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mystique-6 · 7 months

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Kinktober (It's really Whumptober) Day 7: Spanking

Summary: Ailis' unresolved trauma is triggered and she takes her feelings of guilt and remorse out on her companions. Astarion makes her pay a price for it.

Hello! My hyperfixation on Astarion has got me in the writing mood so I will be participating in Kinktober using @flightlessangelwings Kinktober list. The pieces may be part of a bigger fic(s). I have started the fic. If you like this please consider checking out my main fic, This is Me Trying. (Can you tell I like Taylor Swift?) Either way, I hope you enjoy. I do plan on completing the 31 prompts though it will take me past October. I also have the fic posted on AO3.

Warning: Anyone under 18 do not interact. Please pay attention to the tag warnings below.

Tag Warnings: Spanking, Light BDSM, Safe, Sane and Consensual, Un-Resoled Trauma, Guilt, Survivor's Guilt, Nudity, Snuggling & Cuddling, Aftercare, Whump, No Sex, NSFW

Additional Note: This fic involves Spawn Astarion. I have stated that some of these prompts will be used in my main BG3 fic, This is Me Trying. This one definitely will be. This is actually a very important chapter for my OC and I saw an opportunity to have a practice run of the chapter. I'm glad I did it because I know now for sure that a flashback chapter will be needed. This ended up being too much exposition. Still, I hope there will be some people who enjoy this fic. If you are reading This is Me Trying and don't want spoilers though, you may want to skip this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from BG3.

Ailis felt her headache growing as her group argued over how to rescue the tieflings…again. Two days ago, they’d entered the Shadow-Cursed lands. Earlier this day they’d met a group of Harpers and had helped them in a battle against a batch of shadow monsters. This had gotten them an invite to the Last Light Inn, the final sanctuary left in these lands.

Once there, they’d been revealed as true souls. The leader of this faction of Harpers, Jaheira, had made to attack her group, but thankfully the tiefling child, Mol, had convinced the woman to give them a chance. It was clear now, though, that Jaheira just saw her group as a tactical maneuver. She wanted them to use their status as true souls to infiltrate Moonrise Towers and find a way to kill Kethric Thorm; the person who had taken over these lands.

She didn’t necessarily oppose to looking into Kethric Thorm. He seemed to be involved with the Absolute Cult and they were in desperate need of answers about their tadpoles. Looking into Thorm and getting information on the Absolute and their tadpoles aligned with each other. However, Jaheira also wanted them to go on a rescue mission.

While her team had scouted around the inn on their arrival, they found some of the tieflings they’d helped at the grove. About half of the group was missing. It turned out that the road they had intended to follow to Baldur’s Gate had been destroyed. They had opted to travel above land through all the Shadow-Curse instead of cutting out most of it by going through the Underdark. The group had been attacked by Absolute cultists. Many had been killed or captured, but the rest had found their way here.

Ailis was sympathetic to their plight. She could feel the hopelessness, grief, and guilt from those who remained. She couldn’t stop Rolan’s angry words towards her earlier in the day from playing on repeat in her head. But they had their own problems. They needed to start putting their whole attention on getting rid of these tadpoles.

“This arguing is ridiculous!” Wyll’s shout caught her attention. He made eye contact with her. “Chief, tell this lot we need to save the tieflings first. Thorm can wait.”

“If we go in and bust their prisoners out, we’ll make the cultists hostile towards us and we won’t be able to get the information we need,” Shadowheart protested. “The tieflings have to wait.”

�� “There are ways around that,” Gale said. “We could use confusion spells or disguise spells. Or we could make it look like the prisoners broke out themselves.”

“That seems like a lot of effort when we can just rescue them after we take care of Thorm,” Shadowheart said.

“I agree with Shadowheart,” Lae’zel said. “Though it pains me to say it.”

“This is getting ridiculous,” Wyll sighed. “Ailis, come on. Set this lot straight.” She felt a surge of anger course through her. She always had to be the one to solve all their problems or play mediator. It was growing tiresome. It was draining her. It was too big of a job with this crew. She could feel her skin crawl with anxiety over the overwhelming job of managing all their egos. Her nerves prickled at their expectant stares.

“Ailis…”

“We don’t have time to be wasting on the tieflings again,” she snapped as her emotions boiled over. A part of her was horrified at what had just spewed from her mouth and her gut roiled with guilt from the shocked and dismayed looks on Karlach’s and Wyll’s faces.

“I’m surprised to hear you say that,” Gale said in a saddened tone.

“As am I,” Lae’zel agreed. “I didn’t think you had it in you to ignore people in need.”

“Oh please,” she said. “I’m hardly a hero.”

“You are to these tieflings,” Karlach stated.

She ignored a fresh stab of guilt and shook her head. “We need to focus on these tadpoles,” she said. “We don’t have time to spend on a group of people who are clearly doomed.”

“Wow,” Shadowheart said. “I would expect that level of callousness from Astarion, but not you.”

“Well, that’s rather rude,” Astarion whined. “I probably would have kept that thought to myself. Probably.”

Ailis sighed. “Look, what happened to the tieflings is tragic, but we need to focus on our own problem,” she said.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll investigate Thorm, and then we can free the tieflings,” Shadowheart said sounding pleased.

“Well, that depends on what we find out about these tadpoles while looking into Thorm,” Ailis replied. “Don’t forget these parasites are time sensitive. At some point we will transform into mindflayers. If we discover that’s going to be sooner rather than later, we won’t have time for the tieflings.”

“You’re seriously saying you don’t want to help the tieflings at all?!” Karlach cried angrily.

“I’m saying, that our tadpole problem is more important right now,” she said.

“I suppose if we take out Thorm, that would make it possible for the Harpers to help the tieflings,” Gale cut in. The wizard was always trying to find the middle ground. He wanted so desperately to be liked. She usually found this endearing, but right now it only fueled her anger.

“I suppose that’s an option if we need to take out Thorm at all,” she muttered. More incredulous looks greeted her.

“If we need to take out Thorm?” Wyll repeated, astonished. “Ailis, have you not paid attention to these realms? Look what the man has done!”

“What he’s done doesn’t concern us,” she argued. “Our focus is getting rid of these tadpoles and if we can do that without spending time killing Thorm, then that’s what we’ll do. End of discussion.”

“I think there’s a lot more to discuss,” Karlach snapped. The floor around her began growing scorch marks.

“Easy now,” Wyll soothed. “There’s no need to get worked up. This is just a disagreement.”

“One that we’ll all work out,” Shadowheart added. Ailis snorted and the cleric glared at her. “And what did that mean?”

“Oh, I just thought what you said was amusing,” Ailis replied. “‘We’ll work it out’ Ha!”

“What are you getting at, Ailis?” Shadowheart snapped.

“I just think it’s cute that you think you all will figure it out,” she replied. “What you really mean is I will figure it out because I am always the one to figure out what we’re doing. I am always the one who manages everyone’s opinions to come up with a solution. I am the one who manages everyone’s ginormous egos!”

“Now, that’s not really being fair,” Gale tried to intervene.

“Fair?” she shrieked. “No! What’s not fair is dumping all your trauma on me and expecting me to deal with it for you.”

“Darling, I think you…”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me,” she snapped at Astarion. “I have to do everything for everyone! And no one ever helps me. No one ever checks in on me to see how I’m doing. So the only one whose opinion matters here is mine. We need to learn about these tadpoles. If that leads us to needing to take out Thorm fine, but if not, our next step is whatever gets rid of these parasites.”

“You’re out of line, Ailis,” Shadowheart growled.

“Now, hold on,” Wyll intervened. “Ailis did make some fair points. We could put more effort into controlling our emotions and…egos. However, Ailis, you are the leader of this group and it’s your job to…”

“Yes, I am the leader and I’m doing my job,” she cut him off. “I’ve told you what we’re going to do. That’s the end of the discussion.”

“So, we just have to do what you say now? Our opinions don’t matter?” Shadowheart scoffed.

“That’s exactly, right,” Ailis replied coolly.

“And if we’re not willing to go along with that?” Shadowheart asked through gritted teeth.

“Then you can leave,” Ailis said. She knew she was going too far, but she couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t bring herself to back down. The frustration of the last few weeks was bubbling over. Still, her guilt increased at the look of hurt on her companions’ faces.

“You’d really kick out any who disagreed with you?” Lae’zel asked in a tone of surprise.

“Don’t tell me you suddenly disagree with that philosophy,” Ailis replied. “You’d have had me kick out most of this group a few weeks ago.”

“I…”

“You know what? I’m done with this,” Ailis cried. “Whoever decides to join me, meet back here in the morning.” She turned and stormed out of the building. She stalked angrily down to camp and began pacing the rocky shores of the lake nearby. As she paced, she could feel her anger and anxiety turn inwards. She shouldn’t have yelled at them. They didn’t deserve that. She just couldn’t stop thinking of Rolan’s words from earlier that day. He was right.

“You’re going to burn a hole in the ground if you keep pacing like that,” Astarion’s snide voice called out.

Ailis glanced up at him and scowled. “Go away, Astarion,” she said. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” he replied sitting down on a large boulder. “Still, someone needed to check on you.”

“And they decided to send you?” she asked.

“I sent myself,” he replied sounding a little annoyed. A stern look crossed his face when he noticed her look of disbelief. “I’m not completely callous to your well-being, Ailis. I care that something is clearly upsetting you. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

“You don’t want to know,” Ailis replied bitterly.

“Ah, but I do,” he said. “It must be something big to make you go off like that. Now go on and tell me. It will make you feel better.” She began to pace again.

“You just want me to go back to being complacent,” she grumbled. “You don’t care. You just don’t like it when I’m a bitch, but it’s not my…” She cut off when he stepped in front of her to stop her pacing, and gripped onto her shoulders.

“You’re not a bitch, Ailis. You’re just upset. And yes, I do care,” he said. “If you talk to me about whatever has you so upset, maybe you’ll feel better.”

“I…I can’t,” she replied.

“Yes, you can, darling,” he said. “Just tell me what has you upset. It was what Rolan said, wasn’t it? You’ve looked agitated since that conversation.”

“I can’t tell you. You’ll leave if I tell you. You all will,” she cried, tearing herself out of his grip. She began pacing anxiously again. This time, he didn’t try to stop her.

“No one’s leaving, darling,” he said.

“You would if you knew,” she said. “You’d have never agreed to travel with me if you knew.”

“Well, now I think I have to know,” he said, trying to teaser her to a lighter mood.

“I’m serious, Astarion,” she replied, though she did stop pacing.

Astarion nodded. “I’m sorry, darling,” he said. “Still, I think you better tell me. I think it will help.” She sighed and closed her eyes. She opened them when she felt his arm wrap around her waist, and he led her over to the boulder he’d sat on before. “Here. Sit down here and we’ll talk.” She gathered herself for a moment and stared out at the still water of the lake.

“This isn’t my first time leading a group of people,” she said slowly.

“I gathered that,” Astarion replied. “You lead troops in the Espax War, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I have plenty of guilt over that, but that’s not what’s bothering me now,” she said, and then glanced up at him. “How much do you know about the Espax War?”

Astarion shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied. “I’d get bits of news when hunting targets, but that’s it. Espax is a long way from Baldur’s Gate.”

Ailis nodded. “The war started as a rebellion against Espax’s government,” she began to explain. “By all accounts, Espax had an incredibly corrupt government. There were two factions running the rebellion. Both wanted to take out the existing government, but their ideas for the future government differed.”

“A recipe for disaster,” Astarion commented.

“Exactly,” she said. “The factions managed to overthrow the original government, but they couldn’t agree with each other enough to build a new one. They began fighting and it turned into a full out war. Both sides began recruiting soldiers, originally from their own people. However, one faction was more popular than the other amongst Espax’s citizens and most went to fight for them.”

“So, the faction you fought under had to resort to other methods of recruitment,” Astarion said.

“By the time I was press-ganged into service most of the people fighting were doing so unwillingly,” Ailis replied. “Even those who had originally joined freely had turned against this faction by that point. They committed horrendous atrocities. Many even said they’d rather have the old government back than continue to support this one.”

“And you led people in attempts to escape?” he asked. “Or overthrow?”

“Escape,” she answered. “When I first got there, I tried to escape on my own. When that didn’t work, I started recruiting others who wanted to leave. There were a few of these attempts. They all ended with many of my group dead or tortured as punishment.” Her hand came up to her face to worry at the deep scar running down her cheek to her jaw. She had a smaller one below her right eye.

Astarion gently moved her hand away from the scar and rested their intwined hands on his lap. “Is that how you got those scars?” he asked. “Trying to escape?”

“Helping someone else to escape,” she said and then smiled bitterly at his incredulous expression. “I had given up trying to escape by the time I got these scars.”

“But you were still helping others to escape?” he questioned.

“Not at first. For a while I just gave up and did what they wanted me to,” she said. “I’d accepted it as a just punishment for my previous crimes. I proved to be a good soldier. After a while they trusted me with training new recruits and then leading small groups in battle. Eventually, I began to form friendships with others there. The two relevant to this story were Nash and Marissa and her three kids…”

“Kids?” Astarion said. He looked surprised.

She nodded. “They recruited anyone they could,” she said. “They’d take criminals being transported to the gallows like I was to travelers just passing through. Many of the travelers had children.”

“Is that what happened to your friend?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. “Marissa was in the war almost from the beginning. Her husband was part of the rebellion and was a supporter of this faction.�� Marissa had no idea until after he was killed in one of the first skirmishes. The faction blamed her husband for the loss of so many lives in that skirmish and so did a lot of the dead’s’ families. The faction told her if she worked for them, they’d forgive her husband’s failure and keep her and her children safe.

“There was no choice for her. She agreed. She mostly did secretarial work for them. She wasn’t thrown into battle until the last few years when things were growing increasingly desperate,” she explained.

“They started putting the kids into battle, didn’t they?” Astarion guessed.

Ailis nodded. “When I first arrived, all children stayed in camp,” she said. “The older kids kept the barracks in order and watched their younger siblings. But the war wasn’t going well and they couldn’t get enough soldiers. In the penultimate year of the war, they decreed sons that were fourteen or older would be put into battles. They would ‘try and keep them off the frontlines’ they said, but we all knew they’d end up there eventually.

“Marissa was beside herself with worry. Her oldest son was nine months off from fourteen,” she continued. “We all saw the war would be ending soon, but not soon enough for her son. On a night off, me and our other friend, Nash, took her out for drinks to let her vent her worries. She kept repeating that she had to do something. That she couldn’t let this happen to her son.”

Ailis closed her eyes and sighed. “I was the one who suggested escaping,” she said. “Marissa was hesitant about it at first. Punishment for runaways by this point in the war was almost always death, and if they didn’t kill you, they’d make you wish they had.” She worried at her scar again.

“You got her to agree to the attempt though, didn’t you?” Astarion said.

“She came around to the idea,” Ailis said. “She didn’t like it though. It didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t think it was fair that just she and her kids would get out.”

