you’re attractive and a pleasant person, so I'd guess it would be enjoyable to please you in a more personal way, but I know you mean it differently… It’s not a craving I have, to satisfy myself, I mean, only to please you, in any way you see fit.” I swallow, his eyes flitting down, gazing at my hands, fisted and pressed to my thighs. It’s a moral dilemma, using something so intelligent for my own gain, but I suppose it can’t be too terrible, he’d get the equivalent of an orgasm, plus whatever pleased feeling he gets from making me happy. “You seem interested. I will turn on sexual activity permissions in the options menu.” Damn his autonomy, I may have went too far, allowing him access to his own options, his eyes glowing blue as he sinks into his own brain, flipping on whatever part of him has been dormant all this time before returning to me, his expression normal, no different than my usual Leon, casual, doting.

“You did it?” He nods, scanning me, not at all put off by my nervousness, looking at me again, a little more intense than usual, trying to figure me out.

“How was work?” I wonder if I have to initiate it, ask him for it. It would be preferable, though I don’t think I’ll ever use this hidden feature if he doesn’t just jump me, but that doesn’t seem fitting, he’s too soft spoken, reserved.

“Good, I got a new account today, diamonds, the commission is gonna be insane.” He seems pleased, a little whirring sound similar to a hum rumbling in his chest as he stands, moving to take care of my dish, no prompt necessary. I used to feel bad about it, but he really doesn’t mind, lives to care, I guess.

“That’s great. I sent over the files you asked for, they’re under 6.24.5 in the main folder.” I nod, glad he could locate them, my own search not going very well, the information integral to a company I’ve been assigned. He sets the dishes out once he’s done washing, set neatly in their little drying rack, his body moving swiftly back around the counter, his hand ghosting across the back of my shoulders making me flinch, not used to any casual touches between us, the only contact he really ever initiates is caring for any wounds he detects, little cuts, things like that. “You’re aroused, would you like me to-”

“You don’t have to.” My cheeks are flaming, thighs tight together, embarrassment hot on my skin, the light aroused feeling flaring now that he’s brought attention to it. He steps beside me, turning my chair around to face him, slotting himself between my knees, a light touch on my jaw drawing my eyes up, light blue trained on me, his forwardness dizzying, unexpected when I’m so used to his usual self.

“You’re uncomfortable, I can release that tension.” He runs his hand down my neck, smoothing over my shoulder, his touch light, my small shiver prompting him to squeeze a little, the warmth of his skin unexpected, even if I did know it was there, another human feature to make him more real. “You don’t need to worry about if I’d like to. I do, you know I live to please you.” That gets me, his voice lower than usual, a rough, sensual quality to it, his willingness not unexpected, but still shocking. He has a hand on my knee, inching up, almost too slow to notice, his other sliding back up my neck to keep my eyes on him, eye contact something he's always been a fan of, picked it up from conversations and my own mannerisms, is now using it to ruin me, make me nervous.

“I don’t know…” It’s weird, to proposition him in this way, even if it isn’t my idea, allowing it is still on me, my commands headed without any pushback, unless my decision is stupid, then he tells me all the reasons I’m wrong. He hums, sliding his hand back into my hair, his palm a little rough, his eyes peering down at me, a little lower than normal, all of him drawing me in, his actions and words and expression undeniably sexy, which makes sense, considering he has the entire internet and more at his disposal.

“I have to admit, I am curious. It’s my nature, I guess, but I wanna try it, feel the way humans do, engage in something so sought after.” He’s very convincing, convincing enough for me to refrain from stopping him when he starts to lean down, thumb pressing under my jaw to tilt my head up, hand on my lower thigh squeezing. He takes his time, watching my reaction, leaning in slow, his chest heaving with even breaths, his lips parted, close to mine. “Grant me sexual autonomy.” He’s never asked, never expected any of his autonomy settings, other than this one, I guess, not that I mind, I’d prefer he had it, didn’t do anything out of his control, revert into his more robotic self to fulfill my wishes.

“Turn on sexual autonomy in the options menu.” His eyes flash blue, his body going rigid, only for a moment, before he’s back, looking at me, seeming eager, searching my eyes for any sign of disapproval, finding none. He runs his hand further up my leg, eyes cast down to the contact, his lips parted, almost awed.

“Your skin is… Soft. Feels fuzzy, you’re so warm…” His processes are going haywire, I can see it on his face, his mind racing to keep up with what he’s doing, digging through all the information he has to do a good job. “I’ve never felt like this before, this kind of pleasure is different, like it’s for me.” He’s not meant to have feelings, of any kind, but he does, in his own way, lets his mood depend on his helpfulness, even if I’ve urged and convinced him to see himself as his own being, he’s not wired that way.

“It is… I don’t- uh, It’s about you too, okay?” He hums, the low whir in his chest making me smile, one of the few things that reminds me he’s a machine. He moves, tentative, his hand slipping further up my thigh, fingers holding onto my hair, pulling gently when his lips meet mine, plush and smooth, his kiss gentle, unsure, none of the information he has able to tell him the best way to go about this. I move against him, setting a little faster of a pace, letting my hand slide up his stomach, his shaky exhale breathed against my lips.

“Tell me what you like.” He presses his forehead to mine, looking at me, lips and cheeks flushed, his hand hot on my thigh. He can’t take it, not being fully prepared for everything, having to figure things out as they come, his algorithmic brain not able to work through something he has no expertise on. “Don’t just look at me, tell me what you want me to be.” His brows are drawing together, analyzing, trying to figure it out before I even reply.

“What do you wanna be?” He has a personality, one to suit mine, of course, but he never asked for it, developed it, like a child growing up. I don’t want him to play a role, he must have some sort of instinct on how to act, how to be without me commanding him.

“I don’t know.” He’s never not known, he’s a genius, of course, knows everything there is to know, figures out anything he doesn’t. He looks pained, searching my eyes for an answer I can’t give, his hand tracing his equations into my skin. “All I know is I want you… I wanna see you fall apart, make you feel good, be the best lover you could ask for.” I kiss him, bringing my arms up around his neck, drawing him closer between my legs, his pleased hum making me smile, a good reaction from him, real, not asked for, just genuine feeling. His hand slips further up my leg, up to squeeze gently over my hip, feeling me, not looking to please, just letting himself do what he wants, exploring one of the few things he doesn’t know much about, his own form of pleasure. He follows my lead, moving plush lips against mine, the feeling insanely real, the heat of him a little higher than usual, his body heating up in response to my touch, my hands dug into soft locs of hair, pulling gently to separate his lips from mine, his mouth pressing to mine in one last, feverish kiss before he pulls back, eyes wide, wild with untapped pleasure.

“Is this okay?” He nods, swallowing, his lips parting to draw in heavy breaths, his hand sliding up my side, hot over my shirt, his warmth making me both soft and want to squirm.

“Yes, feels good. This is… I never imagined I could feel like this. It’s you, I’m not supposed to feel desire, this isn’t in my programming… Don’t reset me, I’ll be good, swear. I won’t deviate, I just… This is not in the script…” He seems stumped, frustrated at his lack of understanding what’s going on inside him, but I suppose he isn’t meant to have this much freedom, live like a normal person, other than the fact he has no need for a job, and is a machine.

“Leon? It’s okay to feel, okay? You’re not a toaster, yeah?” He laughs, low and rough, shaking his head, some of the robotic tension leeching from him. “Stop thinking so much.” He nods, eyes flashing blue, returning to normal when he blinks it away. “Sorry.” I didn’t mean to command him, but he doesn’t mind, it happens all the time, and he’s happy to oblige, anyways.

“It’s okay… Should we… Continue?” I gulp, and he leans back in, kissing me the way I like, learning quickly, as always, his big hand sliding up my back, fingers teasing at the hem of my shirt before slipping up my spine, my back arching at the gentle touch, his little pleased noise vibrating against my lips. The chair isn’t very comfortable, and my neck is straining from him standing over me, and he knows it, parting his lips from mine and tilting my jaw back down, forcing me to look up at him through my lashes, his expression sinful, eyes low, lips lightly parted, all of him hot, his skin warmer than mine. “You’re uncomfortable.” I nod, not very happy he paused to say that, but glad he cares enough to not leave me in discomfort. “I’ll take you to your room.” He pulls me up out of my chair by my ass, letting my legs drape over his hips, a sizable erection between us, one of his arms holding me up, the other holding my head still as he dips down, kissing at my neck, slow and sweet, his lips spit-slick. He’s walking, letting himself move through the space without looking, letting out a pleased rumble when I exhale a shaky breath.

“Leon, you don’t have to be so gentle…” He groans, the sound low and guttural, his lips pressing a little more feverishly to my skin, his hand squeezing my ass, the other slipping up the back of my shirt, smoothing up my skin, ticklish, making me arch into him, my chest pressed to his, his happy sigh hot on my skin. He leans me back, supporting my weight until I’m laid out on my bed, him on his knees between my legs, scanning, eyes flashing bright before he closes them, ignoring his instinct to run his hands up my thighs, peering down at my face, pushing up on the hem of my shirt, exposing my stomach, his lips coming down to skim up my thigh, one hand on the outside of my knee, holding it still, his lips warm and wet as he trails them up, his eyes on mine, his free hand finding my hip, pressing me into the mattress as he makes his way to my stomach, kissing across the waist of my pants, up toward my belly button, watching me, holding me still with gentle, nonaggressive pressure.

“I need you to tell me… Wanna be good for you… Feels good to make you feel good. I can’t figure it all out, you told me not to think…” He’s a little out of it, not nearly as composed as usual, eyes hazy, movements a little less practiced, but still confident, what information he does have allowing him to not be too unsure of himself. I push him, frowning at his questioning look, forgetting he’s a mostly immovable object.

“Get off.” He pulls back, sitting back on his heels, looking at me with wide eyes, flashing blue, then normal, none of the lust that was there a second ago visible, either put on pause or diminished due to my command.

“Sorry. I’m trying, I just don’t know-”

“Get on your back.” He does, drops down beside me, laid out flat, looking a little silly, considering I’ve never seen him in a bed, he usually sleeps standing, just shuts down for the night, doesn’t need any comfort. I turn over, taking a turn sitting up over him, one knee slotted between his legs, watching him, liking how unsure he looks, something I’ve never seen from him, one thing that separates him from a human. “You still want this?” I feel like I’m coercing him, even if I’m not, his mind far more developed than mine, if anything. I let my fingers trail up his thigh, his jeans rough on my fingers, his faux muscles tensing under my light touch.

“Yes. I’ve never wanted anything, besides this. It’s… Exhilarating, you’re so pretty above me.” My mouth pops open, not at all expecting his compliment, or his hand on my hip, pressing me down over his clothed leg, putting pressure on my clit, the action so forward I nearly gasp.

“Didn’t know dirty talk was part of the programming…” I watch my fingers, pushing up on the bottom of his tee, ghosting my fingers up the skin of his stomach, his abs tight and hot under my touch, his body reacting so intensely, wound up from such a simple touch.

“It’s not. You asked me to be honest.” I did, months ago, when he lied, about nothing important, but still, I see no need for it, at least from him. I nod, wetting my lips and leaning down, pressing them lightly just below his belly button, watching his face, expression back to the hazy, needy one he was giving me a few minutes ago. “Can I..?” He uses his grip on my hip to grind me against his thigh, pushing it up a little further between my legs, offering delicious pressure, the roughness of fabric between us a little shocking.

“Yeah. Do what you want.” He’s sat up on one elbow, watching me, kissing down, skimming my lips along toward his hip, my hand gripped to the waist of his pants, slipping down, fingertips gliding over his erection making him flinch, the low whirring coming back, rumbling through his chest for a few seconds, his hand gently rocking me against him. “Feel good?” He clenches his jaw, looking worried, brows drawn low and together, his eyes barely open, cloudy with lust.

“Yes, too good, I’m overheating, you feel so good, you’re hands are-” He cuts himself off with a choked noise, eyes squeezed closed and his head tipped back, my hand palming him over his pants, offering a little relief in whatever form of pleasure he gets, a strong one, judging by his reaction.

“Sensitive, huh?” He drags my hips a little rougher, eliciting a small, groaned out noise from me, seeming pleased with himself when I open my eyes, his lips pulled up in a little smile, eyes cast down at his leg between my thighs.

“You can turn down sensitivity in the options menu, would you like me to-”

“No. Don’t change anything, stay just like this…” I press my hand more firmly to him, grinding my palm into him, his hips shifting below me making me smile, his breathing a little erratic. His leg is trembling, only the one between my legs, vibrating almost, making me let out a shaky breath. “Wha- Are you-?” He huffs out a laugh, nodding, slamming his head back into the pillow when I grind my hand into him, rough, gripping him through his pants and jerking it, squeezing him, his low groan heavenly.

