#or attempt to get two degrees lmao

[supernovaa-remnant]

.

[zukosdualdao]

so, this post was originally born from a post i saw a couple of months ago that was deriding people for criticizing katara’s main role in lok being a healer when that was never all she wanted to do but liking the scene where she heals zuko in sozin's comet. at the time i thought about responding directly and decided against it, but i have since scanned through transcripts of every instance (i could find; it's possible i could be missing something) of katara healing someone in the show and how they respond. (you know, like a normal and well-adjusted individual. lmao.)

anyway, aside from katara explicitly stating that she doesn’t only want to be a healer, another aspect of why people don’t like that this is how her story goes in lok is because of the way healing is treated in the atla narrative.

Katara: Aang, you're burned! Let me help you. [Katara heals the burn on Aang's arm.] Aang: Wow, that's good water. Sokka: When did you learn that? Katara: I guess I always knew. Sokka: [Sarcastically.] Oh ... Well then thanks for all the first aid over the years. Like when I fell into the greaseberry bramble. [Angrily.] Or that time I had two fishhooks in my thumb!

this comes, of course, after aang accidentally burns katara and she learns she can heal through her waterbending by healing her own hands. then (after comforting aang despite being the one who got hurt, not that i'm bitter), she heals aang after he gets burned in his fight with zhao. and like... there's not so much as a cursory thanks in this scene.

to be clear, because i can already hear some responses in my head and i am making a preemptive strike: i'm not saying that when other characters don't thank katara for her healing, they're like, the worst people ever for not doing so or there aren't other ways at different times where they show their appreciation. what i am saying is that it feels like this sets up a long pattern of katara's healing specifically being taken for granted, and it makes me especially uncomfortable when i see her healing as a sort of metaphorical parallel to the emotional labor often expected of her in the show, especially because this and being The Avatar's Girlfriend/Wife is more or less what she's relegated to in post-canon.

also, i have to note sokka's line here. i don't want to come down on him too hard for this, because it's obviously being written humorously (and does genuinely make me laugh, for what it's worth, if just for the inherent ridiculous nature of two fishhooks), but his sarcastically saying thanks for all the help over the years when katara says she always knew (which is supposed to be her saying it just somehow instinctively came to her) does feel like another mark in this pattern. but i also really read this as sokka trying to lighten the mood after a Difficult (TM) day, so i cut both him and the writers some slack for it.

Meanwhile, back at the Outer Wall, Katara attempts to heal a member of the Terra Team. General Sung: What's wrong with him? He doesn't look injured. Katara: His chi is blocked. [Stops healing.] Who did this to you?

i find it interesting that katara has sort of naturally fallen into a token team healer role, to the degree that we don't even see them ask for her help or her agree to it; it's just automatically assumed that she will. and i mean, on the one hand, it's fairly standard to have an Assumed Healer in a fantasy action setting like this, where people will get hurt in combat and therefore the narrative needs someone whose job is to help them. the problem for me is that the show kicked up such a fuss about how women shouldn't just be allowed to be healers, and yet it's still the role no one but katara ever fills. aang is also a waterbender! why couldn't she have taught him healing, too? i genuinely think it would have added a lot to the story, but katara is The Girl (TM), so healing is what she (and only she) does, what's expected of her, and again, with very rare thanks for it.

Katara stares open-mouthed at Jet, her hands hovering near her mouth in shock. Snapping out of it, she withdraws water from her water skin, with which she covers her hands, and it begins to glow as she kneels down next to him. Cut to a shot from over her shoulder, with Jet glancing at her while she rubs her hands over his chest in an attempt to heal him. After rubbing his chest three times, the glow fades, the water stains Jet's clothing, and Katara looks back over her shoulder toward the rest of the group. Katara: This isn't good. Smellerbee: You guys go and find Appa. We'll take care of Jet. Katara: We're not going to leave you. Longshot: There's no time. Just go. We'll take care of him. He's our leader. They stare at Longshot in surprise. Jet: Don't worry, Katara. I'll be fine. [Smiles a little.]

Cut to a closer shot of Katara placing Aang's body on Appa. Katara opens the vial around her neck and uses water healing on Aang's wounded back. The rest of Team Avatar, Kuei, and Bosco all look sadly and in anticipation. The glowing from the spirit water stops, and Katara starts crying, assuming that it was not enough to save Aang. Aang's tattoos glow for a second and Aang groans. Katara, overcome with joy that Aang is alive, looks at him, who smiles a little, and she holds him closer.

writing about these together because i have less to say about them. i'm definitely not going to fault jet for not thanking katara when she tries to heal him as he literally lay dying, or aang for not having the mind to do so after she brings him back. but i am still going to fault the narrative for putting her in a position where healing is just inherently expected from her and yet very rarely allowing her to feel the emotional toll of that or to feel constricted by it. and when she does struggle against the weight of it (not necessarily of being a healer, but of being expected to be kind and good and uncomplicated with no room for other aspects of her identity, which are very tangled up in why she is The Healer) in episodes like the runaway or in the southern raiders, she just... does not receive a lot of support from the people she should be most able to rely on.

Katara: Maybe we should go upstairs. [Helping Aang up.] You need a healing session. Back in Aang's room on the ship. Katara bends some water onto the scar left by Azula's lightning attack. Katara: Tell me where the pain feels most intense. Aang: Mmm, a little higher. Uhhh! Aang briefly flashes back to the battle at Old Ba Sing Se where he rose into the Avatar State, then back to reality. Aang: Wow, you're definitely in the right area there.

not much to say here, it's just another instance where it would have been so easy to slip one thank you in, and the writers just... do not. the reason i think it bothers me so much with aang specifically is because katara is supposed to be both aang's physical healer and his emotional crutch in a way that she's not written as being for, say, toph or sokka. he's sometimes shown appreciation for her emotional support, but he still comes to rely on and expect it in ways that do not always feel healthy, and knowing that, it bothers me that he shows even less appreciation for her healing, because it's just what katara is there for.

A figure resembling the Painted Lady glides over the water on a carpet of fog and enters the village. She steps into a hut where several people are sleeping on the floor, and bends over each of them in turn, healing them with a blue glow. Her last patient is the mother of the little boy seen earlier, her son sleeping at her side. He wakes as the Painted Lady turns to go and silently follows her out the door. Little boy: Thank you, Painted Lady.

this is a genuinely sweet scene in which katara does receive appreciation and genuine thanks for her healing, but i think it's also worth noting that katara is not being recognized as herself here. still, i am genuinely very glad that it's included in the episode because (again, unless i am missing something) it is the first time katara gets thanked for her healing.

The scene cuts to show Appa landing on the edge of the battlefield. Sokka and Katara help Hakoda onto the ground, and Katara starts trying to heal him. Katara: How does that feel, Dad? Hakoda: Ah, a little, better. I need, to get back to the troops. [Attempts to stand but is too weak to.] Ahh! Katara: You're hurt, badly. You can't fight anymore. Hakoda: Everyone's counting on me to lead this mission Katara, I won't let them down. [Attempts to stand again but can't.] Ahh! Sokka: Can't you heal him any faster?

they're in a high intensity situation, and sokka is Stressed because hakoda is supposed to lead the mission, so i, like, Get It, but "can't you heal him any faster?" does strike me as another moment in which katara's healing is being taken for granted. i think it's something that would bother me a lot less if this was an isolated incident in the writing, but *gestures vaguely at whole post*.

Sokka: [Brightening.] Dad! [Rising and approaching the two.] You're on your feet again. Hakoda: [Sitting down; somewhat weakly.] Thanks to your sister.

that being said, in the next hakoda and katara scene, there is this very sweet moment, where hakoda might not be thanking katara directly but is showing a lot of appreciation and admiration for her skill in healing (and though she's not in the dialogue i included, she's around to hear it, which makes me happy.)

Katara: It's gonna take a while for your feet to get better. [Stops healing.] I wish I could have worked on them sooner. Toph: Yeah, me too.

once again, i'm not gonna fault toph for wishing katara could have healed her feet sooner, because she's been in pain all night, but the writers could have very easily (as they could have in any of these scenes!) chosen to include a perfunctory 'thanks' here, and they just didn't. i know this is getting repetitive, but i swear it's because it's largely more me being mad at the writers than the characters, lmao.

there are also a couple of scenes in which katara doesn't heal anyone, but her healing gets brought up by aang.

Aang: He doesn't look sick. You okay, buddy? [Appa groans and Aang pulls out Appa's purple tongue.] His tongue is purple! That can't be good. Katara, can you heal him?

to be fair, aang asks here, and it's not like aang gets defensive or angry when katara says appa needs medicine (and also to be fair, appa's not even actually sick, lmao, katara's being slightly trickstery), but it's another instance where katara is automatically positioned as the person who is and should be responsible for healing.

Aang: [Chuckles.] Well, not over over. I mean there's always Katara and a little Spirit Water action, [Turns to Katara.] am I right? Katara: Actually, I used it all up after Azula shot you. Aang: [Disappointed.] Oh.

i actually don't mind this so much as a writing moment, as i think it's a lot more intentional wrt aang not always conceptualizing the reality of the violence he’s facing. still, it’s another instance of katara’s ability to heal and care for him being taken for granted, and i find it especially notable it’s in of the last significant moments they share together (the other being an argument as katara urges him not to run away from the reality of their situation with ozai) before they spend the rest of the finale separate until they’re kissing without a word at the end.

and then there is the zutara healing scene, where katara heals zuko after he interferes and takes azula’s lightning to the chest when she’s aiming for katara.

Cut to Katara as she rolls Zuko on to his back and begins healing him. Zuko opens his eyes, feeling the pain lessen, and smiles weakly at Katara, who smiles back as she sheds a tear.

Zuko: Thank you, Katara.

Katara: I think I'm the one who should be thanking you.

it seems fair to me to say that one of the reasons the motifs of healing in the zutara are dynamic are so appreciated by their fans is because of how it contrasts to a lot of moments where the work katara does with her healing is under-appreciated. for one thing, it happens as part of a mutual exchange—katara heals zuko after he gets hurt saving her. (this also somewhat calls back to their scenes together in the crystal caves in the tcod, where she offers to heal his scar after they are trapped together and zuko extends her empathy.) it’s based in reciprocity. it’s also, as shown here, one of the few moments of explicit, heartfelt appreciation and thanks given for katara’s healing.

[n-agiz]

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHTㅤ boyfriend! fushiguro toji x fem! reader — smut [ 0.7k+ wc ] cws public sex + risky sex + exhibitionism + creampies + lots of bickering, pls don't take this too seriously bc i didn't either lmao ! MDNI

ㅤtoji's ideas were more often than not odd, but you had to admit that even through his craziness, the man knew how to give you a great time.

you avoided going out with toji as much as you could — not because you were ashamed of your boyfriend in any way, but because he had a chronic lack of common sense.

“toji stop for the love of god! there’s people around” you half whispered half screamed, pushing his built body as far away from you as the cramped cubicle allowed you to. they were designed for one person to stand inside them while trying on clothes, not for two people to be inside, and this was the first time where that fact became painfully obvious in your eyes.

“i don’t believe in god sweetheart, you know that” toji said through a grin, putting way less effort into trying to conceal his voice to a lower tone, especially when compared to you.

“that’s not the point”

“then what is the point?”

“that we can’t fuck with this many people around!”

toji laughed at your attempts to hide your hysteria, watching as you resigned to half shouting instead of letting your voice rise to the volume you would usually allow it to while reprimanding him, all while also having to focus on getting dressed and pushing your boyfriend away any time he tried to touch you.

“it’s more fun that way though, you know i’ve always wanted to fuck with an audience”

“today is not the day we’re gonna do that, i’m sorry to break it to you”

“you sure about that?”

and exactly because your boyfriend was most definitely the incarnation of some demon to at least some degree, not more than a few minutes were necessary before he proved you to be completely wrong.

“look at me and tell me this doesn’t feel good, angel. just try to do that”

your arms burned from holding yourself up with your palms pressed against the wide mirror in front of you, legs shaking and knees buckling all while your eyes grew glossy, their corners burning as you bit harshly into your lower lip, keeping in any moan that attempted to escape.

how toji managed to stay so put together all while making a complete mess out of you was absolutely beyond you — but one thing you were sure of, he was driving you insane all while so effortlessly making you feel as if you had finally found heaven on earth.

“not gonna bicker with me anymore? weird, you’re usually more feisty than this”

“shut the fuck up toji before i slap you and your naked ass out of this dressing room”

“really? i wanna see you try to do that” he replied, fingers digging deeper into where they held at your hips while delivering a particularly hard thrust, grunting lowly against your ear, eyes staying glued to yours through the reflection on the mirror facing you both.

“fuck you”

“you already are!”

toji’s enthusiasm and smirk annoyed you, but at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully care, the snap of his hips into yours and the pleasure it gave you entirely too entrancing. the drag of his cock in and out of you was heavenly, and the constant reminder that you needed to stay quiet so you wouldn’t get caught was surprisingly arousing, more of your slick gushing out any time you reminded yourself that the only thing separating you two from complete strangers was a thin curtain.

how you managed to stay up long enough to not only reach an orgasm but also be able to feel toji filling you up was something you weren’t sure off — you just knew that by the end of it you were not satisfied like supposed, instead feeling greedier than you were at the beginning.

“aren’t you such a naughty girl” he grinned, one hand on your waist while the other found it’s place between your thighs, stuffing two fingers inside you to stop his cum from spilling out, humming as he felt you kiss down the side of his neck, pressing your chest into his.

“this is all your fault”

“it better be, wouldn’t want my girlfriend all horny in a dressing room over some random guy”

“just shut up toji, you talk too much”

“but also fuck you better than anyone ever could, so are you really gonna complain?”

N-AGIZ '23ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[lotties-ashwagandha]

RAPTURE

lottie matthews x reader, i cant remember word count but it's under 3k i think lmao sorry i promise you'll enjoy it however long it is. praise kink, jealous jealous jealous lottie <3

my fiiiirst ever nsfw fic omg omg

It was no secret for those who lived at the wellness center that you and Lottie were together. It was obvious in the way you were around each other almost constantly, how you substituted for each other when one of you got sick or simply needed a day of rest from teaching meditation classes and leading group therapy. It was obvious in the way you were always linked, her with a hand resting at your waist or you looping your arm around hers. Even for new arrivals it wasn’t hard to figure out, and most of them left you alone after seeing you together.

There were some, however, who couldn’t take a hint, or simply didn’t want to, like the man who stood in front of you.

Lottie was attempting to run him through the list of activities on his schedule as she did with all the new arrivals. She explained where he would be staying, what each class and activity consisted of, and where he could go to volunteer to help run the honey stand at the next farmer’s market.

It was obvious, however, that the last thing he was doing was listening. His eyes were glued to you as you looked over the information he had provided on his form and logged it all into the computer. You didn’t meet his gaze, but you could feel his eyes never leaving you, and to some degree it made you feel sick.

You noticed he left something blank on the form. You put your hand on Lottie’s shoulder and she paused her explanation of the beehives. “You left your phone number blank,” you said to the man.

“You guys took my phone, I didn’t think you needed my number,” he said, smirking. “Are you trying to get my number to call me when I leave this place?”

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” he continued, and you could feel Lottie fuming beside you. “We could go out for a drink sometime, as soon as you let me out of this purple jumpsuit. Unless you’re into that.”

You waited for Lottie to correct him as she did everyone. That it’s heliotrope, it’s not purple. But she never did. Her momentary silence had you turning to her, analyzing her features, and you could see that she was seething.

“You know what, I’ll leave the phone number part blank,” you muttered. “Hope I’ll never need it.”

Lottie slid the man’s schedule across the table to him. “If you find Lisa at the lake, she will explain the rest of your schedule,” she said, her voice level, almost calm. It only confirmed to you how furious she really was, and it made you oddly satisfied.

You almost wanted to laugh at all of it. It was so hard to irritate her, unless someone brought up her time in the wilderness. She could handle anything anyone brought to her, could maneuver every hardship at the wellness center with complete tranquility. But when it came to you, she was a completely different person. Someone could mindlessly brush your shoulder in passing and she would be on top of them, making sure they didn’t do or say anything that would suggest anything but innocence. She was watchful, protective in a sense, and as much as she would try to deny it, jealousy was her greatest fault.

The man receded, watching you as he backed away, and finally turned away to go find Lisa.

“You okay?” you asked, turning to Lottie with a smirk.

“Yes,” she said, a bit too enthusiastically. You could tell the man’s comments had bothered her, and it was only a matter of time before she either went after him or she–

“Can I talk to you in my office for a second?”

There it was. You knew her too well for this to be surprising, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

You nodded and followed her to her office. Anticipation began to claw at you, you knew this game, she was more obvious than she thought she was.