“Why would she care about that?” Astarion asked perplexed. “She should have just worried for herself…and her kids, I guess.” Exasperation and amusement settled across her expression. The vampire spawn’s lack of empathy tended to reveal itself in inopportune times. There was no point admonishing him, though. She’d accepted by this point there were some things Astarion would just never truly understand.

“Marissa wanted to get more people out,” she continued. “After some convincing she got me and Nash on board. Well, she got me on board. Nash only agreed to it because I was going to be involved.”

“You and him were involved?” Astarion asked. She could see he was trying to just sound curious, but she heard a jealous note in his tone.

“We had an arrangement. Like ours, really,” she admitted. “There weren’t any deep feelings. We both got what we wanted out of the other. And Nash wasn’t exactly hard to look at.”

Astarion snorted. “So, did it work?” he asked. “Whatever plan you concocted to free people.”

“For a time,” Ailis said, “but after six or seven months they were cracking down. Nash insisted we had to stop, at least for some time. But Marissa’s son would be turning fourteen in just over a month and there was already talk of lowering the age to thirteen. I insisted that we do one last escape to get Marissa and her kids out.

“Nash didn’t like it but he agreed if it was just Marissa and her kids I led out. The night started like every other escape night, but…it all went wrong,” she said, closing her eyes against the painful memory.

“Nash betrayed you,” Astarion said.

“No. Not Nash,” Ailis said. “The night guard he bribed to ignore anyone he saw escaping. He might not have done so willingly. I’ll never know. They killed him. Guns went off when we breached the camp. We ran off into the woods, but they knew our routes. Marissa and I tried to gather the kids together and come up with an alternate route, but a soldier shot off a gun near us and her little girl ran off frightened right into the open and they…they shot her.”

“Ailis…”

“We went back with them after that,” she continued through her tears. “They brought us to the General’s tent to interrogate us. They wanted to know everyone who was involved in the operation. We did our best to conceal who’d been involved, but in doing so, Marissa incriminated herself by admitting it had been her idea to help families escape. I tried to intervene; to convince them it was all on me. I had the history of escape attempts, not Marissa. All my attempts got me was a knife to the face. They then forced me to watch as they killed Marissa. They killed my friend right in front of me and her remaining children. That was my punishment. They wouldn’t kill me. I was too useful to them.”

“What happened to her two sons?” Astarion asked.

“Nash got them out,” she replied woodenly. “He was high ranking in the army. One of the lead officers had a niece who couldn’t have children. They lived away from the fighting. They weren’t involved at all. They were willing to take them in.”

“Nash couldn’t have done anything for you or Marissa when you were captured?” he asked. She could tell he was judging her old friend.

“No,” she replied, harshly. “He made it very clear from the beginning when we were planning the operation he wouldn’t lose his position for something he thought was foolish. He did what he could for us when we were captured and that’s it. What happened to Marissa and her daughter wasn’t his fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault either, Ailis,” Astarion said. “None of what you’ve just told me was your fault.”

“It was though,” she insisted. “If I hadn’t planted the idea of escape in her mind, Marissa wouldn’t have thought to include other people in it. I should have insisted that night that we would only get her and her kids out. Or I should have caved and agreed with Nash. He had high rank. There were things he could have done to keep her son safe.

“I got Marissa killed. I got her daughter killed. I got all the people from my original escape attempts killed,” she said. “I can’t help the tieflings. I’ll get them killed. I’m going to get everyone killed!”

“Ailis, darling, look at me. Look at me!” he repeated when she turned her face away. She reluctantly turned and met his gaze. He looked very concerned. “Ailis, what happened to your friend and the others was not your fault.”

“It was. I…”

“Did you force them to try and escape?” he asked.

“What?” she cried, confused.

“Did you force them to try and escape?” he repeated. “Did you threaten pain or death if they didn’t follow you? Did you blackmail them into joining you?”

“No!” she cried, appalled. “Of course not!”

“Were they aware of the risks they were taking when they agreed to join you?” he grilled. “Did you tell them the potential consequences?”

“Yes. I drilled it into them what could happen if we failed,” she replied. “Astarion, why…”

“I’m asking you, darling, because I’m trying to understand why you think you’re at fault,” he said. “Based on everything you’re telling me, you only gave everyone an option to join you. You didn’t force them. You let them know the risks so they made informed decisions. I’m failing to see how you bare any responsibility for what happened.”

“I led the attempts. I was responsible for all their lives. I am responsible for their deaths,” she said. “You should leave. You should let the others know what a failure I am and leave. Nothing good will come of following me.”

“I’m not leaving, Ailis,” Astarion said. “And neither is anyone else. If you told the others what you just told me they’d tell you the same thing I am. What happened was not your fault.”

“I was responsible for all of them. That makes it…”

“That does not make it your fault,” he said firmly. He gave her a soft expression and gently wiped tears from her face. “The burden of the failures may be ours, but what happened to those people…that’s not your fault.”

“You’ll feel differently when I get you and our companions killed,” she whispered.

“You’re not going to get us killed, Ailis,” he said. “We’re all getting out of this alive. We’re not like your previous groups. You have a group of skilled individuals with you. You’re not alone in defending everyone. You have us to reply on. Everything is going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” she said.

“No, but I have a feeling,” he replied with a smile. She said nothing in return. She just sat there and stared out at the calm waters. He began to massage her scalp, probably hoping to help her relax, but she couldn’t let her failures go.

“Sometimes I think it would have been better if that wagon had reached the gallows,” she said. His hand stopped moving through her hair.

“You really think it would have been better if you had died?” he asked.

“A lot of people would still be alive right now,” she replied.

“You don’t know that,” Astarion said. “They could have died later in the war. They most likely would have.”

“They’re not the only lives I’m responsible for losing,” she said. “Trust me, Astarion. I deserved to be brought to the gallows.”

“You don’t think four years forced into a war that wasn’t yours was punishment enough?” he questioned. “You don’t think your guilt is punishment enough?” She shook her head. “Well, I do.” He stood up and she felt her mood plummet even further. She had wanted to be alone when she came down here, but now it was the last thing she wanted. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to get away from her though. She’d just encouraged him to do exactly that.

He didn’t walk away, though. Instead, he turned back towards her and held out a hand for her to take. “I think I know a way to help ease your guilt,” he said giving her a smile. “Do you trust me enough to give it a try?”

When they’d first met a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have agreed to anything he proposed. At least not without a detailed breakdown of what he intended. Now though, she took his hand and let him lead her through their camp. She was relieved to find it was still empty. She didn’t want to face her companions yet.

Astarion led her through camp to the abandoned building they’d found. There had been a squabble over it as most of the group had wanted to take up residence there as it had a bed. It was decided that no one would set up permanent camp there. They would use it for group meetings or personal time only. She guessed the latter was what he had in mind now as she looked at the clean sheets that had been put on the bed. She felt a spark of irritation. She should have realized he thought sex would make her feel better. It was the last thing she wanted right now.

Still, she would go along with it. It would be easier than trying to explain why his action was insensitive to her feelings and the argument that would ensue. It wouldn’t be the first time she endured sex to please a man’s ego and it most likely wouldn’t be the last. And Astarion was very skilled in bed. Maybe it would prove a good distraction from her thoughts. As they approached the bed he let go of her hand and then sat down on the edge of it with his feet shoulder length apart. He looked at her with a serious expression.

“Remove your pants and undergarment, Ailis. They get over my lap,” he ordered.

Ailis blinked and stared at him dumbly for a moment. This wasn’t how they usually did this. “I…what?” she said confused.

“You wanted to be punished, didn’t you?” he questioned and her face flushed a hot red as she realized what he intended to do. He smiled wickedly at the sight of her blush. “I do love it when you blush. It’s such a rare occasion.”

“I…I’m not a child,” she protested, though that statement certainly made her feel like one.

“Only children can be spanked?” Astarion replied with a widening grin.

“I…I’ve never…”

“You’ve never received a spanking before?” he questioned, surprised. “Your mother never had you over her knee?”

“My mother didn’t believe in hitting children,” she replied, defensively

“Well, as you’ve just pointed out, you’re not a child,” he said.

“I…” She didn’t finish her statement. She didn’t know what her statement was. She squirmed where she stood and stared at the floor, trying to come up with something to say. Astarion’s feet suddenly came into view, and then she felt his cook fingers caress her chin as he lifted her face so she was looking at him. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

“You’re rarely this flustered,” he murmured softly. “What has you concerned?”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to get out of this,” she said.

“He frowned, puzzled. “Get out of this?” he repeated.

She flushed. “I know some people do this for fun,” she said.

He nodded. “Yes, and you may find you enjoy this, but that’s not the intended purpose of tonight,” he said.

“Then what are you getting out of this?” she persisted. “My pain?”

His eyes widened. “Your pain?” he said shocked. “Ailis, how hard do you think I’m going to hit you?”

“I don’t know!” she cried. “I’ve never done anything like this, except for that Loviatar priest. I don’t know how this works. I know you enjoyed watching that priest strike me.” She expected him to get mad, but he just stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.

“Hold out your wrist, Ailis,” he ordered. Confused, she did as he asked, holding her arm out in front of her with her palm up. His own hand struck her wrist before she even saw it coming. She hissed and drew her arm back, cradling her wrist to her chest. She gazed at him with a shocked expression. His own was perfectly neutral. “Did that hurt?”

“Yes,” she replied in a tone that made it clear she thought he was crazy for asking.

“Is the pain unbearable?” he asked in the same neutral tone.

“No,” she answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s as hard as I intend to spank you, give or take a little,” Astarion said. “I’m not going to beat you black and blue. You’ll be able to sit down tomorrow.”

“But when the priest…”

“I didn’t know you very well when you let the priest beat you. I hadn’t fully decided I trusted you. I thought you must have been into that sort of thing and responded accordingly. I was surprised you never asked me to do anything similar when we began having sex.

“You’re not wrong that I get off on others pain. I’m not going to lie about that,” he said. “But the purpose tonight isn’t the pain. You carry a lot of guilt over your past. I just want to try to help you release some of it. As for what I get out of it, well, control. We don’t have to do this, though, Ailis. I’m not going to do anything to you that you don’t want.” She believed him. Even before she really began to tryst him, she’d trusted him to stop if she asked. He was always attentive of any boundaries set during sex.

“Okay,” she finally agreed. “What do I say if I need you to stop, though?”

“Just say stop,” he told her moving back to his previous position on the bed. She didn’t follow yet.

“Don’t people use specific words for this sort of thing, though” she questioned, “because they might say stop on instinct?”

“Yes. A safe word is usually put in place for that reason. However, due to our personal histories if you say stop, I’m going to take that at face value,” he said. “So don’t tell me to stop, Ailis, unless you really want or need me to, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay,” she agreed.

“All right then. Remove your pants and undergarment and come here,” he ordered pointing to a spot right next to him rather than demanding she get over his lap right away like he had originally. She moved slowly as she completed his orders. A nervous anticipation had her heart racing, and she couldn’t help trembling a little. Astarion noticed and took her hand in his, gently massaging her knuckles with his thumb.

“Are you all right, darling?” he asked, giving her a soft look. “We can stop.”

“No, I’m all right,” she said.

He nodded and his expression turned stern. “Do you understand why you’re being punished?” he asked.

“For failing to save…”

“No,” Astarion said and she gave him a puzzled look.

“You said this was to try to relieve my guilt,” she said.

“It is, but I’m not going to punish you for something that wasn’t your fault or something you already received punishment for,” he said. “Pick something else. Something more recent.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at our companions,” she said after a moment. “I was being unfair.”

“You certainly were,” he said. “You shouldn’t have taken your problems out on them.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know you are. Still, you need to receive punishment for your actions,” he said. “How many times should I spank you? How many have you earned?”

“I…I don’t…” she looked at him helplessly. She had no basis for this. She felt completely lost in the moment. Luckily, he seemed to understand. He gently squeezed her hand in reassurance.

“How about I give you two options, and you choose what works best for you?” he suggested and she nodded her agreement. “Option one: I give you ten harder strikes. Option two: I give you twenty with fifteen being the same strength I slapped your wrist earlier, and the last five a bit harder. Either way, you’re going to be able to sit tomorrow, Ailis.”

Ailis thought about it for a moment. Ten sounded more appealing than twenty. She wouldn’t have to be in an embarrassing position for as long. However, the slap he’d given to her wrist earlier had stung and the skin was still a little pink. The skin on her ass would be even more sensitive. She’d never done this and she wasn’t sure she was comfortable having him hit her any harder. Getting through five hard strikes seemed better than ten and if she couldn’t handle it and had to tell him to stop, she’d have already taken at least sixteen. She’d be able to say she gave it a fair chance.

“Twenty,” she said quietly. He nodded and gave her hand a final squeeze before letting go.

“All right then, darling,” he said. “Get over my lap.” She awkwardly positioned herself over his lap. He helped her maneuver so his one leg helped support her upper torso even as her head hung down just below his knee. She held onto his one knee with one hand and the sheets on the bed with the other. Her ass was completely exposed to him, and she trembled with nerves. She jumped when he placed a hand on the center of her back.

“Try to relax, darling. You’re safe,” he soothed, rubbing her back a little. She took a few deep breaths and slowly felt her muscles relax. “That’s it. Are you ready for me to begin?”

“Y-Yes,” she said. “Do I count them out loud?”

“Hmm, that is an appealing thought,” he said in a teasing tone before growing serious again, “but not tonight. We can examine that possibility another night if you decide you like this or find it helpful. I don’t want to push limits tonight. Now, take one last deep breath for me before I begin.” She did as he said, and the first stroke came as she let the breath out.

She let out a startled squeak. It hurt. It felt worse than the strike to her wrist had. Still, it was not unbearable. She hadn’t quite processed it, when the second strike hit, and then she stopped thinking as he continued to land blow after blow. By the time he struck her ten times she realized she’d made a mistake in choosing twenty strikes. Her skin where he’d hit her felt like it was on fire and the pain was increasing with each strike even though the strike’s strength hadn’t changed yet. When he reached the fifteenth strike her tears finally spilled over and down her cheeks.

He stopped after the fifteenth strike for a moment, but any relief she might have felt vanished when he shifted his leg so the seat of her ass raised to a higher position. She whimpered as she thought of where the last five, harder blows were going to land. He hushed her and comfortingly stroked her back.

“It’s just five more, darling, and then you’ll be done,” he assured her. “Do you think you’re ready to apologize now?”

“Y-Yes. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t mean to act like that. I couldn’t stop myself. I…I…I…”

“Shhh. Shh, darling,” he soothed. “Breathe for me.” She tried to do as he said and took big gulps of air in until her breathing found a rhythm again. “Good girl. I’m going to give you the last five strikes now. I want you to try and release your guilt with them, all right?”

She nodded and then the first blow hit and any thought of trying not to cry anymore escaped her. She started sobbing and it took everything in her to not ask him to stop as the next blow hit. She had felt worse pain before than this, but this just felt so intimate. She wanted to bare it for him. Right now, she would do anything for him, so at the last strike, she tried to release some of her guilt.