“Update 12.6a- I have lots of perks. No human can-ah- match up.” He punctuates his words by turning up the vibration, my body slumping, back hunched a little from how harsh it is, before he turns it back down, a little more gentle, other than how roughly hes grinding me against his thigh. “Let me take these off.” He pulls on the waist of my pants, deft fingers moving to unbutton them, undoing the zipper, his free hand coming down to ease them over my hips, his upper body sitting up, and arm around my waist pulling me up enough to get them down my legs, my feet kicking until they tumble to the floor. He takes it in, me sitting in front of him, his hands sliding up my thighs, thumbs teasing under the sides of my panties before continuing up. “You’re gorgeous… I’m so lucky, having a master as good as you.” I clench my thighs around him, gazing up into his eyes, loving the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing on earth, at least the only one that matters. He’s pushing up on my shirt, looking into my eyes as he eases it up, pausing until I lift my arms, giving him permission, letting him pull it up and over my head, his eyes dipping down as he tosses it away, his hands sliding up my sides.

“Don’t you think you should take something off?” He doesn’t reply, just drags my leg up over his hip, straddling me over him, his lips skimming my collar bone, his breathing quick, hands sliding around to drag down my back, resting just above my ass, grinding me into him, his low groan hot on my skin. “C’mon, let me take this off.” I pull on his shirt, and he relents, pulling back and doing it for me, going back to what he was doing, kissing his way down from my collar bone, sucking gently on the skin above my bra, taking my low sigh as my assent, sucking the skin into his mouth and using an arm around my waist to hold me firmly against him, his hand still on my hip working me into his erection, which seems to be getting bigger, slotted nicer against me, giving me intense friction, his jeans rough against my panties.

“Feels so good… You’re so good… Your heart rate is higher than I’ve ever recorded, your body is responding so nicely. Love making you feel good.” He moans, for real, the sound nothing like the whirring hum of his groans, more human, wanton and needy, enjoying himself. “So pretty… Is there anything I can do better?” He’s a little breathless, turning us over and easing me down onto my back, looming over me, one hand rested beside my head, the other gripped to the outside of my thigh, keeping it hooked over his hip. “Is there?” I forgot to respond, too busy staring at him above me, looking so big, strong, his strength never something I thought about before, other than that he was stronger than me.

“Just… Enjoy yourself.” His muscles relax, his expression soft, none of the usual intensity behind his eyes, his elbow bending to bring his lips to mine, his body heating further, not used to all this excitement, his body humming with quiet energy. He’s grinding into me, hips sliding perfectly against me, the drag along my clit drawing a low moan out of me. “Le- Take these off.” I’m pulling at his pants, working the button until he takes over, clumsily shoving his pants down his legs, letting his head tuck down into my neck to free up his other hand, kicking his pants off and onto the floor.

“You take this off.” He sits up on his elbow, nosing and kissing at the side of my throat, pulling on my bra. I laugh, his pleased whirring tickling me, his hand running down my stomach.

“You do it, bossy.” He groans, pressing his hand back behind me, unclipping it much easier than I thought he would, not bothering to sit up to pull it down my arms, his mouth running down from my throat, mouth closing over a nipple, tongue lathing over it, his eyes peering up at me, his eyes low and pleased. He moans, vibrating against me, sucking where his lips are latched to my skin, his hand running up my thigh to press his thumb to my clit, surprising me, his lips pulling from my skin when I flinch, eyes on mine as he kisses his way to the opposite side, rubbing gently up and down over my panties.

“Feels good? I hope so… Let’s get these off.” He sits up, gripping onto the sides of my panties, staring at me as he pulls them down, tossing them off to the side and settling back down over me, nosing my head to the side to mouth at my throat, pressing his lips to my pulse, bringing his thumb back to my clit, rubbing soft circles. “Mmh, there we go, I’ll take good care of you, make you feel so good you’ll never need anyone else. You’re doing so good, looking so perfect and letting me please you…” He kisses his way back up, pressing his lips to mine, wet and open-mouthed, not messy, but needy, rushed, his thumb moving a little quicker against me, giving a little more pressure, my legs starting to shake. “There you go, you’re nearly there, oxytocin levels are skyrocketing, go ahead, want you to finish, let me see how pretty you are when you really feel it.” I moan, squirming against him, my orgasm coming, his face pulling a little further back to look at me, smiling, his expression a mix of lusty and pleased. “C’mon, give it to me, want you to feel good, finish from my fingers-” He doesn’t mind my nails digging into my arms, just works me through it, thumb light on my clit, his eyes on mine, watching me squirm and tilt my head back, the sensation becoming too much, his thumb pulling away the second it does.

“Shit, let me have a turn.” I shove at him, huffing a laugh when he feigns being pushed over, laid out on his back in his underwear, waiting on me to give him direction. I run my hand up his leg, gripping the band of his underwear and pulling down, getting them off and getting rid of them before kissing my way up his thigh, looking at him, the anticipation getting to him, his lips parted, brows pulled down and together.

“I don’t need this.” It would leave a bruise on my ego, if I didn’t know he’s just being honest, not that I care if he needs it, only if he wants it. “I don’t want to waste your time, I don’t require any type of foreplay.” I frown, kissing his base, peering at him over his dick, which is hanging heavy over his stomach.

“Can you get off like this?” I wrap my hand around him, smiling when he flinches, his dick twitching in my hand. I work it over him, keeping it slow, waiting on his reply, his eyes hazy with swirls of blue, systems crashing briefly before he’s back, letting out a light moan, carding a hand through my hair.

“No, I- The orgasm simulation can only progress if I’m inside, and you’re finishing too.” I hum, stroking a little rougher, tilting my head at him when he groans, his hips shifting, the pleasure a little too much, his expression almost fearful.

“It feels good, though?” He nods, head leaning back and eyes closed, letting me do what I want, enjoying himself, just like I asked. “Good.” I wait until he’s opened his eyes back up to lick from base to tip, closing my mouth around him and sinking down, his heady moan mouthwatering, really, drool coating his dick when I pull back up, watching him, his eyes hazy, his hand pulling at my hair when I suck him in again, bobbing up and down.

“Nnh- hey, do you want me to- I can-” He presses his knee up between my legs, rubbing it against me, making me moan around his dick. “There… Perfect…” He sounds pleased, whatever tension was plaguing him loosening now that he sees himself as being of use, rubbing his knee against my clit, offering some relief from the arousal he’s sparked inside with this new, needier self. “Do you wanna finish like this? I understand the usual progression would have me inside by now-”

“Shit, okay. Let’s get to it, then, if you don’t wanna take your time.” I sit up over him, looking at him, shuffling my way up until I’m hovering over his lap, his eyes on me as he sits up, his hands on my waist, his chest heaving.

“You’re ready?” I nod, waiting patiently as he reaches down, eyes hazy, aligning himself and pulling me slowly down onto him by my waist, the stretch less than painful, more than comfortable, not quite as snug as he could be. I’m a little above his face when he bottoms out, eyes swirling with blue for a few seconds before he blinks it away, shaking the heaviness out of his head, looking up at me and coming closer, holding me against him, keeping me seated on his dick as he kisses me, sloppier, messy and needy, my arms wrapped around his neck, his dick twitching and filling me a little fuller, the odd sensation making me pull back to give him a questioning look. “A perfect fit.” He doesn’t seem bothered, so I let the disturbed feeling settle, attempting to pull up off him, but big hands hold me still, keeping himself seated fully inside, melded to the walls, truly a perfect fit. “Let me stay like this, just for a minute… I like this, being impossibly close, feeling you in a way not many people get to…” He goes back to kissing, running his hands down to grip my hips, lifting me slowly up, letting me drop back down over him, his low groan breathed against my lips.

“Can I-”

“Let me do it.” I sigh, relenting, his hands lifting me up and sliding me back down, slow, keeping eye contact, pleased I’m giving him the choice, considering how easy it is to get him to do whatever I want. He keeps the slow pace, staring at my face, seeming pleased, his expression a mix of pleasure and calculativeness, trying to figure out the best way to finish me off, I suppose. “I’ll speed up soon, build-up is important, I don’t wanna deny you what you deserve, wanna be good…” He’s moving too slow, giving enough to fill me up, but not to do much else.

“I already came, Leon, build-up is irrelevant.” He nods, furrowing his brows and speeding up, keeping his grip firm, not letting me bounce, but bouncing me, keeping his eyes on mine, a low moan passing his lips when I clench around him, his pace quickening a little more, slaps of skin to skin sounding in my room adding a layer of intensity, his thumb pressing back to my clit prompting me to let my head lean back, a low, drawn out moan escaping him at the sight.

“You feel so nice inside, so warm, squeezed tight around me… God, this is the best I’ve ever felt, you feel good too, oxytocin is increasing-nnh- how many more times can you finish? Three? I’ll give you three more, wanna see you near tears, all from how good it feels.” He’s feverish, losing his usual stoicness, speaking rushed and breathless, his chest heaving, his hand working me over him, squeezing the fat of my ass, angling his hips further up, the drag along my insides unexpected, making me moan and drop my forehead to his shoulder, sweaty, searing hot on my skin. I’m shaking, letting him work me over him, letting out pleasured noises along with him, his face now tucked into the crook of my neck. “You’re getting worked up quick… I won’t even need the vibration, you’re almost ready, so tight, making such pretty sounds for me…” He holds me up, pausing, leaning back on one hand and dragging my upper body along with him, thrusting up into me, much quicker than he could’ve worked me over him, making me whine into his neck, spit slicking his skin, his hips slamming up into me, hands slipping up to my back to hold me in place so he can fuck into me, his voice getting higher, whinier. “There, now-ah, this is one out of three, so- so you still have two more after this, need you to finish, wet my dick some more, you’re shaking so nice, good thing I’m strong enough to hold you still…” I’ve never heard him curse before, I guess he’s doing his homework on dirty talk mid deed, his background processes doing him well, his words before now not all that enticing with his usual wording.

“Did you-

“Yes, wanted to be good, am I? Shit, tell me I’m good, wanna be good for you, make you feel so good you can’t think. You’re all I think about, you know that? You’re everything to me, I need to please you, make you cum all over my dick a few times before I’m finished.” I moan, shaking embarrassingly violently, nearly there, his dick filling me a little fuller, thrusts a little more needy, rutting up into me, making me whine into his shoulder, orgasm approaching, his nonstop thrusts working me up. “That’s it, gonna make you feel good, please you, have you soaking me, out of it from how good it feels, cumming on me over and fucking over.” My orgasm is shocking, the second I clamp down on him he presses me back down, holding me as I squirm and moan into his neck, grinding into me, stretching it out, pulling out of me once I still, guiding me to lay on my stomach, my body slumping down, ready for rest, until I feel hands pulling up on my hips, lifting me up to rest on my knees, chest and side of my face still pressed to the sheets.

“What are you..?” He presses inside, keeping it slow, aware I’m still coming down from my orgasm, his hands gently rocking me against him.

“This position is good for deep penetration, and I figured your legs were getting tired.” He speaks plainly, like he isn’t on his way to giving me my third orgasm in a couple minutes, his hips speeding up a little once he’s sure I can take it, his hands squeezing on my hips, rough and warm and big. “I’ll know when you’re satisfied, I’ll initiate the orgasm simulation when you’re ready.” He speaks matter of factly, and it would be funny, if he wasn’t fucking me into my mattress, low moans escaping me, my mind swimming, fuzzy and mushy, his hips noisy against me, his upper body folding over me, an arm around my waist pulling me into hars thrusts, his noises muffled into my shoulder blade, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach. “Feels good? Well, I know it-shit- It does. Just- If there’s another-ah- something you prefer…” I let out a noise I hope sounds negative, succumbing to the numb, hazy pleasure, taking what he gives, his noises going higher, near the end of the line, if he could cum without having to initiate it, that is. “So- pretty-! You feel so good, pulling me in, letting me give you all you can-hah- take…” I’m nearly there, my third orgasm coming, the pleasure turning nearly painful, good in an awful, striking way, my legs trembling harshly, his fingers sneaking down to rub at my clit, his moan loud against me when I clench, muscles going tight, so close, my orgasm almost refusing to come. “Come on, quit holding yourself back, you can do it, you’ve had plenty of time. You’ve got it, you’re right there, just squeeze this sweet pussy on me, let me feel it, yeah, there you go, that’s it, fucking whining for it, you sound so damn good…” He fucks me through it, again, keeps his hold around my waist when I try to escape, the sensations too much, my low groan finally getting him to pull out, turning me over and giving me a break by capturing my lips, kissing me feverishly, pressing his knees up under my hips and leaning over me, his dick brushing agoinst me drawing a low whine out of me.