Lottie shut the door of her office behind the two of you, and just as the lock clicked she was on top of you, shoving you up against the wall, her lips crashing into yours. Her hands snuck just under your shirt, finding your waist, and your skin caught fire at her touch. You could feel how tense she was, as if touching you was the only thing that grounded her.

She moved down to your neck, sucking what was sure to be bruises, nipping at your collarbones. You leaned your head back against the wall, giving her more access. The feeling of her lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine. You knew that anyone who saw you later, saw your neck, would know you were hers, and it only deepened the ache building between your legs.

“You’re mine,” she said, and you nodded, arching into her, wanting more. Lottie pulled her hands away from your waist, taking away all contact but still so close, lips hovering above yours, and you could hear your own heart beating wildly. “Say it.”

You met her gaze, saw the look in her eyes, like a storm, the sky tranquil and perfect until provoked. Fury like lightning but the thunder there always to soothe and subdue it, the land below tormented but beautiful, never neglected by the sky, for they are irrevocably connected.

“Say it,” she urged, and you smirked, leaning back against the wall. Her eyes made obvious her desperation, her desire, and part you wanted to toy with it, see how far she would go to get what she wanted. But you knew she needed it, needed to feel and make sure of the control she always had.

A storm, but you wanted it. You wanted her.

“Yours,” you breathed, leaning in to capture her lips with yours. Wanting more, needing more, for she was everything that mattered.

She moved back down to your neck, nipping at the skin. You wrapped your arms around her, grounding yourself, feeling the tension she was carrying melt away ever so slightly. In the heat of the storm, rain is despair, washed away from the clouds above and leaving them anew in bliss.

Without warning, Lottie slipped her knee between your thighs, and you gasped. The sudden pressure had your hips jerking, and your mind short-circuited, and everything was gone in the world except for her.

She made no effort to conceal her satisfaction at your reaction. A prideful smirk overcame her lips, and she watched you closely, seeming almost fascinated, playing the instrument of your body so perfectly as she had done a hundred times before yet still it was as if she was kissing you for the first time, seeing you for the first time.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she whispered lowly, one of her hands coming up to rest at the base of your neck, and the slight pressure in her grip had your mind reeling, everything melting away, and all you could focus on was her hands, her words, her leg between yours.

“You,” you pleaded, fumbling with her shirt, and seeing your frustration she pulled it off, tossing it to the floor, and it was all you could do not to moan at the sight of her. “I want you.”

Satisfied, she kissed you again, and you melted into it — she paused only to pull your shirt over your head. She was intoxicating in every way, and you would’ve lived your whole life drunk on her and only her, for she was the sky and the sea and the stars — rapture, and you were witnessing the glory.

Lottie pulled you away from the wall, pushing you onto her desk, lips never leaving yours. She stood between your legs as she unclasped your bra and let it become part of the growing pile of clothes on the floor of her office. She kissed down your chest, hands running up and down your waist before being planted at your hips as she began to kiss your breasts. Leaving marks just because she could, because she was just as drunk on you as you were on her, and every sharp breath you took and every moan that escaped your lips sent her into euphoria.

Her lips around your nipple — rapture, heavy, setting fire to your skin. Your hands tangled in her hair, her eyes meeting yours, and under the lustful pressure of her gaze you could hardly breathe.

“You look so beautiful like this,” she murmured against your skin, and moved to kiss down your sternum. “My pretty girl.”

She pulled at the waistband of your pants, pulling them off of you. Her hands trailed down your thighs, caressing them, watching you as if in awe, wanting to memorize every inch and curve of your body.

“Fuck,” she murmured against your lips, hand slipping down your torso to feel the wetness between your thighs. “So wet for me, such a good girl.” At the sound of the moan that escaped your lips her breath hitched, and you could feel how she wanted this just as much as you did, wanted to hear the noises you made, wanted to elicit them.

She began to circle your clit. At the very same time you felt relief, finally receiving the touch you'd been craving, but after a moment you realized how much more you needed. “Lottie,” you whimpered, grabbing her wrist. “I need, I… please, just…”

You vaguely recognized the prideful smile pulling at her lips before she slipped a finger past your entrance, giving you a moment to adjust before adding another, working them languidly inside of you. You moaned into her mouth as she kissed you, overcome by the sensation of her fingers inside you, her tongue in your mouth, her other hand coming to rest at the base of your neck.

You knew anyone walking by Lottie’s office could hear you. You kept waiting for her to quiet you, to move her hand over your mouth or whisper in your ear that no one should hear, but she didn’t — and if anything it brought you closer to the edge, the prospect that at any moment everyone could know, know that you were hers, just as she wanted.

She scissored her fingers inside you. The heel of her hand pressed against your clit and you gasped, gripping her wrist tighter as she pumped her fingers inside you, sending you into ecstasy.

You clutched at the desk behind you, nails digging into the wood as you tightened around her fingers, burning pleasure shooting through you and making you shudder. It wasn't long before your release hit, and you came undone, your head falling to her shoulder as you rode out your high, white-hot fire burning through you as the coil in your abdomen finally released.

Lottie held you, running her hand up and down your back soothingly as you came down, whispering sweet nothings into your ear — and whispering that you were hers, only hers, and she alone could do this to you, have you over the edge so fast, and on her desk of all places. The sound of her voice grounded you, her words carving into your soul.

As you began to catch your breath you slumped into her, a moment of indulgence, letting her kiss your temple, rub your back. You let her touch bring you back to reality, and in the simple silence you found ecstasy of a different kind.

You raised your head, meeting her eyes for a moment before kissing her gently. The storm had passed, and these touches were of love.

Rapture.

“Yours,” you said against her lips, a small smile pulling at your own. You pulled away, taking her hands. You hadn’t noticed that she had taken her rings off, that they were on the desk beside you. Carefully you began to slip them back onto her fingers, knowing exactly which ring went on each finger, completely in sync with her in every way.

“Just so you know,” you said, grinning, “I would never be attracted to a man in a purple jumpsuit.”

“It’s heliotrope,” she said softly, though she, too, was smiling. “It’s not purple.”

You shook your head, sighing. “Even worse.”

Rapture, and together you witnessed the glory.

[19burstraat]

queering futurity in crooked kingdom

if I had any real time for this (I do not) I'd be tempted to write a real essay about it, but I have a dissertation and two other real essays for my actual degree, so let's do a bad tunglr bullet point analysis. I'm... largely generalising and paraphrasing here, and I suspect this has a billion things to iron out or that I forgot about, but I hope this might be a bit interesting regardless of how much you may or may not know abt queer literary theory lmao.

in extreme short, there is a subset of queer theory around what is, in essence, queer time. there is a heteronormative future/'futurity', and it is marriage, children, a good job, a nice house, and dying at a good age after a fulfilling life. queer* and trans people both reject and often cannot access this: plenty couldn't/cannot get married or have children, or had to surpass lots of obstacles to do so, many queer and trans people were or are killed young, or died prematurely in the aids crisis. and so we get queer temporality; a resistance to the heteronormative future that is refused or inaccessible, and to reproductive futurism; the concept that people value the future over the present... and this manifests in kicking back against things like the symbolic 'child' as a representative of futurity. not real children, but empty platitudes like think of the children! think of the future for your children! there can also be a development of a death drive, which is sometimes literal and sometimes metaphorical, which is, again, basically a rejection of 'the future'.

while the grishaverse doesn't have homophobia as such, you can still do queer readings, bc it is ofc influenced by our world, by virtue of being Written By A Person From Our World. and especially in kerch, there's still stuff like patrilineal inheritance... buuuut reproductive futurity & friends are very deliberately destroyed by the end of crooked kingdom. mostly by the usual culprit (taps sign that says IT'S KAZ AGAIN LOL) but by the narrative and the other characters as well. walk w me! I don't think this is a real analysis more just a lot of Thoughts but... nvm

*used here as an umbrella term since the theory I'm pulling from is the field of queer theory

the two men (van eck and rollins) who are most concerned with reproductive futurism (having heirs and a legacy, 'building something that will outlast them'), are promptly buried under the rubble of their building efforts by our usual culprit. kaz uses the mentality of legacy and lineage against them both; he kidnaps van eck's pregnant wife to use as a bargaining chip, and he uses rollins's son and heir against him, because he knows what's most important to these men is their line, their work being handed down. he deduces that rollins has a son through rollins' vanity around building something to 'last', and his naming of the kaelish prince. rollins is literally themed around monarchy and descent; the king of the barrel, the kaelish prince, the emerald palace. kaz, for his part, is the bastard of the barrel. the illegitimate son, not produced by any conventional family structure, ketterdam his mother and profit his father... and therefore he is the perfect person to blow up this imagined monarchy

wylan is rejected by van eck for his disability, for being supposedly incapable of continuing his father's legacy; and so we gather that the actual child doesn't matter to van eck, it's what The Child represented to him, which was the future of the van eck company. the illegitimate kaz restores van eck's disowned son to the succession through sheer trickery, and jan van eck's trading empire is succeeded by his son he attempted to reject, and his farm-boy barrel-tough boyfriend. they bring home the first wife that van eck had committed, for failing to produce the 'perfect' heir. no perfect heteronormative future here!

(also by virtue of wylan and jesper being a mlm couple, there is now way less emphasis that can be put on the idea of biological children 'continuing' the line, and it somewhat stops the expectation that ruined wylan's life from being passed down)

the two m/f couples are also very distant from this idealised reproductive futurity. matthias dies, ruining any idea of a 'conventional' future he could have had with nina, and while his death is generally more about the extremist brainwashing stuff explored w the drüskelle, it does blow to shreds that futurity even more, and nina's power is also a very literal HEY GUYS. LET'S THINK ABOUT DEATH... plus she leaves ketterdam to take matthias to be buried at the end of the book.

kaz and inej both do very dangerous jobs and separate for long periods of time. they may marry or they may not, they may have children or they may not, they may be physical with one another or they may not. it doesn't really matter; they'll try, but we don't get to find out how far they may or may not get, which honestly I kinda like. their future is open, the river running carrying inej to the sea. also, inej makes an explicit rejection of this kind of 'normal' future:

So he wasn’t fit for a normal life. Was she meant to find a kindhearted husband, have his children, then sharpen her knives after they’d gone to sleep? How would she explain the nightmares she still had from the Menagerie? Or the blood on her hands?

we don't really know whether or not kaz as a character is queer (I do not think kaz knows either lol) but it doesn't really matter, you can still read him as a queer figure both a) just if you want to! and b) in this sense of queer temporality, bc he's the crux of a lot of it. we already covered the bastard thing and his happy habit of kicking reproductive futurism when it's down, and as Edelman says: 'If the fate of the queer is to figure the fate that cuts the thread of futurity...' well, kaz 'build something new. watch it burn' 'he knew exactly what he was going to leave behind: damage' brekker is our man!

he does not give a single flying fuck about the future. he destroyed van eck and rollins' legacies, and he'll do that shit again. he doesn't have enough of an ego to consider a 'legacy' for himself besides destruction, which is a rejection of a legacy in itself. his plans for the future amount to fucking shit up and making a bunch of money to use to do more damage, until he gets shot/stabbed/hanged/drowned/whatever, which he constantly anticipates.

kaz also has a massive distrust and disdain for traditional family structures, because he's seen them crumble twice; his actual family are all dead, and the hertzoon con was built on creating a convincing family mode to lure them in. "my mother is ketterdam, she birthed me in the harbour; my father is profit, I honour him daily" is a sneer at paterfamilias type families where the mother is there to just give birth and the father is the head of the family, to be honoured and served, rather than loved. he also has zero sympathy for the 'think of the children!' thing, bc he knows it's disingenuous; who thought of him? no one. rollins was happy to con kids with the false promise of family and safety, and all the people he paid off were happy to turn the other way. was there no one to look after you? no, there wasn't. his mother is ketterdam: filthy, feral ketterdam. no nurturing mother has he!

So he threatens Alby and Hanna with no qualms, because while he doesn't actually ever intend to hurt children (...not physically anyway, apparently upsetting them is fair game FJJFJD), he knows the power of the threat— the idea of the child— is often more impactful than the actual act itself. ("Inej, I could only kill Pekka’s son once. He can imagine his death a thousand times.") it certainly works on rollins and van eck! he'll make you think of the damn children alright!

inej takes direct action to defend actual children, not just the idea of them, and then we hear in rule of wolves she's hated by the kerch government for it because she's fucking with their profits. (look also to how they flapped about searching for wylan, one rich man's kid, and are completely useless about hundreds of forced indentures. what a surprise...)

she reunites with her parents, but she worries persistently about whether or not they will accept her for who she has become, and we are never quite told whether or not they do. we like to think so, but we don't actually know. and although she gets to see her parents again, her future is on the wraith, not with them.

most people have dead or splintered families, actually. only inej has both parents, and for three - four years, they didn't have a daughter.

The general proximity to death in general is very potent; nina's power, kaz's whole backstory, the camping out in a graveyard. jesper's recklessness and love for fights, inej being ready to die rather than be a captiver again and kaz's response to that being 'not just yet', rather than not at all...

all following into the whole no mourners, no funerals thing!!! the fact that they know they won't be remembered or cared about if they die!!!

Edelman: 'Choosing to stand, as many of us do, outside the cycles of reproduction, choosing to stand, as we also do, by the side of those living and dying each day with the complications of AIDS, we know the deception of the societal lie that endlessly looks toward a future whose promise is always a day away.'

SOC:

Inej's mother and father might still shed tears for the daughter they'd lost, but if Inej died tonight, there would be no one to grieve for the girl she was now. 

“No mourners, no funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.”

pick up what I'm putting down guys please please I don't have time to tease this out properly but like. I think kaz and wylan are the linchpins here. (again)

[tinietaehyun]

Star Crossed Lovers Rivals ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥✧˚ · .

[Rival!Taehyun x Fem!Reader]

Pairing: Rival!Taehyun x fem!reader

Genre(s): Romance, enemies to lovers, fluff, hints of angst! (Also particularly academic rivals to lovers bc it is phenomenal to read), post-college au. 

Contains: Swearing/Profanity, mild mentions of explicit behaviour (more so tension lmao). (Wow! I’m not writing angst for once!) 

Summary: “Oh just a B? What happened? I thought you were on top of your game? Don’t tell me, you didn’t study?” Your world comes crashing down in shambles as you furiously glare daggers into the raven haired boy in front of you as he condescendingly smiles with his gleaming A+ paper in hand. He was so infuriating; you wanted to punch his handsome face so bad. 

Wait, handsome? God no, you’d rather be caught dead than ever think he was...wait what were you so pressed about again? 

Shit. 

His lips form an arrogant smile, “Cat got your tongue?” Your gaze darkens, “You’re so dead the moment the bell rings.” He brushes past you as he chuckles, “See you after class, sore loser.” 

Surely his heart must be racing just as much as yours does right? Right? 

How could you two ever fall for each other?

—————————••••••••••••••—————————

You miserably scan through your résumé. This had to be your third interview this week. A list of exquisite grades lines your sheet with your very accomplished credentials alongside the many efforts you put into extracurriculars when you attended college. 

Even the work experience you gathered during that time whilst balancing exams, holy fuck! What more could they possibly want from you? For what preposterous reason could you not get a job. You tried to craft the most perfect résumé and it still wasn’t enough. You knew the labour market was competitive but not this competitive. 

Frustration builds up inside you, like a shaken bottle of champagne you knew you were on the brink of exploding. Your crumbling student debt was one issue but the main issue was you had to pay rent very soon and your own savings were surely not going to hold up if you didn’t get a better paying job soon. At the moment you worked in retail (which in summary is terrifying dealing with a plethora of customers- mostly bad).

You let out a pitiful laugh peering back at your résumé. What was the point of working so hard back then? A year and a half ago, you were on the brink of exhaustion trying to reach number one all for a bunch of stupid grades. You competed so hard. Competed with...him. 

You wonder how he’s doing now? You’ve not spoken to him since you left college with a degree in business psychology. He’s probably doing way better than you were. That snobby little arrogant- 

You catch yourself smiling instinctually. Fuck. Your heart feels warm as though a woollen blanket encompasses it. You often realise how much of your college life you spent with him. Not that you’d ever admit it to anyone, you actually missed your senseless and petty bickering. You missed his cocky grin and you missed his glare when you beat him in an exam. 

You let out a sigh; well that time of your life is over. You maybe do regret not using college as an outlet to enjoy yourself and not constantly trying to compete and work hard. You wished you could have gotten to know your so called rival behind his vast array of A+ grades. 

Perhaps you wish he could have gotten to know you too behind your academic achievements.

“Miss Y/n. You may enter for the interview.”

You perk up in your seat shakily clasping at your file. “Ah, yes thank you.” Well, here goes. You tightly grip at your file. You were sure, if you didn’t make it through this interview. You’d keep trying again and again.