Astarion helped move her into a sitting position on his lap. He managed to adjust her so her ass was mostly between his thighs so nothing rubbed against her reddened skin. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed ash she clutched to him like her life depended on it. She stroked her back and hair and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Shh. It’s all right now, darling. All is forgiven. You’re all right,” he soothed. He repeated a variation of these words until her sobs turned to cries and then to whimpers until finally, she ran out of tears. She rested, slumped against him, feeling more exhausted than she had in her whole life. They sat like that for a few minutes and then she felt his hand slide between her legs and a cool finger split hear seam, running the length of it before brushing over her clit. She let out a shaky gasp.

“What do you think, darling? Based on how wet you are, you seemed to enjoy that. Should we move on to more enjoyable activities?” he asked. She thought about it for a moment. She was surprised to find she had evidence of arousal, but in the back of her mind she’d been aware of a stirring of heat between her legs that was different from the heat on her ass from the spanking.

Still, she shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t feel up to it,” she said, her resolve to endure it from earlier cracking. She knew he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. “I’m sorry. I know you were planning on having sex tonight, but…”

“It’s all right, Ailis,” he cut her off. “Don’t apologize. We both have to want it, remember?” She smiled and nodded. He moved his hand back to a more acceptable spot on her thigh. “So, what do you want, darling? How are we spending our time tonight?” She opened her mouth with an immediate response but then just as quickly clamped her mouth shut and looked down at her lap. “What’s wrong, Ailis.”

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just, what I want…you won’t like it. I’m trying to think of something else.”

“Ailis, darling, look at me,” he ordered and she raised her face to meet his eyes. “You’re just tried something very new to you that had you completely out of your element tonight. You’re going to get whatever you want.” He grinned. “Within reason of course. So, tell me, what do you want.”

“I just want to naked cuddle,” she said. “And I want you to stay with me all night.”

Astarion nodded. “Very reasonable,” he said and kissed her forehead. He slid her to sit on the mattress. Her full weight was on her ass though and she felt the skin burn as it brushed against the sheets. She jumped up from the bed and clutched her ass. Astarion laughed and she gave him a hurt look.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said as he stood up. “The look on your face was just funny, that’s all. Here.” He helped slide her shirt and upper garment off. “Stand there for a moment while I undress and then we’ll get you on the bed comfortably.” He kissed her forehead again and she stood waiting as he quickly undressed. When he was naked, he sat down on the bed and then moved until he was lying down on his back in the middle. He held out his arms for her. “Come here, darling.”

She climbed onto the bed and crawled over to him. He pulled her down so she rested mostly on top of him. Her head rested on his shoulder. She hissed when he pulled the top sheet over them, but the sting only last for a minute. He stroked her back and left gentle kisses to her forehead every few minutes. Her eyelids grew heavy and she felt sleep trying to claim her. She tried to fight it, but Astarion wasn’t having it.

“Go to sleep, darling,” he ordered her gently. “You need to rest.”

“I want you to stay,” she murmured through a yawn. “I’m not going anywhere, Ailis,” he promised. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” She smiled sleepily as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. It was the last thing she felt before sleep finally claimed her.

#bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav

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novantinuum · 11 months

Text

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by @picnokinesis! Thank you, friend! <3 I love these sorts of things.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

91 works, spread across five fandoms! (listed in #3)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

368,544 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

(In order of most to least recent)

Legend of Zelda (9 works)

Steven Universe (40 works)

Doctor Who (20 works)

Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia (5 works)

Gravity Falls (17 works)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All Steven Universe fics here, which isn't surprising:

Hollowed Moon (2,953 kudos)

Crack the Paragon (1,711 kudos)

Shattering Atlas (733 kudos)

Contact (625 kudos)

Misalignment (472 kudos)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do my best to respond to comments when I can, although if I get hit with a strong influx of them I often fall behind on this and respond "late." I like my readers knowing that I do take time to read their thoughts, and that they're not just commenting into a void! Also, I've actually made some new fandom connections through engaging with the AO3 comments thread in the past, so they're something I like to encourage.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

So this is a tie between Shattering Atlas and a one-shot I posted in my LoZ Whumptober collection.

Shattering Atlas because... well, it's my Steven Universe: Future Bad Ending corruption fic with zero comfort. However, I do IMPLY an eventual "good ending" in the author's notes, so this is up to audience interpretation whether it TRULY counts as "full out angst."

In my Legend of Zelda Whumptober collection, meanwhile, I have a one-shot that is basically an in-game Bad Ending but permanent, in which Mipha's spirit has to watch Link die horribly to the Blight Ganon in Divine Beast Vah Ruta. That one absolutely has no silver lining, but the angstiest descriptions of it ARE pretty swift and don't linger too long.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This question is a little hard to answer because most of my fics are either one-shots or unfinished, and basically ALL of my one-shots have some falling action or catharsis of some sort. I feel like this is more applicable for authors who focus on multi-chapters, so it's not one that meshes well with my fic catalogue.

That being said, if I have to choose ONE fic, then probably my recent post TotK Zelink fic, A Hymm as Sweet as Memory, which actually contains a very impromptu and rushed proposal, and emotional reunion smooches. I feel like that counts as "happy" ahahah.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Eh... no. I haven't really written anything super "controversial" that would garner flames yet.

Yet, though.

(See below.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do now. Haven't posted it yet, but I have a fic about 75% complete that in fact COULD gain me flame commenters. I don't feel like it will, because I feel like AO3 readers are a bit more chill than folks used to be on Fanfiction dot net, but like. It always Could. It is overtly non-con and is written as an experiment both to explore my own cerebral interest in sex from a very detached asexual perspective, and see how absolutely disgusting a piece of prose I can muster. (Think... slime. Monstrous nasties. Hot, brackish fluid rushing down one's throat. Exploding eyeballs. And... yes, this IS a Gloom Spawn porn fic, what of it?)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've written ONE crossover to date, and it was a fusion of Gravity Falls and Trollhunters, where all the characters existed in the same world and things played out quite differently for both plots as a result. A Tale of Two Trollhunters, it was called. Very niche, but I'm still quite fond of the idea. There's a SHIT ton of notes I have for the crossover that I never got around to writing... I only posted 14K of this work, but I have like... another whole 5K of work that's partially finished, just sitting around.

It's honestly one that I haven't entirely discontinued in my mind- I think it could be fun to return to one day should I ever get the inspiration or whim.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Lol YES, and it's with the person who tagged me. We had like... a series of 13th Doctor one-shots about her first episode we were working on for a while, and then life got away with us. Honestly they're still pretty good IMO.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oh god. Uh... I don't think I can consciously choose a favorite ship, but I CAN choose a favorite ship from each fandom I've been in:

Doctor Who- The Doctor/Clara Oswald, with a particular emphasis on queerplatonic 12/Clara.

Gravity Falls- Stanford Pines/Fiddleford McGucket

Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia- The Jim/Toby/Claire trifecta

Steven Universe- Steven/Connie

Legend of Zelda- Zelda/Link (in general, but especially their BotW/TotK incarnations)

My AO3 stats signal that my most posted ships are Connverse and Zelink (3 fics each), but I do feel like spending multiple years writing in-depth Ford/Fiddleford RP, and like easily over 300K words of it, does mean that this ship is especially dear to me even IF it's not represented in my AO3 stats.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Sigh... probably Crack the Paragon. I care about that fic very deeply, but I'm so damned blocked on it and so deep into another fandom right now that I certainly can't see myself returning to it within the next five years, unless there's a really epic Steven Universe interest renaissance coming for me and half the internet soon.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Uh... when I write a super crunchy metaphoric sentence, it sure can be a mean ass, crispy banger of a sentence.

I also feel like I'm decent at establishing unique voices for characters in my dialogue when I try at it. I've been told by some that they can easily hear characters speak the lines when they read, so... I will take those compliments to the bank, I guess.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue passages that feel oddly disjointed from the surrounding prose. I often end up sketching out bits of dialogue before I can think of good ways to link the segments together coherently, and as a result I feel like some of my dialogue-to-prose and back to dialogue segments come off as disjointed and awkward.

Also I abuse the em-dash. Em-dash my beloved. So sue me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I am only proficient in English, so for the meantime this isn't really something I'm interested in or think I could pull off successfully and respectfully.

The single exception here is that I am trying my best at describing a few signs and emphasis markers for the sign language Link uses in many of my fics. I am bending the rules a little because he is using Fantasy Sign Language and not ASL, but I think there'd naturally be a lot of visual overlap with super basic concept gestures, so I've done research for those and am having fun finding creative ways to describe his expressiveness through his hands and facial features instead of through a voice.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who! I started posting Doctor Who fanfiction on FF.net in 2011, and never looked back. Although that original account I posted on is now inaccessible to me, sadly.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I have two.

One is my first fic written for Legend of Zelda... a funky lil second person POV fic called so close, so far... (so familiar...)

I just really enjoyed the writing process of this one, and feel it's one of my most unique works in style. I also think it's probably my most slept on fic of all time lol, like I wish it got more attention than it did for how much I cherish it.

The other is A Memoir of the Marks Unseen, one of the last major projects I finished for Steven Universe. This fic took me about a year and a half to write, real talk. I often get the sense that I HAD to get this one out of my head before I could truly move on from SU as an active fixation. In many ways, it's the culmination of my emotions about my own mental health recovery, all partially projected onto Steven as he goes through a different but still metaphorically relatable experience. I also like... kinda think that my writing peaked here. Lol.

I am tagging only a few people. I am tired. Yeet. Off the top of my head:

@deiliamedlini, @citrusella-flugpucker, @bahbahhh, and uhhh... one more... @michpat6

#jen rambles #tag game

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delektorskichick · 11 months

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2 3 16 29

Assuming this is for the bored and anxious fanfic writer asks:

2) Do I read/reread my own fics?

Hell yes! Even fics that I’ve gifted someone else are written for me, by me, and it’s fic I want to see in the world. Since it’s fic I want to see in the world, I read it all the time!

3) What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Honestly it’s probably one of the two I’m working on right now that both kind of spiraled out of control? One is a (mostly) canon-compliant Clint/Nat/Laura fic that I wrote mostly at @cassiesinsanity’s urging, and the other is a multi-fandom spin-off of ANOTHER fic I’ve been working on (that was SUPPOSED to be a ONE-SHOT, dammit!) that is now longer than what I’ve written of the original fic.

16) At what point in the process do you come up with titles?

Unless a title slaps me upside the head at the beginning of a project (like honestly most of my NaNo works) it’s the last thing I figure out before I post it. And usually you’ll find me screaming into the void or scrolling those Criminal Minds quotes for something. Or I steal one a friend who’s read the fic comes up with.

29) Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic.

So here’s the thing. I don’t edit. I don’t cut things. I might spawn an idea or two that I never get to, but I don’t write them down. What little I do cut just isn’t really long enough to say that it’s an idea? I’m one of those people that will slap anything up on Ao3 once it’s complete enough to be coherent. Or I’ll use bits that fit for things like Whumptober.

BUT!

I dug through my word docs and found a thing that won’t be posted for a LONG time yet because I’m stymied on plot currently. It’s from a clintasha fic where Nat is a tattoo artist and Clint is a barista.

Natasha walked into Howlie’s Ink Parlor -affectionately known as just Howlie’s- on Fulton Street, fifteen minutes late and without her usual Starbucks.

How on earth Steve managed to see her from where he was bent over his buzzing needle, Natasha didn’t know, didn’t want to know, honestly. But see her he did, and she heard the raised eyebrow in his voice when he spoke.

“Cutting caffeine cold turkey there, Nat?”

Natasha growled quietly at him as she slumped down on the stool at her station, chucking her bag under the desk with a careless thud. Her head was pounding, and she couldn’t even manage to be disgusted at the gooey love eyes Steve was making at James over his literal labor of love. He was putting the finishing touches on the scar-covering tattoo that he’d been tweaking and refining for the last eighteen months on James’s left arm.

Normally, Natasha would have just rolled her eyes and pulled out either some new flash sheets she was working on or pull up a design to do some last-minute tweaking of her own for a client. Normally her ferry was on time. Normally the last Starbucks before she got to Howlie’s wasn’t closed to undergo surprise repairs.

Normally she probably could have handled all that and just laughed it off, getting herself a cup of Steve’s horrible instant decaf in the breakroom and pretending it was real and bitching about her, admittedly ridiculous, commute.

But damn Matt Murdock and his shitty-ass timing. She hadn’t gotten any sleep last night, and she was getting too fucking old for that kind of shit.

Hope that was what you were looking for!

#minirant #questions

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all54321 · 11 months

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The End of Evo/The Only Survivor

[AO3]/[AO3]

I’ve been lagging behind on putting my Whumptober fics on Tumblr, so here’s two that go together but weren’t posted together… because I didn’t think of it at first.

Summaries: After spending a long time trapped with the Watchers, Grian finally demands to see what happened to his friends… he really wishes he hadn’t. / Now alone, Grian lets loose on all his feelings over Evo’s destruction.

This is canon to all of my fics where Watchers all canon. So… little prologue to those fics.

Day 9: Presumed Dead

Day 10: Alt 6: Crying to Sleep

—————

‘Fine,’ the first Watcher says, ‘we’ll let you see Evolutions.’

Part of Grian is relieved, the other part is worried at why they agreed. He doesn’t ask questions as it lets the purple magic surround its hands and waves spreads them apart in the air in front of them.

A window immediately opens, showing the world of Evo, well what’s left of it at least. Grian inhales sharply as he takes in the overgrown ruins of spawn.

With small gestures of its hands, the view changes, each one showing different parts of the server. Ruin either overgrown, charred, or just rubble.

He takes a step back, breathing picking up, No, they wouldn’t, they wouldn’t destroy the place after they promised. But they would, a quiet voice whispers into his head.

Grian takes another step back, he took the deal to keep everyone safe. He went with the Watchers in order to keep his friends safe. He endured this torture so his friends didn’t have to.

“You- you promised,” he whispers, barely breathing out the words.

The second Watcher turns to face him, its grin the only thing visible, ‘This is why you don’t have attachments to players.’

“Why did you ki-kill them!?” Grian says desperately, voice getting louder and cracking midway through. His eyes flick back and forth between them, grief and anger mixing in equal parts inside of him. A raging storm.

𝙹 リ ᒷ scoffs, ‘They’re players. They are below us, they do not matter. ’

“We came to an agreement, that you wouldn’t hurt them!” Grian continues, emotion bleeding into his voice. He knows better then to do that, but he doesn’t care. His friends are dead and they’re at fault.

ℸ ̣ ∴ 𝙹 closes the distance and slaps Grian across the face, making him wince. ‘What did we teach you? Emotions only show weakness, especially towards players.’

‘They disobeyed us,’ 𝙹リᒷ adds, ‘it was only right that they got punished.’

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt them,” he yells, despite knowing how they’d react.

ℸ ̣ ∴ 𝙹 grabs him by the throat, magic pulsing, ��You will go back to your room this instance and stay there until we have prepared your punishment. ’

Grian gasps when it lets go, falling to his knees. He staggers back to his feet, not wanting to tempt his fate any longer, even if a part of him wants to pick a fight now.