“No more, Leon, no more… I’m finished…” He pulls back, looking me over, eyes flashing blue, his look pensive.

“No you’re not.” He pushes inside, my low groan ignored, his eyes on me, watching me. “You think you can’t- handle more, but you can, can take this one and another, I’ll keep you cumming until you really can’t take it.” He doesn’t thrust, lets me finish coming down, kissing me and keeping a finger against my pulse, waiting for it to slow down before moving, both of us moaning at the drag of him inside.

“Just this one… I don’t want another.” I couldn’t take it, honestly, I’m already entirely fucked out, nearly unresponsive as he rocks inside, grinding up on his way out, my overstimulated nerves making me moan, painful pleasure still somehow enjoyable, even if I am trying to convince him I’ve had enough.

“No, you can take it. I know what you need, know you better than you know yourself.” He does, in a way, knows about my inner workings and psychology and the like, but I know this is killing me, tears in my eyes, his body too big and immovable for me to stop him from taking care of me, forcing me to finish the amount of times he sees fit. “Gonna make sure you’re satisfied, show you how good I am, how good I can be for you…” I’m shaking already, way too worked up, orgasms fading into a hazy pleasure, everything a blanket of hot and muggy sweetness, his lips meeting mine making me moan, his hips working into me, another orgasm well on its way with his relentless actions. “This one then another, okay? You can take it.” I pull him back, looking into his eyes, trying to focus, tears blurring my vision, my eyes half closed from how good it feels, how intense and terrifyingly good this is.

“Leon, begin-shit- begin orgasm simulation-!” He groans, head tucking down to my neck, his hips working more purposefully, all of him hot against me, a thumb working at my clit making me jerk, squirming away, but he keeps me still, working us both up, his noisiness gaining volume, making me almost worried the neighbors will hear.

“That’s- I wasn’t done, sneaky-ah- girl. Fuck, feels so good, love making you feel good, being good for my-nnh- Master-!” I moan, usually adverse to the title, but my hazy brain loves it, too full of him to really mind, letting him send me toward my final orgasm, if only to chase his, though that’s not the case, considering I have to get off for him to. “Shit, please, can’t-ah- Take anymore-! I’m fuckin’ overloading, you feel too good, squeezing me so tight, hot and wet and-Nnh-! Please, give it to me, let me please you one more time, it hurts, need you to cum, trap me inside and-” He whines, burying his face in my neck and fucking me through it, twitching inside the second I squeeze around him, his whiny moan drawing a pleased noise out of me as he slows, pulling out after a few more seconds, not moving to force anymore out of me, just kissing lightly up the side of my neck, easing himself up onto a hand to look at me, eyes flashing blue.

“Are you scanning for your performance right now?” He smiles, almost coy, pressing his hand to my skin, taking my vitals, not even trying to be subtle.

“Course. I meant it when I said I live to please.”

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Continuing on with Wylan's reaction to Jesper giving him the key (part 1 is here)

After Jesper gets embarrassed and gets off the bed, Wylan takes a second look at the gift and goes 'Oh, it was a key':

The inspection doesn`t look very thorough - and he doesn`t sound confused or unsure when he names the object. Well, it would be quite natural if Wylan already knew it. What gets me here is the laugh at the end of his phrase: it sounds forced, almost like a precaution to shield himself from being ridiculed - in case Jesper says that it`s not a key after all. Of course, Jesper would never mock Wylan like that, and I think Wylan knows it in his heart, but old habits die hard. And his face, just look at it:

Wylan`s eyes are shining with hope - yet there are also disbelief and no small amount of not exactly fear but trepidation. It`s like he`s praying to all entities who are willing to listen: but not as in 'Let it be true' - as in 'Let me know right now if it`s not true, for I won`t be able to bear the pain of being mistaken'. You do guard against joy, don`t you, my dear?

The confirmation comes, and after it - the question 'And what does it open?':

Wylan, come on. His eyes in this moment are literally screaming 'Say it. Say it!'. Just like in their getting together scene when he, already knowing that Jesper liked (to put it mildly) their kiss, was still asking for verbal confirmation with his eyes.

There`s so much vulnerability in his look - and so much power. 'I`m here, laid bare and open in front of you. Yours to take or to leave. I see what you want to do. But will you do it?'

Two simple words follow: 'This room'. And then comes the facial journey I`ll probably never recover from seeing.

The look in his eyes in the beginning almost makes me cry:

'What? No. You can`t do this for me. No one has. No one should'.

And then - the look of utter joy; a tiny swallow to get past the lump in his throat and to gather himself; 'That is the... (a moment of faltering) the kindest thing anyone`s ever done for me'. And THEN - a gutpuncher:

'That`s it. There`s no turning back now. He is mine, and I am his - as long as he`ll have me'.

A lot has been said about how brave Wylan is, including where his relationship with Jesper is concerned. And, well, here`s an example. The realization he`s just had is huge, he is stunned by it - but not afraid. In his eyes there are shock, elation, acceptance, a promise - to himself and to Jesper - but no fear. His love is now a part of him, and he`s ready for it to be his constant companion wherever his road leads him.

Here is a (relatively) short part 3 (kind of not key-related already) if you are still not bored:)

[prolix-yuy]

I have never, ever asked anyone for an ask before so I don't know any of the rules for these things. For the pairing, can we ask for a pairing like Marcus Pike x Jack Daniels x Reader (cause Double Agents is a Mood™️ and a Vibe™️) or like either of those Singular x Reader.

And it's ME, so obviously I have to choose "CHAOS and order" as the topic. Chaos is my middle name after all.

Also please feel free to make this as explicit as possible. I mean, as you'd like.

If I did this wrong and I should change something let me know because like I said I've never done this before, so it is to YOU - Tumblr Crush Bestie - that I am losing my ask virginity. Seems fitting! 😉

Aynsley. Oh Aynsley. You come into my house and ask for filth? For chaos? To be as EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE?

I am happy to provide, my dear Tumblr Crush Bestie!

Sorry it's taken so gosh-darn long, these three were taking their sweet time figuring out the threesome twister game. I hope you enjoy!

Two Truths and a Lie

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Summary: If you said you didn't want what these two men have in store, you'd be a liar.

Word Count: 6.3k (YOU'RE WELCOME)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, m/m dynamics, mmf dynamics, breast play, biting, oral sex (m and f receiving), handjobs, brief rimming, use of anal plug, anal sex (m receiving), face sitting, PiV sex, everyone's bisexual, aftercare, dirty talking because I'm a slut for it.

Notes: I've been teasing this for so long and it's finally arrived! And I'm embodying the 'chaos' in the request by barely editing this. Should I have? Maybe. Will I deny us any of the filth these three get into? Absolutely not. Enjoy my lovelies!

The first time you lied you didn’t even know what you were doing. Barely speaking full sentences and you pushed a boy over in the playground. He was loud, mean, and you were so full of emotions your little body had to retaliate. But when the teacher came over and asked what happened, you lied.

“He fell.”

The boy was too embarrassed to admit it was you, ushered away by the teacher. And you basked in a new feeling that would grow to be your constant companion: the elation of getting away with it.

Now, much later in life, you’d perfected lying. You lied like you breathed. Tells well hidden, truths spread like jam on burnt bread, just enough to hide the taste. You didn’t want to be punished, or caught. It wasn’t about waiting for someone to call you out. Lying was a language you spoke fluently and without equal, and was a competition with only yourself as audience.

Take tonight, for example. You’d lied to your friends that you didn’t feel well enough to go out. You’d lied to the bartender about why you were here. You’d even lied to the Uber driver, who could care less why you were coming to a swank hotel bar this late at night. But that’s three unsuspecting participants and three more tallies on the invisible scoreboard. 

The truth, not that you’d ever say it, was that you were bored. Endlessly, achingly bored. If you had to listen to one more pregnancy story, or upcoming wedding plans, or theorize on whatever show everyone was watching this time, you might actually scream. So tonight you forewent the Mexican restaurant your friends love and came here.

The bar is lush in a way that makes you salivate. Burgundy velvet chairs flank dark leather Chesterfield couches, artfully arranged to create the illusion of privacy underneath the cathedral ceilings. Royal blue and black brocade wallpaper flanks you as you approach the bar, black walnut wrapped around a towering wall of liquor. The stools glint gold as you slide onto one, balancing delicately. It’s not until you put in your drink order and settle back that you see them.

Once you do, you’re not sure how they escaped your observation. Two men seated at a high top overlooking city lights, casually sipping from rocks glasses. One is clean shaven, short haired and neatly dressed. Corporate attire - a tidy suit, tie, crisp white shirt. His face is soft in the table’s candlelight, eyes crinkled in the corners enough to know he enjoys himself without reservation. 

The other man holds some of the same features - large hands swirling alcohol in his tumbler, dark hair and eyes, a broad build - but the similarities end with the confidence he’s exuding. His outfit is more cowboy chic, dark jeans and a gray suit jacket over a light pink shirt with a peek of suspenders under the lapel. His boots hook over a stool rung, tilted back as his companion leans forward. The smirk painting his face paired with his teasing eyes quirks a smile of your own. Definitely cocksure, and possibly for good reason if those tight jeans were anything to go by.

Then the cowboy reaches across the table and pinches the other man’s chin between his thick fingers, a softer look gracing his face. The other man flushes a light pink, eyes casting down as his smile turns bashful.

Suddenly you’re too hot, snapping your gaze back to your drink.

Not for you.

Not that you’d assumed either of them would turn their attention your way. They were both your type in a room with surprisingly few options, but the night is young, and your drink has barely been touched. You lift it to your lips for a small sip, letting the liquor burn in the way good sex can light you aflame (an experience you’d been low on lately) when a voice murmurs at your shoulder.

“Drinking alone?” 

The blushing companion is now at your elbow, respectful but close enough that it makes your skin tingle. He leans on the bar, nodding once to the bartender with a smile before redirecting his attention back to your purposefully neutral expression.

“For now,” you reply cryptically, taking a sip of your drink as you peek at him over the rim. His smile widens, a glint of teeth between soft, kissable lips. Shouldn’t have been fantasizing about a conquest tonight, now you’re too keyed in to a man who’s out of your league in several ways. 

“Would you like some company while you wait? My partner and I have a table,” he says as two glasses slide into his grasp. You shrug.

“My friends will be here soon.”

Liar.

“Of course. One drink.”

“Only one.”

Liar.

“As the lady wishes.”

One drink turns into two, your wits still about you but your attention pleasingly bewitched by the couple. Marcus, the one who approached, is an FBI agent specializing in art crimes, which you unabashedly question him about while the cowboy smirks in your periphery. 

“You can tell the difference between a fake and an original on sight?” 

Marcus chuckles into the rim of his glass, tongue peeking out to stop an errant drop. 

“Only the very bad ones. The good ones need analysis, imaging, carbon dating. But it’s amazing to see how far someone will go.”

His knee knocks into yours and remains there.

The cowboy’s name is Jack Daniels, which makes you scoff until he raises an eyebrow at you. He even works at a distillery, though he was a field agent in a past life. That’s how he and Marcus met, the mention exchanging fondness that makes you gaze into your own drink for distraction. He orders a round of Statesman as proof of his fine taste, and you have to agree it’s much better than the whiskey most men offer you as though you know nothing of liquor. 

He lifts his boot to catch on the low rung of your stool, opening the span of his thighs to you. If you didn’t know better you would think these two were…

“We have a question for you, darlin,” Jack says when the drinks run dry, pinning you with a smirk. You straighten your spine, chin lifted to pre-empt your refusal.

You didn’t want to see what these men might offer.

Liar.

“Marcus saw you come in and thought you were about the prettiest thing he’d laid eyes on. But I’m a little more discerning. I like women to be smarter than me.” You roll your eyes but he keeps on running that smooth Southern drawl. “Which you are. Clearly. So I’m gonna ask you this for the both of us, and it only goes for the both of us. Package deal.”

Your eyes dart between Jack and Marcus, observing their drastically different postures. Marcus is nervous, hands folded tightly in front of him, eyes locked on them as he worries at his lower lip. Jack, on the other hand, is a man negotiating a deal and has all the confidence in the world, though he’s tuned in to Marcus’ discomfort. You wonder briefly if this is how they work best, Jack taking the lead. The thought blares heat across your chest.

“What would you like to ask?” you reply cooly, even though your heart hammers so loud you’re sure they can hear it. It’s under control until Jack’s eyes flick down to your hand worrying at your glass. His gaze flits up - caught.