You were no quitter.

—-

Your hands tremble as your eyes scan the email. At first when the notification popped up your heart plummeted. You just knew that it was going to be bad news. You tried procrastinating in an attempt to not read it however curiosity got the better of you. Perhaps a tiny fraction of you had an ounce of hope that you’d maybe gotten the job.

You click the email open and begin scanning through the array of typed words:

[Congratulations! We are delighted to inform you of your acceptance at our company. We’ll be glad to see you on our amazing team!]

No way! You blink astounded. You got the job! You’ve finally got a decently paying job! Something you could work with and in a few years time maybe even think about getting promoted to a managerial position. You scan the rest of the email’s details feeling all sorts of jittery excitement.

You’d be starting next Monday. You couldn’t believe it, maybe you had a stroke of luck after all. You started preparing yourself for your new job filled to the brim with gratitude and thrill.

Soon enough the very Monday you had anticipated arrived. Though you weren’t quite as excited as before; now your mind more filled with anxiety and fear at how your first day would go instead. What could possibly go wrong? It’s the marketing department, there’s nothing to be afraid of right?

Your eyes glance up hearing footsteps coming down the sleek modern hallway. You wipe your clammy hands and attempt to look somewhat confident. You had been told one of the employees would be tasked with guiding you around and showing you the general gist of your duties as an employee here. You definitely had to make a strong first impression!

Your gaze meets the tall, ebony-haired figure only for your heart to almost come up to your throat. No fucking way? That surely isn’t who you think it is?

“Holy shit,” the figure comes to a pause a few metres in front of you.

You find yourself standing up; your knees almost buckle. Fate was indeed fucking around with you like a ball of yarn between a kitten’s paws.

The male’s lips curl into the same disgustingly attractive smirk you’d seen thousands of times. “Well, I heard the new employee was over qualified. I didn’t think I’d see you here though. I knew they exaggerated a bit.”

You grit your teeth in annoyance. There it was the ever so condescending tone of voice accompanied with that signature head tilt to the right. You smile overly sweetly, “When I heard someone was going to guide me, I thought it would be with someone more experience.”

He scoffs, “What happened? Didn’t you say you were gonna work for some big company? Become the executive manager.” He’s taunting you.

You lean forward, file in hand with a condescending smirk of your own, “What about you Kang Taehyun? Didn’t you say you were going to become a marketing executive at THE biggest company in the country? This company is big but not the biggest.”

Taehyun’s gaze darkens and his jaw tightens. “Piss off.” You hum delighted, “See not so funny when the tables turn is it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Can’t believe I have to babysit you for two days.” You mutter, “Believe me I’m just as enthusiastic as you are.” A snort escapes his lips. “Yeah, yeah, follow me then.”

He begins the tour of the office. Numerous curious eyes are set on you both as the burden of ‘newest addition to the department’ now dwells on your shoulders.

Your eyes absorb what he’s wearing. A sleek white shirt with a loosened blue tie. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows showcasing his strong arms. It appears he still hasn’t stopped working out since college. How unfortunate for you.

Your cheeks begin to warm. You hated to admit it but since college he’d definitely changed. He’d unfortunately gotten more attractive than he already was. He must be fighting off dates left, right and center. Not that you’d relate. You’d only dated one guy in college (you shudder) you agreed to never think about that memory again. Big yikes.

His dark hair sleekly hung in strands over his forehead with his sharp eyes peering through. Taehyun always had somewhat of an intimidating expression; whether it was unintentional or not you didn’t know. You wondered if through your years together if you ever genuinely saw him smile…

“I’d like you to repeat what I just said.” He sharply shatters your internal conversation. You splutter awkwardly. Well fuck. “Uh…”

Taehyun deadpans at you, “Yeah, fuckin’ thought so. How did you graduate again?”

You sneer. “Oh? You’re asking me that? 2nd rank?”

By the end of your degree after endlessly fighting, when the finals rankings of grades came out he turned out to be second place in your batch whilst you were thrillingly first (by a four point difference but that’s not important).

He sneers, “Mind your tone, newbie.” You snort, “So cringe.” Taehyun mutters, “I was beginning to forget how fucking insufferable you were back then.” You cooe all doe-eyed, “Aw, what a shame. Glad I arrived just in time to refresh your memory.”

He grates his teeth and runs his fingers through his locks. His lips twitch slightly before he spins back around, “Anyway, I’ll teach you how to use the printer and scanner and then I’ll take you to your desk.”

You found yourself smiling. It was odd, all he was doing was insulting you and making sarcastic remarks (you doing the same back,) however it made you feel giddy. It reminded you of the same rivalry you had back then. That rivalry was what gave you motivation to work as hard as you did.

“So that’s about it. If you have any other doubts-“

You interrupt, “Yeah, ask you. Got it.” He scoffs, “No, I was gonna say don’t ask me. Annoy someone else. Or suffer.” You pout, “God, you’re even sweeter than I remember.”

He rolls his eyes and is about to walk back over before you murmur, “Wait.” He raises a brow, “Hm?”

“Uh, actually nothing.” You find yourself slouching into your seat. He gives you an exasperated stare before walking off. A heavy feeling sinks into your heart; he didn’t truly hate you right? What if your attitude was making it worse?

Maybe you should stop retaliating for a bit. You’re coworkers now, not in college. You had to remain professional. Yeah… that’s it.

Another day passes by uneventfully with you asking other people for help pitifully whenever the printer got jammed. It’s not your fault the printer is so shit. (It was an expensive one and it was clearly your fault.)

You groan, “Every fucking time.” Your newest dilemma was trying to adjust to the company software and trying to correctly input in the numbers and formulas in Excel. You were damn good in fact, except for today.

Your numbers didn’t seem to be creating the correct chart. You had gone wrong somewhere with the inputting but no matter how ever many times you tried editing and reading through it, you couldn’t see the problem.

You hear a snicker behind you and you spin your chair around to see the infamous man you wished to avoid. You groan. “Not happy to see me?,” He pouts.

You wave your hand nonchalantly, “Leave me alone. I don’t need your condescending tone behind me.”

Taehyun murmurs with a cocky smile, “Yeah but those charts look shit.” You glare at him, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

He places a hand on the back of your chair as he steps closer. The scent of his cologne climbs up your nostrils overwhelmingly. Shit, he smelled good. Hints of warm wood, bergamot and mint maybe. Whatever concoction it was, it made you almost feel dizzy.

“What’s the issue? Chart formatting or inputting? Let’s check the formulas you’ve put in.”

You huff, “I don’t need your help.” He arches a brow, “Oh really? It’s not like you’ve been sitting for twenty minutes staring at the screen with a look of despair or anything.”

“You-!” You bark. He leans over placing his hand on the mouse almost scaring the shit out of you when his hand brushes against yours. You place your hands on your lap awkwardly. Taehyun was insanely close; leant over your right side using the back of your chair as a support.

You didn’t need help…right? His brows furrow intensely as his maroon irises scan and dart across the screen with incredible speed. He appears to murmur to himself. The intense look of concentration seemed to make your heart palpitate. His cologne enveloped you like a blanket.

“Mm, I think the problem is here. See this, we’ll replace it with another formula, I think it’s easier with this one. Can I shift some of this?” You find yourself nodding along with whatever he says paying attention to him working. He’s clearly gone through the exact same problem as you.

Soon enough the charts start looking much, much better. The way you wanted them to appear. You find yourself feeling defeated. He’s probably thinking of how stupid you are. You peer down at your lap at you mumble out, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t move from beside you and you hear him pleasantly hum, “Couldn’t hear you? Mind saying it again?” You scoff to yourself. What a nuisance! “Thanks, Tae…hyun…” You find yourself stuttering as your peer up to angrily say thanks. You forgot how close his face was to yours.

Taehyun stumbles back up to standing. The more seconds pass and you realise his cheeks are blossoming into hue of red. He clears his throat, “Anyway, good. Be grateful.” You roll your eyes, “Oh my saviour.”

He smirks, “Don’t beat yourself up over this by the way. I know what you’re like. I made the same mistake on my first week here. Obviously not ever again. But yeah, another coworker helped me.”

Was this his way of trying to cheer you up? He knew what you felt? Of course he did. He wanted academic validation and was just as much of a perfectionist as you were. He even saw you at your most vulnerable. It was as though you were two sides of the same sheet of paper.

You find yourself smiling a little too hard. He appears to be staring at you too.

There’s a silence between you two. You expected him to leave. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t let the words leave his lips.

So you do something that you’d never thought you’d do. “Hey Taehyun…do you wanna grab coffee together?”

His eyes that you usually saw as very sharp and murky, for the first time glistened in intrigue. His lips curl into a mischievous smile, “I suppose you do owe me. I can put the coffee on your tab.”

You groan as you stand up after saving your work. “I never said that.” He hums, “You implied it.”

“I didn’t imply shit.”

With that, you find yourself walking beside Taehyun to the company café. He orders a Caramel Macchiato accompanied with a freshly baked flaky croissant (all unfortunately on your tab).

“This reminds me of the time I bought you lunch after you were sobbing because you got your first C grade.” Taehyun grins taking a massive bite out of his croissant. You both sit down and you snap, “Fuck you. First and last C grade by the way. You know how hard I studied for that test! The teacher didn’t like me, I swear!”

He murmurs with a smirk, “Sounds like an excuse to me. I still remember you sniffling and your puffed up cheeks. I think that was the first time I saw you cry, actually.” You whine, “You’re so mean, you know that?” He snorts, “Oh? So you’re not?”

You knew passing was all your parents asked for. It was a hard exam, so getting a C was amazing. You were grateful but…you felt for your own personal standards, it wasn’t good enough. You know better now, of course. You put a lot of pressure on yourself back then. You knew Taehyun did too. How did he handle it?

“You know, it was stupid how hard we competed against each other back then. It was fun, but stupid. We both had huge sky high aspirations but here we are working at a regular company.” Taehyun murmurs swirling his coffee.

You softly murmur, “It’s okay.” He inhales deeply, “Yeah, it’s okay.” He hums putting back on his blunt facade, “Anyway, at least I wasn’t the only one brought down. Here you are.” Taehyun grins, “Think about it, that C grade you got made no difference?”

You glare, “Very funny.” Your mind flickers back to the memory.

“Here.”

You attempt to hurriedly wipe your tear-stained face. You didn’t want him of all people seeing you this pathetic.

“No use in trying to hide that you’re crying.” He sits beside you on the the grass under the tree. “If you’re here to rub it in, kindly piss off,” you sniffle out. “On a normal day, maybe. But…hey. Look at me.” You shake your head. “Oh come on, y/n.”

“You’re not a failure. This is not the end of the world, y/n. You did well okay. Even I didn’t get an A. Our lecturer didn’t teach shit. It’s not our fault.” He huffs out. “Everyone got hit hard.”

His voice cracks slightly, “I get it. I get what your feeling.” You peer up at him with glossy eyes. He holds a sadness in his eyes. At that moment you knew he was also experiencing the same pain as you. It maybe insignificant or stupid to others but to him, he knew.

“As I said, here.” He holds out a paper bag. The smell of food wafts from it making your stomach rumble. Oh yeah, you hadn’t eaten lunch. You peer inside, there was a burger, fries and an ice cream cup. He ordered you food.

“You didn’t have to-“ you splutter. “Too bad, I noticed you didn’t leave the campus to get lunch today like usual. A-Anyway, don’t get used to this treatment.” Taehyun mutters. He brings out his own bag with his own order. He gets himself comfortable beside you as he starts taking his food out of the takeaway bag. “Well what are you waiting for? Go on, eat.”

Your heart races. He was eating with you. Your academic rival, your so called enemy was eating lunch with you. lunch that he bought. Taehyun chews as he says, “Just you wait, I’ll beat your ass next week though. We have a seminar in Mrs Webbs’ class that we’re getting graded for.”

“Yeah keep talking out of your ass. My Powerpoints and presentation skills far supersede yours.” He snarks, “You talk big for someone who still types on Microsoft Word 2010 version.”

“Shut the fuck up, my dad will upgrade my laptop soon I swear.”

You’re brought out of your reverie with Taehyun accidentally slamming his knee against the metal table support. You murmur, “Deserved.”

He yelps, “For what!? I did fucking nothing!” You smirk to yourself, “Yeah I know. Still deserved.” “You act like you’re a twelve year old commenting on Tiktok.” He scoffs rubbing his knee.

“We should do this more often.” You find yourself murmuring. “What slandering each other? Wasn’t college enough for you?” He smirks playfully.

“I mean you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy our bickering?” You mumble sipping your own drink. He leans his head back exaggeratedly as if deep in thought. “Well…I suppose I happen to enjoy it ever so slightly.” You don’t know why but your heart happens to jump around in your chest at the admittance.

“See!” You call out. He rolls his eyes biting his croissant again. “Maybe you’re just a masochist,” he replies with a snark. You gawk at him, “Well you’re the one being mean ninety percent of the time, so maybe you’re a sadist.”

The table goes silent with other members of the nearby tables giving you both awkward stares.

“This out of context sounds really bad you know.” Taehyun clears his throat appearing to find the ground more interesting all of a sudden.

Your cheeks heat up and you scoff, “You and these people around us are just dirty minded.” His eyes narrow and be coyly smiles, “I wasn’t the one who insinuated that they liked being bickered at and insulted. You were. Like being degr-“

You sharply stand up with your half bitten pastry in hand, “Well, seeing that you are being immature, Taehyun. I’m going to have to cut this coffee break short.” He promptly follows behind you. You hear a sound that you’d thought you’d never hear.

It was odd. You’ve never imagined what it was like to hear him genuinely laugh. Yet here you were. You turn around; your arm clasping the strap of your bag. His eyes glimmer as they widen. The sound of laughter that escapes him is so…it’s definitely unique. You liked it. His wide smile as he rushes after you cackling at your embarrassment.

Taehyun’s dark hair bounces as he jogs to catch up to where you stand. “Oh come now, you didn’t have to leave me like that, I wasn’t serious.” You mutter, “Yeah, yeah.”

He looks beautiful when he genuinely smiles. You clear your throat flustered as he catches you staring at him and you start walking off again. “Ugh, wait!”

So it carried on like this, your occasional talks from across your desks became daily bickering. Even both your fellow colleagues were amused by the bickering and other witty comebacks that you both hit each other with. Your once in awhile coffee breaks became eating lunch together everyday.

Of course neither of you would admit that you in fact enjoyed each other’s company a little too much.

“You know he definitely likes you.” You roll your eyes at your colleague Momo. You didn’t want to build up unnecessary hope. He probably thought of you as a friend, a friendly rival that he liked to be witty with. So you shouldn’t raise your expectations either.

You two were rivals to the bittersweet end.

“How can you both be so fucking stupidly smart? Are all nerds like this?” You deadpan at her. “What I meant was, your feelings are very obvious towards each other.”

“Don’t you think it was fate to meet him again?” She was a hopeless romantic; something that you were not. She gushes, “I can see the way he peers at you over the top of his monitor. Whenever he passed by your desk the smile on his lips…ah!”

You freeze, “Be for real right now.” She smiles teasingly, “Why don’t you test out my findings yourself?” You glare, “Must be nice to spectate from the side huh?” She shrugs innocently, “What can I say? You’re the main character here, not me.” You release a drained sigh.

Feelings from the past were mixing into a worrying concoction of hope and romance. Did he truly see you that way? Or were you setting yourself up for failure?

So just like Momo said, you sat yourself at your desk and began to work, typing away. You feel your heart pound in your chest. Your eyes briefly move up across the desk divider and you almost feel the world slowing down to a halt. Just like she said, there he was peering over his computer monitor like a cat peeking over a kitchen counter with its paws.

His immediately peers down at his desk clearly embarrassed he got caught. You can’t help but breathlessly laugh. Your heart flutters uncontrollably. That was the cutest thing you’d seen from him. It wouldn’t hurt to tease him a little right?

Maybe he’d tell you his reason if you just gave him a little playful nudge.

You find him near the filing cabinets a bit later and decide to approach him with a mischievous smile lining your lips. “Hey.” He peers up folder in hand, “Oh hey.”

“Just here to grab some files, the manager asked for February’s reports,” Taehyun hums. He notes your teasing expression and he tilts his head, “What’s got you so high and mighty?”

“The fact I caught you staring at me two to three times over your monitor.” You dramatically sigh, “It’s truly a burden to be so stunning. Even you my mortal enemy, can’t resist.”

“Now what makes you think I’d look at my public enemy number one with heart eyes?” He scoffs closing the file. You hum, “Oh? So, I’m your number one?”

“You have very selective hearing. Might want to get that checked.” He snorts. “You have tunnel vision, because you only seem to be looking at me,” you huff.