He shoots a glare at them, even if they won’t see it because of the mask, and slowly retreats to his room, hand hovering over his throat and the forming bruises.

~~~~~

Grian curls up in his bed and cocoons himself in his wings. Now alone, the rest of the emotions he was holding back flood through him.

He takes a shuddering breath, as the grief becomes overwhelming. Grian covers his face with his hands as he feels tears gathering in his eyes. Despite the Watcher’s probably watching him, he lets the sobs escape him.

Grian curls up tighter into a ball, letting the sobs wreck through his body. All he can think about all of his friends who he had invited to Evo are all dead now, all because of him.

He should have a found a better way to help them then going with the Watchers, he should have set them free the moment he got their powers. He should have just obeyed the Watchers from the start. Then they would probably be alive now.

Grian moves his hands down to clutch at his arms, talons digging into them. He faintly feels the pricks of pain as they most likely pierce through his skin.

He pays no attention to both the pain and the wounds, only feeling the grief of what he’s learned. Grian only holds himself tighter as sobs wreck through his body.

The rest of the world falls as he can think of nothing but the ruins of Evo. Eventually the exhaustion catches up to him and drags him into very restless sleep.

#my writing #ailesswhumptober2023 #day 9 #day 10 #presumed dead #crying to sleep #evolution smp

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bittercape · 2 years

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2022 fanworks roundup

For a year where I, by all appearences, did nothing at all for the first half, quite a lot happened.

ART

I painted Bucky and Clint as pirates for the Winterhawk AU Bang, and was claimed by two amazing writers. The resulting fics are from the water thrown, discarded by veryrach and free as the wind that blows past me by flowerparrish, and they're both amazing <3

For the Winterhawk Big Bang, I made art for Hold Your Nerve by Inktastic1711 and for don’t care what you did (as long as you love me) by veryrach.

For the Rusty Quill Big Bang, I made art for The Haunting of Elias Bouchard by With_the_Wolves

FIC

I would have tried to sort this into fandoms or ships, but honestly they do get a little bit mixed up. So, chronologically:

Boris the Soviet Love Hammer

Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, 11k, explicit

For the Winterhawk Big Bang I wrote a shenanigans-filled adventure featuring my favourite things to write: Competent Clint, Thirsty Bucky and Helpful Tony. Hopefully, one day, someone will see fit to draw mermicorn Clint like the world deserves. This fic is blessed with art from amoredition.

of people wrapped up tight in the things that will kill them

Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton/Jason Todd, 7k at 19/31 chapters, mature for violence

For whumptober, I haven't yet managed to finish Bucky, Clint and Jason's no good very bad day. Now that kinkmas is over (more on that later) I will hopefully have time to do it.

Raps at my window, waits at the gate

Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, 2865 words, explicit

At this point I had fallen into the DC hole courtesy of Jason Todd (new blorbo!) and the magnificent fic Give Thanks To Broken Bones by thepartyresponsible, who is one of the most brilliant writers out there and I recommend everything they've ever written. After this brief flailing break: My first adventure in DC features new OTP Jason Todd/Slade Wilson (because I absolutely cannot resist a grumpy old bastard) and my favourite type of Tim Drake, the slightly unhinged version. Regular readers might be able to see a pattern here.

What Spring Does With the Cherry Trees

Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, 32k, explicit

The Winterhawk Olympic Big Bang made me finish this, which has been in progress for more than a year and the is the longest thing I've ever written. This is a bit different from my usual pace - it's a slow story that lets Clint and Bucky take their time to grow closer and fall in love. For this story I was lucky enough to collaborate with three artists: Dr. Girlfriend, VexedBeverage, and Call-Me-Kayyyyy. All their works are embedded in the story.

Baguettes At Dawn

Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, 45k, explicit

Another labour of love on which veryrach and I have been collaborating on since February. It's a silly and fun bakery AU, spawned from a single pun I brutally eradicated from Rach's soft & delicate desires; hopefully, close to 45k of sourdough and madeleines later, the slaughter of a single pun was worth it.

American Thighs

Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, 3k, teen and up

For the Winterhawk Wonderland Exchange, I got back on my bullshit and wrote fake dating, a meat market of a christmas party, and a devious Natasha.

For the Batfam Kinkmas Exchange I wrote a whole pile of works. That's what happens with new blorbos, I'm told.

The Seduction of Jason Todd

Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, 3565 words, explicit

Truth be told, I struggled a lot with this. I got my assigment, grasped the wish for fluff&smut like a baby koala, and then I realised fluff does not come naturally to Deathstroke the Terminator. Sincere apologies to the disproportionate amount of friends who had to suffer through my wailing about this for six weeks; but I do think it was worth it in the end.

Man of Milk and Honey

Michelin Man/Jason Todd, blessedly short at 1k, explicit

I don't know what to say about this. A comment about how the Michelin Man was made of ice cream combined with the prompt and the general vibes in the server planted a seed in my mind and I had no choice but to inflict it on everyone else. You have been warned.

Take Of Me What You Please

Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, 2667 words, explicit

I wanted to write a treat for Jack, who saw me hovering at the edge of the pit, and joyfully dragged me in. Incidentally, I also fullfilled my own Christmas wish, so no vicarious motives here.

Get Me A Taste Of Some Chaos

John Constantine/Jason Todd, 4k, explicit

I could not resist the detailed and varied request, and so we have 5+1 times John Constantine met Jason Todd, featuring swords, tentacles and various magic bullshit.

Get Into Your Slide

Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton/Jason Todd, 2476 words, explicit

Rach is, for all intents and purposes, my partner in crime, and my main cheerleader, my worst enabler. She deserves the world, but rather than that, I wrote her some porn for Christmas. Or rather, due to scheduling reasons, for New Year's.

Lay This Body Down

Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, 1621 words, explicit

There's a long and involved story about one word prompts and the Birdwatchers server, but the relevant part here is that I signed up for the word Bind at the very end of a long marathon, and decided to combine it with a kinkmas treat. Mostly to push myself to get it done. Shibari and kink discovery.

Total word count, excepting the works on which I am listed as co-creator but haven't written a single word:

117.267

My previous record was 61k in 2020, it's no wonder it feels like a lot this year.

#my fic #winterhawk #sladejay #jason todd x john constantine #winterhawk with bonus jason

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the-great-lightwood-bane · 2 years

Text

Could Cry Power

Malec | Rated general | tw kidnapping

Whumptober Day 2: Caged

Summary: People are disappearing from New York, and Alec has no idea why.

What he finds out is worse than he’d expected.

A/N: This is written as a sequel to @arialerendeair's fic The Weight of Power, as well as to my own fic, With Great Power. Both are in the Power series; I’d recommend reading them before this one!

Aria’s fic is a BRILLIANT expansion on my idea and it spawned even MORE ideas for me… this AU is never going to end, is it 🤣🤣🤣

Thanks to Aria for letting me borrow her OCs Oberon, Qinemru, and Seera, and to lawsofchaos for letting me use Tosa, Yuan, and the Consular High Warlock 'verse!

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

As it turned out, the consequences of overcharging Alec’s body with elemental magic for the second time didn’t have nearly as extreme an effect as it had the first time. So far, at least.

Admittedly, it would be hard to top their discovery of Alec’s immortality — Magnus had been running a diagnosis on Alec to figure out if there’d been any consequences for his absorption of the tsunami’s power, and when he’d realised that Alec’s cells were no longer degrading over time… Well. There’d been some minor misunderstandings (two screaming sessions followed by several hours in which they’d both feared that the other one wasn’t as committed as they were featuring Alec beating his hands to a bloody pulp and Magnus getting viciously drunk with Caterina), but eventually they’d realised that they both wanted this, and Magnus would never forget the joy he’d felt knowing that age would never take Alec away from him.

The second consequence of stopping the tsunami had been more immediately evident: the bond that now stretched between them, coiling in time with their emotions, constantly transmitting the other one’s mental state as well as allowing them to share strength with unparalleled ease, although it wasn’t possible if they were too far away from each other.

Now that several times more power had been pumped into Alec, that bond had expanded dramatically in breadth; whereas before, Magnus had only been able to feel a faint thread of Alec’s emotions when he focused on it, now he could always feel Alec’s heart beating next to his, feel every surge of love or adrenaline or irritation. And even when Magnus portalled to the other side of the world, the strength of the bond didn’t seem to dim at all. Alec was a constant glow in Magnus’ mind, his heart, his magic, and their strength was so entwined that any exertion on Alec’s part pulled from a shared pool of strength.

On top of that, Alec’s eyes still hadn’t lost the ring of white power around his pupils, although it had dimmed considerably; Magnus glamoured it away while Alec was out of the loft — no point letting the Clave, or the Downworld, know any more than absolutely necessary — but inside, he let the glamour drop just as he did the one which hid his own eyes.

Other consequences were easy enough to detect: Alec had gained an impressive sensitivity to energy, whether it be Shadowhunter, Downworlder, or even mundane. The way he described it, everyone glowed with energy in the colour of their magical signature, whether Alec was trying to look for their magic or not; he’d told Magnus, grinning, that Magnus’ blue glow was by far the brightest in the city, rivalled only by the Angelic Core and the Ley Lines, both burning white. But even mundanes glowed with energy; while they didn’t have magic, they did have energy, and that meant they all glowed faintly white in Alec’s vision. Even when they were out of sight, Alec could still feel that glow.

Every spell Magnus cast, Alec felt, no matter how well Magnus tried to hide it from him. Every time a seraph blade was activated; every time a werewolf transformed; every time a vampire showed their fangs — Alec felt all of it, and if he focused too hard on all the energy moving around him, it was overwhelming. Fortunately, it was usually easy enough to tune out.

Mostly, Magnus could see and feel the same things, if less clearly and only when he concentrated. But sometimes — perhaps five or six times a day — Alec felt a strange fluctuation in the energy of the city. Not a loss of energy, or a gain; only a small fluctuation, sometimes weaker and sometimes stronger, but something about it felt wrong.

But there wasn’t time to investigate the strange feeling, because shortly after Matthias’ death, people started disappearing.

The first, which Underhill reported to Alec as soon as he emerged from Magnus’ arms to face the world, was the most obvious: two werewolves who’d gone missing while on a walk together, leaving no trace. Neither was particularly prone to random disappearance, and when tracking suggested they might be behind wards — although still in New York — Alec tried to find their magical signature.

He stood in the middle of the Jade Wolf, focusing on the green light of the werewolves’ magical signature which clung to a sweater. Werewolf magical signatures were much harder to track than warlocks’, since every werewolf glowed green, but there were small nuances to each individual magic, and Alec did his best to feel for the same nuances somewhere else in the city.

His mind seemed to expand, to spread over New York’s glow. He felt like it was drawing a map in his head, the ley lines streaming like a river between scattered clumps of mundanes’ white light, the Institute a lump of brighter gold and white, colourful dots for warlocks, the gold of a patrol, the Jade Wolf glowing bright blue thanks to Magnus’ presence over a gleam of green… it was bright, too bright, colours overlapping and blurring together; Alec thought for a moment he might go mad from it all, but a thread of calmness from Magnus whispered through the bond between them, and he refocused on the city.

Green dots. Only think about the green dots. He let the other colours — the white, the red, the gold, even Magnus’ blue — fade into background noise; only the green stood clear, the Jade Wolf glowing bright with various other spots scattered around the city. But not one matched the unique magical signature of either werewolf.

“I can’t see them,” Alec said with a sigh, the map falling away to a background hum of colour. “They might just be buried among other magical signatures, but…”

Luke sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Three warlocks. Four faeries. Another six werewolves, for a total of eight. Seven vampires. Six Shadowhunters.

Twenty-eight disappearances.

It had been a week, and the number hadn’t stopped climbing. Sometimes it was one person at a time; sometimes it would be two, like the first werewolves to vanish; four of the vampires had disappeared together. Most of the kidnapping scenes bore traces of a magical signature, but neither Alec nor Magnus could figure out whose it was, or even what species they were. Night, day, it didn’t matter; whoever was doing the abducting either had a messed-up sleep schedule, or there were several people working together.

They tried Alec’s new abilities, Magnus’ warlock tracking, Shadowhunter tracking, werewolf tracking, and even Jace and Alec’s parabatai tracking, but none showed any trace of the disappearances. Or perhaps deaths; while Magnus thought the tracking had failed due to wards around the vanished Downworlders, Alec had thought he could circumvent any such wards, so perhaps the missing simply weren’t there anymore.

All that they’d confirmed was that everyone was still in New York: Magnus had sensed that from the feeling of the wards which blocked his tracking. But neither a magical scan of the city nor physical searching had as yet revealed anything.

That day, Luke called from the police precinct with even more worrying news — it wasn’t just members of the Shadow World who were disappearing.

Mundanes were, too.

Most of the mundanes were those who wouldn’t be missed — the poor, the undocumented, the lonely — but some weren’t: the owner of a not-so-small business, taken on one of her regular trips to the gym; an actor, vanished partway through the filming of a movie; three children who never came home from school.

The mundane police were looking into it, and Luke’s precinct had realised that the wealthier victims weren’t the only ones. At least ten more (taken from underground fighting rings, mostly) had vanished without being noticed; Luke was estimating a total of eighteen to twenty-three missing mundanes.

(The mundanes were really quite panicked about it. Apparently, between a couple homicides, supplies stolen from a hospital, a series of jewellery thefts, and now these disappearances, New York was experiencing an unprecedented surge in crime. The Clave was breathing down Alec’s neck about finding a way to placate them, but there wasn’t much he could do.)

None of the missing mundanes could be tracked or sensed anywhere, just like the vanished Shadowworlders, which meant both groups had almost certainly been taken by the same person — or rather, group of people, because there was no way any one individual could kidnap nearly fifty people in one week.

Magnus was still out with a client when Alec got home — earlier than usual, thanks to an inability to focus on inane Clave reports when fifty people had been kidnapped under his nose. The Clave was kicking up a fuss about it, of course — and blaming Alec, of course — but the envoy they’d sent to speed up the process had been utterly incompetent and Alec had successfully distracted him with various uninteresting and unnecessary jobs to mess up. The Clave couldn’t send somebody higher up to claim temporary Headship until a month had passed, so Alec was safe enough so far.

The problem was that this time, at least, the Clave was right. Alec should’ve been able to catch this group, whoever they were, or at least stop them from kidnapping people. But even now, when everybody in the Shadow World was going around in at least pairs, the disappearances hadn’t stopped; the kidnappers weren’t cowed by numbers, and Alec still knew nothing about them.

What was the point, he wondered, of all these new powers he’d gained, if he couldn’t use them to protect his city?

If he couldn’t focus on the Clave, he could at least search again for the missing people, right?

He headed out to the balcony and sat down cross-legged, the meditation position Magnus had been teaching him; they’d found it was useful when scanning the city for the missing people.

It was easier, now, to sink down into the map in his head at a level that neither overwhelmed him nor prevented him from feeling the currents that ran through the city. The ley lines were a drumbeat in the background; the tides of mundanes flowed along streets, into subway stations, up buildings, down buildings, like water through a stream.