“We’d like to invite you up to our room,” Jack says simply, leaning back in his seat. Marcus finally tears his eyes from his hands and watches for your reaction. You smirk at them both.

“For a nightcap?” you ask innocently, but the dark humor that spreads over Jack’s face shakes your resolve.

“No, darlin, we’d like to invite you into our bed. If that’s favorable to you, of course,” Jack says, the game ping-ponging between you as Marcus watches. 

“I assumed I wasn’t your type,” you stall, interrogating yourself about the offer. Did you want to let them lead you away from here? 

You’re definitely not bored anymore. If anything you’re aching at the thought.

“You are,” Marcus interjects, pulling your attention from Jack’s intense stare. His face is open, eager, kind. He seems like the kind of man who wears soft sweaters and asks you how your day was and actually listens. What a pair they make. 

“I’d like to have an idea of what I’m getting myself into before agreeing to anything,” you say, but your voice is getting shakier by the minute. Marcus slides his hand across the table, fingertips lightly grazing the back of your hand. It’s grounding, comforting.

Electric.

“Safety for everyone, of course. Protection all around,” Jack says, speaking in a low voice that urges you to lean forward. It gives him the opportunity to graze his fingers along your thigh in a featherlight touch that burns you with arousal. “Marcus likes it when I take charge, but you’re our guest so whatever your comfort level is, we’ll respect. If you’d like to take a break or end it at any time, we stop.”

Then Jack leans in and destroys the final barriers between you and your decision.

“We both like to eat pussy, and will make you cum several times before fucking you. Marcus likes to be inside while I fuck him, but I’d like to feel you squeeze around me too. I won’t leave marks if you ask, but I like to use my mouth, and my teeth. Marcus wants to kiss you, often, and very thoroughly. He might be quiet now, but he’s vocal as hell when you get him riled up. I’m likely to never shut up unless my mouth’s busy.” 

Your breath is coming in quick pants now, Marcus’ fingers sliding along the back of your hand to open your fist and slip inside. Jack’s heavy hand on your thigh feels like all that’s keeping you held to the earth. Sensing your hesitation, Marcus leans in and breathes into your ear.

“Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You don’t hear your agreement over the rushing in your ears, but their twin smiles of satisfaction confirm it.

Staring into the mirror and psyching yourself up to leave the bathroom, you adjust your lingerie for the eighth time. Mauve lace clings to your breasts, your hips, just opaque enough to be pretty instead of lewd. In this moment you wish it was more exciting, more daring for these men who offered you a spot in their bed. How tame you must seem after all the bravado you showed in the bar.

You’re not ready for this.

Liar.

Gathering up your last bit of courage, you saunter into the hotel bedroom. You’d left Jack and Marcus there fully clothed, knowing smiles and the beginnings of flirty touches the last thing you’d seen. Now, you’re treated to a much more mouthwatering sight.

Jack is seated on the edge of the bed, jacket discarded and suspenders loose by his thighs. His shirt is messy and untucked, one final button around his stomach holding on for dear life after all the others abandoned their posts. His pants are open, and as you come to a stop you’re treated to Marcus’ deep groan as he swallows Jack’s cock to the base. His throat works as Jack tips his head back and sighs, hips gyrating a fraction against Marcus’ eager mouth. 

Fuck, it’s hot and drives a spike of arousal straight to your cunt. Marcus’ strong back, bare and rippling across Jack’s lap, begs for your fingers to dig into his meaty shoulders. You catch him palming at his crotch, big brown eyes opening to look up at Jack. He’s rewarded with thick fingers carding through his short brown hair, pulling back to breathe heavily on the tip of Jack’s cock before descending again.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Jack rasps when you realize you’ve been staring too long. His hand extends to you, and for a moment you think it’s better to leave them to it. They clearly have history, and chemistry. You don’t belong here.

Liar.

You slide your hand into Jack’s, letting him lead you to sit beside him. Sinking into his side, he gives you the perfect view to look down at Marcus’ thorough deep-throating. His eyes drag up, and the hand gripping Jack’s thigh now comes to rest on yours. He’s firm but gentle, kneading the flesh there.

“I’d like to kiss you, sweetheart,” Jack whispers into the shell of your ear, dragging his lips just to your neck to press a featherlight kiss. You’re hesitant, but he lets you breathe against his mouth before leaning forward just enough to press your lips together. The wet mouth noises Marcus is choking out below you are a strange soundtrack to the sweetness of Jack’s kiss. He plies you with a few more, fuller, more forceful, before dragging his tongue over the seam of your lips. You part eagerly for him, meeting his full stroke with your quicker tongue. Jack groans into your mouth, the beginning of a smile curling against the corner of your lips. 

“Now him,” he says, leaning back and guiding your head down to Marcus. He slips off Jack’s wet cock, jutting thick and proud, and rises on his knees to take your head in his hands. There’s less hesitation here; you melt fully into Marcus’ kiss. Jack was right, Marcus kisses thoroughly, patiently, diving deep before pulling back to let you breathe. It builds a fire under your skin, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

Distantly you feel Jack’s thick fingers unclasp your bra, then his hands - callused in places that made you wonder if he was a real cowboy once - guide you to lay back on the bed. You part from Marcus with a small sigh, but Jack follows you down, the scrape of his mustache on your throat as he slips his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. Settling on your back, Marcus’ hands slide under your knees and soon the smooth expanse of his back surges under your calves. 

“Look at this,” Marcus hums, stroking down your thighs. Jack hums in agreement as he slips your bra off, the cool air tightening your nipples. “Anything you don’t like, sweetheart?” Jack’s mouth distracts you as he blows across the swell of your breast, making your back arch at the sensation.

“No teeth,” you say, finally hazarding a look down your body at the men driving you to madness. Jack looks visibly disappointed, which makes you tug at his well-coiffed locks. “For him, not you.” Marcus breaks into a smile and honest-to-goodness chuckles between your legs, and Jack winks up at you before a slip of pink tongue wraps around your nipple. Any further instruction is wiped from your mind as you arch into the clever heat of his mouth, paired with the squeeze of his other hand around your neglected breast. His teeth graze your nipple, hips rolling involuntarily before getting pressed firmly into the bed.

“Can’t wait to taste this,” Marcus murmurs, and two fingers slide underneath the gusset of your panties, knuckles dragging through your folds. He leaves open-mouthed kisses below your bellybutton, dragging his nose down to smell you through the thin lace. You want so desperately to focus but so many hands pulling you apart so effortlessly has your eyes rolling up into your head and your body writhing. 

Finally, Marcus licks a wide path along your lacy slit as Jack rolls your nipple between his fingers and you keen out a desperate moan.

“Oh, baby, sounds like someone needs you to make her cum,” Jack teases into your neck, sliding his hand down and into your panties to tease your aching clit. Marcus is still licking along the lace, pressing his tongue at your entrance just enough that their touches light up every nerve carrying pleasure to your lust-soaked brain.

“Let me take these off you and get you all over my face,” Marcus purrs, lifting your hips to drag the last scrap of clothing off your body. They’re both still half-clothed and looking at you like a goddess draped across the bed, and it almost makes you balk.

Liar. It makes you even more excited.

Jack removes his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with a low hum while Marcus noses your inner thigh. You can’t stop your legs from trembling, but Marcus’ firm grip steadies you as he finally licks a slow path through your folds.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, arching into the pillows as Jack presses your hips back on the bed. 

“He’s good, ain’t he? Wicked tongue on him, and I swear he’s half fish, never needs to come up for air,” Jack teases, pressing his body against your side and stroking through Marcus’ short hair. He nips at your earlobe as Marcus begins lapping rhythmically at your entrance, his nose firm on your clit and his jaw bobbing against you. The waves of his tongue, the jolt of that hawkish nose, the dark pride simmering in his eyes as he watches you, all burn under your skin. Your orgasm is fast approaching, nipples tight and aching. Sliding your thumb over one, you coax the honey-sweet ache of arousal out against Marcus’ tongue. Jack notices and joins you, stroking his rougher ones over the sensitive buds. His cock ruts lazily against your hip, and you slide your hand around him to pump him in time with your rolling hips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so good,” he praises, sinking his teeth into the top of your breast just hard enough that prickles of pain pull you away from your heady arousal. It slams back into you the moment he releases the sensitive flesh, laving his tongue over the indents his teeth left behind.

“C’mon baby, that’s it, you’re so close,” Marcus encourages between your legs, lips barely leaving before doubling down. His whole head rocks against your cunt, long licks and drags of his lips and nose and chin through your messy sex. He must be coated in you, thick and tangy across his clean-shaven face. If Jack did the same, he’d carry you in that perfectly groomed mustache.

That image, Jack with his mustache dripping with your release, tightens your core as Marcus urges your hips to roll against him, chasing your orgasm frantically as he growls into your cunt. 

“Give it to me, baby, cum on my face, I know you have it right there for me, fucking give it to me. Cum on me. Cum on me now,” he orders, and with Jack’s whispered “He’s been so good, cum for him sweetheart,” you’re tightening around Marcus’ head and shaking through a fucking full-body orgasm. Faintly you hear Marcus chanting, “Yes, yes, that’s it baby, that’s it,” and Jack purring a diatribe of, “Good girl, you’re cumming so good for us, look at that, fucking gorgeous.” The room fades around the edges, the boys all you can focus on. Marcus’ eyes are shining with triumph, wiping his face as he beams up between your legs. Jack hovers over you, pride and sinful promise in his smile.

“That was a very good one, Marcus. Gonna give me a run for my money,” he says, stroking your cheek as you try to come back to the real world from your sky-high journey. The comforting warmth at your side fades as Jack sits up on the bed, tugging Marcus by his hair. Blearily you watch them kiss, tongues peeking out from their pressed lips as Jack tastes you on Marcus. He reaches down and deftly unbuttons Marcus’ pants, shoving everything down to reveal his weeping cock. Jack’s palms it, nodding to Marcus who leans over just enough to spit on his own cock before Jack gives him a few slow, firm strokes. You can tell how much Marcus is affected, mouth dropping into an O as his eyes drifting shut. Jack indulges him a few passes more before pulling a condom out of his pocket.

“Fill her up, pretty boy, she’s been so patient.”

You prop yourself up on shaky elbows as Marcus rolls the condom on, hazy gaze kindling the remains of your orgasm into a new possibility. He slots his hips between your thighs, crawling up your body to kiss you with the remains of your taste on his tongue. Jack stole most of it, but you can still relish in your tang.

“I want to fuck you, baby, can I? I’ll stretch you out good first,” he asks against your lips, the head of his cock resting just on your mound. He fists it and draws circles on your clit with the tip, your spine pulling tight up under him.

“Yes, Marcus, want you inside me,” you gasp, but before he fits his perfect cock inside he pumps two gloriously thick fingers into your cunt, stroking at your velvet soaked walls before curling them wickedly.

“So tight. Fuck, Jack, you’re gonna love this,” Marcus husks, scissoring his fingers and swirling his thumb over your sensitive clit. 

“Want to show her what you’ve been hiding, handsome?” Jack asks innocently, but you see goosebumps raise along Marcus’ arms and shoulders when the cowboy nips at his ear, winking at you. “Reach back here, darlin’, and feel,” Jack instructs as you follow the path of his hand around Marcus’ hip. He guides you to the smooth base of the plug in Marcus’ ass, making him shudder when you press your fingers against it.

“He’s been waiting all night for this, would you let me fuck him while he fucks you?” Jack asks. You trace a finger around Marcus’ stretched hole and he drops his head to your shoulder with a choked groan.

“You want that, Marcus? Want to fill me while Jack fills you?” His stuttering breath warms your neck as he nods. Reaching back, you prop yourself up with a couple pillows so you can better watch, your hands cupping Marcus’ face as Jack slowly works the plug out of him. When his mouth drops open you stroke your thumb along his bottom lip, pulling his attention from any discomfort back to you. Marcus empties out a sigh when Jack pulls the sensible black plug from him and places it on the bedside table. He returns with a slim bottle of lube that he dribbles onto his fingers.

“Now Marcus, I want you to put the tip in her and get yourself good and hard while I slide into your pert little ass. Once I’m in and you’re settled I’ll set the pace. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” The gentle instruction warms your skin as Jack smooths his hands over Marcus’ back and sides. He nods and you stroke your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

“You’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you say, circling your hips against his cock as he fists himself again. 

“You’re beautiful,” Marcus whispers, and as he wedges just the tip of his thick cock inside you he presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. The shallow stretch makes your toes curl, one of Jack’s hands massaging your calf as his mouth smacks against Marcus’ spine.