His gaze shifts and he tosses the file to side on one of the emptier shelves. Taehyun begins to walk forward speedily catching you off guard. You find yourself stumbling back into another one of the metallic cabinets with an awful bang. Thank goodness it was just you two in here.

You let out a squeak as he suddenly leans over you blocking your attempt to escape. His gaze swirls in a mix of emotions but yet that cocky smile is triumphant on his face as always.

“You know since college, I have to give it to you. I never seen someone with such sharp wit. It’s actually very annoying.” He hums. You’re more preoccupied that he’s got you trapped between him and cabinet.

“Worried someone is gonna walk in? Oh, if they do. You’re gonna have to explain this one. Not me.” He hums. His eyes scan every crevice of your face making you shiver. “You’re the one who got us in this predicament. Now if you would just kindly move your arm-!”

He leans in even closer. You might faint you think. His cologne overwhelms your senses and you hate how attractive he is this close up. “You damn well could have just walked around me; I only have one arm up. Yet you’re choosing to stay.”

Shit, he got you good. You peer away, “Whatever Taehyun.”

“Just admit you like me.” He shamelessly hums into your ear. You scoff, “you first.”

“Oh come on, you were making heart eyes from the first day.” He cooes. You snap back, “No, I was not!”

(Yes, you in fact were.)

“We’re getting nowhere.” He huffs. You glare, “Just say it.” You peer down noticing how close his lips are. He does the same mannerism.

“I have an idea, if that’s okay with you.” He whispers leaning in. You close your eyes, “Yeah. That’s okay.” No more words were exchanged except for a sweet kiss, a passionate wordless exchange of how you and him felt.

After all, you two were too stubborn to be the first to admit it. So what better way then to showcase it than this?

You both walk out of the cabinet files in hand flushed. “So.” You mumble.

“So…” He responds back. “Are we like…? You know? Or was it just an in the moment kind of thing? Because that’s not what I’m looking for.” You spill out all at once.

Taehyun stops walking and starts laughing making you whine, “Oh don’t be like that. Answer the question! It’s vital information!”

“Well my precious rival, it was not an in the moment thing. I was hoping you could in fact be my one and only rival.”

You smile at him, “Rival? Only yours?” He nods, “Only mine.“

“You do know I’m asking you out hypothetically, yes?” He raises a brow. You smack his arm, “Yeah, I’m hypothetically saying yes. Yes. We got that. Are we both clear?”

Taehyun hums pleased, “Then. Then yeah, be prepared. You’re gonna get a date so phenomenal you’ll never find a better man.”

You roll your eyes, “How romantic of you. You sound like a loser.” He scoffs, “That’s not how you should be talking to someone who’s gonna take you out on a date.”

You groan trying to contain your smile, walking beside him, “You’re insufferable.”

He hums with a pretty smile, “I know. You are too.”

———————••••••••••—————

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the king | Min Yoongi pt. 1

Fantasy/historical au, viking au (attempted lmao), Yoongi x female reader

aaangst, female melancholia, sexism, Yoongi is an asshole (he gets better i promise), loss of girlhood :(

cw: writer trying to be funny and failing, typos probably

This chapter is just the intro, just to introduce you to the characters and to explain the motivation behind the main characters further behaviour.

word count: as always i have no idea

The air is thick in the reception room you’re standing in. Your father is looking at you with stern eyes. His face is rock hard as always and so is your mother’s. they had called you in here to talk to you and now you were awkwardly sitting in a chair while your parents tower over you. Everything involving your parents was always awkward. Their mere presence made temperatures drop five degrees, which was a spectacular skill to have in the icecold climate already you lived in. You think you know what this is about. You’re getting married off. Nineteen years under your parents’ roof is enough. You had been waiting for it with a rock in your stomach since your eighteenth birthday because they had married your older sister when she was that age. This was two years ago, and she was supposed to marry the crown prince of the kingdom but then your father and the king fell out over something you don’t bother to understand. Your sister married some other rich man of noble blood and moved away to a town in the middle of nowhere. You had barely seen her since. Your father had been the king’s right-hand man for years until two years ago. Now they were on less good terms, but your father was still an important adviser to the king. The prince had remained unmarried.

“you’re getting married Y/N”. Even though you had seen this coming from miles away the statement still stole the air from your lungs for a second. There was no arguing with your father, this had been taught to you a long time ago. Even if your father had been kinder there would have been no escaping this. A life without marriage was out of the question for a woman of your status. Besides you’d have to be pretty unlucky to end up with a husband who created an even colder environment than your parents. You had observed your mother for years and learned that the best way for a woman to find happiness was to just make the best of it. Quietly undergo the whole ordeal and if you’re subtle enough you can do whatever you want out of the public eye. If you play your husband just right, you could get him to do anything and more importantly get him to let you do what you want. If that wasn’t the case, there were enough tricks to keep him in the dark about whatever you said and did with your friends. “To whom?”, you asked and it felt like those words got stuck in your throat not allowing any air to pass. Who was to decide what the rest of your life would look like? If you were lucky, they’d marry you off to Jung Hoseok, he was the son of another noble adviser and he had been your friend for years. Although you wouldn’t be in love at least you knew you would be safe, which is more than most women could say. “Crown prince Min Yoongi”, your father replied curtly. You almost felt the need to straighten your back at the mention of the prince. He had a reputation for being cold and unkind but at least you had never heard anything about a tendency for violence. “How is that possible? I thought your relations with the king were strained”. “The last harvest in this province wasn’t good, the people are struggling and can barely pay what they owe us, as governor I have to make sure our people survive and the kind could help us, this marriage could be what we need to restore the relationship with the king”. This was typical for your family; everything was explained simply without drama or euphemisms. Not a single acknowledgment of what the impact of this marriage might have on you. They don’t care and you know you don’t have the right to care either. “The king has apparently been fearing a revolt from my side, so he agreed. You can go now”. That was it. This coldness towards you was all you had ever known but you never managed to shake the frog that appeared in your throat every time.

“I found a wife for you”. “You mean the maid that just served us dinner?” “This is no time for jokes Jungkook, your brother should have been married two years ago but because of her father’s stubbornness it took me two more years to find yoongi a bride”. “I guess you’ll be marrying the maid then Jungkook”, Yoongi says without as much as a smirk. “Nobody will be marrying any maids any time soon; this is serious”, the king barks. Yoongi finally looks at his father: “Who is she?” “The daughter of governor Leifsdottir”, “Are ya not quarreling anymore then?” “Stop speaking in that stupid accent Jungkook!”, the king barked again. That seemed to be the only thing he was truly good at. “You sound like an old farmer”, yoongi said and this time with a hint of a smile. “Mother thinks it’s funny”, Jungkook dramatically pouts. “The queen is not in her right mind, quit your fooling around!” dogs could learn something from our dear king. “The governor of Varberg and I have put aside our differences. Besides, we both could benefit from this union. It will keep him calm and in exchange I will help financially, his people are suffering”. “May I at least know her name before you throw me into this joyous union?” “Leifsdottir Y/N” “When are we to marry?” “In two weeks”. Yoongi simply nodded and got up. No point in arguing this, he knew that. Besides, he didn’t care who he would marry, he didn’t care about much anymore. Living with a father sucks the life out of a person. The king did it to Yoongi’s mother and he could feel he was doing it to him too.

On the day of the occasion, you wake up feeling rotten inside. The last two weeks you had spent filled with dread. You never asked to be queen, it involved being liked and that was not your forte. It was so much responsibility that had just been dropped on your shoulders. On top of that you weren’t ready to give up the relative freedom you enjoyed. After this day it would be marital duties and nothing else for you, and as future queen you wouldn’t even have a household to run to keep you occupied. You had met Yoongi once, when he was set to marry your sister. He had visited you here and you had talked to him briefly while your sister was getting ready. Since you had already had the opportunity to talk once your parents hadn’t found it necessary to make you meet a second time, convenient as always. Now you’re sitting on a bed in a room in the palace they appointed to you. You feel like you’re choking, all last night was spent crying and panicking. When you hear a knock on the door you straighten your back, over your dead body were you going to let anyone know how you’re feeling right now. If you were going to be made queen you’d do it well, you weren’t going to spend your first day as queen to be, crying. You’re not a coward.  “Good morning, madam, it’s time to get you ready”. They wash and dress you and your face doesn’t move a muscle. You don’t struggle, there’s no point.

Yoongi casts a look into the mirror as he gets into his formal attire, “Come in”, he says after hearing a knock on his door. “Ready to give the people what they want?”, Jungkook says as he saunters into the room. “Why do there need to be so many people?”, Yoongi exclaims as Jungkook flings himself onto his bed. “You’re the crown prince brother dearest, everyone wants to know who their future queen will be. They need to see if she’s pretty so they can know if they like her”. “Really, they don’t want to know if she has any interesting takes on how to run the kingdom?”, Yoongi asks sarcastically. “If yer gonna be king yer gonna have to get a better perspective of ye people”. “Jungkook stop impersonating your professor, it’s so bad nobody even gets who you’re trying to imitate”. “If this is any indicator of how you’re going to treat your wife maybe I should take her of your hands”, Jungkook laughs but is brutally interrupted by a pillow in his face. “All right mister grump, they sent me in here to tell you it’s time to get you married”.

According to custom you walk from the palace to the church in procession, and since Yoongi is the crown prince everyone is there to watch the procession. You walk beside your soon-to-be husband, when the procession started, you had tried to seek eye contact, but he didn’t attempt once to look you in the face. You might as well not have been there and so you didn’t try to make contact again. You feel naked in your wedding attire. You’re dressed to the nines but every eye in the city is on you, and you can feel it in your chest. Finally, after what seems like ages you arrive at the cathedral’s doors. The high priest is waiting for you with an unsettling smile on his face. He spreads his arms and welcomes you. You and Yoongi stand face to face while the priest starts rattling off what he has to say. You don’t hear any of it, you don’t make eye contact, instead choosing to look at the crown prince’s chest. He might be looking at your face but you wouldn’t know because you refuse to look at him at suffer the same rejection as before. Your father hands you a sword, the sword with your family crest. Yoongi is handed his family’s sword and when the priest gives the sign you exchange swords. In the process, your hands touch for a split second. His hands are warm which is surprising with the freezing cold blowing around you. After that there’s an oath which you mindlessly repeat, Yoongi does the same. The priest stops talking and before you know it the ceremony is over. You’re driven to the palace for a festive dinner and when you walk into the rowdy dining hall you finally wake up. The entire wedding had gone by in a haze, you had barely had a thought since this morning. It was like your brain had shut down in fear of the realisations you would have if you were conscious. When you sat in your chair next to Yoongi’s at a table looking out over the entire hall, the thoughts came flooding in. This was your life now, the quiet well-behaved wife of the king. No more walks on your own, from now on you would be shadowed by guards step you took outside the palace. No more playing with the animals your family owned, no more cooking or baking to calm your nerves. It wasn’t fitting for the queen to be in the kitchen. You would always love to go to the forest and just run or find herbs to use in the kitchen. That too would be over now. You were no longer a girl, you were a wife, you were a woman. The little freedom that girls have women have to say goodbye to. From now on you got to enjoy in the endless performance that is every woman’s life. You feel tears well up in your eyes. You clench your fists, no way would you let them see your weakness so soon, but it was too late. The tears were falling down your cheeks now and everybody could see. You feel Yoongi turn to you on your right. “Get yourself together”, he sneer whispers.

Now is the moment you’ve been most nervous for. Men think that woman don’t exactly know what happens on a wedding night until it happens to them, but they don’t know just how well women have managed to pass on information without them knowing. Behind closed doors and in hushed voices, most young girls are told everything they need to know. You know what’s coming and as rational as you are you know that Yoongi will not give you any love or warmth. You know he will come into your room, barely undress himself and only touch you when it’s absolutely needed. Still, you find yourself hoping that he will be kinder, that under his ice-cold exterior hides a man full of love. That this man would only reveal himself to you and that you would not need to be so alone for the rest of your life. The moment Yoongi enters the room and closes the door you know it’s idle hope. He doesn’t even look at you. “I will not touch you if you don’t want me to, nobody’s going to check”, it’s a kindness you’d never expected. People always acted like it was absolutely necessary to consummate the marriage the first night. You’d never known that the crown prince would go against tradition that easily. Besides, wasn’t producing an heir your only purpose here? “What am I here for then? I thought I was meant to give you an heir. “We have time, the rest of our lives even, besides I couldn’t touch you anyways”. Ah there was the real reason, you weren’t desirable enough, of course. “Well then I will just get to bed”, you said. At that Yoongi walked back to the door. With his hand already on the door handle he said: “don’t cry like that in public again, I don’t need all my subjects seeing that my wife hates me. It’s not good for my reputation. If you can’t control your emotions excuse yourself and deal with them somewhere private”. With that he slammed the door behind him. You were left in complete silence, sitting on the bed. How dare he. As if he wasn’t the one who dragged you from your home to marry him against your will. This is the moment you made a decision. You would never show any emotion in front of your husband. If he wanted stone cold, he could get stone cold. He didn’t deserve to see the vulnerable side of you and so he never would.

@lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes

[demaparbat-hp]

okay so, recently I was replaying a game (won't say the title since this is a minor spoiler!) and at one point a character loses an eye, and there's a section where it shows him struggling to get used to this new lack of depth perception. even though i had an OC of my own who'd lost an eye, I'd never taken something like that into consideration. and then it made me think of your Zuko – and ofc whatever other Zukos have been imagined with a blind eye (which tbh I wish they'd allowed in the show but, oh well) – and how he might have to relearn firebending to some degree in the time after he'd been wounded by Ozai.

I just woke up so I'm not sure if I even had a question lmao but it's been stuck in my head for a little bit but, I also just love fanon Zuko lore that tbh I wish had been canon??

Hello! Partially blind Zuko never ceases to amaze me whenever I see a fanart or read a fic that depicts him like that.

There's a lot to be said about the damage done to him by Ozai, and Agni knows I'm a sucker for visual metaphors. The burn leaving Zuko half blind and deaf works for me as yet another metaphor of his dual nature. A permanent consequence of his father's hand covering his face in an attempt to silence him. To keep him isolated, weak, with only half of himself able to see the world as it is. A Blue Dragon who offers him the chance to close his eyes and rest.

The new lack of depth perception and the Agni Kai flashbacks would have made firebending torture for him. Zuko was already a failure and a coward. What kind of bender is afraid of his own element? What kind of Fire Prince can't stand the sight of a flame?

Healing is a tiring process, and though he may never see or hear as fully as he once did, he now knows fire for what it truly is. Life and destruction—two halves of a whole.

[just-another-t-word-blog]

hello!!! I saw you reblogged my sentence starter thingy and that you write for mha?? was wondering if you’d be interested in the prompt “As soon as I get out of this I hope you know I’m going to murder you.” (72) with lee!bakugo and a class 1a ler of your choosing? hope you have a wonderful day! with love, @thebest-medicine

This prompt has Bakugo written all over it. This is going to be so fun to write!

Also, I’ve followed you for like, ever, so I’m nerding out a little, not gonna lie, lmao

Thank you for the request @thebest-medicine !!

From the prompt list, #72; “As soon as I get out of this, I hope you know I’m going to murder you.”

⚠️ WARNING!!!⚠️ as usual this is a tickle fic. Don’t like don’t read. Thank you 💙

Denki, Kirishima, and Midoria stared in amusement as Bakugo struggled.

The training exercise had been called to break, the trio told to get their fourth teammate free before joining the others.

The task had been simple, teams of four had to capture the other teams flags, which were strapped to each team captains belt. They had been playing defensively, forming a circle around Bakugo (who insisted he had to be captain, since his quirk made it hard to get too close). Before each match, you went up against a different team, not knowing who you would be up against.

They had no idea Sero had snuck up on the rooftop above them, shooting tape down like a web to scoop up the explosive blonde.

So, there he hung, thrashing and getting himself more tangled. He was tilted at a 50 degree angle, the toes of his boots just barely touching the ground, with his front facing downwards and hands tied behind his back.

“Get me out of this!” He roared, pulling hard at the tape. The group snickered, his thrashing less threatening as his hands were pressed against his elbows, meaning he couldn’t set off explosions without hurting himself.

“As soon as I get out of this, I hope you know I’m going to murder you.” He growled, twisting and turning. He attempted to scrunch his chin down to bite at the strap of tape wrapped across his chest.

Midoria smiled, approaching with caution. “Okay, we’ll get you down. I promise it will be okay.” The green haired boy didn’t miss the red gracing his friends features, he was clearly embarrassed about being captured so quickly.

Bakugo sneered, forcing himself to stay still. “You think I’m worried, Deku? Do you think I’m seriously so weak I’d be upset by this?” Midoria paused, making an exasperated face. “Well, I mean, you’re not exactly being calm about this either…”

Bakugo roared again, prying his hands from his arms just barely enough to fire off a few sparks. “SHUT THE HELL UP! YOU BASTARD!”