First, he scanned the Downworlders, one group at a time. He’d memorised the remaining numbers of each specifically so that he could count them like this. Werewolves: all of New York’s two hundred and twelve were there, dots of green perfectly visible. Vampires: two hundred and fifty-three, down one from yesterday’s two hundred and fifty-five, but he’d already known that. Warlocks: seventy-one, multicoloured splashes of light, among them Magnus’ bright blue beside the green of his current werewolf client. Faeries were impossible to count, since they were the same colour as mundanes and he couldn’t tell the difference between a building of several hundred mundanes and a single faerie, so he was about to allow the mental map to fall away from his mind when that strange, uncomfortable fluctuation reverberated through him.

It was the first time that had happened while he was in this state, focusing so hard on the energy of New York, and the sheer wrongness of it nearly made him lose his grasp on his mental map. But he held on, and he saw it.

He wouldn’t’ve noticed if he hadn’t been watching like this, specifically watching the bright colours of the city’s warlocks. But he was watching, and just as that fluctuation shook his grasp on his mental map, the purple dot of a warlock vanished.

All that he could see in its place was a clump of white.

He didn’t — couldn’t — stop to think. Almost unconsciously, he sent desperation flowing through his bond to Magnus, and in scarcely more than the time it took him to climb to his feet, a portal swirled open and Magnus stepped through.

Alec didn’t wait for the portal to close; he reached for the strands of magic that guided it and unanchored it from the werewolf’s place Magnus had left, directing it instead to the spot on his mental map where the purple dot had turned white.

He felt a different portal forming there, one created by the white dot of magic; there wasn’t time to tell Magnus what he’d seen before whoever it was went through the portal with their newest victim.

I’ll explain later, he tried to convey through the bond, and dragged Magnus after him back through the portal.

It had been barely seconds, but as Alec watched, the other portal — the one he’d sensed forming — closed in a swirl of white sparks. Just before it shut, though, he caught a glimpse through it of a woman turning away from them, an unconscious body held over her shoulder.

Then it was gone, and no matter how hard Magnus tried to trace it, he found nothing — leaving the two of them with more questions than answers.

“Did you know that warlock?” Alec asked softly, once they were back at the loft.

“Not well, but I’d met him before,” Magnus replied, equally quiet. “His name’s Artem.”

Alec breathed out slowly. “I’m sorry. If I’d been faster—”

“This is not on you,” Magnus said, suddenly heated, shifting so he could meet Alec’s eyes. “You did everything you could, sayang.”

But I couldn’t do enough. Alec didn’t say the words aloud, but Magnus understood him anyway.

“I couldn’t do enough either, love. I’m as much at fault as you are.”

Alec huffed, giving in — he could never argue when Magnus put it that way. It was always easier to blame himself than to blame someone else, especially if that someone was Magnus.

Then Magnus kissed him, and he let his fears drift away.

The fluctuations — and the kidnappings — promptly stopped.

Alec guessed that the woman had seen Alec and Magnus coming through the portal; she must’ve realised that they were on to her, and was now avoiding doing anything to catch their attention. But as one day passed without incident, and then another, Alec felt his uneasiness rise.

This, he feared, was nothing but the calm before the storm.

The rest of the Downworld Cabinet was mostly just relieved that they were no longer losing people; the Clave was also happy about the news. But something wrong was itching at Alec, and he didn’t know what it was.

Well, he had several questions, really. Artem’s magical signature had vanished before his kidnapper had taken him through a portal, which meant that it wasn’t just hidden behind wards, it was gone. How had the kidnapper done that? What was the point of it? Where were the kidnappers bringing these people, and what were they doing with them? How many kidnappers were there, and how were they hiding their presence from Alec’s new abilities? Magnus said that Artem was a fairly powerful warlock; how had one single kidnapper overpowered him so easily? What was that kidnapper — faerie, as her magical signature had been white, or something else, since Alec didn’t think she’d felt like a faerie?

They’d already wondered whether this might be related to Matthias Hillborne: the kidnappings had, after all, started directly after his death. And perhaps the kidnapees’ magical signatures had vanished because their energy had been leeched from them, as Matthias had done.

But if the kidnappers were taking their victims’ energy, why would they take the bodies with them? And from what Alec had seen of Artem as he’d been taken through the portal, he looked nothing like Matthias’ victims — no shrivelled skin, no shrunken corpse.

On top of that, if Matthias had told multiple people that it was possible to steal a person’s energy to fuel yourself, it seemed unlikely that the knowledge could stay hidden very long. There was a reason why Magnus and Alec had hid Matthias’ actions from the Clave; that kind of knowledge was dangerous in the wrong hands, and very, very difficult to keep quiet. Clearly, the kidnappers were a large group of people, so if they all knew what was happening, it was practically inconceivable that not one of them would try to break away, steal as much energy as possible, and concoct some sort of nefarious plan to take over the world. As far as they knew, that hadn’t happened yet.

And, lastly, there didn’t seem to be some huge accumulation of energy anywhere in the city. If Alec had been able to sense energy at the scale he could now, he knew he would’ve noticed Matthias before he’d managed to increase his power so dramatically; right now, the brightest spots of power in New York were Magnus and the Institute. Nothing else even came close; there were a few faeries and warlocks with a solid chunk of power, but none with more energy than was reasonable.

So Magnus and Alec guessed that this, whatever it was, had no connection to Matthias Hillborne.

They still couldn’t begin to guess what it was connected to.

The next day — ten days after the first kidnapping — a positive troop of Consular High Warlocks showed up in New York.

Magnus had sent for them to ask for help after Artem’s kidnapping; clearly, the question of what had happened to his magical signature was intriguing, and four Consular High Warlocks made New York glow far more brightly than Alec was accustomed to.

Oberon was there, his purple magic nearly half as bright as Magnus’ (which was saying something, because ever since Magnus had absorbed Edom, he’d far and above outclassed any other warlock they’d met by several orders of magnitude), and he’d brought Qinemru, who was glowing just as much as Oberon in Alec’s new vision. Tosa and her partner Yuan both glowed red, although Yuan, as a vampire, was less bright; Seera shone yellow, duller than the other two thanks to her youth but not by much.

The fourth Consular High Warlock, Asterope of Australia, was one Alec knew less well, although she greeted Magnus like an old friend. She glowed pink only a shade less bright than Oberon; Alec guessed she, too, was descended from a Prince of Hell. She seemed a touch younger than the others, and indeed, Magnus explained in an undertone that she was the second-youngest Consular High Warlock, after Seera.

Alec greeted them all warmly, adjusting his vision to dim the brightness of the crowd of powerful Downworlders, before the eight of them headed out to a café Magnus and Alec liked (because, as Magnus declared and Oberon agreed, there was no point in worrying about strange magical incidences if one couldn’t eat good pastry while doing so).

Then followed a positive interrogation on every aspect of Alec’s abilities, the strange fluctuation, what he’d seen, what he’d felt, and what he thought might be happening. Understandably, a few of them were dissatisfied with Alec’s answers — he couldn’t describe the fluctuation except “it feels like something is changing or shifting in a bad way” — but soon enough, everyone was discussing magical theory at a level Alec could only barely grasp thanks to his time with Magnus.

But even when Alec’s knowledge of magical theory bottomed out and he was left listening without really understanding as Oberon, Qinemru, Magnus, Tosa, Yuan, and Asterope (who’d been quiet at first but quickly opened up when it came to academic discussions) debated the fine points of the differentiation between warlock and faerie magic, nothing seemed to come of the discussion. Seera had declared that she’d be more useful trying to see if she could detect any unusual wards in the city which might be capable of blocking out Alec’s abilities, but he doubted she’d find much.

“I just don’t know,” Oberon said at last, leaning back in his chair. “Whether this kidnapper is faerie or warlock, she’s using magic unknown to either, and I don’t think we’ll get much further wondering about it in the abstract like this.”

“We’ve already tried to find her,” Magnus pointed out, “but it’s nearly impossible for Alec to sense her due to all the mundanes milling about—”

“But if several of us worked together, we might be able to do a more thorough search,” Oberon replied. “Several warlocks, combining their magic, can track better than one; what if we can temporarily boost Alec’s abilities?”

Alec frowned. “It’s not that my abilities aren’t strong enough, I don’t think; it’s more that I’m picking up on too many mundanes when I try to focus on her magic. Increasing the strength of my senses might just overwhelm me more.”

Tosa, however, had her head tilted to the side. “Still. Perhaps if we boost you, you’ll be able to narrow your search, in some sense, to only her magical signature.”

“It’s possible,” Alec allowed. “And we don’t really have any other options. Let’s try it.”

Magnus opened his mouth to protest, but Alec shook his head at him, and he said nothing, although his lips tightened.

Oberon hesitated. “If you don’t want to do this, Alec, obviously you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Alec insisted. Sure, there was a good chance he’d be completely overwhelmed and collapse, but if this could help find anything to help everyone who’d disappeared… It wasn’t really a choice.

For a moment more, Oberon paused, then nodded sharply. “I’ll call Seera back, and then we can start.”

Magnus put his hands on Alec’s shoulders. Oberon had his hand on one of Magnus’ arms, himself holding hands with Qinemru; Seera was touching Magnus’ other shoulder, with Asterope, Yuan, and Tosa completing the circle. All seven of them would be channelling power into Alec, hoping it would boost his abilities enough to detect the kidnappers through whatever wards they had up.

They were in the middle of Central Park, now, where there were fewer mundanes to see them; Magnus had added a quick ward to divert people away.

“Ready?” Magnus asked Alec.

“Ready,” Alec confirmed, and Magnus felt him sink deeper into his magic, into the meditative state he’d begun to master.

Magic began to pool in Magnus from Oberon and Seera’s touch, and Magnus let it flow through him into Alec.

There was nothing more for him to do but wait and see.

The world seemed to spin beneath Alec, even as he felt his feet anchored to the ground, Magnus’ hands on his shoulders.

His eyes were closed, and instead of seeing darkness, he could see everything.

It wasn’t just New York. It wasn’t just the US, even; he could see — feel? — the whole world, a brilliant ball of light, glowing more brightly in some places, dimmer in others.

He focused in on New York just as a surge of extra power came flowing, multicoloured, through his bond with Magnus.

For a moment, he wavered into confusion, into an overwhelming onslaught of light, but Magnus was there, and he breathed deeply to calm himself.

Focus. He could see the circle of brilliant light where they stood — could see himself, glowing white with flecks of gold, blue, red, purple, pink, yellow, all the colours of the five warlocks, vampire, and faerie standing around him. That wasn’t the point, though; he let the bright hues of warlocks and vampires and werewolves and Shadowhunters fade into the background.

Mundanes scurried back and forth, an endless river of movement. There were clumps of them in tall buildings, streams flowing up and down streets, every fragment of white a different person with their own goals and aims — Alec knew he could get lost in them, in the unending tide of humanity.

But right now, he wasn’t looking at the mundanes: he was looking for something that shone brighter than them, something that shone with the strength of a faerie or warlock. Carefully, carefully, he dialled back his sensations; it was harder than it had been without the warlocks fuelling his power, but he held back the impossibly complex flood of light.

Ignoring the duller mundanes, there were only a few places in the city that glowed bright white. This was where the warlocks’ power boost came in handy: he could sense the differentiation between a crowd of mundanes and a faerie, and — hopefully — any old faerie and the woman who’d kidnapped Artem.

One by one, achingly slowly, Alec let his enhanced senses flit over each of the faeries he could see. Two Unseelie warriors, who felt like shadow and silence; six Seelies, feeling like light and laughter, although Alec knew neither Court was worse than the other.

Qinemru’s white glow was only barely visible below the multicoloured glows of the warlocks and Yuan; Alec couldn’t focus on them for too long without the colours brightening to overwhelm him.

Nowhere in the city did he find any magical signature like that of Artem’s kidnapper.

He searched again, widening his parameters — perhaps she was magically exhausted, and her signature was weak? Or perhaps she was hidden behind wards?

There was nothing.

Alec opened his eyes.

Directly in front of him — her magical signature glowing strong and bright where it’d been hidden from his scan by the glow of the powerful people around him — stood the woman who’d taken Artem.

Her hands flicked up, and Alec knew that whatever spell she was casting would do to the warlocks, vampire, and faerie behind him precisely what she’d done to Artem. All the warlocks were still focusing on Alec, and although they were just halting the flow of power into Alec, none would react in time to protect themselves.

Desperately, unthinkingly, Alec threw up his hands.

Through the bond between himself and Magnus, and Magnus’ rapidly fading temporary bond to the others, he felt six people slip into unconsciousness, their magical signatures draining into white that illuminated the woman standing before them, the city’s power fluctuating and vibrating with that wrongness — but neither Alec nor Magnus was touched. Rage and incomprehension grew on her face.

Another moment, another flick of the woman’s fingers. Oberon, Qinemru, Tosa, Yuan, Seera, and Asterope were yanked forward and through a portal which appeared in scattered white sparks.

Alec felt Magnus gathering his magic to attack, but the woman threw up a shield and followed her captives through the portal.

It shut behind her, leaving Alec and Magnus alone in the park.

Magnus didn’t know how Alec had stopped the kidnapper from taking him and Alec as well as the others, but he could only be grateful for it — judging by the ease with which she’d pierced six sets of powerful wards, Magnus’ own wards would be no match. This woman, whoever she was, was far more powerful than she ought to be.

Alec had his eyes closed, scanning the city for traces of her magical signature, as he had every minute or so since the others had been taken. Without the boost from everyone else’s energy, he couldn’t sense differences in signature with as much precision as he’d like, and Magnus feared it would be a hopeless endeavour.

He also had the feeling that whatever that woman and the other kidnappers were planning, it would happen soon. You couldn’t kidnap four Consular High Warlocks and expect to keep them hidden for months on end; the entire Shadow World would show up in New York soon enough, ready to tear everything apart to find them. Even somebody with the eerily strong power of this woman couldn’t stand up to thousands.

By the time those thousands had gathered, though, Magnus was fairly certain she’d already have made her move. The problem was that he didn’t know what that move was.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Alec’s sharp inhale, and his husband’s eyes snapped open, ring of white clearly visible around their pupils. “I can feel her. There’s a massive amount of raw power gathering in one particular spot, and it’s got her magical signature on it.”

There wasn’t time to wait for backup. Magnus summoned a portal, and Alec led the way through.

The moment they stepped through the portal, bands of white light wrapped like rope around Magnus and Alec both.

The woman stood in front of them, sneering. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be expecting you?”

Alec didn’t bother answering. He could see, along each wall, rows and rows of cages, one person lying on a bed in each, a rope of white magic like the ones that bound Magnus and Alec extending from each captive to a spot in the centre of the room where a ball of pure power glowed a brilliant white.

He thought of Matthias Hillborne, who’d taken energy from perhaps fifteen people to fuel a bomb comparable in power to a nuclear bomb.

This woman had been taking power from sixty people, mundanes and Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike, and six of those people were the most powerful Alec had ever seen, aside from Magnus.

The ball of power glowed brighter.

“What is this?” Magnus asked, eyes flickering around — to the captives unconscious in cages, to the building energy in the centre of the room.