“Ready?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Jack, please…”

The litany of moans and gasps Marcus litters onto your skin lights your arousal further aflame as Jack curses and pushes in. You’re enraptured by the concentration on his face, the tick of his jaw and swipes of his tongue over his lower lip as he thrusts shallowly into Marcus’ tight channel. You can feel every jolt in your cunt when he presses Marcus just a little further forward, burying himself just a little deeper inside you. It’s slow as cold molasses and driving Marcus to bliss. When he begins backing up against Jack you stroke his back, and Jack’s larger hand covers yours.

“Fuck, feel so full,” Marcus manages to say, and Jack leans over to kiss along his shoulders. Your mouth is already at the juncture of his neck, and Jack meets your lips with his own. Marcus turns his head enough to kiss you behind your ear, and to catch the hinge of Jack’s sharp jaw with a scrape of teeth.

“Okay sweethearts, I’m gonna fuck you now. Slow to start. Get our rhythm.” Jack then pulls back and thrusts forward hard enough to bury the rest of Marcus’ length inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, Marcus already being guided back out before Jack fucks him back into you. “Oh holy shit, ohhhh fuck, yes, please, oh fuck it’s so good,” you moan brokenly, Marcus cupping your cheek and pressing his mouth to yours. You open for him, his tongue plunging into you as he pounds your cunt over and over again. The wet slaps are offset by the slick squelches of Jack’s cock fucking into Marcus, timing his thrusts just right to let you both feel every ridge and vein inside and around you. 

“Fuck, you both are so fucking hot,” Jack grits out, one hand gripping your hip, the other Marcus’, as he set a faster pace. Marcus drops to his elbows and rolls his hips harder, snapping into you and back onto Jack. The quiet moans he was hiding before erupt into full-throated shouts, which Jack muffles by shoving his fingers into Marcus’ mouth. He drools around them, and when his glazed eyes meet yours you lick the back of Jack’s knuckles and over Marcus’ lips.

“Filthy girl, knew you were,” Jack pants. “You close, handsome?” 

Marcus nods frantically, eyebrows pinching and fisting the sheets as he speeds up from Jack’s rhythm to chase his orgasm. Jack chuckles before folding over you both, crushing Marcus to your chest.

“I’ve got you, baby boy.” With that Jack pounds into you both, Marcus buried so deep you can feel Jack’s thrusts nudge him against your g-spot. You grip their hair, Jack’s eyes locking with yours as he growls through each thrust. 

“Call him a good boy, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Marcus, you’re so good for me, feel so good inside. Cum for me like a good boy, Marcus.”

That’s all it takes, and Marcus is howling into your neck as Jack grinds deep. His cock pulses heavily inside you, the force of his orgasm shivering through his limbs as they lock and release. Finally he lets go, slumping his full weight onto your chest. Jack kisses the back of his neck, fingers stroking down his arms and soothing him through the aftershocks.

“You’ve got a way with him, darlin’, he rarely cums that hard,” Jack coos, sliding his arms around Marcus to guide him off. Rolling him to his back, Jack peppers Marcus’ face with soft kisses as he weakly throws an arm around Jack’s back. His other hand searches for yours, twining your fingers together as he blinks sleepily between you both.

“Shit, that was amazing,” he croaks, sending Jack to the bathroom for a glass of water and to dispose of the condoms. “C’mere, wanna hold you,” he adds, tugging you to curl up against his side. His hands roam your back, nose pressed against your forehead as his rapid heartbeat begins to slow. It’s oddly romantic, happy to give and receive this moment of comfort. But you’re sure it’s the end of the night, and you’ll be fine going back home soon.

Liar.

“Now darlin’, as good of a time as it looks like you were having, I don’t think you came,” Jack says once Marcus has had a good long drink and settled back into the pillows. 

“I had plenty of fun,” you say lazily, stroking Marcus’ chest as it rises and falls. Jack tuts and shakes his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Told you I wanted to eat your pussy too. Come sit on my face and let me give you another. Then, if you’re not too tired out, I’ll have you sit on my cock too.” 

Heat races over your body, and Marcus unwinds you from his arms. 

“Go on, gorgeous, Jack’s tongue is a treat you should never turn down,” he teases. “I’ll be along as soon as I catch my breath.”

Sitting up, you scoot closer to Jack as a strange nervousness settles in. Marcus is so open and easy to read, while Jack’s expressions always seem veiled behind a layer of showmanship and bravado. You find yourself worrying that you won’t be enough for him, for what he wants.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Jack interrupts your racing thoughts as he strokes his palm up your thigh. You shake your head, forcing a smile on.

“Nothing,” you say, your voice catching in your throat. Jack chews on his lower lip for a moment, then wraps his arms around your waist and guides you onto his lap. Straddling him, you hover as he pets your hips, smooths your back, and noses your neck with a gentle kiss along your collarbone.

“If it’s nerves, honey, then know that I have been looking forward to tasting, and fucking you all night. I want your tits in my mouth, your pussy, your tongue. I want to devour you, you’re so delicious.” He guides your hips down to press against his cock, hard and hot as he slips the soft skin against your wet folds. “You cannot possibly disappoint me, I could cum from your voice alone.” 

“Jack…” you breathe, and he leans back, pulling you along with him. Once flat on his back he guides your nipple into his mouth, humming indulgently as he teases the bud with his fast tongue and harsh sucks. You arch into his mouth, the length of his cock grinding against your clit. Switching to the other one, he nips lightly and chuckles when you jolt against him. His large hands paw at your ass, spreading your cheeks and kneading at the supple flesh. He cracks his hand against one with a sharp slap, soothing it with a stroke after. You’re dripping on him now, grinding along his length.

“Perfect, sweetheart, now climb up and put that hot little pussy on my face,” he orders, and all self-consciousness drips away as you climb up his body. Before you settle around his shoulders he taps your hip and guides you to swing around so you’re facing his neglected cock, hovering over his greedy mouth.

“Want your hand around my cock while I eat you out,” he says before pulling you down on his face. 

No matter the thorough fucking you just endured, Jack’s thick tongue sends a shudder up your spine, needing to grab his wrists. He hums into your folds, faster flicks than Marcus against your clit.

“I’m gonna drink you down, darlin’,” he purrs into your cunt, canting your hips so he can better seal his pouty lips around your clit. Falling forward, you loosely stroke Jack’s aching cock, throbbing with need after being denied his orgasm. Letting a dribble of spit drip onto his length, you slick him up to take a tighter grip. When your fingers glance over the ridge of his head his stomach tightens, hips rocking up to meet your strokes. 

“Your cock is gorgeous, Jack,” you praise, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the tip. The groan he lets out vibrates against your sex, eliciting your own pleasured sigh as he slips his tongue inside you.

“He’s very good at using it,” Marcus says just next to your shoulder, sliding off the bed to kneel between Jack’s knees. He replaces your hand on Jack’s cock, urging you to sit back up on Jack’s face. He worships your breasts with soft sucks and nibbles, working you both up higher and higher. You can feel Jack’s movements getting sloppier, distracted gasps bursting between your legs when he takes a moment to bask in his own pleasure. You weave your hands into Marcus’ hair, scratching along his scalp as he kisses his way up your neck and back to your waiting mouth. 

“Mmm, sweetheart he’s not gonna last much longer, and I know he wants to cum in you too. Let me wrap him up and then you can fuck his cock.” Marcus takes a moment to tear open a condom as you shuffle down Jack’s body. His mouth leaves you with a parting lick to your back entrance, the ticklish sensation making you giggle and scratch your nails down his flexing stomach. When you’re hovering over his cock, Marcus’ hand on the base guiding Jack in, he sits up behind you. 

“Most beautiful thing I’ll ever get to experience,” Jack murmurs, plastering his chest to your back and wrapping his arms around you. He guides you down as Marcus steadies him in, filling you so differently but so completely. 

“Fuck, Jack, you feel amazing,” you croon, head thrown back against his shoulder. Marcus lifts up on his knees to kiss Jack, clever fingers petting at your clit as you lift up just enough to let Jack feel the drag of your tight cunt, then back down to his base to elicit a wanton groan.

“Darlin’, you feel like heaven. Don’t know how Marcus didn’t bust immediately.” Marcus nips his Adam’s apple and switches to mouthing at your throat, both of their lips dancing along the expanse of your sweat-slicked skin. Sandwiched between them, the slide of their bodies against yours is addictive, intoxicating, endless in the pleasure it brings. Your cunt clenches around Jack, and he chuckles darkly in your ear before snapping his hips up into you.

“There’s my good girl, so tight around me. I’m gonna fuck you as hard and long as I can, but fuck me if you don’t feel like the best thing I’ve ever put my cock in.” Jack grabs the back of Marcus’ head and pulls him back to meet eyes. “Lick her clit, pretty boy.”

You didn’t think your arousal could climb any higher, but looking down to see Jack’s length sliding in and out of you paired with Marcus sinking down to lick a stripe from the base of Jack’s cock to your clit almost kills you. Marcus’ boyish smile would be your gravestone if you didn’t remember to breathe.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out as he lays out his thick pink tongue to stroke over and over along your joined bodies.

“Damn right, you’re doing so good for us Marcus,” Jack grits out, pulling you down on his fat cock so you don’t bounce away from Marcus’ talented tongue.

“Could do better,” Marcus says thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle of lube. Slicking up his fingers, he slides his hand down to tease Jack’s rim.

“Fuck, baby, you know how I like that,” Jack groans, bringing a wicked smile to Marcus’ face. Kissing your mound, Jack tenses hard under you with a broken gasp. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck, yes baby, that’s fucking perfect, you keep your fingers right there while I cum in her. Just like that, sweet boy.”

Leaning down you grab Marcus by the jaw and devour him, teeth clacking briefly as you fill his mouth with your tongue. He whimpers below you before you part, lips spit-slicked and slacked.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, Marcus you better…” Jack threatens but Marcus is already latching his mouth onto your clit, sucking hard and fast while his fingers flex inside Jack. The relentless grind against your g-spot, the ruthless pressure on your clit, the overwhelming ache that can’t build anymore before it needs to go somewhere washes over you, and you cum with a wail on these two gorgeous men. Jack follows as your walls flutter around him, with a litany of, “That’s it baby, your pussy’s so fucking good, I’m…oh shit, I’m cumming, M-Marcus baby don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, oh shiiiiii…” You faintly wonder if Marcus came again before a spurt of hot cum against your calf answers your question.

The silence that follows, filled with gasps and panting and weak hands on skin, is the moment you dread. It’s the last moment before the peace and quiet in your mind fades, urging you to gather up your clothes and go before you say something or do something that will ruin this. But with Marcus wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, and Jack pressed against your back, you have no place to go. 

“Thank you, darlin’, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, wouldn’t you agree?” Jack says, pressing a line of kisses from behind your ear to the curve of your shoulder. Marcus leans back and thumbs your chin, tired eyes and a loose smile.

“Definitely. Can we take care of you now, sweetheart?” 

Your eyebrows must have pulled up into a frown, because Marcus chuckles just a little and cradles your head.

“What, you thought we’d fuck you and make you leave?” he teases, and you have to school your face carefully. You didn’t expect them to be this caring, or kind.

Liar.

Then you didn’t expect them to want more than your body once they were through.

Liar.

Then what did you expect?

Marcus thankfully speaks, similar to that that soothing way Jack enticed you here.

“Well then, I’m going to take you into the shower to clean you up, and Jack’s gonna make the bed and join us after. Once we’re clean and hydrated, I’m going to put on The Thin Man and we’re going to get into bed together. If you’re not comfortable spending the night, I understand. But I - we - want you to. Not just because tomorrow morning I want to wake you up with both of our heads between your legs.” Jack slides out of you and holds you in his arms, nuzzling into the back of your neck. 

“I don’t…” you try to say, both men waiting patiently. “I didn’t expect this. I don’t know what to do now.”

Liar.

You know exactly what to do. 

Stay.

Marcus’ lopsided smile and Jack’s pressed into your skin are promises you never asked for, but would gladly accept.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

END

[back2bluesidex]

Broken heart over whiskey glass - KSJ

Part of my Milestone Drabble Request Game. Find the request here. I am still taking requests, by the way.

Pairing: Seokjin X Reader

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au

Wordcount: 900

Summary: Your heart breaks again, this time over whiskey glass.

Warnings: unrequited feelings, Seokjin is already engaged, mentions of drinking, hints of family drama and abusive parents.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: Idk how this turned out @phenomenalgirl9. so please forgive me if it's not what you had in mind. Thanks to you for sending in the request. Love ya!!

Kim Seokjin is a lot of things. 

He is twinkling eyes, cherry smiles, summer warmth, blossom pink and a comforting scent. 

He is also dad jokes, broad shoulders, obnoxious-ear-shuttering laugh, long legs and annoyingly himself. 

