#pleading with fearne not to leave and then telling ashton he should go.

[yencirilla]

god. chetney going after fearne, asking her if she's okay. asking why she's scared. chetney telling her she's strong, and she can always talk to him. chetney speaking gently, offering to help her go break things, making it a little game to try to make her smile. telling her, don't leave. please don't leave. fearne promising she wont. fearne giving him a kiss on the forehead.

chetney returning to where his other friends are, and he hasn't seen them since everything went down. chetney acting playful and silly and funny haha old man being silly and then looking at ashton and going Leave. fucking leave. you could have hurt fearne. Raising His Voice, being truly Angry for the first time in seventy episodes. You Could Have Hurt Fearne.

[sofigrace]

He Cares a Lot

They were officially straight up not having a good day.

Scratch that. They were officially straight up not having a good week.

Ashton was laying on one of the corners of some kind of warehouse, a gaping wound in their chest. Staring up at his friend who, seconds before, was behaving like his normal self.

OR

FCG has another episode and Ashton will not fight him.

They were officially straight up not having a good day.

Scratch that. They were officially straight up not having a good week.

Ashton was laying on one of the corners of some kind of warehouse, a gaping wound in their chest. Staring up at his friend who, seconds before, was behaving like his normal self.

“Letters…” he choked.

There was no sign of recognition in those red eyes. They stared, unwavering, the spiritual weapon, which hovered over Ashton’s head, in the shape of a glass hammer.

They were careful. They had decided to put FCG’s weapons in the hole, which was being kept safe in Fearne’s pouch. But neither of them had thought about Grass’ own magic.

Well, you always learn from your mistakes, thought Ashton.

They weren’t supposed to be in that warehouse. After they returned to Bassuras the group had decided to go meet with the Paragon’s Call. It was Fresh Cut Grass who had said they wanted to look for Dancer first.

“Maybe she knows a way to fix me,” they’d said.

He was met with instant disagreement, even from Ashton themselves. The last thing he wanted was to see his friend go through that again. He had almost thought to go look for Dancer themselves and threaten her to go and fix the mess she’d surely done.

But FCG had been adamant.

“I think this is the best moment to do it. I feel good, and it was a while until the…episode happened again.”

That was true.

Ashton had found FCG about two years ago, and they’d never had a similar episode before.

“I’ll go alone” he said, “I don’t want to risk it with any of you. But I have to do this. I need to know what happened.”

Orym and Imogen were still not completely on it. Laudna was…not very focused. And Fearne and Chetney agreed that FCG should do what he thought was right.

“What do you think, Ashton?” asked FCG.

He felt his party’s eyes on him. In the end, it didn’t matter what the others said. If Ashton said it wasn’t worth it, FCG would leave it alone.

But Ashton saw the pleading in their friend’s eyes.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, no. Wait. That’s not…” FCG had started.

“Shut up.” Growled Ashton. “I’m not going to leave you alone with her, especially if she doesn’t like you. The last thing we need is to find you like we found your other friends.”

They all knew Ashton wouldn’t bulge. They agreed the others would go to the Paragon’s meeting. It was important after all.

Before they separated, Imogen spoke in his head.

I told Letters tell us where y’all went. But I’m gonna leave this line open as long as I can. If something as little as a glitch happens, you let me know and we’ll be there.

Ashton smiled to themselves.

Don’t worry, Purple. I’ll be vigilant.

Ashton thought he heard a snort in his brain.

And so they went.

They determined that if someone knew where Dancer was, that person was Esmer. They got to Finders Takers hoping Dancer wouldn’t have got to them first.

Luckily, they hadn’t seen Dancer after FCG had told them about her supposed death.

“I don’t know where she’s staying, but the last thing she told me was that she was working on something in a warehouse down in the slums. Then she vanished, like she always does.”

They thanked Esmer and went on their way.

Ashton was familiar with the slums. Greymoore’s children were weirdly fond of that place. You could find all sorts of things, all kinds of people. They were almost never good, but sometimes they paid good money.

To their relief they didn’t find anyone they knew there. And asking a few people they found out Dancer’s warehouse was fairly close.

FCG stopped by the entrance. They could hear someone welding inside.

“Say the word and we’ll go back.” Said Ashton.

FCG took something that sounded like a deep breath, though that was impossible.

“I think it’s better if you go first, I don’t know what she’ll do if she sees me.”

Ashton nodded and pushed the wooden slab that acted as a door, FCG following close behind.