Midoria jumped back, hands up in defense.

“Will you just let us get you down?” Kirishima chimed in. He waited for the sparks to die down before approaching and placing a friendly hand between Bakugos shoulder blades. “The longer you fight, the longer you’ll hang here.”

Bakugo paused, then hung his head, muttering, but not fighting as Kirishima began picking at the tape with his other hand. He nodded the other two over, both quickly starting to do the same.

The silence of concentration fell over the group as they worked, feeling for tape edges, carefully picking up the ends with their nails and gently peeling it away piece by piece. Bakugo still twitched occasionally, tensing and huffing.

Denki was at Bakugos left, working at layered straps along his side. He felt for the edge, finding it resting on top of his lower ribs between his back and his side. Just like before he began to scratch, trying to lift the edge.

Bakugo lurched away.

Denki stepped back, worried he scratched a bruise. Bakugo began to shout.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, idiot?? How dare you betray me while I’m trapped!!!” The three stared, confused.

“Im sorry man! Did I hurt you?” Denki asked sincerely. Bakugo, surprisingly, blushed deep red.

“You know damn well what you did! Just get me out!”

Kirishima and Midoria looked at the electric hero, watching as he started to grin.

“Ooooh, right. Sorry.” He said, still smiling. He went back to Bakugos side, acting like he was going to work more carefully.

Instead, he found a gap in the tape.

He scribbled his nails right into his exposed side.

Bakugo thrashed again, but Denki didn’t back off. The explosive blonde gasped, but otherwise remained silent. Denki snickered.

“Ah, sorry bro. Does this tickle?”

Kirishima grinned and Midorias jaw dropped.

“I totally forgot! No wonder he’s so squirmy!” The redhead laughed, approaching as well. He did start picking at the tape again, but made no attempt at being careful. Bakugos thrashing increased, strained sounds finding their way out of his clenched teeth.

“Wait, how did you…? I mean, he told you?” Midoria asked, still staring. Kirishima chuckled.

“No, he didn’t. But when you spar with someone enough you get to know their weaknesses.”

A laugh slipped out, but the rest were quickly contained. Deku stepped up, smiling softly at his friends.

“What are you looking at?!” Bakugo managed to get out, a few giggles slipping out with it.

Deku grinned.

“I would watch how you talk to me while you’re like this. We grew up together, remember?”

Bakugo paled visibly.

“Wait, that’s right!” Denki said, looking expectedly at Midoria. “You must know all the tricks!! Tell us! How do we get him really laughing?” Kirishima nodded in agreement, grinning.

“Well, once he breaks, he can’t recover. Even if you give him a break he can’t stop.” Midoria reached out, gently fluttering his fingers around Bakugos neck and ears. Bakugo snorted, shaking his head. He had a smile crawling its way across his face, nose scrunching.

“How do we get him to break?” Kirishima asked, reaching to ruffle Bakugos hair affectionately.

“You can either keep it up, play the long game, and he’ll break, or you can go for a bad spot.” Keeping one hand at Bakugos neck, Deku guided one of Kirishimas hands by the wrist down to his hip. A mischievous glint flickered in the redheads eyes.

“If you’re going to murder us when you get out of this, just make my death quick, yeah?” Kirishima said, squeezing the tissue, testing.

Bakugo squealed loudly.

Different from his usual laugh, he sounded genuinely happy. Out of control, yes, but happy. He laughed from deep in his chest, tossing his head side to side and grinning widely.

Denki reached across to have one hand on each side, scribbling with vigor, while Kirishima knelt to squeeze his hips and thighs. Midoria kept his place around his neck, shoulders, and shoulder blades.

Bakugo kept his eyes squeezed shut, feeling some relief as he let himself laugh. He tried to kick, tried to fight, but he couldn’t get away. His protests came out as incoherent babbling, laced with too many giggles to really be understood.

He could feel his heart racing, his shoulders shaking, but oddly he could feel his muscles relaxing as well. He was embarrassed, sure, but he didn’t feel unsafe. And it was nice to laugh so freely.

Not that he would tell them that.

Fuck that.

Kirishima and Denki, despite tickling intently, still picked and pulled at the tape. As Bakugo thrashed, he could feel the restraints loosening. Peeking, he could see the pile of tape getting larger on the ground around him.

Bakugo forced himself to relax, stopping his squirming and going limp. The trio stopped for a moment, worried.

“Just get me out.” He panted, still giggling. “I’ll stay still, keep going.” The three looked at each other, Deku grinning.

“Tickling also makes him very compliant. If any villains find out about this, it may be his downfall.”

The three snickered, Bakugo keeping his promise and hanging limp.

Starting again, he laughed freely and fought the urge to struggle. The faster he got out the faster this was over.

So he hung.

He giggled.

He snickered.

He cackled.

He squealed.

Then he yelped as the last piece pulled free and he dropped into Kirishimas waiting arms.

Kirishima let him lay there for a moment, holding the giggly heap of a hero. His hair was more of a mess than usual, red eyes glistening with mirthful tears, face flushed. The three smiled.

Then the blonde promptly exploded.

The three bolted, scattering in different directions as Bakugo scrambled to chase them.

“I TOLD YOU I’D MURDER YOU ASSHOLES!! COME BACK HERE AND DIE!”

[bl00dlight]

EPISODE 8 - THOUGHTS

I dont think this was Ryan's intention but by attempting to make Aemond seem more deranged and 'humanise' everyone else, the show has accidentally made Aemond seem the most rational on team Green LMAO. Like? Yea no like, this episode - no baby g I get you. What the fuck is going on?

Also likeeee why is he the only one making sense? Like no I think he actually was kinda justified in being really upset - obviously not to the degree of.... well uhhh.... mass murder... BUT in terms of being fed up with Alicent. No he is totally right. Alicent was the one who incited this war, she indoctrinated him and Aegon from birth to fight it, to go against Rhaenyra... and now that he is basically going up against like seven other dragons, he has NO choice but ask Helaena to fight because??? What else is he going to do? Sit around and die? And Alicent is just lowkey like "oh well there is another way" and it's like well... no the fuck there isn't girl. And you know what? Even though I get why Helaena refuses, Aemond DOES also have a point that - from his perspective, she has to take action as Queen and show a united front. He is basically fighting the war alone. So like? Girl I'd be mad as hell too if my sister had a big ass dragon and she refused to help. He definitely could have gone about it a different way, like uh... not assaulting her. But in principle he was fully justified in asking her. I mean look if it were me I'd be ready to SUIT UP AND SAY SIR YES SIR. but I'm a slut for the man so....

I think accidentally the show has become less tragic now that they continue to centre the show as Rhaenyra and Alicent's story over Rhaenyra and her siblings. I don't really want to see Alicent remorseful yet because... that's going to take away from her story overall and her arc when the dance is finally done? It was tragic in the books when Alicent's final wish was to be able to see her sons and daughter again. Like... I just... I mean okay hbo.

Criston Cole ate this episode. I loved his speech, I thought that whole scene was perfect. And honestly? Yes slay, finally he is cooking because I wanna die too rn King.

Helaena... I'm not sure what the fuck is going on with her and Daemon? I avoided those leaks and yea... that was weird as hell. Like even his face was like? What the fuck are YOU doing here? We've really spent no time developing her powers at all... and it's irritating to me. Because why would she be connected to the weirwood? Is this purely for the fact that she'll haunt Aemond once he gets to Harrenhal? Or.... was that just something fun to throw in there?

The CGI on the white walkers was.... I mean... clearly all the budget been going to the Velaryons wigs cause they have been EATING it up.

Speaking of that I love Rhaena so fucking much. She's become my new favourite on the Blacks. However not showing her claiming sheepstealer is a criminal offence.

Jace was eating again. He spoke nothing but facts and I get why he is mad too.

Ulf is fucking annoying.

Daenerys has always BEEN that bitch and will always be that bitch. So clock that.

Alys is??? Again... helping the Blacks? So... what does that mean for her relationship with Aemond? I guess... well, I guess I can only assume she'll be working to lead him to his doom, right?

Rhaenyra slayed a little but I hate this cult leader thing. It's so weird, I want my rage filled mother who mourns her son.

Aegon... I miss him for some fucking reason. But weird mention of his dick being chopped off.

Still no sign of Maelor.

Daeron yea yea I know everyone is quaking but it doesn't really matter since? I mean... this is unpopular opinion - but I'd rather he be cut then bring him in and have him be super irrelevant and take up precious screentime.

The pirate shit was fun, but three whole scenes? Again? THREE ENTIRE SCENES... when we still need to wrap up major plot points? Couldn't that have been achieved in two scenes?

Allyn ate Coryls up and I'm glad about it. That's what you get for being a deadbeat dad and cheating on your wife.

Love Addam, whom also ate Ulf up. I absolutely am pro Addam atm.

Baela being useless again.... which disappoints me... but at least she got another scene with Jace, instead of giving her an arc that explores the complexities of her relationship with Daemon.

And well...... Simon? His ass is cute and quaint.

Anyway, a part of me is lowkey excited to see Aemond fuck shit up. I honestly. I know I talk about what a shit bitch he is but, girl I LOVE HIM. Like LMAOOOO his ass so crazy and mad and as the youngest sibling myself, I lowkey get why he is so fucked off with his useless ass family. I don't blame him at this point because if my mother did that shit to me after priming me for 18 to go to war and now she is basically like 'oh no I'd rather go skip in the fields' girl.... it would be on sight.

That being said this was a solid episode with some beautiful moments. And as always 99% of the actors were incredible, the score and the cinematography was unbelievable. And if this were episode 8 out of 10 I would be UNBELIEVABLY excited. But because it's the finale... I feel a tad underwhelmed.

I am going to go back and rewatch this season to check in and see how it flows. But yea, it is missing that magic season 1 had. I'm not sure what it is.

[luminaryvinestaff]

I AM THAT YANDERE SCYTHE PERSON WHO ASKED FOR THE YANDERE SCYTHE THAT YOU ACCIDENTALLY DELETED

Here is another request you can ignore if wanted LMAO

Yandere scythe hcs. .

Scythe calls it tough love you call it kidnapping. . When she found out about her own feelings towards you she avoided you at first making you confused on why she just started walking away from you out of nowhere, But eventually she'll come back and be even more clingier than before. She'll lock you up once she realizes that she's getting jealous whenever you interact with other people.

Scythe will gladly explain all the gorey details on her newest victim— Purposely exaggerating and maybe even making it even more gruesome just to watch you cower in fear, Scythe often times chuckle at your reactions while she voiced the persons last words before they were met face to face with her weapon.

Scythe's behavior towards you changes unbelievably fast, One moment she's all over you— Looking at you with such adoration that it makes you uncomfortable question if she's really the person who locked you up in some abandoned warehouse, The next she's acting all cold with you and mocking your begs of freedom and concern towards the people she killed. . She'll sometimes throw insults at you during this, Scythe's like a ticking time bomb with her behavior.

You do no wrong in scythe's eyes, Even if you're attempting to escape or just straight up insulting her she still forgives you! . . . Atleast to some degree. Sometimes your behavior or thrashing gets out of control and she just needs to put a little discipline on you— Said disclipine is her recording herself killing off your loved ones, You'll be seated beside her and she'll be holding your wrist with a iron grip, Atleast you'll learn your lesson!

Literally thinks you two are in a relationship, If she doesn't resort to kidnapping then she'll just straight up manipulate you into creating this image— Or facade of her. . She'll make you think that everyone is unreliable and your only source of comfort is her, She'll suppress a smile or two at your ramblings about how your friends are ghosting you or just blatantly ignoring you in general.

Vines extra's ;; She force feeds you. Thank you for listening to my ted talk.

[l0serloki]

you probably know who i am at this point <3 but i love it so much as it’s addicting bro- so, if you do not mind, please, kindly, can i ask for Cassidy with a s/o who loves his accent/voice (i personally have a slight southern accent lol, it comes out really bad when i’m upset or talking quickly)

tysmmm, i love you and your works so much! <3

Cole Cassidy Accent HC's

CW : A bit sexual in the blurb (heated kissing, lmao), uhh GN!Reader

A/N : I LOVE YOU TOO!! I STOPPED WHAT I WAS WRITING TO DO THIS BECAUSE IT WAS SUCH A GOOD IDEA. ALSO,,, I have a southern accent too - I tried getting rid of it but.. same as you, it comes out in some words/quick talking/upset LMFAO. Southern siblings unite T-T

I feel like his accent gets worse as his emotions get high 

He has random words that don’t even sound like English (I.E. washcloth/warshclarth, aisle/ai-ill, quiet/kwai-eit.)

If you point it out he will constantly remember it and try to not flare his accent as much/or over-flare it depending on the mood. (I feel like he can get flustered and embarrassed with his accent. He definitely has had people call him stupid for it.)

It makes him flustered when you compliment him though!! His face gets all red and he won’t meet your eyes (such a cutie)

He’ll read to you or tell you stories about his missions before bed because he knows you love it and it calms you. He’s just glad you feel safe with him and love him to that degree!!

Be prepared for the pet names too. I feel like the regular ones he uses are sugar, sweet thang, or buttercup. He’s quite the smooth talker ;^)

Overall, he’s such a sweetheart and it makes his heart soar that you love his accent!! Please give this man compliments, he deserves them <3

“Sugar, where did our blanket go?” Cass had moved, rummaging around in the bedroom drawer. You felt a grin appear on your face, his thick accent making you giddy. You continued to watch his failed attempt to find the blanket, hands thrown up in a defeated sigh. 

You giggled as he climbed into bed, arm yanking you into him. His lips brushed against your cheek, pressing light kisses to the flesh. “What’re ya’ laughin’ at, huh? You think I’m funny or something?” His eyebrow shot up, and you could only cackle harder at the look. “Yeah, considering you’re laying in the blanket you were looking for.” Cassidy’s whiskey hues glanced down at the bedsheets, face going red. “You done made me for a fool, huh? What a little minx.” His rough hands splayed at your waist, pulling you in for a soft kiss. 

“Mm, you taste good buttercup.” Cassidy separated, eyes meeting yours. Your hand migrated to his fluffy locks, lips kissing at his browline. “Your accent is cute. Keep talking like that and you’ll have me wrapped around your finger even more..” His breath hitched, eyes looking at anything but you. “Yeah yeah, whatever ya’ say. I ‘preciate it, sweetpea.” His awkwardness was a new sight. You rubbed circles into his chest, easing his anxieties, as the two of you drifted off to sleep. 

Who knew that your confident man could be so shy when he got complimented? This opened a whole new world of opportunities for you..

[captainsimagines]

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

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

Pairing(s): Halsin x Durge Drow Tav

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

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

Total Word Count: 30,000 +

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

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

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

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

xxMoni

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am no stranger to the city.”

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

“Do you want me to leave your side?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind?”

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

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

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

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

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

“It doesn’t show off my curves.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not hate so easily.”

“You hate goblins.”

“They threatened my people. People in need.”

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

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

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

“And do you regret it?”

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

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have.”

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

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

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

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

They had something in common, then. 

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

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

He smiled again. “You would not succeed.”

“I take that as a challenge.”

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

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

“Annoying brat of a drow.”

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

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

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

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

“Perverted.”

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

“Gale would certainly—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that’s what desires you?”

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

“Not at all what I meant.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Poetic.”

“I’ll leave the poetry to Wyll.”

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

“I gave you all colors, you know.”

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You just admitted it to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Halsin wanted to punch Duke Ravengard in the fucking face. 

“And me?” he asked.

“Guess.”

“I assumed green, to be honest.”

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

Something foreign fluttered in his chest. “Gold?”

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

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

But he was sunlight to her.

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

“What color am I?”

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

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

“A silver menace, am I?”

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

“Ripples are the consequence of a disturbance.”

“They are proof of influence.”

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

---

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

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

“Get away from him!”

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

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

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

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

“What? What’s happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I am sick.”

“You are fighting,” Jaheira clarified.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Silver also promotes healing.”

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

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

They didn’t say anything else. 

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

---

“Um, excuse me? I can’t find my mum.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

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

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

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

“Sounds like your mom’s dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gale cooks for us.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t know yet,” she said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t think you so ugly.”

He said it before his mind weighed the consequences.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“Do you hate me?”

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

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

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

“I am quite beautiful.”

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

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

“Don’t your friends tell you?”

“They’re not my friends.”

A blatant lie, Halsin thought.

Yenna frowned. “Oh. That’s sad.”

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

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

“No, shit. I have functioning ears.”

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

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

Tav, the silver ripple in the water. 

“I’m dangerous, kid.”

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

“Besides that.”

“And a Sharran—”

“She’s reformed.”