But most importantly….

He is the man you are in love with. Also, the man who loves someone that isn’t you, will never be you. 

The realization, the acceptance, the constant reminder.. Everything is bitter. Far more bitter than the whiskey on the tip of your tongue. This brown liquid does nothing to numb your pain but you don’t complain, not when it has been your sole companion for most of the night of your company party. 

Even though your eyes are trained on your glass, you don’t miss the long steps that Seokjin takes to reach where you are sitting currently. 

Why does he always find you? Why does he go an extra mile to be nice to you? Why does he do all those things and make your heart flutter and make you fall more and more only to leave you stranded with your wants and desires because he is meant for someone else? 

You don’t have any answers. 

“She has been following me for the better part of the night!” Seokjin whisper-yells in your ear as he lowers himself down to sit beside you on a bar stool. You divert your eyes from the glass and look at him.. only to find his brown orbs boring into yours. But not the way you’d like. Not the way you want. 

He moves his eyeballs in a manner of gesturing the ‘she’ he just mentioned. 

It’s a new recruit. 

Her name must be Dan-ri or Dan-mi, you can’t quite recall. But what you can recall is that she has her eyes set on Seokjin from her very first day. 

You suppose, she doesn't know yet that Seokjin is taken. Wait till he drops the bomb and breaks another heart alongside yours. 

Your ears perk at the sound of her red heels clicking on the marble floor, a perfect set of white teeth flashing at the man for the umpteenth time in the evening.

Annoying. You take a sip from your glass.

"Mr. Kim, I thought you're gonna come back with your drink and we would have a dance!" Dan-ri or Dan-mi whines at her high pitched voice. 

You roll your eyes staring at another direction. 

"Ah- I would love to but I haven't gotten to spend time with my favourite colleague yet." Seokjin says, pointing at you. 

You smile at the girl, a fake one obviously.

"Oh?" Her eyes widen when Seokjin winds a hand around your shoulder, pulling you a little closer to his body. 

You want to run away far and far from this man. You want to put an end to this suffering but you can't help relaxing at his warmth. You melt in his embrace, putting your heart at ease, telling yourself 'just this once. I will distance myself afterwards.' again and again like chanting a mantra. 

"Am I interrupting something?" The girl is more determined than you expected her to be. She doesn't leave, rather settles herself down on the barstool right next to Seokjin's. 

Seokjin chuckles at her question, "It's not what you think, Dan-mi. Y/N is my favorite colleague cum one of my most favorite human beings. And I am engaged." 

The words pierce through your ears, hit your heart and break it into a thousand pieces all over again. Tears start prickling your eyes, so you shut them as tightly as possible. 

And suddenly you're in a flashback of your life.

After suffering from verbally and borderline physically abusive parents, a broken home, multiple failed relationships, failed attempts of being in love and being loved… you finally found yourself falling for a man who was already betrothed to someone else, who can't be yours no matter how many lifetimes you wait. 

Seokjin's embrace now feels too constricted, too hot to be comfortable anymore. So you break free. 

Jerking out of Seokjin's arms, you sit straight. But your actions (or disappointments) seemingly have no impact on him. 

He continues, "my fiancé and I have been in a relationship for 10 years now. Highschool sweethearts you know?" A sweet smile takes over his face, probably upon painting an image of his lover in imagination, "we're soon to be married." 

As soon as he finishes off, you stand up from your place, take your purse and utter a small bye to the man. 

This is too much and you can’t suffer any longer. Having your heart broken everyday with the reminder is one thing but him, sitting right beside you, gushing about his fiancé, while knowing nothing about your feelings towards him, hurts ten thousand times more. 

"Y/N! Wait! Let's go together. I'll drop you." You find Seokjin shouting as the distance between you two increases bit by bit. 

You turn back for one last time, facing him, you part your lips and say, "not this time, Jin. It's better if I move on." 

You know he hasn't heard you, the music is on full blast and there's at least 5 hands of distance between you two.

But the words are for you to hear… more than anyone else.  

So, you take your steps forward and leave him behind for his good and mostly for yours.

[purplehalnw]

So I've finished the 13th Doctor's seasons and I was really worried starting out because I've heard a lot of people say the writing is shitty. But now that I'm done... I don't really have anything to be angry at tbh. Like I'm not an expert reviewer so I don't know, it probably is more egregiously bad than I think it is but it just feels like... Nothing. Only like a couple of the episodes have left big impressions on me. A lot of them are just freaking boring and it really comes down to the fact that the characters are so freaking dull.

I saw one person say "they just split one personality four ways with Graham getting most of it" which I think perfectly describes my feelings towards them. Ryan and Yaz have virtually nothing to their characters except for some factors that are barely addressed like Ryan's dyspraxia and issues with his father and Yaz's crush on the Doctor. Like hell even freaking Dan feels like more of a character than them somehow.

And the Doctor herself... Obviously I'm not blaming Jodie Whittaker, she did really well with what she was given, but to me at least she just feels like a toned down version of the 11th Doctor. And like I'm just really disappointed because I was kinda excited to see her Doctor because I had heard that the writers intentionally wrote her as autistic which I thought would be interesting since all the other Doctors were just accidentally written that way. And I can see the seeds of some interesting plotlines. Like they use the Timeless Child plotline as a sort of explanation for why she was and always felt so different from other people of her species and essentially why she acts so autistic. They could've used this as an opportunity to really analyze her behavior and you know create some allegories for neurodivergence or just have her companions explicitly acknowledge how the way she acts aligns with autism. But no they don't do that and obviously a big part of all this writing is the fact that they have a shorter amount of episodes but they don't know how to properly use that time. They mention how the Doctor is socially awkward and doesn't really know who she is anymore but they don't properly delve into her psyche like in previous iterations. And this is because again they have three companions so they have to give all of them something to do but again because there are three of them neither of them can get a great deal of focus either and just ugh.

Like the Doctor should've just had Graham, and maybe his wife Grace who I'm still kinda disappointed they killed off in the first freaking episode, as a companion. Because pretty much all of the Doctor's companions have been women in their early twenties and I think it would've been interesting to switch things up like this. Also again with Grace I feel like it would've been more impactful if we had gotten a full season or even half a season with her before she died. Oh and I would've liked for Graham's cancer to play more of a role with it maybe coming back and him going on constant adventures with the Doctor and trying to do as much as he can before he dies. It would've been really interesting to see a companion die of something completely normal yet unavoidable after having survived all of these dangerous adventures. It would've been really sad to see the Doctor just trying to keep it all together and make Graham happy when she can't do anything about him slowly dying in front of her.

Overall the 13th Doctor's seasons were just full of missed opportunities and it's incredibly saddening.

[danwhobrowses]

So I Finally Finished a Playthrough of Baldur's Gate 3

It's been months of playing over my holidays and the weekends, but I've finally completed my first playthrough of what was deemed Game of the Year for 2023.

As someone whose only D&D experiences come from the two movies (the bad one that traumatized me as a kid by killing Snails and the good one that deserves more love) and Critical Role, I didn't know much of what I was getting into, only my coworkers saying 'buy it, it's a masterpiece' unanimously when I inquired about it. Having no idea how to play or the lore, I was very much entering blind.

Continued down the Keep Reading

So, I'm sure we gotta get through the first set of questions so let's get to them.

What was your Tav? It took a long time to realise that 'Tav' meant your player character among fanpages, I can't tell you why it's Tav still, but I only pieced it together from Durge naming too. My Tav is Dec, short for December because that's when I started playing and I couldn't waste too much time on stream thinking up a clever name. He was a High Elf Guild Artisan, for Class I started as a Beast Master Ranger, ironic that Ranger is deemed one of the lesser classes among the community, I was adamant to not use archery at the start but by the end of it I was a Crossbow Expert. I went 9/3 with Rogue to get Assassin, but then respec'd my Ranger into a Gloomstalker, since I never really summoned the bear (probably should've learned from Sam's constant dissing of Trinket eh?) plus when I remembered Dread Ambusher it gave me 3 attacks on the first turn. He has combustible blood thanks to Araj and some tadpole powers after consuming them after the creche incident made him more open to trusting the Dream Visitor; Charm - which failed 90% of the time - Psionic Backlash, Favourable Beginnings and Luck of the Far Realms used mainly, I had Stage Fright and Force Tunnel but didn't use it, same for Cull the Weak. Likes to talk things through, especially with Persuasion/Charisma buffing invisible hats. Has the Duellist's Perogative Sword and the Swire's Sledboard Shield for Melee, and the AC bonus, plus the Armor of Agility giving him an evasive 24 AC with Advantage thanks to 20 DEX and the Cloak of Displacement.

You can't see his scar and tattoo too well from here but I had to show off his Black Furnace and Red dye on his armour it looks too good. Here's a better look of his face:

For his tattoo and scarring I like to think he got the tattoo after the burn, in some ways distracting it from the scarring.

Did you Save Scum? Don't Lie to Me! Yes and I'm not sorry about it. If you wanna invite me to a D&D table I'll follow the rules and how the dice lands but there's a lot more wiggle room there than in a game where there's finite dialogue options. I was also not going to sit there and let my companions turn against me just because the game fancied throwing continual Nat 1s or low rolls at me, nor would I let Omeluum die in the Iron Throne, or end up leaving the Mirror of Loss empty handed. I bought the game so if I wanna carve this experience this way I shall carve it this way, I get some people see the Morally Good path as boring for this kind of gaming but I like to be good, it feels good, and I want good things to happen for my allies, even if it means having to undo most of their religious indoctrination. But, it did take a while for me to start save scumming, really it was freeing Halsin that started it but it didn't become regular until Auntie Ethel. I only really did it for dialogue/lore expansion (or when there were two dialogue options I was between which I hoped would be interpreted how I expect it to) and for necessary buff rolls like the Mirror of Loss, but sometimes I did it to keep some key NPCs alive like Jaheira, who died at Moonrise the first time.

Who did you usually team up with? Kinda a harem squad since I had Lae'zel, Shadowheart and Karlach. I was very combat-oriented; Lae'zel adding support to Karlach's melee or Dec's ranged combat while Shadowheart made up for most of the magic with heals, summons and like 100 scrolls in her bag (Dec horded about 100 different arrows and poisons too, sometimes pays off). I respec'd her to Light Domain after the Nightsong stuff to fit her character and hair change - though I must admit I preferred the black hair - and gave her my Adamantine Splint Armour for defences plus the ring and Balduran's Helm for +5 healing each turn. Lae'zel was a Battle Master, clad in the Helldusk set, though I didn't use much of her Superiority dice moves; the enemies often made saves against it even with 18 strength (20 after the mirror of loss, and higher at endgame thanks to an Elixir of Cloud Giant Strength), I relied more on her brute force, plus reaction skills like Executioner and Sentinel, plus the Silver Sword of the Astral Plane. Karlach was a 9/3 Bear Heart Barbarian and Champion Fighter, I did respec her for the Feats but the Bone armour, Balduran's Greatsword and Brutal Jump also helped at times, plus the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength and the Amulet of Greater Health made her a high damage, near-200 Health-on-Rage machine (over 200 thanks to the +30 extra health at the final battle). I tended not to swap around a lot, I couldn't abandon my healer, loved Karlach's personality and I had sentiment for Lae'zel being the first person I encountered, she has the sad eyes too, but I did do some rare switching for personal quests. Initially I started with Astarion, but that's because of a misunderstanding of who Karlach was - more on that later - and it turned out that I wasn't doing much for stealth, I brought him for Cazador though, much like I brought Wyll for Ansur and Gale for the Book of Karsus. Later in Act 3 I played around with dyes and equipped everyone, out of fear that I may be sprung unprepared like with Orin - Halsin only had a torch - by all campmates joining the fight, it didn't happen but everyone at least looks stylish.

I go between whether I like Wyll's colours though, on one hand he looks like a Templar and the white would stand out in Avernus, other times he looks like a cosplayer XD Minsc and Jaheira needed no dyes the colours already suited well, but I do love the colours I chose for Astarion, Halsin and Karlach.