The welding got louder as the approached the person working. They were hunched over a metal table, white sparks flying as they worked on something that looked like it was attached to them. They didn’t hear them as they got closer, so Ashton stopped and good few feet away from the worker.

When the person stopped welding, they looked up and flinched with a gasp. Without the sparks, Ashton could see they were covered in dark brown fur and the thing they were working on was their own metal arm.

“Who the hell are you?” a deep voice exclaimed, muffled by the welding mask covering their face.

Ashton sensed FCG tremble behind him.

“Hello,” said Ashton. “I was told that was the place where I could find Dancer.”

The person lifted their mask. The same brown fur covered the face. She was beautiful. If she hadn’t hurt their friend she would’ve been Ashton’s type.

“Well, you found her.” Dancer lowered the welding machine and took off the mask, her eyes untrusting. “What do you want?”

“Some answers,” said Ashton.

As if on cue, FCG showed themselves.

The reaction was instant. The distrust in Dancer’s eyes was replaced by intense fright. She rapidly turned and tried to run, but Ashton was faster and grappled her.

“Oh, no you don’t.” he growled.

Dancer tried to set herself free, but it was fruitless.

“I just want to talk,” stammered FCG.

He hadn’t gotten closer. Didn’t want Dancer to be more frightened that she was.

“Why did you bring it here?” She asked Ashton, refusing to look at FCG. “You’ve killed us all.”

Red-hot anger sizzled through Ashton. He raged as he tightened his grip on her. Dancer exclaimed in pain.

“His name,” he said slowly, “is Fresh Cut Grass.” He tightened his grip a bit more. “You named him.”

“I never should’ve named it,” she winced. “I never should’ve gotten it.”

“STOP!”

FCG’s voice thundered all around the warehouse. Ashton turned to look at him, searching for some kind of sign he was slipping out, but he looked fine, just a bit angry, and a bit guilty. Ashton wanted to kill that bitch.

“I don’t remember anything, Dancer.” She was still avoiding looking at him. “I thought something else had killed everyone, had killed you.”

Dancer forced herself to look at the robit, but there was no pity in her eyes.

“I think I know what really happened now, but I don’t want to be like this, I want to be what you built me to do. I still want to help people.”

Dancer snorted bitterly.

“Help people. You couldn’t help anyone. They pleaded, you know? Begged you to stop. You killed them all. Almost killed me.”

Ashton was focused on Dancer, but he could hear FCG stammering, and also some static.

It wouldn’t happen now, wouldn’t it?

“I shouldn’t have bought you. I should’ve left you to rust.”

“Hey,” warned Ashton.

“Are you it’s friend?” she asked, looking at Ashton. “It’ll end up killing you. It’s not a person. It’s a killing machine.”

Ashton was about to slam her on the ground, but he finally noticed something wasn’t right.

FCG was still awake, but his stammering had become worse. It was then when Dancer took advantage of Ashton’s distraction. She managed to set herself free and tried to run towards the makeshift door.

Ashton ran behind her and grappled her again, not accounting how close they had gotten to FCG. In her desperation to free herself, one of her legs kicked FCG. And that’s when all went to shit.

The glowing red eyes had returned, setting themselves on Dancer.

“Oh no” she whispered.

Ashton didn’t care about her anymore. He let her go so suddenly she slammed her butt on the floor.

“Letters,” he said cautiously. “C’mon, bud, I know you can hear me.”

FCG didn’t acknowledge them. Their eyes were still fixed on Dancer.

“You abandoned me.” He got closer to her, lifting a weaponless arm in her direction. “You created me. Their deaths are also your fault.”

With that, he surged forwards towards her.

Acting on instinct, Ashton lounged forward and grabbed FCG. Dancer chose that time to stand up and run towards the exit. Ashton believed it was a bit of guilt that made her turn around.

“Just knock it out and leave. It’s better if it doesn’t exist.”

She turned again and left the warehouse. Ashton swore if he saw her again he would kill her.

But they had bigger problems now. With Dancer gone, FCG had put his attentions on him.

It was useful to say it wasn’t a fair fight. Ashton refused to hurt him and FCG wanted to do that and more.

They didn’t want to call Imogen just yet. He wanted to see if they could reach him first.

“This really isn’t fun, Letters” they’d say after FCG’s spiritual weapon, shaped like a short sword, had slashed through their chest.