“And a vampire!”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s your tent?”

“Right next to Astarion’s.”

“Good. Vampires don’t die easily.”

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

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

“What about the Githyanki?”

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

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

“And she’ll go down first.”

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I remember enough.”

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

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

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

“Step through me, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tav's jaw tightened. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Tav,” Halsin whispered, squeezing her hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have no opinion on the matter.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

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

“Let’s see what Gortash has to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

He bowed slightly. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

“Is it wrong to doubt our abilities?”

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

He chuckled, “Advice, more like.”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

“Get away from me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The red glow was hunger. 

Astarion was no longer hungry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

A quiet, garbled gasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Tav—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“None of your business, tree-hugger.”

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

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

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

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

“Which is?” Wyll pressed. 

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

“Mol,” Halsin grumbled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stupid assumption.”

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

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

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

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

“This is no place for a child."

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

“Is leaving Mol here helping her?”

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

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

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

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

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

Easier said than done.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lorroakan would be dead before the sun set. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

“Orin is a different breed.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Is your Oak Father free?”

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

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

“Forgiveness is something all gods offer.”

“But do I deserve it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you want to kiss your victims?”

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

“Do you see Orin in those memories?”

“I see her laughing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like to kiss me?”

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

“I can teach you.”

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

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

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

“And you want this?”

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, pity then?”

“Because it would be your choice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come back to me, little one.”

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

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

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

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

Gods save him, good or bad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded, and he moved his hands up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tav.”

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Halsin froze, and his stomach rotated when Minthara’s voice answered the vampire.

“Lies, Astarion. You haven’t pleased yourself in weeks. You have the wizard to thank for that.”

Astarion choked on his retort, but said nothing to contradict it.

---

“You’re here. Orin was telling the truth.”

Tav crossed her arms as she glared at Gortash, clicking her tongue when she noticed his eyes wandering. She was wearing thin armor today, tight around the waist and non-restricting around the neck. Halsin had stared for a long while before they had left their rooms, readjusting his trousers when she purposely bent down to grab her weapon of the day. She had winked, lifted her skirts to expose her thigh, and whispered a promise of lifting it higher when they returned. 

Now, as Gortash made a meal of her, it unsettled something greedy in Halsin. He had no right to shield Tav, but there was grime in the villain’s eyes. And he was done convincing himself he would feel this affected with just any lover.

Tav ignored Gortash’s initial surprise, allowing Wyll to take the lead.

“My father, Gortash. Let him go—”

“Oh, but I wasn’t talking to you, Wyll Ravengard,” Gortash snapped, a smile still playing on his pale lips. He gave Wyll an unimpressed once-over, then turned back to Tav. “My favorite little assassin… Tell me, how has the holiday been?”

"I could've done with less cultists, you absolute lunatic."

Wyll held his breath.

“I know it was Orin who kidnapped me from Baldur’s Gate. I want to know why.”

Gortash wasn’t exactly handsome, especially not when he frowned. The action seemed to drag his stress lines further. But he held himself like a man with power, and with power came confidence. 

“By the gods, they weren’t kidding. You truly don’t remember any of it, do you?” he said, huffing a simple laugh, one that scraped the walls of Halsin’s skull. “Why, it was us who orchestrated this grand design in the first place.”

The entire audience hall seemed to freeze as they processed Gortash’s outlandish claim. 

Tav swallowed, her lilac cheeks losing all color. “What?”

He made his way down the stairs, his robes swinging with each powerful stride. Tav stood her ground, but Karlach pointed her long ax at the new Archduke. Halsin inched closer to Tav as well, but he was more mindful of the rattling Steel Watch targeting Karlach.  

Gortash dismissed the metal monstrosity. He stood close enough now that Halsin smelled the city and a hint of rosemary on him. 

“The tadpoles, the brain, opening a Hells gate, the cult, everything. And Orin went and betrayed you, wanting the stones all to herself. Betrayed us.”

“It was… It was me? All of it?”

“Our raid of Mephistopheles’ lair will be spoken about in the Hells for centuries.”

“The crown…” Tav whispered, the memory of its abduction no doubt swimming in her mind. Then guilt clouded her features—for all of it. The infestation, the deaths they caused, Gale’s obsession with Karsus’s forbidden magic. She was spiraling, blaming herself for all it—

“My pretty little mastermind,” Gortash practically purred, raising a hand to gently swipe it down her cheek. Halsin growled, a low glimmer of gold coming off of him. Gortash grinned savagely. “I have tried to keep everything in order in your absence. All the things you entrusted me with.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Karlach screamed, alerting some Flaming Fists. Again, Gortash dismissed them with a simple wave.

“How do you know him?” Karlach inquired further.

Tav turned to the tiefling. “I—”

“Don’t tell me you forgot. Orin really did a number on you, didn’t she? Always a lapdog, she was. Begging to be Bhaal’s chosen ever since she learned how to whine. But she is careless, and too distracted.”

Gods, it made so much sense. The tadpoling center under Moonrise, Orin’s vendetta, Gortash’s odd truce. His chest ached with the need to hold her, to remind her that that wasn’t who she was anymore. She had changed, brought about a change in Astarion, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, Minthara—

Him. 

If he could take her away from all of this, meet her in the afterglow, he would sprint and never look back. She had done so much good these last few months and Gortash’s jealous speech was a threat to her already fragile sanity. 

“You… You worked with strategy. You had a purpose. You were determined. I tolerate Orin, but I liked you.”

He followed Tav’s distressed gaze to the golden glove encasing the purple netherstone. 

The gold hand.

“We worked all through the night, you and I. Perfecting this scheme. When you disappeared, I admit I worried for your safety,” Gortash said, his irises darkening. “I missed you.”

Halsin didn’t have to move—Tav reached for his hand and gripped it tight. Gortash noted their connection, but his smile only grew. A more tame twin of Orin’s, it seemed.

“What was I to you?” Tav insisted. “What were you to me?”

“This cannot be happening,” Karlach cringed, several dramatic gags accompanying her declaration.

Gortash rolled his eyes. “A travesty Orin erased so much. Perhaps I shouldn’t reminisce with your companions present.”

“Tell me what I did.”

Karlach gave an incredulous gasp of protest, but Tav remained adamant. 

“What you did… Enthusiastically, might I add. Seeing you now is overwhelming. The way your lips tasted, how your eyes would roll to the back of your head, your neck bared for me. I heard there is a spawn in your company… Do you give your neck to him? Do you scream for him like you screamed for me?” 

Tav snarled as Karlach exclaimed, “Liar!”

“Do not be a child, Karlach,” Gortash snapped. “Tav and I, two adults, were together even while you were by my side. I’m surprised you never met.”

“A secret,” Tav confirmed, though her statement came out more as a shameful question.

“It saddens me that you don’t remember anything but that. Perhaps we can come to an agreement over this Ravengard business.”

“What did you have in mind?” Wyll chimed in, seemingly unmoved by the revelation. If his relationship was something other with her, Halsin would too disregard Gortash’s claims. Tav’s past sex life was none of his business, neither was it Wyll’s, but the fact Gortash had such a lively role in it… The one living soul Tav remembered touching…

Something dark stirred in the pit of his stomach, its claws begging to rip open its cage and eviscerate his opponent. The bear had disemboweled plenty of enemies, but this one—this one Halsin wanted to tear apart with his bare hands.  

Gortash lowered his voice as he spoke next, enough of a signal that the surrounding Fists turned their heads. 

“I will hand over Duke Ravengard right now with a promise to keep him safe, if…” he trailed off, bowing his head to chuckle. “Listen to me bargaining. How unbecoming of me. I am a dealer, not a trader.”

“Speak plainly, Gortash,” Wyll pushed, the hair-raising tone causing Gortash’s brows to rise.

He turned to Tav. “If you agree to spend the night with me, Ravengard walks freely.”

“No deal.”

They were the first words Halsin had spoken since entering the audience hall. He couldn't give less of a shit for intruding on what was obviously Tav’s decision. 

“Halsin—” she hissed.

Gortash laid an elegant hand over his own chest. “How marvelous! Does he speak for you? Is no your answer, too?”

“It’s a no because I don’t want to touch you.”

“You begged for it before.”

Tav bared her teeth. “I won’t anymore.”

“Wyll? If you’re anything like your father, you’ll have some sense. Your father’s freedom, for her cunt.”

Wyll recoiled, his disgust multiplying as Gortash raised his hand yet again to brush Tav’s cheek. This time, however, Halsin shoved the man away. 

And was promptly held back by two Fists. Thrashing, Halsin fought to keep the bear within.  

“May the gods smite you, Gortash. May this land turn on you in your hour of greatest need,” Wyll threatened, taking the words right out of Halsin’s mouth.

Gortash raised a single brow, unimpressed. “Interesting company you keep nowadays. If you won’t give me what I desperately crave,” he drawled, causing a visible shiver to crawl up Tav’s spine, “then we shall explore other roads.”

“One more word from you and I will kill you.” The Fists were hesitant to grab Karlach, and the look she shot at them severed the idea completely. "And that was a trade, you dumb motherfucker!"

“Oh, but you’ll want to hear this, Karlach. I am on your side. I want nothing more than to save this city and rule side-by-side with Tav here. I am a fair man. And to show you I am a man true to my word, I shall warn you.”

“Threats? Seriously?” Karlach fumed.

“Not from me. By now you’ll have found out that Orin is a shapeshifter. And I warn you that she will strike soon. One of these nights, when you feel safest, she will deceive you.”

“And what do we owe you for this information?” Tav spit, lifting her chin.

Finally, Gortash intertwined his hands behind his back, seemingly aware that Tav was not going to take his absurd deal. Strangely respectful in that sense. 

“Kill Orin, reclaim your birthright, and make an ally of me.”

“Despicable piece of shit.” 

Gortash gestured at the Fists to release him. Halsin remained where he was, and he could have sworn relief flashed across Gortash’s face.  

“Kill Orin, bring me her stone, and I might just prolong the protection of your father, Wyll.” He turned back up the steps, his confidence stitching itself back into his body as it realized the audience was still looking at him. “Think about it, Tav. I am no liar, and my respect for you knows no bounds.”

That night, Tav drank herself to sleep and took residence in one of the booths downstairs. As annoyed as Alan was, he didn’t force her to leave. With the candles blown out, Tav remained curled-up on her side and blissfully unaware of the world around her. Responsibilities that once shackled her were drowned out, reality but a speck on the horizon. 

Halsin covered her with a blanket before retreating to the steps in the far corner. He sat at an angle where he could see her, foregoing sleep, and did not leave until the hangover roused her.

x

Part 2

[beevean]

Honestly, as unfamiliar as i am with the broader sonic lore, seeing people say Eggman Nega is the actual evil guy compared to Eggman sounds silly. Iirc, in the Rush games both were cooperating to wreck the dimensions for their megalomaniac dream, and even both chafed w eachother occasionally over their massive egos. There's no particular moment where Nega does something that Eggman wouldn't/hasn't done, nor a moment where Eggman disagrees for non selfish purposes. Tbh it feels like they just saw the designs and decided Nega's outfit was more evil lmao

It's all based on this one scene from Rush Adventure:

Dr. Eggman: Nooo! Curse you, Sonic! Eggman Nega: Haa ha ha ha ha! It's time to die, fools! Dr. Eggman: Nega?! Wait... what are you doing...?! Eggman Nega: HAAA ha ha ha! Dr. Eggman: What? No! You're mad! Don't push that button...! Eggman Nega: Planet-Buster Laser, FIRE!

An earlier line:

Eggman Nega: Now, the world shall be my plaything! I shall bring about an age of fear and chaos! And it shall be glorious!

And his plans in Sonic Rivals:

Eggman Nega: [Takes out camera] All I have to do is transfer the energy to the camera on my rocket, and I'll turn this whole planet into a card! Silver: What!? That means my future would be destroyed as well! Eggman Nega: [Takes out a card] If I can't change the future, I'll simply destroy it! There's nobody who can stop me now! Farewell.

In short, Eggman Nega is seen as more insane than Eggman because he, like other villains, want to destroy the world and is not above trying a murder-suicide stunt. It's a classic argument, that Eggman is "softer" because he merely wants to conquer the world :^)

Have a TvTropes as a treat:

Foil: To our own Dr. Eggman. While both scientists are incredibly arrogant utter jerkasses, the good doctor we all know and love is frequently shown to have a degree of rationale below his surface of hamminess and immaturity most of the time, aiming to rule the world rather than destroy it. Nega, by contrast, comes off as soft-spoken and relaxed on the surface but thrives on destruction and lacks any sort of restraint. Also, whereas Eggman tends to walk off his various defeats and try again after a brief fit or two, Nega is a Sore Loser unable to handle the humiliation given by failure, and would be willing to blow up the planet if it meant he could get a win.

The Sociopath: Unlike the goofy Eggman, who despite being evil, has shown to have some form of self-restraint, Nega is completely devoid of empathy and his dream is to turn the world into a playground of destruction.

Viler New Villain: Intended to be what Eggman would be like without his more sensible or endearing traits. While Eggman'll pull an Enemy Mineso the world doesn't get destroyed, Eggman Nega is Ax-Crazy and wants mass-destruction in his plots (if destruction isn't his flat-out goal). And in contrast to how Eggman's goofier traits hide a somewhat pragmatic schemer, Nega's seemingly collected persona hides a stark raving lunatic.

"some sort of restraint" which is why he attempted to nuke Station Square in a fit of rage and even went to detonate the missile itself when it failed. or why he fired a warning shot at the moon. or why he split the entire planet into pieces to awaken a world-destroying deity. or why he attempted to tame a time manipulating abomination with the purpose of eliminating Sonic from the timeline. much restraint, very morals.

Look what they focus on. Eggman is goofy, while Nega is more "suave". That alone makes Eggman look less threatening. Once again, it's all about the Vibes. Who cares if Eggman is not above murder and enslavement, if he's funny about it?

[reiding-writing]

Hiii, I absolutely loved immortal it was adorable!

I was wondering if I could request a fluff fic w Gn!reader where when Spencer goes to the swing set after the whole thing with Cat at the restaurant reader also goes there maybe to read a book and it’s a whole meet cute kinda thing cause it’s one of his favorite authors or smth?

sry for the long request I was trying to be specific lmao😭

swinging [ s.r ]

Summary:

You attempt to find your usual late night escape in the empty play park late one evening after an argument with your boyfriend, instead you find a handsome stranger that you find oddly endearing.

WARNINGS: shitty boyfriend (not spencer obviously)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: fluff (kinda hurt/comfort)

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: i love hyper-specific requests man don’t apologise 🫶 also college is kicking my ass and that’s why this is so short sorry 😭

“It’s a little late for a play date don’t you think?”

Your comment clearly catches the boy in front of you off guard, his head shooting upwards and his eyes wide like he was in a state of fight or flight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” You take a second to admire the man in front of you through your apology.

His hair was fluffy, bordering curly, and long enough that it was getting caught in his eyelashes as he blinked up at you.

His eyes were big, round, and practically glistening in the warm lighting of the lamp post to your left.

He was dressed in a finely pressed black suit fit with a baby blue shirt and a lilac tie that made him look like he’d walked right out of one of those rom-coms where the male lead is a prolific billionaire.

He was gorgeous.

“I came here to wallow in my own self-pity but it looks like you beat me to it,” You can’t help but chuckle softly at your own explanation. “Do you mind?”

You gesture towards the swing besides his with a book held in your left hand and a soft expression, as if to silently tell the beautiful stranger in front of you that if he wanted to be alone that you would feel any offense.

“Uh- yeah- no- no, go ahead,” You don’t even try to suppress the smile that creeps its way onto your face at the way he stumbles over his words, and you take a seat on the swing next to him with a chuckled “Thank you,” as you turn your head down to the open book in your lap, just illuminated enough under the lamp post so you can read the words on the pages.

Any distinguishing factors, including the book’s title were unceremoniously hidden from view as it blends into the night’s shadows, effectively halting curious effort of the boy next to you to figure out what it is.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for you to feel his lingering gaze, and you follow it down to the novel in your hands before you show off the cover in his direction.

Paramenides by Plato.

“Have you read it?”

Your voice stops his psychoanalysis of your literature choices as he turns his eyes back up towards your face again.

“I have actually,” He nods softly at you with a pursed, slightly awkward smile, the contours of his cheek bones perfectly captured in the dim lighting. “I read it when I was doing my Philosophy degree.”

“No kidding-“ You let out a small laugh in surprise at the fact the cute stranger encroaching on your usual pity party venue just so happened to have a degree in Philosophy.

He also just so happened to have an absolutely beautiful laugh, the sound like a song in your ear as he joins you in laughing about the absurdity of the odds that the two of you both had a keen interest in philosophy.