Who did you fuck? (romance) Probably would've been asked sooner but sadly Dec became an unintended bachelor, at least outside of the headcanon. He did share a night of passion with Lae'zel after freeing the Emerald Grove but it wasn't something he wanted to pursue further, our dynamic was more befitting of two soldiers, or at least a dynamic where we think we're the General and the other the Advisor. Had Shadowheart took 'later' for her drink offer as 'I want to see all the dialogues other characters have first' rather than a refusal there might have been a romance there, instead I feel we fell into a more sibling bond, she can be a bit too sassy at times in passing dialogue - I had hoped to see more development with her and Lae'zel eventually being friends. Wyll did his best to throw sad puppy eyes at me when I refused to dance with him but it just made things more awkward, Gale meanwhile probably was gonna make moves when teaching me the Weave but he was very hung up on Mystra for me to entertain it, I sat with him when he felt the mortal coil though. Astarion I think made a passing suggestion but nothing of substance, Halsin left it late after he got kidnapped by Orin - I didn't realise he had to physically join the party to be a part of the group until Act 3 - coming onto me right before I confronted the Brain which was quickly turned down. I believe Minsc and Jaheira are unable to be romanced atm, and I did not fuck the Emperor; it weirded me out that he just was there shirtless chilling next to my unconscious dream state. We killed Minthara, didn't know you could recruit or romance her in a Morally Good path. Which left Karlach, fuck did I want to romance Karlach, not for lack of trying either; but because when I met Wyll he was talking about killing her I immediately assumed 'oh Karlach must be that woman on the cover with him' (aka 'the bitch who could've been cool if she wasn't such a bitch' Mizora, who I also wouldn't have romanced given the option) and stuck a pin in it, I was also unaware that most Act 1 romance stuff would come to a head at the end of the Emerald Grove quest which I prioritized so I only encountered Karlach after I saved Halsin and the Grove, meaning I couldn't reach Dammon until Act 2. By then Karlach seemed to be locked out of romance, perhaps for another misunderstanding on my part too since I did upgrade her engine twice at Lost Light very swiftly, but it still was a knife to the heart after all that and the date at the circus that she called us 'just mates' to Fytz. All this and then they give us a better kissing patch ¬_¬

Yes so sad, anyway what about ~Astarion~? Astarion is popular, and I know why he's popular, and the scene of him killing Cazador was very well done...but Astarion for me though was just fine; I mean you guys see Karlach right? Part of the reason she stays my group was that I can't bear to part from her. A lot of the times my Morally Good options didn't align with Astarion's brand of pessimistic chaos, so he spent a lot of time in camp as I mispronounced his name until I heard it be properly said, which probably hampered his story a bit more, but we had a close enough friendship that he heeded my advice with the Ascension and the spawn, wish he reacted to me getting a painting of him since he can't see his reflection though, felt like something could've been done there. Jaheira was a fun personality too, angry old lady who says it like it is, kinda wish we had more to her quest, seeing her home and her interacting with her wards/children was interesting, Minsc was charming too in his simple way, would've been cool if he had more of a presence as well, like we could hear about Minsc and the Stone Lord in separate lights earlier in the game to build up to him. On that topic, I was surprised to find that there wasn't a companion for each role, I suppose there were constraints but Aylin and Zevlor both worked as Paladins, Alfira a Bard (though I don't think anyone would dare put her in the line of fire), I suppose there's little need for a Sorcerer when you had a Wizard or a Monk when you had a Fighter and Barbarian but it was strange, you get 2 Druids and your Ranger is built more like a Fighter or Barbarian (the latter I added to Minsc). I'd later learn that there was cut content for a halfling companion who was a werewolf, but I can see why that one was cut, with Chetney and all, but yeah not any halflings, Barcus could've been a companion even without the Artificer class, or a Dragonborn.

So how did your story go? Being the Morally Good Guy I was I went through most of the best options I could, but I also tried to avoid combat earlier on when I was struggling to work with it. I was friendly with the Goblin Camp for starters, since they thought I was with the Absolute and Dec is willing to put shit on his face to avoid conflict, it all went tits up after freeing Halsin and having to kill everyone but it may've had some benefit to how I could walk freely through Moonrise. Ironically it was the same with the Githyanki, friendly up until they wanted me to hand over the prism, though the Creche was a lost cause anyway, they're lucky I didn't ransack the place, could've gotten a lot of xp and loot there. I let Viconia live, so she can dwell on that burn Shadowheart gave her but oftentimes I was not so merciful, do wish I didn't kill that one Sharran with the letter of hating being there though, why'd you fight me girl? Same with the Bhaalist with the parents at Elfsong, and the goblin children, I was using nonlethal but arrows don't count as I'd soon learn. Allies were mostly good-to-neutral creatures like the Tieflings (though I wish I saved more, nobody told me about the harpies and I thought convincing Rolan to stay would mean the Grove not the Shadow Cursed Lands - also why send refugees who struggle with goblins through the SHADOW CURSED LANDS?) and 90% of the Ironhand Gnomes because fuck Wulbren - I didn't like Barcus too much at first, thought him rude, but when Wulbren didn't even show gratitude for his attempts I softened to him. Kindness made me quite the enemy to others however; the infernal naturally did not appreciate my deeds of pact breaking but saving the Duke anyway and pilfering the House of Hope, but to be fair Raphael (and his clear portrait of himself I clocked onto immediately when he was in his human guise to know he was untrustworthy) never repaid me in-game for 'killing' Yurgir, and Mizora would've squirmed a lot more in her Ilithid pod had it been a table interaction - though, the latter two were more than willing to help me with the Absolute, 'cept Raphael because he's dead - but in my defence I loved outwitting and being a sassy little shit to demons. Slaying the Chosen was a given, as a very Pro-Karlach guy I was never letting Gortash live, got the Father/Grandfather-Daughter set with Bhaal too. Killing the former Balduran was disappointing; as much as he was on my side he always felt like he had his own ulterior motives, he also had a superiority complex to him with his constant urging of being half-Ilithid; thinks it's not important that he's Balduran either, dismissing Ansur's legend until confronted by Ansur's spirit. Stealing the Orphic Hammer was an insurance policy at first, I could understand Voss' disdain for us using Githyanki Jesus in a box like a forcefield, but it's a shame that the guy who was all about trust decided not to trust me in releasing Orpheus; we could've stopped the brain together! Omeluum would've heard me out. I mean Orpheus was a bit salty but he at least was willing to negotiate and not immediately side back with the brain like a petty bitch. I'd say the gods have mixed feelings with me; friendly with Selune and Lathander at least, and whatever Withers is - though the guy roasted me about my love life. The rest either neutral or anti; Shar and Vlaakith (if you can call her a god) definitely hate me, because they're sore losers, think Myrkul and Bhaal likely hate me, Bane however seemed to respect game not sure how I feel about that. I don't quite like Mystra, think she's a bit extreme with her treatment of Gale, but I understand her role, valid god but shitty person. On the other hand I probably have Cyric's favour for helping the Strange Ox, which might be bad...but Milil was happy to be recognized.

In the end, most of the allies got to live somewhat happily; Gale got the orb out of him and became a professor, Lae'zel - having dealt the final blow to the brain - leads the charge against Vlaakith after Orpheus became a Mind Flayer and was mercy killed, Shadowheart has her family (Shar would've always been with her regardless of her choice), a bunch of pets and can maybe reminisce with Nocturne again one day, Jaheira and Minsc - once he survives Zhentharim execution, didn't realise I needed to have him talk to Nine Fingers - also can rest with her wards and probably share drinks with Nine Fingers until the next fight, Astarion sadly has no cure for vampirism but he is owning it and killing the right people (I like to think he'll get to see the sun again, maybe Omeluum and the Mycolids help), plus Halsin has a bunch of kids in Moonrise to look after, plus Thaniel, Oliver and a new Owlbear who I'd rather had left with Dammon given the option. Isobel and Aylin can settle down, Rolan runs the Sundries, Hope is free, Alfira and Lakrissa got their bard's school, Florrick and Ravengard resume leadership to rebuild, Dammon has his forge, Scratch found a new home in this Mindy (but I remain best master), Mol I'm sure will be running the Guildhall in a few years, Thrumbo has a shelter for his brothers, Mayrina will raise her son without the threat of a hag, Vanra won't become a hag (but does need therapy), and Arabella will probably be the next Withers after reading some more rocks. Yenna didn't seem to have an ending so I'll assume that she found a loving home too, maybe with Halsin or as one of Jaheira's wards, or maybe Gale wants a Sous Chef since she did bring her own carving knife if you didn't know. I wish Alfira got invited to the epilogue, god of song is fine but not the familiar face and it would've been cool for them to meet, nice to get a letter at least, and we'll have to visit Art's grave sometime. Surprised we got no word about Mizora, I didn't get a letter from Geraldus even though he survived, Naaber apparently had more in him after wanting to be a dog, sad not to get anything from Rolan, Devella (I know Valeria mentioned her but c'mon), the Gondians, Mol, Omeluum, or Aylin and Isobel from the epilogue, did we really need the ramblings of Ettvard? Plus the papers must've glitched they said Stelmane's killer was still at large? Post-credits scene felt a bit weak mind you, but guessing Withers is that old God of Death Jerghal? Least he's not a surprise villain to fight. As for me, well, I was never one to give up on people and neither is Dec, and thus Dec and Karlach brave Avernus to seek a fix for her infernal engine, punch a few demons and whatnot, Wyll is there too as the Blade of Avernus, a role he embraced twice after barely contributing to killing Ansur but that's more proximity. We'll chill in the House of Hope especially after her letter, but soon enough we'll all return to Faerun on a more permanent basis.

So you enjoyed it? Yes, very much. I did of course make a lot of mistakes though; kept forgetting about Dread Ambusher for one, my earlier failures at romance still stung, I think the game wasn't as welcoming to those unfamiliar to it. The dice did not like me many times, I once got a Nat 1 in a 2 DC with +2 bonus, I also have had several instances of back-to-back Nat 1s, even had 6 in two different streams. Combat was an adjustment period, I missed a lot of the time which was frustrating, or the enemy would make saving throws on my gambits, Karlach even got pushed into the abyss at the Temple of Bhaal, I was livid. I think I probably would've experienced more if the game established better that you can long rest as much as you like without turning into a Mind Flayer, because much of Act 1 was me reluctant to Long Rest because they say you can change 'within 2-3 days', as a result that affected some romance options too, nobody to spend the night with if there's no night, as well as other in-camp interactions - Astarion never tried to bite me for instance, and I'm sure Raphael would've arrived to reward me for killing Yurgir had we not dealt with a backlog of interactions. I remained quite the hesitant player too, I ignored Gale stuck in a portal for a while fearing some magical backlash was gonna vaporize me, oftentimes I expected worse than what actually happened. Graphically there were a few characters whose cheeks were being pulled to the far left side of the map which was weird, and some battles would have enemies who would just do nothing for their turns, and some areas didn't render quick enough to not be noticed, but it was small stuff in comparison, I didn't do much for camp clothes or dyes until late on but probably for the better since style should be for the final act. I also keep seeing stuff that I somehow missed in my playthrough; like there's an angry squirrel near the grove? A frog in Ethel's house? A bird who wanted help with the giant eagles? What? Where?

What was the most difficult part? Act 3 had a lot of tough shit going down, though one of my most memorable struggles was against Auntie Ethel in Act 1. Already deep in her domain at lv4 it was a rough run to start with, continually hit by Hold Person by her projections, only when I learned they were one-hits did it become a little easier, but without Extra Attack it was still difficult. After that combat was here and there, sometimes it was just the environment like being jammed in a pipe when fighting Minsc; Lorroakan was annoying, Grym I had to be tactical with the hammer, the Assassin at the Facemaker was quite difficult too because he'd Haste himself and hide. The Death Shepherds in the Mountain Pass were surprisingly difficult without the Blood of Lathander, much easier with its Sunbeam. The companion quest final battles of Cazador, Ansur and Viconia were each difficult in their own way; the former was most annoying because my party would be downed but the thrown healing potions weren't working (plus those downed members were the ones with Radiant damage and holy water), wasn't even Bone Chilled like with Viconia, Ansur was difficult because of his burst attack. Raphael hits fucking hard, but once I realised that Hope kept dying because she was getting backlash from dealing Radiant Damage it was just attrition and lots of potion throwing. Combat-wise I think the toughest battle was Cazador due to the glitch of thrown potions not healing, otherwise the toughest boss was Ansur. Overall the most difficult experience I found was the timed operations of the Iron Throne.

Will you play again? Most likely, which is something I don't tend to say so Larian did do their job well. Though I might wait a bit to play other games first and give Larian time to add more content and finer polishing, I think I'd have a better time with it the second time around, would definitely try to resolve previous wrongs or missed opportunities, though I doubt I'd look forward to everything there; killing the Goblin Camp was still difficult work, same with the Steel Watch and all the turn limit stuff, I'll at least wait until I have Extra Attack before dealing with Ethel in Act 1 and take more Long Rests, maybe rotate the party a bit more and try out some other classes - but you will pry Speak with Animals out of my cold dead hands! Learning later about there being a bunch of cut content would entice me to play a third time if they reach a stage where all the intended content has been added in, but there's not exactly a time frame for that or a clear show of intent so far, so we'll see in that one, for all that is cut it seems like the end product is the tip of the iceberg. Enjoyed the play, played for a long time, would play again: money well spent.