“Cool Ashton,” FCG retorted. “Always in it for the fun. The one who doesn’t care. Doesn’t do friends, doesn’t do family. It will be good to know other people don’t care about you either.”

Low blow, Grass, thought Ashton.

“Look at you. You’re getting beat up but no one’s here to see it. It must be killing you.”

“Oh, it’s killing me alright, but now in the way that you think.”

“Oh, it’s definitely in the way that I think.”

Ashton hadn’t noticed the weapon had now turned into a glass hammer. He tried to reach for his own, but his body betrayed him and he just collapsed. FCG got closer to him.

This is how it had started. The positions were reversed and Ashton was still awake, but it was eerily similar.

Ashton could sense themselves slipping away. He tried to speak, both with his mind and with his voice.

“Letters…” he choked.

The last thing he saw were his friends’ red eyes as he dropped the hammer.

-

Imogen was thankful they weren’t inside the Paragon’s headquarters when she heard the voice.

It had been almost a whisper, a weak plea.

Letters.

She tried not to panic and stretched out her mind.

Ashton? Are you all right?

Nothing.

She tried again, a different destination.

Letters? Can you hear me?

Silence.

She stopped in her tracks, just a few feet away from the door they were supposed to get through. Orym was the first one to notice.

“It’s everything alright?” he asked, always vigilant.

“I think I heard something,” she said.

The others noticed they had stopped and got closer to them. Laudna looked worriedly at Imogen and Chetney complained about the delay.

“The guys?” asked Orym.

She nodded, trying to calm herself.

“What did you hear?” asked Fearne, suddenly next to Imogen.

“Just ‘Letters’ but…it sounded weird, almost weak. And I tried to reach them but they’re not answering.”

She watched as Laudna’s face became focused, her long fingers touching her temples.

“I can’t hear them either.” She said finally.

Panic tugged at her skin again, so she cast Calm Emotions. They needed to be clearheaded right now.

“Did FCG told you where they were going?” asked Orym.

“Yeah, he did.”

A warehouse in the slums he’d said. Next to a three story yellow building.

They made their way towards the slums and the place FCG has described as fast as they could. They had to ask a few people on the way, but not a lot of them were willing to talk to strangers, especially in the slums.

Maybe they fell asleep, said Laudna in her head, maybe Dancer was really understanding and invited them to…nap.

Imogen knew she was trying to comfort herself as much as her, and that made her more nervous. If eternally positive Laudna had no idea how this would turn out, they were in deep shit.

After thirty minutes of intense searching, they finally found the place. Orym ran forward and looked at the ground next to the entrance. When they all reached the door, they saw what he was looking at.

There were three sets of footprints, one wheel and two feet going in, and two way different feet going out.

“They were running,” said Orym as he drew his sword.

Chetney also drew his chisel and she could see Fearne casting fire. Laudna and Imogen looked at each other and went in together, right after the other three. Orym was the first one to go in and ran forward a few feet. The others heard his voice before they saw anything.

“GUYS!” he yelled. “COME HERE QUICKLY!”

When they reached the end of the warehouse, Imogen heard Fearne gasp. Imogen couldn’t make a sound, she was frozen in place.

They were both there.

She first saw Fresh Cut Grass. He looked as he did when he slept. Calm, unbothered. He had looked that way too, when they managed to stop him the first time, but he’d had his head crushed by Laudna. He didn’t look hurt now.

But Ashton…

“Oh…” croaked Fearne.

She ran forward and knelt next to Ashton. Orym had already got to him, kneeling on his other side.

They had a horrible gash on their torso, fresh blood still coming out of it. But the worst part was their head. The amethyst crystals that once decorated it were shattered and the beautiful opalescent brain that every night glowed with vitality was now dented and dull.

Imogen had to do everything in her power to avoid throwing up. She felt Laudna come next to her but she didn’t dare to move.

Orym’s eyes filled with panic as he tried to find Ashton’s pulse. He looked at Fearne and she wordlessly put both her hands over Ashton’s wounds, soft white light emanating from them.

A minute that felt like an hour passed. Fearne’s hands stopped glowing as she looked at Orym. He rapidly put his fingers to Ashton’s neck trying again to find that precious heartbeat.

Orym sighed, but not from relief. It was a sigh of defeat. Imogen didn’t want to believe it.

Orym? She asked him.

She didn’t get a verbal answer, just pain.

She felt Laudna grab her hand. She squeezed it back weakly, tears running through her face.

Orym was crying too. And Fearne…

Fearne couldn’t stop looking at her hands. She looked angry and broken.