“So, what brings you out here so late then?” You seem to lose interest in your book as the two of you make eye contact, shutting it in your lap as you turn your shoulders towards him. “No, wait, let me guess, shitty date?”

The boy lets out a breath that could almost constitute as laugh, averting his eyes from you and leaning towards slightly to awkwardly run his hands over his legs. “Something like that-”

You give him a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Don’t let it ruin your perception of romance, it’ll work out in the end,”

The boy’s eyes turn up towards you once more as you speak, and your smile becomes a little more awkward as he meets your gaze once more.

“You don’t look like you believe yourself…” His words leaving you blinking softly in his direction, facial expression full of confusion.“Your relationship isn’t going very well at the moment is it?”

Your expression morphs at his question and he immediately backtracks, waving his hands around as he tries to pull back the conversation.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- I’m-” He takes a sharp breath in through his nose before attempting to actually speak a full sentence to you. “I’m a uh profi- A behavioural analyst- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i’m so sorry-“

“No it’s alright,” It was your turn to awkwardly drag your hands down your legs now, fingers curling over the edge of your book as you reach it and fiddle with the metal plating on one of the corners of the cover. “You’re not wrong,”

You can practically see the curiosity in his eyes as you confirm his suspicion. “Is that why you’re here?”

You can hear the cautiousness in his tone as he presses you further, clearly scared about crossing a line, “You said you came here to ‘wallow in self-pity’ earlier…”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of your earlier statement as he repeats it back to you. “We uh, had an argument,”

You play it off as something insignificant, but you can tell that he doesn’t believe you and soon end up finding yourself spilling the entirety of your relationship problems to someone you’ve never met before.

“He has this best friend that he’s like weirdly close to and he stood me up on a movie night we were supposed to have so they could go out together instead-“ You sigh exasperatedly as you replay the nights events in your head.

“I called him to ask where he was and it spun into him yelling at me for ‘not respecting’ his friendship because they’ve been friends longer than we’ve been dating, it’s stupid really-“

“That’s not stupid at all,” He shakes his head determinedly at you. “He’s not respecting your relationship, i’m sorry you have to deal with that,”

You can’t help but feel minorly guilty for making a stranger feel bad for you, but you give him a soft “Thank you,” nonetheless.

You unfortunately don’t have time to continue your conversation as your phone buzzes with a message from your boyfriend telling you that you have to go home to your shared apartment.

With a sigh you pick yourself up from the swing, clutching your book underneath your arm.

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” You trail of the sentence with indication for him to fill in the space with his name.

“Dr. Reid- Spencer Reid- Spencer- I’m Spencer....”

You can see the flush spread across his cheeks and over his nose as he stumbles out his name.

“I enjoyed speaking with you Spencer,” You give the cute stranger, Spencer, a soft smile as you prepare yourself to leave, hands stuffed in your pockets.

“I enjoyed speaking to you too,” He returns your smile with one of his own, albeit one that’s slightly more awkward, and you can see his mouth fall open again as if he was going to say something else, but his words fall short.

“Good night,” Your stopped in your walk home almost before it even starts as Spencer calls after you with a new found confidence.

“Wait-“ His voice echoes through the empty play park, and you turn around to meet his glistening gaze once more. “Am I- going to see you again?”

His half-awkward demeanour was oddly charming, eliciting a soft smile that spreads to your eyes.

“I like to read here sometimes, bring a book with you and maybe we can read together…”

Spencer smiles at your indirect invitation to see him here again in the future, and he nods softly at your answer, standing from the swing he was sat on to mirror you. “I’d like that,”

“Good,” You give him another soft smile that joined by a slight tilt of your head. “I’ll see you soon then..”

“Yeah…” Spencer stays stood as he watches you leave to go home, mind running at a million miles a minute as his brain fully comprehends what just happened.

You’re already out of sight before he realises that he forgot to ask for your name.

[kyufessions]

Missing Person

synopsis: you’ve been happily dating your boyfriend, mark lee, for the past two years. but what happens when all of a sudden your best friend sends you a missing persons article and your boyfriend is listed as missing for the past three years?

pairings: boyfriend! mark lee x g.n. reader

genre: thriller/horror

warnings: blood, knives, killing, physical fighting

word count: 7.1k

a/n: in no way do i depict any member of nct like this, especially mark lee. i just wanted to write something dark for halloween so here we are. i had many ideas for this one but decided to make it shorter lmao. hope you enjoy ~

taglist: @joyumo @lovingvoidgoatee

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana

rain drops pelted the train window as you stared out into the setting sun, creamsicle skies mixing with a vital red that brought your nerves to a halt at the scenery behind the glass. normally you’d hate the summer rain, since it always seemed to ruin any plans you had, but being stuck inside this moving train with thirteen hours left with nothing to do but binge watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine reruns on Hulu and take occasional naps made you realize that maybe it wasn’t all too bad- maybe there was some beauty in things that you hated. with pink sweat$’s 17 playing at full volume in your airpods and a mug full of hot cocoa in both of your hands, you felt like you were in some romantic film. you know, the pretty individual staring out into the trees as they admire the fast-moving world outside all while the handsome stranger across the way from them is admiring their effortless beauty. and, truth be told, that’s what was happening. you just didn’t know until you saw someone sit across from you at the corner of your eye, making you turn your head to greet them and ask if you had bothered them in any way.

the handsome stranger smiled at you, making you smile back as you removed one of your earbuds from your ear to give him some of your attention. his blonde hair swooped over just above his eyebrows underneath his navy blue beanie that complimented his blue and white striped button-up, a white tank top underneath it. the way his smile brightened up his face made you feel comforted, almost like a warm hug. you watched as his frames fell down to the tip of his nose, making him scrunch up his nose in an attempt to bring them back up to their previous position.

a giggle escaped your lips as you watched him before speaking up. “hello, may i help you? did i bother you at all? i’m sorry if-“

he shook his head in disagreement, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “no no, you didn’t. you just seem pretty chill and i wanted to say hi, if that’s alright.”

for the rest of the ride, you both sat in those spots talking about everything yet nothing all at the same time. he told you all about how he was moving across the country due to getting an amazing job offer fresh out of college, and you exchanged your story as well with him as if you had known him for all your life. you told him about your family, your pets, and the reason for you moving across the country as well: transferring from a two year college to finish off your degree in psychology in a four year university. with each word that left your mouth, he listened with great intent.

and that’s what he did for your entire relationship. he always listened, always showed how much he cared, and never made you feel less than. even during his busiest days in the music studio where he co-wrote songs and even produced some days, he always found the time for you regardless of his schedule. and vice versa; with your busy college schedule and part time job you always made sure to make time for him as well. whether it be study dates where he helped you study for upcoming exams or texting him during work when you were able to sneak onto your phone for five seconds. your dorm mate even got so used to mark staying over that he ended up having designated days where he would spend some nights. but they never minded since he always brought over snacks and dinner for you all.

Mark Lee was a dream come true, a prince charming if you will. Everyone seemed to love being around him and having him in their life, whether it was the occasional meeting of a stranger in line to get coffee and he pays for your drink during the early morning rush or a friend that you kept close to you because he changed your life for the better. Everyday you were reminded of just how lucky you were to have someone like him in your life, even before you both made it official and made your switch from strangers, to friends, to partners. Mark as a partner was even better than you could’ve imagined: flowers and chocolates after a long hard day of exams or work, movie nights where he feeds you pepperoni pizza when you’re half asleep and halfway done with the movie you picked out for you both, little encouraging notes in your lunch bags, even offers you massages when you’re feeling stressed out from everyday life. He was the textbook definition of the perfect boyfriend; you couldn’t ask for more or less from him.

On your one year anniversary, he even wrote you an entire song dedicated the past year and a half together, from when you first met on the train to your last special occasion spent together. He even made a small picnic for you both in his personal office space where he produced and wrote his music, accompanied with a woven wicker full of watermelon, two mini cakes baked from a local bakery you both frequented, along with champagne with tall glasses and other of your favorite foods. Alcohol entered your body as you listened to mark sing to you his song, a slow beat playing through the speakers and his fingers strumming on his acoustic guitar. his small raps cut you off guard but in the best way possible; you loved everything about his sweet gesture and felt yourself falling more deeply in love with him.

on your second year anniversary, he made you another song. but not only did he sing it to you, he sang it to you in front of others on the piano. he had rented out a restaurant for you both to enjoy endless meals for the night, dressed up in very fancy attire that you knew you’d only be able to wear a handful of times before growing out of it. an hour down and reminiscent memories being shared between you two, he randomly got up from his seat and walked down to the grand piano in the middle of the room. you watched him in confusion, your head cocked to the side as you asked him what he was doing. he just smiled at you lovingly as per usual, sitting down on the bench and cracking his knuckles quickly before he started singing along to the melody his fingers played. tears welled up in your eyes at the gesture, his words stinging beautifully as you listened to every confession. falling in love with mark was the easiest thing you had ever done.

two and a half years later here you both were, sharing an expensive loft in the city while working your dream jobs. all the while happily together without any pressure of future marriage or kids from family and friends. your life was perfect, utterly perfect. if anything it was more storybook, something only young kids dreamt of. a happy couple with well paying jobs living in a big city, accompanied with the presence of a five month old ragdoll kitten. everything seemed perfect.

today was just another morning, or so it seemed. only difference was you both were working from home today. mark had his own room to work in when he had to focus on his work while you worked in the bedroom or kitchen; you didn’t mind not having your own space since mark kept his distance when you were busy at work. on days when he worked as well, you both forgot about the existence of one another while you worked for a bit. but with being so secure in your relationship neither of you minded at all.

kissing his puffy morning cheeks, you rubbed your thumb along the stubble on his chin as the rising sun illuminated his soft facial features you never got tired of waking up next to. you watched as he scrunched up his nose lazily, fluttering his eyes open slowly to allow his eyes to gradually adjust to the bright rays. the chirping of birds were mere background noise to the tired chuckles your boyfriend let out as you attacked his face with wet kisses, causing a gleaming smile to spread across your lips.

his arms laid around your waist securely, bringing you closer into his bare chest. “good morning to you too.” he mumbled, his morning voice deep and somewhat raspy.

you pulled your lips from his cheek and down to his lips, pecking it a few times before pulling away and allowing your head to hit the pillow once again. “morning, handsome.”

he shuffled under the sheets, throwing his legs over the end of the bed and rising to his feet. you watched as he slipped on his glasses, adjusting them on his nose as he turned to look down at his partner. he couldn’t help but smile at the sight below him on the bed: you with your head in your hands, staring up at him admirably with a cheeky grin and your morning bed head sticking up in different directions. “pancakes for breakfast, my love?” he questioned as he leaned down to place a soft kiss to your forehead.

the small gesture made your heart flutter immediately, causing your smile to grow wider. “yes please.” you responded, swinging your feet in the air dramatically.

he just ruffled your hair playfully before turning on his heels and leaving the room to start on the pancakes he just promised you. standing to your feet, you grabbed some fresh underwear, sweatpants, and a shirt of mark’s before walking down the hall to the bathroom. as you turn on the hot water, you hear the rustling of the pans in the kitchen on the first floor. you undress out of your clothing, tossing them into the dirty hamper and stepping into the steaming hot shower. with the door cracked slightly open, the sweet smell of banana and cinnamon pancakes fill your nose making you feel more awake and ready to take on the day full of zoom meetings and article writing. you hum to a tune mark recently showed you of his recent work he was planning on sending to a big company for approval, excited to be able to hear another hit of his on the radio and secretly knowing it’s your boyfriend who wrote and produced the song. mark being a ghost writer only hurt when you were reminded you couldn’t show off his creations to the world, other than that you were always very supportive and constantly told people of his career- you just couldn’t expose which hit songs he wrote and produced and for who.

even though mark was very friendly and popular locally, he was also very secretive about certain things such as his past and family. he was very brief about his siblings and childhood, only ever sharing about how his parents lived in canada and he barely spoke to them due to a falling out. whenever you asked, he dismissed it and said it wasn’t important since it was ‘all in the past’. whenever you asked how his childhood was, his regular bubbly personality changed to one full of tension. his frown was evident and eyes full of sorrow, making you change the subject to something else entirely that brought back the mark you had always known. so you never pondered much on the thought of it since everything else he did for you drowned out his secrets.

stepping out of the shower and onto the fluffy carpet on the floor, you dried yourself off with your velvet black towel and walked up to the mirror to start doing your morning routine. multiple steps later, you slipped on your clothing and matching house slippers with your boyfriend that he surprised you with last weekend. you rubbed some product into your hair before walking out of the bathroom and down the industrial spiral staircase, shuffling towards the soft vocals of Bazzi that bounced off the walls of the small kitchen. the sight of your boyfriend in his matching slippers, naked torso, and plain black boxers made your face light up. as previously stated: everything was perfect.

you shared a breakfast with him for the next hour as the cat took turns napping in each of your laps, ultimately deciding to sleep in yours for the last twenty minutes before you switched positions to start your work. mark happily cleaned everything up, not one complaint leaving his lips as he hummed quietly to himself as to not disturb your workday. you caught him catching glimpses at you as you attended a zoom meeting and waved bye to him off camera as he left the room to go do his work for the day.

you always wanted to see his personal at-home office, see how he decorated it or even watch him work his magic. but that was another secret he wanted to keep to himself, always making sure to lock the door behind himself as he exited and entered. he even went as far as to get a code lock for the door and not letting you know the code. one time you even tried every combination it allowed you to while he was out running errands but failed at every attempt you made. curiosity struck you from time to time at what he was hiding behind that wooden door, but you never questioned it since you knew it wasn’t any malicious intent behind it. i mean, he could never do anything wrong. he was mark lee. your loving boyfriend of two years who never did you wrong. so why would he start now?

by the time your zoom meeting ended, it was three in the afternoon and time for checking emails. logging into your emails, you noticed one labeled IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ ASAP from your close friend, jungwoo. he had become a close friend during your time in college, then when you both got accepted into the same company you both became even closer; you now thought of him as a brother. you automatically opened the email, concern flooding your brain as to why he emailed you in all caps at three in the morning. he was always known to be an early bird, even in your college days, so this was very unexpected and a bit odd. nonetheless, you opened the email and read his message attached with a link to a webpage.

i know it’s late, i’m sorry. but you need to see this. let me know when you get this.

was all it said above the link to a missing persons webpage. you clicked it, unsure of what she seemed so scared of in her email. but once you opened the page and scrolled down a bit, you understood. it was a bunch of different people, raging from missing for as long as five years to three months. but somewhere along the middle, you stopped.

impossible. this has to be some kind of sick joke. the face on your screen has to be some edit that one of your friends made as some distasteful prank. but the type of friends you had rarely pulled pranks and if they did they were minuscule and forgetful. this, this was different. an evil prank if there ever was one.

down the hall, the familiar creaking of your boyfriends work studio door was hearing opening. as his footsteps jogged down the steps towards your direction, you quickly shut your laptop closed and started packing up your items, pretending you had finished all your work for the day even though it wasn’t even four in the afternoon yet. the feeling of his arms wrapping around your body from behind startled you, making you jump in his arms at the sudden contact.

“woah, are you good babe?” mark asked you as he moved his face down towards yours, planting a quick peck to your cheek before pulling away to stare at you lovingly.

the pit in your stomach wasn’t comforting in the slightest, if anything it made you want to vomit up all your emotions onto him and run away from your shared apartment. but you couldn’t do that; you had no idea what would even come of it. there had to be an explanation to all this.

you put on your best fake smile, pecking the lips you’ve loved for the past two years that suddenly felt more cold than warm. “sorry, was deep into packing everything up. i just finished for the day!” you attempted to sound excited that you had finished for the day, smiling from ear to ear and believable as you could.

luckily, it worked. mark had a voice telling him something was wrong with you, that something was up, but he ignored it because he trusted you with every fiber of his being. his one hand moved from your body to your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “so early? i thought your work day ended at four thirty?”

“it does,” you started as you wiggled from his grip attempting to stand up from your seat at the dining table. thinking of an excuse to throw him off your trail, you said it in an aggravated tone to show you were at least somewhat serious. well, you weren’t. but you didn’t want him to know that. “but i forgot one of my files at the office for tomorrow and have to run to go get it really quick.”

he just nodded, running a hand through your hair as he placed another loving kiss to your jaw. a fake giggle left your lips, a fake giggle that seemed nothing but real to your boyfriend. he might not buy what you’re selling him, but he knows there’s nothing malicious behind your potential fake lie. if anything he assumed it was for a surprise for him. “tacos tonight? my treat, i’ll place the order online for pickup.”

“sure babe.” you grabbed your briefcase and shut it tightly before walking out of the kitchen and towards the front door to slip on some sneakers. “taco bell or the taco place off of Woodbury and 15th?”