“The most important thing you’ll ever see,” the woman replied, smirking slightly and bouncing on the balls of her feet as though in excitement. “Oh, but I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m Vanessa Hillborne.”

Like Matthias Hillborne.

“Matthias was my brother,” Vanessa went on, head tilted slightly to the side. “Half-brother, I suppose — we shared a demonic parent, but his mother was a mundane, while mine was a faerie.” That explained the white-but-not-faerie magical signature, Magnus supposed. Vanessa was clearly in the mood for a stereotypical villain monologue, and Magnus would like to have stopped her since the ball of energy seemed to pulse brighter and bigger every moment, but he knew that if he tried to free himself magically, the blast would almost certainly set off the bomb she’d built. For now, he would have to wait and listen.

“We worked on this for months together,” Vanessa was saying, cheerily, when Magnus tuned back in. “He was after the power it could give him — he’s always wanted revenge against the Shadowhunters — but I was the one who came up with the idea. We can draw power from ley lines, and share strength with each other; why not try draining energy from the unwilling to fuel oneself?”

“Were you two working alone?” Alec asked, when she paused for dramatic effect.

“Of course,” she said, as though it were obvious; somehow, her incongruously cheerful demeanour didn’t falter. “If anyone else found out, they’d take the idea. Matthias even pretended I wasn’t involved when you caught him. Rather irritating, of course, that he claimed it was all his idea, but it did give me the opportunity I needed for revenge.” Her smile was gleeful. “You two killed him, so I’ll have to kill you. When my bomb goes off, it’ll tear apart half the continent.”

Magnus glanced quickly at the still-expanding sphere of power, and had to admit that her estimate was probably accurate: she held in her hands more power than Magnus had seen before in his life.

“How did you manage to gather so much energy without us noticing?” Alec asked — mostly, Magnus gathered from the emotions in the bond between them, to keep her talking, but also from a sense of morbid curiosity about what they’d missed.

“I’m glad you asked.” Vanessa clapped her hands, sprightly. “I’ve been kidnapping people since he died, you know, and I’ve taken their energy so neither of you can find them. But I don’t kill them; I’ve always thought that was rather careless of Matthias. Instead, I keep them alive so I can continue gathering energy. And with enough people to fuel my power, I don’t need much rest, so it was easy enough.”

Magnus could feel Alec swallowing back disgust at Vanessa’s casual admission that she’d used people as batteries to give her power, not once, but constantly for the last ten days. None of that disgust, however, showed on Alec’s face. “But how come I couldn’t sense your power accumulating until a few minutes ago?”

“Oh! Well, for that, I was actually inspired by your own efforts to absorb Matthias’ power. I’ve been feeding the energy into gemstones” — she waved a hand at a pile of sparkling stones in the corner, which appeared to be dissolving to ash as power was pulled from them; Magnus recalled the missing jewellery incidents the mundanes had been worrying about, and thought it was unlikely they’d find their gems again — “and portalling the stones all over the world, so you wouldn’t notice their energy in New York. Now I’m just pulling all the power out, so I can use it.”

She waited for a moment, almost like a teacher checking to see if there were any more questions before going on with the lesson, then spoke again. “It’ll be only a few minutes until my bomb’s at full force; I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until then—”

Magic surged up through the bond between Magnus and Alec just as Alec’s hands closed on his bonds and pulled them apart.

Vanessa started, clearly taken aback, then huffed and sent a blast of magic at Alec.

Alec sidestepped.

Another blast.

Another dodge.

Then Alec dove for her, drawing the seraph blade she hadn’t bothered to take from him, and the battle was on.

Magnus couldn’t help.

He tested his bonds, but while channelling a lot of his magic into them would probably free him, it would also certainly trigger Vanessa’s bomb, which ruled that out. Whatever Alec had done to get free — it had looked like he was manipulating the magic of the bonds themselves, which shouldn’t be possible — it wasn’t something Magnus could replicate, and unfortunately, Alec was a bit too busy fighting Vanessa to free Magnus, too.

She tossed a fireball at Alec, which he blocked, but the fire ricocheted back towards Vanessa’s bomb, and only avoided triggering it by a hair’s breadth. Don’t let her magic hit the bomb! Magnus thought, shoving the words through his bond with Alec, unsure if he could even do that, but apparently he could because understanding washed back and Alec absorbed Vanessa’s next attack into his seraph blade.

As Magnus watched, Alec sidestepped or blocked or absorbed spell after spell, with an incredible agility — he seemed to know where the spells were aimed, to almost anticipate their movements, and if Magnus didn’t know better, he’d say Alec was mildly altering the course of the spells so that they went where he wanted them to go.

Vanessa had started the fight still smiling, although irritated by the interruption, but soon she was breathing more heavily and scowling; Alec was showing himself to be a real threat, and Magnus felt a surge of pride. But that didn’t last long, because a moment later, Vanessa reached out a hand towards the spinning ball of power and Magnus, Sight activated, saw white power flow into her, brighter and sharper than before. She stood taller, and her next attack was so quick that Alec barely dodged.

Magnus pushed his own strength through his bond with Alec, letting him match Vanessa’s energy. Alec didn’t use it, though — instead, he stumbled back, allowing Vanessa to advance towards him before he apparently gathered himself to attack again.

Alec moved slower than he should, allowing the warlock/faerie to control the fight; she pushed him back, back, back again. He was still keeping her magic from ricocheting chaotically around the room, but Vanessa could tell the effort was wearing on him.

She was smiling again, almost giggling as she fought. Her confidence was growing as Alec continued to fall back, and Magnus knew what would happen the moment before it did.

Vanessa Hillborne dropped her guard for a fragment of a second, and Alec drew on the strength Magnus had been pooling inside of him to move faster than should have been possible. His seraph blade stabbed easily through her chest.

Her eyes widened with shock and terror and pain. In the moment before light drained from them, she thrust out a hand toward the bomb, and sent a blast of magic directly at it.

As Alec watched, energy poured out of Vanessa, white and brilliant. Her life force, joining the mass of power that was making the air tremble. Her magic would both fuel her bomb and set it off.

Magnus was suddenly beside him, presumably able to free himself from his bonds now that Vanessa was dead, urgency burning through the bond between them.

As they had on a magic carpet over the Indian Ocean, as they had over a soon-to-erupt volcano in Iceland, Alec reached out to hold each of Magnus’ hands in his own, the bomb spinning brightly between them. It was perhaps two feet across, and for once, Magnus was not the brightest glow in the room.

Unlike before, though, this wasn’t on a scale that he and Magnus could simply absorb. Between the two of them and the bond that connected them, the power of a tsunami had been manageable; thanks to several gemstones and Jace and Clary’s assistance, they’d absorbed enough energy to avoid the complete destruction of Iceland, although that had nearly killed them.

This was several times more powerful. Several times more dangerous. For now, they could — temporarily — keep the power contained, and hope they could figure out what to do with it.

Echoing Alec’s thoughts, Magnus spoke up. “If we send it up, it’ll rip a substantial portion of Earth’s atmosphere away when it goes off, which would make the planet uninhabitable within hours. If we send it down, there’s a good chance it’ll compromise the structural integrity of the planet itself, and it’ll at least cause massive disturbances on the surface — enough to drown some continents and form new ones. If we leave it be, it will explode with exponentially more force than a nuclear bomb; the environmental impacts for any survivors of the initial blast will be devastating.”

Alec swallowed hard. “We can’t absorb it. If we tried, we’d only be able to absorb a fraction of its power before it overwhelmed us and exploded.”

There was despair, heavy as a stone, in Alec’s chest — despair in the bond that connected them, despair that Alec did not know how to surmount. This wasn’t a matter of sacrificing himself to save Magnus, or to save the world; this was a sheer wall of impossibility. Nobody — no one person, no two people, no matter how powerful, could absorb all this.

Alec looked up, sudden hope rising. “What if we channelled energy into everyone else she’s captured? Wouldn’t that make a dent—”

Magnus shook his head, and Alec’s heart fell. “They’re still unconscious, and I don’t think any of them would have the energy to get over here to help us. But even if they could, it’d just overwhelm them — this power has been taken over a period of several days for most, and giving it all back to them at once… Whatever they could absorb would only be a fraction of the total.”

“But with enough people, we could absorb it all.”

“Theoretically,” Magnus replied, “but we can’t exactly assemble several thousand Downworlders and Shadowhunters here to share it with us.”

Alec thought of how, a few days earlier, he’d taken control of Magnus’ portal and changed its direction — something which even Magnus couldn’t do; he thought of how, when the other Consular High Warlocks and their consorts had been taken, he’d deflected Vanessa’s magic away from himself and Magnus; he thought of the glowing white ropes Vanessa had bound him and Magnus with, and the way he’d directed them away from himself as though they were his own magic.

He thought of his battle with Vanessa, of how he’d guided her magic away from himself, away from her bomb, subtle movements which had nevertheless saved him several times over.

His eyes fixed on the sphere of power between him and Magnus — energy too vast for him to hold, but if he wasn’t holding it all at once, if he was only holding a little at a time, perhaps—

There wasn’t time to explain his revelation to Magnus; he could barely explain it to himself. “Do you trust me?” he asked instead.

“Of course,” Magnus said immediately, as Alec had known he would. “But what—”

“No time.” Alec swallowed, and he knew that the circle of power around his pupils was likely expanding, brightening, as he gathered the power within himself. “I need you to feed the power into me, but not all at once.”

Magnus’ eyes held a thousand questions — how could Alec hold that power, what was his plan, was he going to sacrifice himself again — but Alec whispered trust me again into the bond between them, and Magnus nodded. Always.

Power flowed into him, white and elemental but not yet too much, not yet more than he could control, and with its help, Alec let his power expand to encompass the world.

It was like it’d been when Oberon and the others had channelled power into him: he was no longer limited to New York. The world unrolled, and with raw power rolling through him, Alec could reach out to touch every bloom of white or green or red or gold, every warlock’s magic in a thousand hues. He could touch the fifty people in the room with him, too, all so drained of power their magical signatures were nothing more than a mundane’s.

Before the power overwhelmed him, Alec breathed in, slow and steady, and sent energy spiralling through his touch into the first souls he could reach: mundane or warlock or vampire or werewolf or faerie or Shadowhunter, the energy Vanessa had built up to destroy rushed through him and scattered into a thousand pinpricks.

Never enough to hurt, to overwhelm. There were eight billion people to absorb this magic, and as huge as it was, divided into so many parts, it could not harm them. Perhaps — even probably — some would feel more energised than usual, stronger, but Alec would not let this power cause harm. He would not.

The river of strength flowing into him increased, and he knew that Magnus must be struggling to keep the bomb from pouring into Alec all at once. But he could do nothing to help his husband, except keep him at full strength through their bond; right now, he moved on to more people, farther away, allowing them to take in more of the power that coursed through him. He couldn’t let the sheer energy make him lose track of himself, or he’d accidentally overwhelm somebody else; he needed to keep his head, to fill each soul with a drop of magic and then move on to the next, and the next, and the next.

Mundanes could only carry a fraction more magic than they already had, but there were more of them than of any Downworlder or Shadowhunter, so Alec let energy drip bit by bit into one after another after another. The Downworlders could hold more, but each race, each individual, was different; Alec felt pressure building up inside of him as power flowed faster, but he forced himself to portion out that energy in packets, never too much for anyone he touched.

Through his bond with Magnus, he felt a flare of panic, and then a pulse of pure power lanced through him. He barely had the awareness to pull away from those who already absorbed what energy they could and move on to more, still empty enough to be filled; the power sputtered out of him almost carelessly, not as efficient as it could have been, but Magnus had the flow of energy back under control and Alec went on.

Time dissolved into white light and pinprick glows. His bond with Magnus was the only thing holding him steady, holding him still, holding him anchored to this world; as power flowed on out of him into mundanes and Downworlders and Shadowhunters, he wondered if, without that bond, he would simply drift away on a river of light.

He wondered if that would be so bad.

Then suddenly there was alarm in the bond, in Magnus’ chest, in Alec’s chest too, and he felt Magnus tug him back. I love you, Magnus said, words echoing in Alec’s head, and he pulled himself back under control.

Energy streamed through him.

Alec was scraped raw, a vessel not meant to bear this weight, this power, but he would serve: he would save the world, save New York, save Magnus from the elemental magic he still felt in what remained of Vanessa’s bomb.

Magnus’ breaths were synced with his through the bond, an ebb and flow as, together, they moved power away and divided it into negligibility, into safety.

Vanessa’s bomb unspooled into Alec’s veins, into the people who made up the fabric of their realm. It burned, but distantly; he was half in the bond with Magnus, half guiding the power into eight billion people, and there was nothing left to feel pain.

Alec would come back from this changed, he knew, as he had twice before; the energy in his body and his mind was hollowing him out to make space for itself, carving out a place for white light in the gold he’d been before. He wondered how much gold was left, how much angelic energy could be replaced with white before it faded entirely.

Yes, he would come back changed — if he came back at all.

Sometime after he began controlling how quickly Vanessa’s gathered magic flowed into Alec, Magnus realised that this was not his magic that he used to do so.

It had been at first — he’d felt the weight of using the power of a Prince of Hell to control the energy entering Alec — but somehow that was no longer the case: he wasn’t using foreign magic to control wild magic, he was simply controlling the bomb itself.

This was Alec’s power, and somehow Magnus was borrowing it.

He had little energy to spare for pondering such issues, however; Alec’s magic or his own, Vanessa’s bomb did not want to be contained or controlled, and forcing it to trickle slowly took all Magnus’ concentration.

Trickle away it did, however, and Magnus held it back as Alec spread it far and wide.

He held it back as he held Alec back, too, when he felt like he’d drift away on the power Magnus pumped through his veins; he held it back as it nudged against him and cajoled; he held it back as it slowly, impossibly slowly, drained away to nothing.

As darkness descended on him, he held on to Alec.

This time, when Alec awoke, there was no momentary panic, no burning in his lungs.

He knew with a certainty that almost frightened him that he was no longer Nephilim.

Yes, runes still sat, heavy with power, on his skin; yes, he knew he could activate them with a stele if need be. But his magic was not angelic, any more than it was demonic; his magic simply was, and he could use runes of the Angels as easily as runes of the Fallen.

The knowledge was less important than his husband.

Magnus was lying beside him, an arm across Alec’s waist and their legs entangled as though he feared Alec might drift away. Which, Alec supposed, was fair; Alec had nearly let Vanessa’s bomb drag him away, after all.

Even without opening his eyes, he could sense Magnus’ presence: magic and heat emanating from the figure at his side, Magnus’ emotions showing clear through the bond between them. For now, Magnus was sleeping, but there was a certain fear beneath the drowsiness which, Alec knew, was responsible for Magnus’ octopus-like position.

He felt Magnus stirring to wakefulness, perhaps because Alec himself was awake now, and opened his eyes in time to meet Magnus’ unglamoured ones. A smile spread across his face, matching Magnus’, and for a few moments more, he simply savoured the knowledge that they’d both made it out. There were an infinite number of crises to deal with, it seemed, but at least this time, there was little harm done.