She moved her hands towards Ashton’s body again, this time pressing against his wounds. Her hands covered in his blood as she tried to cure him again.

“Work,” she pleaded. “Work.”

“Fearne,” sobbed Orym.

“No,” she snapped. “It has to work. It always works.”

None of them dared to stop her. All of them hoping it would somehow work. Ashton was strong, stronger than any of them. If anyone was able to survive this, it was him.

Another minute passed, but nothing changed.

Fearne’s hands were red now and when she looked at them, she started sobbing.

None of them moved as they grieved. Or, at least, that’s what Imogen thought. A loud bang took her from her trance and when she turned around she saw Chetney slapping FCG.

“Chet,” she said with pity. “This won’t bring Ashton back.”

Chetney slapped him again, with even more force than before. “No, this is exactly what will bring them back.”

“What?” Asked Laudna behind her.

“FCG heals, right?” asked Chatney matter-of-factly “we just have to wake him up.”

Imogen’s eyes widened. It was true. FCG was a powerful healer, even more so than Fearne. If anyone could do this…

Imogen struggled to remember what they’d done before. FCG had been unconscious, like now, and what they did then was…

“Fearne!” she yelled, looking at the faun, who turned to look at her, tear tracks on her cheeks. “Can you do one more healing spell?”

Fearne spent a few seconds trying to understand what was going on, but when she did, she stood up and ran towards Chetney and FCG. The gnome complained when she pushed him to the side but Fearne didn’t pay attention to him.

She gently put her hands on FCG, her friend’s, face and called to her magic once more. She feared she had spent it all on Ashton, prayed to whatever god that was listening that she still had enough.

Seconds before she gave up, FCG’s bright eyes came to life. Not red, but normal familiar white. But Fearne was not relieved, not yet. She let go of FCG and ran towards Ashton’s side.

“Wha- what happened?” He looked around, confused and ashamed. “Did it happen again?”

FCG’s eyes fell on Ashton’s lifeless body and started to stammer again.

“Ashton? What, no. This can’t…I couldn’t. Never…”

Imogen walked towards FCG and put her hands where Fearne’s were seconds ago. Calm Emotions ran through her purple streaked fingers towards her friend.

“FCG…Letters…Now it’s no time to lose yourself, okay? We need you, Ashton needs you. He’s your priority right now. Everything else? We’ll deal with it later.”

FCG looked at her intensely and relaxed. Imogen didn’t know if it was the spell or her own words.

“Yes, of course.” FCG rolled towards Ashton, taking Orym’s place. The Halfling looked at him with a bit of distrust and kept his hand on his sword.

“Fearne?” asked FCG. “Do you still have the diamond Hexum gave us?”

Fearne nodded and reached into her pouch. Sure enough, she produced a grape sized diamond that she gave to FCG. He took it in his mechanical hand and placed it over Ashton’s chest.

“I need all of you to focus on what Ashton means to you right now.”

Imogen remembered his sly smile whenever they would talk. How they cared about other people, how he kept them safe while claiming he didn’t do friends.

He had to live. He had to.

Because she honestly thought the group wouldn’t survive in he didn’t.

The moment felt like an eternity. Imogen could see that the diamond FCG had asked for was gone.

Is that it? She thought. Did they fail again?

A moment passed.

Then another.

Imogen was ready to give up, when she heard Fearne’s gasp.

The gaping wound that covered Ashton’s torso was closing up. And his opalescent head started to emit a weak glow.

No one dared to speak or move. All eyes were on Ashton as he took a deep breath and opened their eyes.

Imogen almost collapsed from relief, but Laudna was there to catch her. She saw Orym collapse against the wall and cover his face with his hands. Fearne’s face hovered over Ashton’s, dangerously close.

“Ashton?” asked FCG, warily.

Ashton looked around groggily and cleared his throat.

“Hey,” they said finally. “Did I die?”

Fearne laughed with relief and Orym removed his hands from his face, also smiling.

“You gave us a big fright there, Ash.” He said.

Ashton tried to focus his eyes and searched for FCG.

“Letters?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m here.”

Ashton sighed. “How are you, bud?”

“How am I? Have you seen yourself?”

“No, but I can feel myself” they said, trying to sit up.

They were obviously still in pain. Fearne grabbed their arm and back to help him and he didn’t complain, choosing to lay against her for support.

“Ashton, I…” started FCG.