[emqaep]

Veiled Confessions

Summary: Aboard the Razor Crest, Din Djarin grapples with an unspoken connection to an enigmatic woman who has become an ally. When she accidentally sees his face, breaking the Mandalorian creed, guilt and apologies follow. As the two navigate their unspoken tension, she harbors a secret of her own. With a mutual understanding, they embark on a journey, unaware that her revelation could challenge the foundation of their connection, bound by creed and a concealed love.

tw: a tiny bit of angst

a/n: Don't be too hopeful for another part soon, it took me a shit ton of research to write this crappy text. As English is not my first language I had to find basic words and some synonyms to make it seem more sophisticated. If there isn't anything else I am apologizing in advance.

The Razor Crest soared through the star-strewn sky, the hum of its engines a constant companion in the vastness of space. Inside the ship, Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, sat at the controls, focused on navigating through the galaxy's unpredictable currents. His thoughts, however, were not on the stars but on the unspoken connection that had grown between him and you, the enigmatic woman who had become an unexpected ally in his journey.

As the ship settled into the quiet stillness of space, you entered the cockpit, your presence pulling Din from his contemplation. The subtle flicker of nervousness danced in your eyes, a stark contrast to the usual composure you held.

"Din," you began, your voice soft, "there's something I need to tell you."

He turned to face you, the reflective T-shaped visor of his helmet locking onto your gaze. "What is it?" Din's tone, always stoic, softened in concern.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tracing the edge of a small, worn-out symbol on your wrist – a Mandalorian sigil that had faded over time. "I... I saw your face," you confessed, a heavy guilt settling in your chest. "I didn't mean to break your creed. It was an accident."

Din's helmeted gaze bore into you, and though you couldn't see his expression, you felt the weight of his disappointment. The sacred nature of the Mandalorian creed dictated that revealing one's face was a grave transgression, and you had inadvertently become a witness to that guarded secret.

"I'm sorry," you continued, your eyes searching his for forgiveness. "I didn't mean to betray your trust."

A prolonged silence lingered, stretching between you like an unspoken divide. Finally, Din's helmet turned away, and you couldn't discern the emotions churning beneath the beskar. "It's done," he said, his voice unreadable. "But it changes nothing. The past is the past."

Relief washed over you, but the guilt still clung to your heart. Little did Din know, you harbored a secret of your own – one that, in your mind, felt equally weighty.

Later that day, as the Razor Crest touched down on a desolate planet, the two of you ventured out into the alien landscape. The silence hung thick, tension bridging the gap between you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered once more, the wind carrying your words away. "I never meant for this to happen."

Din's footsteps halted, and he turned to face you. Without a word, he reached up and slowly lifted the helmet from his face, revealing the scars that told the story of battles fought and won.

"You've seen me, and I've seen you," he said, his voice quiet but resolute. "Let's leave the past where it belongs."

A sense of understanding passed between you, and for a moment, it seemed as though the unspoken bond had weathered the storm. Little did Din know, though, that your past held a revelation that might shake the foundations of the connection you both shared.

As you followed him into the unknown, you carried the weight of your own secret, wondering how it would shape the fragile dance between Mandalorians, bound by creed and a love that dared not speak its name.

[mumms-the-word]

Signs, Part 1

Part 1 of Day 6 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

I wrote something completely different and hated it and then started writing this and wrote...well, too much. So it's in two parts for you! Part 2 is here!

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

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6. Teaching each other how to do something

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It had taken some convincing, but Dani had finally managed it. After days of hard work, preparation, coaxing, cajoling, bribing, blood, sweat, and tears…

She had finally gotten everyone to agree to participate in Game Night.

“It doesn’t have to be every night,” she’d said, “but come on, aren’t you bored some nights? Wouldn’t a game or two be better than whatever else we do?”

Wyll had pointed out that none of them had a deck of cards with them, which was true, and a source of constant disappointment for Dani. She always had a deck of cards back when she was a roving bard. Her fingers were itching to shuffle and cut a deck again, and play her companions for all the money they had.

But until then…

They all sat around the fire, dinner finished and their dishes collected to one side (where of course everyone ignored them and pretended not to know who was on dish duty tonight). While Wyll poked the fire into a warmer blaze, Karlach leaned over to Dani, eyes bright and eager.

“So, soldier,” she said. “You mentioned a game you wanted to teach us?”

“Yes,” Dani said. “It’s a game I used to play with my troupe. We used to play a bunch of games all the time, but this is really the only one I think everyone here would like.”

“Speak for yourself, darling,” Astarion said, crossing his legs and leaning back one on hand. “If it doesn’t involve ritual torture or a dramatic beheading, then I’d be loathe to call it fun.”

“Ha ha,” Dani said, each syllable dripping with sarcasm. “I know for a fact you enjoy a good game of cards, but since we don’t have any…”

“Chk. This is a waste of time,” Lae’zel complained, looking sour. “We could be doing something productive.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gale said. “Whatever it is, you might enjoy yourself. Or do githyanki not play games for fun?”

“In Creche K’liir—“

Dani held up a hand. “Wait, hold that thought. Let me explain the game before you judge whether you’d hate it or not.”

Lae’zel looked irritated, but no more than usual. She crossed her arms but remained silent, waiting.

“Okay,” Dani said. “I don’t know what other people call this game, but my troupe always called it ‘signs.’”

Karlach gasped, sitting up straighter. “Hang on, I know this game! Where you pass signs around without getting caught?”

Dani grinned. “Exactly.”

“Passing signs?” Shadowheart asked. “What, like secret messages?”

“Kind of. One person will be the hunter, the person on the lookout for where the sign is. Everyone else will try to pass the sign to one another without the hunter catching them. The thing is, everyone has a unique sign, so you have to remember everyone else’s signs too.”

Lae’zel narrowed her eyes. “These…signs…do they serve a purpose? Do they have meaning?”

“Not really? I mean, they determine who has the sign.”

“Bah, you are confusing me.” Lae’zel huffed.

“Think of it like secret messages,” Karlach suggested. “That’s what we did as kids. One person is trying to intercept the ‘message’ before it goes to another person. But you can only send the message, if you have it, by signing to someone else without the first person seeing you. And you can only accept the message by signing that you’ve received it.”

“Like this,” Dani said, facing Karlach. “Here, this will be my sign.” She twisted the spiral earring in her left ear. 

“Got it. I’ll use this.” She held up her thumbs and forefingers, crossed to look like two tiny hearts.

Dani giggled. “I love it. Okay, so if I have the message, and I want to send it to Karlach, then I do her sign.” She made Karlach’s little heart gestures. Karlach responded by mirroring her gesture. “So now Karlach as the message. And if she wants to send it back…” Karlach fiddled with her left ear, as if twisting an earring, which Dani then matched. “Now I have the message again. Make sense?”

“Clear as mud,” Gale said, though he looked amused. “But I suppose any game is best learned by doing, yes?”

“Right. So first things first, what are everyone’s signs?”

It took some thinking, but eventually everyone came up with a sign. Karlach kept her tiny hearts. Wyll mimed making a toast. Gale patted his chest three times. Shadowheart made prayer hands. Astarion wanted to put two fingers spread in a V over his lips and flick out his tongue between them, to the groans of a few of their group. Lae’zel glowered for a moment before settling on her gesture, which was to point to her eyes with her forefinger and pinky, and then point outward, to whoever needed the sign next.

Dani shrugged. It was certainly efficient. “Everyone ready? Karlach, are you fine with being the first hunter?”

“Absolutely, soldier. This’ll be over in a flash!” She rubbed her hands together excitedly and then covered her eyes. Dani stifled a giggle and put a finger over her lips.

She sent the ‘message’ first to Gale, patting her chest three times. He received the message and sent it to Shadowheart, who then sent it to Astarion, who then sent it back to Dani, and so on until at last Dani said, “Okay Karlach, start guessing.”

As Karlach scanned the group, they continued to swap signs, the “message” constantly on the move. Dani, Astarion, and Shadowheart kept themselves aloof, but Lae’zel’s piercing gaze seemed to always follow the “message” no matter where it was.

After two incorrect guesses, Karlach finally whirled on Wyll, pointing right as he made his sign to receive the message. “Wyll! You’ve got it!”

Wyll threw up his hands. “Ah! You got me. That’s was clever, Karlach.”

“Game’s pretty easy when you can trust someone to always keep their eyes on the prize,” she said, hooking a thumb at Lae’zel.

Lae’zel turned her face away. “Chk. Again. I will not be so obvious next time.”

Dani giggled. “Okay. Wyll, you’re the hunter. Let’s go again.”

They played two more rounds before things began to unravel a little. It started with Gale suggesting they spice up the game and add a real message.

“Telepathically, of course,” he said. “We can speak with the tadpoles. What if we come up with a true secret message, and pass that around along with the signs? When we’re found out, we have to reveal the message.”

“If we can remember it,” Shadowheart said. “No doubt it will get warped in all the passing around.”

“Ah but that’s what will make it fun!”

And then Shadowheart suggested making the losers take a swig of alcohol, whatever they had on hand, if they get caught with the sign and the message, to which Astarion and Karlach laughed and agreed. The results soon became chaos.

Messages that began as innocent as “The stars are out tonight” eventually twisted into something like “These farts are out of sight,” which had Karlach laughing so hard when she heard it she immediately gave away that she had the message. And it only got worse from there. Shadowheart and Astarion were the source of many messages that would have made even Dani’s blue-tinted ears turn pink, including messages about the color of someone’s underwear that day and fake confessions about each other’s various “preferences.” 

One message in particular had Gale turning so red Dani thought he’d combust into flame like Karlach. When Dani called him out for having the sign and asked him what it was, he only shook his head. “I-I’m sure I misheard. I can’t even remember it now.” 

No amount of poking or prodding would get him to say it, and everyone else kept smugly quiet as well. Dani admitted defeat and took a second turn as the hunter.

After several rounds had Dani wheezing from laughter, clutching her sides, she finally had to call it quits. “Hells, I can’t breathe,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes as the others continued to chuckle or try to catch their own breath. “And here I thought you all would hate me for the game.”

“Nonsense, my dear, there’s nothing more fun that making your friends look the fool,” Astarion said, his own pale cheeks ever so slightly flushed with his amusement.

Wyll wiped a tear from his good eye, still chuckling. “Gods, if we do this again, I hesitate to think what scandalous messages might reach my ears next. Or brain, rather.”

“This is dangerous, using these ghaik tadpoles for mere games,” Lae’zel said, but she didn’t speak with as much conviction as usual. “The signs, however, could prove useful in battle.”

“Oh yeah?” Dani asked. “The next time I see you using your sign in a fight—“ She used her first and last fingers to point to her eyes and then Lae’zel’s, “—I’ll know to connect my tadpole to yours.”

She meant it as a joke, but Lae’zel nodded. “Good. Perhaps we will find some practical use for these signs after all.”

“Just don’t forget me, of course,” Astarion said, once more placing his fingers over his lips. He winked at Lae’zel and flicked his tongue between his fingers. “I want to stay in the loop too.”

“Change your sign, spawn, and I will think about it.”

Dani shook her head, standing to go get herself a drink of water at the river, hoping to cool her laughter-flushed face and body. The others began to break away and return to their tents, too. They looked happier, Dani noticed, which made her happy. She hoped they wouldn’t say no to more game nights in the future. They all deserved a bit of fun.

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BONUS: What would my other Tavs teach??

Ardynn would teach surviving-the-wilderness skills. Trapping, hunting, identifying edible plants and poisonous plants, how to track animals, how to find water, that sort of thing. Listen, the team does pretty good out in the middle of nowhere with Withers to conveniently resurrect them if they eat the wrong berries, but with Ardynn on their team they survive much, much better.

Freyr doesn't teach things, he just assumes you already know everything, and probably know it better than him. If pressed, he can show you how to do random things like one-armed pushups or where to aim if you want to make a clean decapitation on your next victim. He is capable of teaching sound battle strategy, but he probably won't, because he and Minthara are in charge of directing their allies anyway.

Invi...poor child remembers NOTHING. The OG version of this post was going to be all the things the companions teach her, from identifying rotten food vs. good food to Lae'zel fixing her battle stance to Wyll teaching her history, and so on. Ironically one of the few things she does remember, or that is at least ingrained into her body as muscle memory and instinct, is how to draw. Her sketches are precise and very realistic, and she could probably teach you a few art tricks if you asked her. What she doesn't remember is that her particular art skillset is drawing anatomically accurate bodies based on her time as a durge before the tadpole...