“How are you feeling?” Magnus asked, breaking the silence.

Alec arched an eyebrow and prodded at the bond. I’m doing perfectly well, as you can see.

Magnus huffed slightly. I want verbal confirmation, darling.

“I’m feeling fine,” Alec told him aloud. “Great, actually.”

The more he thought about it, the more true it felt — despite the oddness of his runes, the sense that they were not precisely his anymore, not in the way they had been, there was energy humming beneath his skin. He didn’t feel the magical-exhaustion-slash-rune-burnout he’d experienced after Matthias; before, he’d felt scraped raw, a vessel not made to hold such power, but now… now, perhaps, he was made for this. Perhaps, when white light had chased away the gold in his soul, it had built him into something new.

Or something very old.

The thought was Alec’s, and Magnus’, and somehow both of theirs at once; Alec had no idea how this bond, whatever it was, actually functioned, but he figured that could wait until later.

“Before we delve into the intricacies of what happened,” Alec said, “is everyone alright?”

Magnus nodded. “The mundanes’ memories have been wiped, and while the police are a bit confused about all the missing people turning up none the worse for wear aside from a little lost weight, they’re accepting it as it is. The Downworlders Vanessa kidnapped are also well, including the other High Warlocks. There’ve been a few stories of people around the world feeling stronger than they should — you know, mundanes lifting things they shouldn’t’ve been able to, I think somebody broke the record for running a marathon — but nothing the Clave’s paying much attention to.”

Alec relaxed at the thoroughly reassuring report. “Then, what do you think happened to me?”

With a slight sigh, Magnus sat up, tugging Alec with him so that they were still cuddling but in a slightly more upright position. “First, I think you’d best look at a mirror.” He snapped his fingers, summoning one, and Alec held it up to his face.

For a moment, Alec didn’t see it, and then the light shifted slightly and he did: paler than his skin, white scales dusted his face, particularly thick at the corners of his eyes and on his nose. As he angled the mirror back and forth, they seemed to fade in and out of view, like a mirage, but his skin felt different in those places when he ran his fingers across them. Rougher, slightly bumpy, tougher than elsewhere.

His pupils were still surrounded by a ring of white, as they had been since Matthias, but it was brighter now, and seemed almost to be encroaching on the pupil itself. There was the faintest tracery of paler white around the deflect rune on his neck, and when he glanced down at his arms, the same seemed to be true of each rune on his body, parabatai rune included.

“I’m not Nephilim anymore,” Alec said, “but what am I?”

“I have a theory,” Magnus replied. “It’s all theoretical, of course, and I never would’ve thought this — any of this — was actually real, but—” he cut off, gesturing to Alec.

“Go on,” Alec told him, a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

Magnus didn’t need much more prompting — he rarely did, to start talking about anything that interested him, and as anything that interested Magnus was automatically interesting to Alec, it wasn’t uncommon for Alec to hear an in-depth explanation on some point of obscure magical theory every few days. (Several warlocks he’d spoken to had been surprised by the rather random bits of knowledge he’d accumulated like that.)

“I’ve been researching this before you woke up,” Magnus began, “and I found something very interesting. According to legend, before the Incursion, before the advent of the Nephilim, the realms were guarded by dragons. Not dragonidae demons,” he added at Alec’s raised eyebrow, “but true dragons — no more demonic than they were angelic. Dragons hunted down the few demons who’d escape into this world every so often (although far more rarely than they do now); they didn’t try particularly hard to hide from mundanes, but there weren’t many of them, and without the Internet or the ability to travel around the world in anything less than a lifetime, stories of them eventually morphed into the myths we know today.

“Again according to legend, dragons were chosen by the realm itself to protect it. I’m not entirely sure which threats they were meant to face, but I believe it would’ve been a combination of demons and mundanes who endangered the world. There isn’t much known about how dragons were created, or born, but it’s believed that when there was need of them, they would arise. They had both humanoid and not humanoid forms, which they could switch between at will; some legends suggest they might have had riders, mundanes or Downworlders who they bonded with.

“As I said, they were neither angelic nor demonic in nature — or, more accurately, they were both. Unlike with the Fair Folk, whose angelic nature cancels out the demonic and vice versa, dragons wielded angelic and demonic power both. It’s a complex point of magical theory, but essentially, because they were created from the realm itself, they could not be averse to any of the forces at work within it, which includes demonic and angelic magic.”

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Alec observed. “I always thought angelic and demonic magic are… fundamentally opposites, or something.”

“In most cases, they are,” Magnus agreed. “Nephilim have a natural aversion to demonic magic, and Downworlders cannot, as you know, bear runes. But not always — for example, when I healed Luke that time, I was able to share strength with you without hurting either of us.”

Alec nodded, considering. He knew where this was going, but he’d let Magnus get there before making assumptions.

“Dragons could use both,” Magnus resumed, “as well as having a natural affinity for controlling and channelling ley lines, and a general sensitivity to energy and magic. That’s where the mundane myths about dragons hoarding precious materials come from — gemstones, like the ones you and I used in Iceland and the ones Vanessa stored power in, are useful conduits for elemental energy like that, and so dragons would build up stores of them.

“But dragons, already rare, became more rare as time went on; perhaps there were fewer demons for a while, and therefore less need for them; perhaps mundanes hunted them to near-extinction. Most likely it’s some of both. Whatever the reason behind it, dragons had vanished almost entirely by the time of the Incursion; the realm might’ve created more of them then, but Raziel created Shadowhunters, and I suspect the realm determined there was no need for dragons any longer. Therefore, dragons faded from the world, until…”

Until me, Alec finished for him. “But — but why?” Why does the realm need a dragon again? Why did it choose me?

There is nobody else more fit to defend the realm, Magnus told him through the bond, in response to the last question. “I’d guess that the realm deemed itself to be in danger again because Shadowhunter numbers are falling — they’ve been doing so for quite a while, and the Uprising killed a lot of you. Perhaps the realm recognised that, and decided to do something.”

Alec chewed his lip. “Then why create a dragon now, rather than during the Uprising?”

“You were created during the Uprising,” Magnus returned. “I doubt if the realm can simply make an ordinary mundane — or Shadowhunter, or Downworlder — into a dragon all at once. But since you’re a Shadowhunter, any draconic traits would have been mostly eclipsed by your angelic blood, so there wasn’t any striking difference to mark you out.”

“But when I was exposed to such large quantities of elemental energy that the draconic side became dominant,” Alec finished for him, nodding. “So if I hadn’t ever tried to absorb energy from the bomb, I might never have realised I was anything but Nephilim.”

“Pretty much,” Magnus agreed. “But there’ve been other signs, now I think about it, that you were never fully Nephilim. Remember what I said earlier, about how when I healed Luke, your angelic magic didn’t hurt me? I think that was because of this. Because your magic had draconic energy in it, which allowed my demonic magic to accept the angelic components of your magic. And with the tsunami in the Indian Ocean — no normal Shadowhunter would be able to carry enough of that power to help me absorb it, but you did. And then again with Matthias, you took on more energy than should’ve been possible, and you survived.”

“Each time I did it, though, I became more like a dragon and less like a Shadowhunter.” Alec looked down at his runes again, at the way they glowed the white of a dragon’s magic. “I felt it, when I was channelling Vanessa’s magic. I felt my angelic magic being replaced by something else.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus said, a sudden rush of words, as though he’d been holding them back, hesitating, and now he’d let them loose. “If you’d never met me, none of this—”

Alec held a finger to Magnus’ lips, quieting him as Magnus had quieted Alec once before. “It’s not your fault, and I don’t blame you. More than that, Magnus, I’m not upset about this.” He let the truth of that statement ring in the bond between them, and felt Magnus grow calmer. “Sure, I’m not technically Nephilim, but I’ve got my runes, my parabatai bond — and I’ve got these new abilities, the bond with you, my immortality. I have the best of both worlds; why on Earth would I be angry at you for bringing me all this?”

Magnus smiled, and this, right here, was exactly why Alec would never, could never, resent his husband. How could he?

He tugged Magnus into a kiss, and all the world was nothing to the love blooming in his heart.

“I do have a few more questions, though,” Alec said, eventually, when their bond was once again humming with a quiet peace despite the novelty of all they’d discovered in the last few hours. “Firstly, you said something about a dragon having a humanoid form and a dragon one.”

Magnus hummed his agreement. “According to myths, dragons could switch between the two. I don’t know how the theory works, per se, but I’ve no doubt we could figure it out.” He glanced around the room, then back at Alec. “Probably not in here, though. I’ve no idea how large your dragon form would be, and until you learn how to control that, I’d suggest avoiding transforming in an enclosed space. Especially one which the Clave is surveilling.”

Alec nodded. “Speaking of the Clave, how much of this are they aware of?”

“Not much,” Magnus replied. “I told them we simply managed to dissipate the magic Vanessa had accumulated, without going into details. Oberon was the one who brought us back to the Institute, and he glamoured your scales in case you didn’t want everyone to know about them; I’ve kept up the glamour since he returned to Vienna. I don’t know how the Clave would react if they knew about you, or about dragons, but knowing the Clave—”

“—they’ll probably react badly,” Alec said. “I’ll have to thank Oberon for doing that; I don’t want them to know until I’m ready to deal with whatever problems they’ll create.”

He was frowning, so Magnus said, “Let’s not worry about the Clave right now. They’re not breathing down our necks quite yet. Did you have another question?”

“I did,” Alec said, but there was something faintly less confident in his tone. “Something else you mentioned — that a dragon had a Rider with whom they were bonded.”

“I did, yes,” Magnus concurred, fingers rising immediately to toy with his ear cuff. “It’s all theoretical, but apparently dragons would bond with non-dragons — either romantically or platonically — and the two would be able to share both strength and thoughts. They were stronger together, according to the legends — stronger than any individual person or dragon could ever be alone.”

Magnus felt his heart beating faster in his chest, unaccountable nervousness probably bleeding through the bond to Alec, but if they were dragon and Rider — if Magnus was Alec’s Rider — well, the legends all agreed that such a relationship was something out of the ordinary.

And the way Magnus felt for Alec was undeniably out of the ordinary. He’d loved time and time again, but never like this: never with such absolute certainty and trust in the other, never without a doubt, never so wholly and completely.

He wasn’t sure if he could work up the courage to ask Alec if he felt the same way.

Fortunately, Alec knew him as well or better than he knew himself, and he didn’t have to ask. “Magnus Bane,” Alec said, through voice and bond alike. “Will you consent to be my Rider, as I am your dragon?”

There was something ritualistic in the words, like centuries of history neither of them knew were breathing through them both. “I do so consent,” Magnus replied, and the bond flared brighter than ever between them.

He knew, without knowing how he knew, that Alec would be able to draw on Magnus’ magic as if it were his own — and he knew equally well that if he needed to, he’d be able to use Alec’s own magic, that ability to manipulate magic not his own. Vaguely, he wondered if he’d be able to bear runes now, too — and what the Clave would think of that.

But none of that mattered nearly as much as the man in his arms — his husband, his dragon, his mate.

#whumptober2022 #no.2 #caged #tsc #tmi #the shadowhunter chronicles #the mortal instruments #fic #my fic #kidnapping #magnus bane #alec lightwood #magnus x alec #alec lightwood bane #magnus lightwood bane #malec #alec x magnus #dragon alec lightwood

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

Text

whumptober day 10: bleeding out

spn time!

i think i’ve come to the realisation that i just can’t write whump--i get too distracted with the weird stuff.

summary: set during 15.19. there’s one final roadtrip that sam and dean have to take with michael and jack before they figure out a way to outsmart god.

warnings: spoilers for 15.19. AU, somewhat. non-graphic description of major injuries. not much whump per se, more weirdness.

i was thinking of @katsidhe while writing this! i hope to write more fics set during this time in canon.

bleeding out

The drive from Hastings to Lebanon would usually take about ten hours, give or take an hour depending on traffic and how long they stopped for refreshment. For someone who’s lived on the road their whole life, it’s quite average as journeys go. Sam-as-a-kid would’ve counted the distance with chapters of the book he was reading; teenage Sam with songs on his beat-up walkman; post-Stanford Sam, burning and raw, with nightmares and breathing exercises.

It’s different after the Cage--time’s different. He can go on for ages before its passage starts to wear on him. If anything, he prefers being on the road to the weeks spent in the Bunker; at least on the outside, he can ground himself in the passage of day and night. It’s easier, too, now to fill the silence between too-loud rock music and too-glib banter: Sam disappears inside himself while Dean…

Well. That’s what he spends time inside of himself to try not to think about.

This is all to say that when the world ends one last time, and they have to make the journey from Hastings to Lebanon as the very last living beings on Earth, Sam expects the journey to be quick, or to at least feel that way. Jack and Michael sit in the back--determinedly not looking at each other--while Sam and Dean sit in the front, silent and utterly out of platitudes. It’s all familiar to the point of comfort.

It’s just that when they actually get on the highway, the road is filled with vehicles. It’s not the apocalyptic scenes that Sam was imagining: cars careening into each other and exploding into giant fireballs as their drivers disappeared, planes falling out of the sky, the lesser disaster of a billion cups of coffee all falling to the ground all at once. Instead, the cars are parked in neat lines, doors closed, as though their drivers decided all at once to just… stop, step out, and disappear forever. Sam thinks it’s the eeriest goddamned thing he’s ever seen as Dean slowly navigates the Impala through this maze of vehicles.

“This is His mercy,” Michael says, out-of-the-blue. His voice breaks the utter stillness of the world around them and makes Sam jump a little. “After everything, He’s given humanity a way back to what they were.”

“Shut up,” Dean growls, and pours on some more speed.

“He hasn’t destroyed life, though He well could have; merely suspended it until He sees what He wants to see from us--”

“Did I stutter? Shut it.” They’ve reached a relatively vacant stretch of the road, and the car goes faster. “Chuck never has a deeper plan. All he wants to do is sit back and literally watch the world burn.” Dean grits his teeth. “Not this time--”

He makes a sharp turn, just in time to see a gigantic eighteen-wheeler stopped haphazardly across the width of the road. Dean slams the breaks and turns to avoid crashing into the truck--Michael and Jack make concerned noises while Sam braces himself against the body of the car--it skids and teeters nauseatingly before Sam is thrown forward--his head hits the dashboard with a sickening thunk and then he knows no more.

Sam wakes to a clear blue sky and Michael sitting next to him, humming… an old pop song?

“Adam’s favourite,” Michael says without a pause to let Sam take stock of what was happening. “Annoying little ditty to have to hear for centuries, but… catchy.” There’s a sudden cold menace to his voice that would’ve taken Sam aback had he been able to form more than one coherent thought. “Good at drowning out your screaming, at any rate.”

“Dean,” Sam tries to say, gurgling it through a mouthful of blood.

Michael casts a disinterested look at somewhere beyond Sam. “The spawn’s taking care of him.” He tilts his head. “He’s alive. I think.”

“I--” Sam tries to move. His chest lights on fire almost immediately, but he’s able to curl the fingers of one hand and that’s--that’s earth. He’s on the ground, out of the car. Which means--

“I pulled you out. Well--” Michael gives an amused huff. “Most of you, anyway.”