“Don’t.” The genasi stopped him. “It wasn’t you, Letters. I don’t regret anything.”

The robit looked at their friend, and then at all the others. He knew it’d be a while before they could fully trust him again. And way more before he could trust himself. But Ashton was okay, and that was all that mattered. At least for now.

“Let’s get out of here.” Said Orym, leading the group towards the exit.

“Yeah, I’ve had enough of this place.” Responded Chatney, following him.

Imogen looked at Fearne, who was slowly helping Ashton walk.

“I can cast fly on him.” Said the purple haired woman, but Fearne shook her head.

“I got him.” She said finally, looking fondly at Ashton.

Imogen looked away smiling and linked her arm with Laudna’s who was just now starting to calm down and was also missing a big patch of hair.

They would not go meet with the Paragon’s call that day.

They all needed a good night’s sleep.

[gay-hypersexual]

you can forget about mine

It hasn’t even been a minute… at least that’s what it feels like. He’s not sure if time works the same way here as it does out there.

What he does know is this: in one moment all he knew was pain, but in the next, he knew peace.

In one moment, he saw blood, swirling sands, a glint of steel stabbing through his torso. In the next, it all vanished, replaced by grassy fields, cherry blossoms floating in the wind, a familiar face (kind, gentle, loving) hovering over his own.

In one moment, his small hands found and grasped onto larger ones, that of his lover, husband, big moon. In the next, that of his traveling companion, oldest friend in the group, big spoon.

Fearne is there, Derrig is there, Will is there, and he thinks he’s in paradise.

But it’s a minute later (or an hour or a year or a lifetime) that that thought disappears.

Because now there’s someone only vaguely familiar to him nearby. A tall, lanky figure with long, black locks, feathers adorning their shoulders, a mask obscuring their features.

And there’s a… tear. In the sunset orange-tinted horizon of his paradise, there is a crack, disturbing the air, calling to Fearne.

The faun bounds over to it immediately, hand outstretched, but she stops. Turns back. The raven haired figure seems to only slightly mind, shifting from one foot to the other.

Fearne kneels down, wringing her hands, avoids eye contact. “I— just give me a minute, ok, and I’ll be right back for you, I promise!”

There is no immediate response, just a head tilt of confusion.

“You… you will go through it, right? When I cast it, when I reach for you?” Her voice is quiet, but their surroundings are still, so the waver in it is audible and cannot be ignored.

Small hands let go of bigger ones (hesitantly, reluctantly) and intertwine with hers. “I don’t know.”

Tears have started to collect. They fall faster as she shakes her head no, vigorous and defiant. “Tell me you’re going to come back with me!”

“Fearnie…”

“No! No.” Seafoam green curls fall in front of her face, a curtain to hide her distress. “Please! Please, don’t make me go without you.”

No answer, save for a sharp exhale— choked and sad.

“You and Dorian once said I should stop taking things that aren’t mine, but I can’t help it! I steal things I like, and I want to keep them. Some would say that’s selfish… well, I am!” She squeezes her hands around his tight, finally looking up, not a dry eye between them. “I’m a selfish person and that’s why I’m asking you to stay with me.”

The figure has taken a step towards them now, tells her she must make the choice now, to accept or refuse, before it closes.

“One more minute!” she pleads, pulling the halfing into a hug. She speaks even softer than before, her breath tickling his ear. “I just found my parents again and I really want them to get to know everyone, see what they’ve been missing out on. And we found out this connection with me and the moon? What does that even mean? I need you with me to figure it out!”

“Imogen, Laudna, FCG, we all need you with us! And Chetney and Ashton… they’ll go berserk without you! And Dorian—” She curls him closer. “I know it’s hard, I know! But I’m not ready to say goodbye. Please.”

A feathered arm reaches down, nudges Fearne’s shoulder, and gestures to the rip in space. “You have to choose, it’s been too long.”

Fearne stands up, starts backing into it, gaze never leaving her friend. “Please, Orym, please! I don’t— I don’t want to be without you!”

In a flash of white, she’s gone.

Left standing in the fields, he… just isn’t sure. Why should he leave? Everything he ever needed is here. Here, not out there.

Out there is only more hurt. Out there is chaos, fear, doubt, death.

He only knows happiness here.

He looks back, and that face of the man he loved— loves, is staring at him with compassion and understanding. “Whatever you choose, little moon, I will always be here.”

The correct answer is not within him, not right now.

But there’s no new tear yet, so he doesn’t have to decide now.

Not yet.