“Woodbury and 15th, duh. they have the best tacos around.” he followed behind you like a lost puppy, watching as you threw on your jean jacket and grabbed your keys from the key hook. “what time should i place it for pickup?”

you looked up in thought, pondering what time it would be best. “four thirty sounds good enough. should be done picking up my files and make it there in time for it to still be hot enough for us to eat when i return. do you need anything while i’m out?”

with a swift shake of his head and a goodbye kiss, you exchanged ‘see you later''’s as you exited the apartment and went down into the parking garage to your car. when you entered the vehicle, you threw your briefcase that you didn’t even need in the backseat so you could grip tightly onto the steering wheel in frustration.

why was your boyfriend, mark lee, on a missing persons list? and why did it say he went missing nearly three years ago? you tried convincing yourself it was a stupid website, a dumb website someone made up to trick you and get a laugh. but it was also an official government website so it couldn’t be fake. it was real. too real.

holding back tears as you drove down to your friend's home, you pulled into his parking lot and ran straight into the building. texting or calling him hadn’t even crossed your mind, you needed to talk to him face to face about this. how did he even find this webpage? when did he find it? was he just as confused as you were? nothing made sense and you just needed answers, any answer that remotely made sense would do at this point in time. within the first two knocks you were face to face with jungwoo, walking straight past him and into his living room with no hesitation in your step. you waited till he closed the door to even attempt at speaking.

“what the fuck?” was all you could say as you stared into the eyes of your distraught friend, taking a seat on his couch before putting your head in your heads.

he made her way to you cautiously, making sure to stay his distance since you seemed so upset by the news. “i found it last night and sent it to you right away. it makes no sense. im just as confused as you are.”

his hand resting on your shoulder brought you comfort, not much comfort but a pinch of what you were craving from anyone but mark- if that was even his real name. “i don’t know what to do.” you turned to face him, small tears streaming down your face that he subconsciously wiped away with his thumb. “do i ask him about it? i mean i met him two and a half years ago and it says he went missing three years ago, so i met him six months after he was reported missing.”

jungwoo shook his head right away. “no, don’t. we don’t even really know him-“

“i do-“

“no you don’t.” he interrupted, his voice remaining as calm as possible. “nobody does. i mean, what if he ran away from doing something terrible? what if he hurt someone?”

“he wouldn’t do that!” you yelled, more tears stinging your eyes as your best friend spoke. you watched his expression change to hurt, making him back away from you and over towards the other end of the couch. “no, i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m just- he just seemed so lovely. maybe it’s a misunderstanding?”

he picked up his nearly empty wine glass, taking a sip as he leaned against the armrest. “for three years?” watching you crumble in front of his own eyes made his heart break into pieces; he never wanted to see you like this. “listen, i did as much research as i possibly could before passing out on my laptop and made a google doc about it, i could share it with you if you’d like and we can go over it together tomorrow? when you’re more calm.”

nodding in agreement, you wept in his arms for a bit before leaving his apartment and driving off to pick up the tacos mark ordered in. as you walked up to the vendor, he asked if you were okay since it seemed you were crying. you reassured him you were okay and there was nothing to worry about, smiling along with your lie to try and mask it as a truth. he didn’t buy it but gave you your tacos after payment anyway and wished you a goodnight, telling you to tell mark he said hello.

you made sure your face look somewhat normal before exiting the car and heading towards the elevator of your shared apartment, fiddling with the plastic bag out of habit due to your nerves. as you opened the front door, you plastered on your fakest, brightest smile so mark wouldn’t suspect a thing. and he didn’t, at all. his head shot in your direction as he laid across the sofa, jumping to his feet to go greet you and help you carry in your tacos and briefcase. his lips that greeted you no longer felt like safety, but instead of betrayal.

“missed you, babe.” he commented as he made his way into the kitchen, his smile never leaving his face.

“missed you more!” you shouted in reply, hanging your jacket back up before making your way to the couch to plop down in thought. how were you supposed to act normal around him, knowing he’s a supposed missing person?

the next morning you woke up an hour earlier than normal, wiggling your way out of your boyfriend's grip and quietly making your way downstairs to start the coffee and make some eggs with bacon. as you slipped on your morning cup of energizer, you read the google doc jungwoo had shared with you the previous night. you were reading every bullet point and reading every article he attached.

each article and point he made was more shocking than the last. one article mentioned how there was a late teen who went missing in ontario, canada with an attached photo of what seemed to be a younger version of your boyfriend. you couldn’t even attempt to convince yourself it was someone different- the resemblance was uncanny. the only difference was the name in the article was Minhyung Lee instead of Mark, but besides that there were no differences. a different article went on to explain his childhood, how he was always a troubled kid who always found himself in detention or in different juvenile detention centers. it continued on explaining how despite all of those challenges, he was such a great guy up until the incident.

the article never went into detail or said-incident, but it mentioned the slaying of three family members. reading just that small blurb left you sick to your stomach, but even more so after it explained that after the bodies were discovered in his home he was never seen again. how if anyone ever came across him to not interact or draw suspicion, but instead dial 911 and inform authorities of his whereabouts.

you were so caught up in reading the article you didn’t even hear mark coming down the stairs and enter the kitchen, grabbing a mug from one of the cabinets and starting to pour himself a cup.

“you okay, babe? what’s wrong, bad nights sleep?” he questioned, breaking you out of your daze.

your eyes immediately darted to him, smiling warmly at him to withdraw suspicion of you being awake so early. “you could say that again.” closing your laptop, you made your way over towards the stove and moved the fully cooked bacon and sunny side up eggs onto a plate for him. you turned to face him and noticed him already dressed for the day, taking one last swig of coffee before grabbing his keys from the small bowl on the island counter.

he noticed your confusion and then the plate of eggs, frowning apologetically before grabbing a piece of bacon and shoving it into his mouth. “i don’t have time to eat this morning, i have an important meeting then a long day ahead of me. i’m sorry, i should’ve said something sooner.”

you shook your head in disagreement, leaning over to peck his lips before placing a small one on his cheek. “it’s okay, just make sure to eat when you can and to let me know when you get to work so i know you’re safe.”

he mumbled a soft ‘shit’ as he realized the time, noticing that if he didnt leave now he would be late. he placed his mug down swiftly before placing a sloppy kiss on your forehead and running out the door. normally you’d get giddy about him running late while seeming very professional, the sight being too cute for you to handle. but that pit in the bottom of your stomach wouldn’t leave no matter how much you wish it did. you wish everything was just some sort of sick nightmare and that your loving boyfriend of two years wasn’t some sort of potential killer from canada who’s been missing for three years.

as soon as he left, you called your friend and luckily he answered. you went over the facts you both found, or more so he found and you caught up on. jungwoo comforted you the best he could over the phone, saying you both would figure out a solution together. when you told him mark was gone in the studio all day till late, a lightbulb went off on top of his head.

“try sneaking into his office.” he suggested, running a nervous hand through his hair.

your eyes widened at the thought. “what? but i’ve tried every possible combination, it’s useless.”

“but what if he used the anniversary of the day he committed the crimes?”

you bit down on your lip, pondering for a moment. “but we don’t even know the date-“

“july twenty fifth.” he interrupted. “one of the last articles i sent you mentioned it, but i’m guessing you didn’t finish reading it all?”

“no, mark interrupted me before i could finish the whole doc.” you sighed, ultimately deciding to take on your friend's idea and walking up the stairs towards his at-home studio. “if i’m going to do this, please stay on the phone with me.”

jungwoo reassured you he wouldn’t hang up at all, and he never did. you tried the numbers of the date he provided, but the red blinking light signaled it was wrong.

“it didn’t work.” you mumbled, biting on the inside of your cheek nervously.

“instead of 0725 try 2507, switch it around.” your best friend suggested, anticipation stringing through his words.

after typing in the numbers backwards, the green lights signaled you could open the door and enter inside. wasting no time, you swung open the door and was greeted with something you didn’t expect. it didn’t look anything like a home studio, but instead a lonely mahogany desk with piles of different color coordinated folders and files scattered across the top of it with very few sitting on the floor around the chair. stepping inside, you looked around and noticed a duffel bag sitting at the corner of the room near the window that was closed off with wooden panels. you slowly made your way over there, being cautious not to step on anything or move anything out of place.

the bag itself was already zipped halfway open, allowing you to be able to peek inside and notice some bloody knives sticking out of the side. your eyes widened, making you take a few steps back into the closet of the room. when first buying this loft, you hadn’t noticed this particular closet. but granted you haven’t been inside this room for several months now so you might’ve forgotten it. but since you let your curiosity get the best of you, you found your fingers sliding it open and being greeted by nothing. there was nothing but black clothing, extra sneakers that were also black, but that was until you noticed something dangling from the ceiling: a small rope. you knew you shouldn’t open it, you knew you should’ve just called the cops or even answer your friend who was still on the phone screaming at you to answer him, but you did the stupid thing you knew you shouldn’t have and opened it.

down came a set of wooden stairs leading up to something that seemed to be an attic, or a makeshift attic of some sorts. as the stairs came down, some movement was heard and a light popped on in the middle of the room. you took in a big breath of air before climbing up the dingy stairs and peaking in the room. inside seemed empty, nothing but an extra mattress and a few boxes. but when you heard some shuffling from the corner behind you, you whipped your head in it’s direction and noticed a man sitting there chained up to the wall.

the sight alone almost made you drop your phone but thankfully you tightened the grip on it which caused it to stay in your hands. the man’s eyes widened as well, trying his best to say words but failing to do so as a ball gag was in his mouth. in the background of all this was your friend on the line, asking what all the commotion was. it wasn’t until he said he was going to send the cops that you spoke up.

“this is so much deeper than we thought, jungwoo.” you said to him, making him yell a ‘what’ on the other end. “send the cops. give them the code to my apartment door. tell them there’s a man in the attic.” was all you said before hanging up on him.

leaving your best friend in confusion, you fully pulled yourself into the attic and crawled over towards the scared man. although he was excited to see someone else for a change, he was also scared you were part of what mark had going on. he cowered in fear, backing up into the wall as he watched you remove the ball gag from his mouth. he was unsure whether to scream or just stare, so he opted out on just staring at the stranger in front of him.

you stared back, not sure what to even say to him. “what’s your name?” you asked him, putting the ball gag to the side of him as you stared down at his condition. his clothes were dirty, ripped at some edges and obviously had been worn out for quite some time now. the sight made you frown, tears welling up in the back of your throat. but you kept them down, you had to for this stranger that was being held captive by your boyfriend for some unknown reason to you.

“taeil. moon taeil.” he replied, his voice sounding dry and broken. “who are you? please help me, i’ve been up here for months.”

suddenly, you heard the front door of your apartment open and mark shout out that he forgot something and apologizing for disturbing your work. eyes widening, you slip back on the ball gag as tears fall from his eyes, quiet mumbles of disagreement falling from his lips being heard from him before you tighten it on him. you quietly pull up the rope to hide the stairs, making sure it closed tightly before shuffling around to find a place to hide. you ultimately decided on the abnormally large yet dusty toy trunk in another corner of the room, unlocking it quickly and squeezing in as tightly as you could before you heard mark pull down the rope to enter the attic.

you heard him tsk as he crawled up the creaky wooden steps, an obvious smile on his lips as he spoke. “you’re lucky this room is soundproof, you're moving around way too much for my liking.” he said, his tone different from his usual one. this one was threatening, more scary and off putting.

taeil’s muffled cries were filling the room, earning a small laugh from mark. this laugh was different as well, very sarcastic and something fueled by rage. “i have a proposition for you, taeil.” you heard something being picked up from the floor, earning a loud muffled scream to be heard from the chained up stranger. “tell me where they are, and i won’t kill you tonight like i planned.”

your eyes widened. he couldn’t possibly be talking about you, could he? no, it’s impossible. you’ve been quiet this whole time, and you made sure to not leave a trace that you had been in his ‘studio’. your mind flooded with what he was referencing, but everything kept pointing back to you. and what does he mean tonight? is that why he was staying at work late and encouraged you to go out and have fun with audrey? so he could sneak home early and get rid of taeil?

a shake of some chains could be heard, signaling taeil had shaken his head. “come on, i know they’re in here somewhere. i saw on the camera, now where are they?” fuck. you didn’t even notice any cameras. “if you tell me, i’ll let you go right now.”

another shake of the chain and you soon heard footsteps approaching the toy trunk, meaning taeil gave you up. as much as you wanted to hate him for telling mark, you probably would’ve done the same if you were in his situation. you could’ve sworn your breathing stopped as you heard the lock twist on the toy trunk, soon the dim lighting of the attic showing you your boyfriend with a knife between his fingers. he smiled down at you, not with love or admiration but with something sinister.

he shook his head with a chuckle, kneeling down to your eye level as he teased you with the already bloody knife. the blood seemed recent, and when you glanced over at taeil for a split second you noticed a fresh mark across his chest that was dripping from a fresh wound. attempting to mask your fear was no use, even if you did try your hardest to. mark was able to see right through you, the mark you thought you knew.

“how’d you figure it out, huh?” he brought the knife down to your cheek, trailing the cold metal along your cheekbone with gradual pressure. “how long have you known?”

his evil smile never once left his face, making your insides churn in disgust. you swallowed hard before responding, mentally yelling at yourself not to stutter as you replied to his questions. “FBI’s missing persons list, i’ve known for two days.”

“two days and you’re already getting this nosey? tsk tsk, babe.” the knife trailed down to your jawline, the pressure starting to sting when it starts to draw some blood. “you’re so cute, trying to save little taeil over here but he gave you up without a thought thinking i’d actually let him go.”

screams were heard through taeil’s ball gag, making you both turn to look at him as tears fell from his eyes. without a thought, you quickly kicked mark in the face with your foot with a swift yet hard kick. watching him fall onto his back and the knife slide across the wooden flooring, you jump out of the trunk and run towards the knife, picking it up and climbing down the attic stairs. an aggravated groan was heard from mark as you touched the floor of his supposed studio, running out into the hall and hearing him follow behind you shortly after. you heard him scream after you followed by him grabbing at the shirt you were wearing that was coincidentally his. he pulled you back harshly, causing you to slide across the floor and towards the industrial stairs with the knife falling down to the first floor.

you crawled backwards down the stairs, kicking at him as you attempted to escape. eventually, he fell back onto the floor once more which gave you a few seconds to jump to your feet and attempt to run down to first floor and out the door. but before you could, mark was quick to his feet and grabbed your shoulders. he tried to push you over the railing of the spiral staircase, but you were a fighter. always were, and always will be. you fought back just as hard, even if half of your body was dangling off the edge of the railing and his hands around your neck in attempt to weaken you. in one motion, you brought your knee up to his crotch hard which made him groan and loosen his grip on you. taking this small window of opportunity, you pushed him back and off of the railing successfully.

the noise it made when he fell made you cover your ears, the crack and imagery of his body limp out across the floor with blood pouring out at a rapid rate made you nearly vomit. you slowly made your way down the stairs and towards the front door, not even sparing a glance in the direction of your boyfriend. before you could

turn the handle, the door swung open and in front of you were policed officers with their guns pulled out accompanied by your best friend. all the officers rushed past you and into the apartment while you fell into the comforting arms of jungwoo, your tears finally escaping from your eyes.

you sat on the balcony of jungwoo’s apartment as you read the new article written about mark. it was ten months after the incident had occurred, and people were still writing about everything that happened; even youtubers were making videos about it and netflix and peacock both reached out for documentaries or a dramatic remake of your trauma. of course you declined, even if the seven digit numbers they offered were the tiniest bit tempting.

the full story about mark shocked you to your core, because the mark that you met and loved all those years was not the same mark who tried to kill you that day. after fleeing canada successfully, he took the next amtrak train out to the farthest city and figured he’d wing it when he got there. which he ended up doing successfully. he ended up meeting poor taeil, becoming close friends with him and eventually masking as him in daily life. taeil was a fresh college graduate starting at a new company, and after mark found that out he decided to chain him up in taeil’s own apartment for months and stealing his identity. he posed as taeil at work and did a damn well good job at it. then once you both decided to move in together, he moved taeil up to his ‘at home studio’ attic and the days you thought he was working from home, he was really torturing taeil up in the secret room behind the closet he had built in. every sadistic detail about the past three years was written down in a leather journal he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk, every detail of how he hurt his family, tortured and kidnapped taeil, and how much he loved you. everything was very sick and twisted.

as the summer rain pelted against the metal railing, you couldn’t help but shudder in disgust at the sight and noise. jungwoo, who was sitting beside you noticed this and decided to bring it up. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

you nodded, taking a sip from your coffee mug as you looked out to the setting sun. the oranges and reds mixed together beautifully, but the view just made you upset if anything. “i’m fine. i just hate the summer rain.”

maybe there wasn’t always beauty in the things you hate.