Well if that doesn’t sound terrifying as fuck. Sam takes a quick inventory of his own body--scrapes, cuts, burns, broken bones, nothing he hasn’t dealt with a million times before--then realises that he can’t feel anything below his right elbow. There’s a warm puddle of blood that’s quickly gathering underneath him.

Sam opens his mouth to ask for help. Realises there’s none to ask for, none to give. Sinks back into the ground.

Michael’s pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his arm, and is staring at the sun dipping under the horizon. “If He thinks you have a purpose, he’ll bring you back.” He smiles, and it’s sharp and bitter. “How many ever times it takes to prove His point.”

(i’ll just bring you back, sam.)

“Sammy!” At least Dean sounds ok. That’s good. Wouldn’t do for half of the world’s remaining population to go down together.

“Keep… keep singing,” Sam says.

For the first time, Michael looks startled, but he obliges and begins humming again. Sam closes his eyes--to the music, to the sky over this silent, frozen world, and to the snake tongue whispering in his ear.

#supernatural #season 15 #my fic #sam winchester #samndean #michael

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glimmerglanger · 4 years

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Flotsam and Jetsam (Part One)

The first chapter (after the prologue) of “Flotsam and Jetsam” is up over on ao3! I will be posting a chapter every Monday! The entire thing is completed and I am working on the follow-up. (A sequel, from me? I know!)

Anyway, this is the mer!Cody and living by the sea!Obi-Wan au. Set in the 1940s. Warnings for PTSD, suicidal ideation, talk of major injuries, past major character death (none in the fic), commentary on mental health care in the past.

“Flotsam and Jetsam” is Codywan, explicit (eventually), and big on both physical and emotional hurt/comfort. Six total chapters (two of which are already up). You may recognize the prologue as an entry from whumptober, which spawned this entire AU. Hope you enjoy!

#flotsam and jetsam #codywan #my writing #mer cody #here we goooooo

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 17: He Knows

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 17. Set during RttE. A Hiccstrid AU. When Viggo knows something about Hiccup that the Dragon Riders don't, he's all too eager to share it with his young rival.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Viggo, Astrid

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Words: 4 264

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Blackmail” + “Dirty Secret”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: This is actually based in an AU/UA that I've posted one one-shot for before and do plan on writing a main fic for because there is just so much drama and plot that can be made with it.

The continued usage of the wrong pronouns is on purpose.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

NOTE: The Rape/Non-con warning is there for a correct warning. Nothing explicit happens in this fic. What does happen is unwanted touching above the belt, above the chest even, but still unwanted.

Ao3 Whumptober Fic

Ao3 Original Fic

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"I can't imagine how awful it must be to be in your position."

Hiccup looks up from the shackles binding his wrists at those words. They are the first spoken since Ryker has pushed him into this chair in front of Viggo minutes ago. There's been a tense one-sided silence of Viggo giving him the usual "did you honestly believe you would get away with this" speech with Hiccup not even giving him the time of day. But at those words, he has to look up.

They haven't been spoken with the kind of sympathy you'd expect to hear them be spoken in. Instead, Viggo gazes back at him with a smirk and that alone is enough to make him angrier than he already is.

"What position?" Hiccup asks, tone short, and showing the way he feels.

"Well, born the way you are, I can't imagine you have it easy." Deciding against giving him a straight answer, Viggo continues to use hints instead of giving him a straight answer.

"Berk no longer takes an issue with me being a runt." Hiccup replies and Viggo gives him that look, one of those he doesn't like. This one makes him feel like he's being played with.

"How does it feel knowing that your father, the Chief, will never truly accept you?" He asks and at this point Hiccup is confused.

Whatever gave him that idea? The relationship between him and Stoick is the best it's been since ever and Viggo shouldn't be able to know about the years before Toothless. And even if he did, that wouldn't explain why he thinks this.

Noticing the confusion Hiccup fails to hide, Viggo continues.

"You have to hide yourself, do you not? Can't imagine that must be pleasant." Viggo's fingers won't stop moving as he speaks and Hiccup almost finds them distracting. Is that what it's like talking to him? Is he that distracting, too?

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm not hiding any part of myself." Hiccup denies what he thinks is an ungrounded claim.

"Good job, Hiccup, you almost sounded believable. I had no idea you were capable of such lies. How many times did you have to tell this to yourself before you started to believe it?" Viggo congratulates him on an acting job well-done and Hiccup isn't sure why.

"Repeat what? You're not making any sense." In the back of his mind, the very, very back, Hiccup feels like he knows exactly what his captor is talking about. But the last thing he wants to do, however, is admit to it.

Viggo readjusts his position and leans back in his chair, his expression hardly changes.

"Does it frighten you knowing you'll have to pretend you're a Chief someday? For the rest of your living days, I suspect? I assume this masquerade started because Berk's line of Chieftains has been entirely made up of men at this point. Bad enough they would get a runt for a Chief someday, but a female one? Now that must've stung." So this is what this has been all about, Viggo finally reveals the truth behind the lies Hiccup has supposedly been telling.

Pressing his lips together, Hiccup looks the other way, unable to bear that look of satisfying victory on his opponent's face. Viggo, meanwhile, is simply enjoying this little interaction.

"Are you suggesting that I'm... that I'm... You're-you're ridiculous!" Hiccup spits his denial at him, evidently shocked at this reveal.

"Can't even say the word, can you? Is that how far they've gotten the stubborn Hiccup Haddock the Third? You can't say "woman"? "Girl"? Or even the word "female" when it comes to yourself? You disappoint me, my Dear Hiccup." Viggo asks with mockery. This is still nothing more than a game to him, as everything always is with this man. A kind of frustration only he can make Hiccup feel burns within him.

But at least there's that one thing that doesn't change. Doesn't matter who he represents as Viggo still won't stop calling him "Dear".

"How did you know?" He asks, dropping the act as it's no use to keep it up.

Spending years in hiding, he doesn't exactly show it much. He's not like Astrid, who expresses her femininity with her clothes and her grace and her statements. He's not like Ruffnut, who would scream her pride as a woman from the rooftops if they hadn't explicitly told her several times to stop shouting in the middle of the night.

As far as he knows, he doesn't act, sound, or look all that different from his guy friends. And even after the months spent on the Edge together, they still have no idea what he truly is. So how did Viggo know?

"I simply have a keen eye, my Dear." Yeah, sure he does. It took the Dragon Riders ages to correct him on his pronouns before he finally started to call him...

Oh.

"So you've known from the beginning? Why keep it to yourself all this time?" It is a good question. If he really is as observant as he claims, why hadn't he brought it up sooner?

It's not like this is the first time he's been captured by the Dragon Hunters, so why wait until now? That something might've changed scares him the most.

As if having been invited to talk more about his discovery, Viggo stands up and walks from behind his desk.

"It was odd for sure. Is this simply who Hiccup Haddock is or is there something deeper going on? It didn't take much digging before I concluded that's exactly what's going on here." It is the intro to whatever speech he has prepared, the moment he's been waiting for, what he probably specifically captured Hiccup for.

"Berk has been keeping its dragon secret quite well, despite your theatrics." Hiccup rolls his eyes. Sure, he might have a bit of a dramatic flair going on, but it's not all purely theatrical.

"Did you know that your tribe's allies still refer to you as "the runt of Berk"? "Stoick's little embarrassment"? "Stoick's mistake"? I can't imagine any of those things being said about the Dragon Rider, especially about the Dragon Rider who ended the war with the dragons. That was you, wasn't it? Isn't that how you lost your leg?" So he knows about that, too, not that he's too surprised about this one.

Viggo has come to pace behind Hiccup, his hands behind his back. His footsteps are slow, relaxed, and yet somehow methodical as well.

Hiccup tries not to let it get to him, not that or the nicknames he used to hear so much growing up. He's always despised peace treaty signings for this exact reason. That and that his father expected him to keep the visiting Chiefs' spawn entertained and most of them loved to bully Berk's runty heir. The things they used to say to him, even in his own tribe, they still affect him to this day.

"But that everyone, even your allies, felt secondhand embarrassment for you and your father wouldn't explain your need to hide, so I dug a little deeper, a little somewhere else, and then I discovered Berk's lineage. No female leaders in your nearly 400-year-old history?" Viggo asks, the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor accompanying him.

Hiccup's silence means he's hit the nail on the head. It's the lineage, that is why he needs to hide.

His hands land on the back of the chair and Hiccup visibly tenses up as a result. His hands intertwine, legs press close, shoulders move up, jaw clenches, within a single second, Hiccup is one human-sized ball of tension.

"This is why I can't imagine how awful it must be in your position." His voice is so close, he's looming over him and that, as well as the nature of this conversation, sends chills down his spine.

Hiccup wishes he could retort, sass, say anything, but his throat has closed up.

"Berk isn't the most progressive of places, is it?" Hiccup's silence keeping its hold on him, Viggo continues to talk.

But this time, Hiccup manages a response.

"And your tribe is? Where are your warrior women, Viggo, because we haven't seen a single one so far." Hiccup moves to the side, away from Viggo. He doesn't need to look to know that his smile is still there. He's not going to respond to that one.

"What do you want people to call you? Are you truly satisfied going through life as someone you're not?" Satisfied? Of course, he isn't satisfied.

He's never told his friends this, but he's jealous of his female friends. Astrid, Ruffnut, Heather, he knows at least two of them were never ostracized for being a runt and for being useless. And they certainly haven't needed to prove their worth by fighting a dragon nearly the size of a volcano, lost a leg, and trained the dragons of Berk only to be forced to continue to hide.

He's resentful, too. Yeah, he's resentful. Some might claim he isn't capable of such an emotion, but that nagging feeling choking his heart is a familiar one.

As if able to tell the rush of emotions, Viggo leans in just a tad bit closer and suddenly his hands are on his shoulders. Not even on the pauldrons, but on the armor itself, close to his neck. There's a slight trembling he has a hard time suppressing. He does like that Viggo thinks he can just invade his personal space like this.

"Can I make you an offer?" The older man leans in closer, his lips right next to his ear.

"What about a place where you don't need to hide? A place where you can just be yourself, the woman you were meant to be from birth. Strong, intelligent, powerful, a true Mistress of Dragons." A place like that doesn't exist, not for him, but Viggo isn't quite done yet.

"A place next to me." And there it is. The tone in his voice always dips when they're alone, but this time it dips even deeper and Hiccup isn't sure how to feel about it. Afraid? Something else?

The suggestion isn't as tempting as he'd like it to be, however, because the Grimborns and their men still hunt dragons for a living, some even for sport. That isn't a community he can even consider living in.

But it is nice to dream, though. A life where responding to "she" and "her" instead of "he" and "him" is possible.

If only he hadn't been born an heir to a tribe that couldn't possibly accept a Chief that is both a woman and a runt. If only he hadn't been born an heir.

"Are you thinking about it? About what you could become? What we could become?" Viggo's hold on him tightens, but not in an entirely uncomfortable way. Or rather, Hiccup supposes it isn't supposed to be discomforting.

"What's in it for you?" Hiccup forces himself to bypass the lump in his throat in order to ask. Because Viggo isn't offering this out of the kindness of his heart.

"New opportunities." That's the only answer the man will give him and Hiccup is left to guess what exactly these opportunities may be.

So he's no longer interested in beating them or having a truce then? Viggo has never hidden his interest in his young foe, but has never made this offer before.

One hand moves closer to his neck, fingers curling so the back of them can caress his skin. At the same time, his index finger and thumb grab small locks of his hair to play with. The other hand, it moves down just a bit and sneaks the tip of his finger beneath his armor. Hiccup's breathing grows labored.

There's a sense of excitement that he doesn't like. Because these are kinds of touches he doesn't let the Riders do in fear of being discovered. Not even Astrid, his girlfriend, can get too many touches in. The Riders, not knowing about this secret, believe it's because he just doesn't like to be touched. They respect this, whenever they remember to.

This must be why Viggo's fingers have this effect on him, because of how touch-starved he is to protect this secret his forebears forced onto him. That just makes him hate it even more.

"Are you thinking about my offer?" He repeats his question in that same low tone.

Hiccup's hands may be shackled together, but he's not tied to the chair, so he brings an end to this conversation by getting up before those hands can travel a little further. He could sense their intent to, could feel his armor lift just a tad.

Now pouting, Viggo watches Hiccup walk away from him.

"That won't happen. You hunt dragons and I save them. Don't forget that we're at war for a reason, Viggo." He tells the other, turning his head sharply to look at him from over his shoulder.

"This-this-this... fantasy! This fantasy won't work out. It will never work out! So don't bother trying to get me to your side, no matter what type of deal you try to make with me, I refuse to take it." He raises his voice, ignoring the stinging and the burning in his throat as the urge for tears wells up within him.

A fantasy, that's what the idea of him ever being himself, herself, is. A fantasy. Nothing more, nothing less.

Swallowing and taking a breath, he pushes that realization to the back of his mind. His mind.

But Viggo straightens and his amusement is gone as he approaches. Hiccup's stubbornness and his refusal to show his fear in the face of his enemy doesn't allow him to back away, but he can feel his heart thumping inside his chest.

"It wasn't a fantasy, far from it, it was a fair deal to save you from further humiliation. I'm sure you've suffered quite a bit of that in your young life, I had simply assumed you didn't want any more. But I see that I was a fool." The game picks right back up where it left off and Hiccup is left to wonder where it'll go this time.

He hasn't only declined, but essentially made fun of it, too, and that can't feel good to a man as prideful as he is.

"What do you mean?" He tries to keep his voice strong, unwavering, but he can't help the sense of anxiety that he feels when he asks.

"I have this information, do you expect me not to use it? I'm sure there are tribes, both ally and foe, that would be very interested to hear about Berk's heir. I'm also quite interested in knowing how Berk is going to react. Do the Riders know?"

"NO!" At that, Hiccup has quite the reaction and Viggo maliciously smiles once more.

The rational part of him knows his friends will accept him and won't reject him for this, but even so, that fear lingers. It's been ingrained into him since birth that nobody wants a runt, let alone a runt that's also a... So there is still a part of him that wonders how they are going to be any different from the rest.

Hiccup looks down, ashamed for the way he responded. He has just given the exact reaction Viggo is looking for.

"How about an ultimatum? Join me or the Dragon Riders will know. Refuse a second time and Berk will know. Refuse a third time, your allies. Can you guess what will happen if you refuse for a fourth time?" Viggo asks, satisfied with this perfectly cruel choice. He has always loved a good game. So long as it's in his favor, of course.

Hiccup stares at him, unable to hide his fear and the growing tears.

This is the day he has always been afraid would come, the day someone finds out and uses it against him like he has been warned it would. Ever since taking on this role of protecting dragons and facing countless of enemies, he has been afraid. Even before Toothless, when he was just Berk's embarrassment, he was afraid.

And now it's here.

If anybody finds out, he'll be shunned and bullied and belittled and thought of as worthless all over again. He can't bear to go back to those days. He can't bear being hated again for being born the way he is.

And yet...

"I guess you're going to have to... tell them." He can bear to see the Hunter harm dragons even less and so he refuses and in his mind doom himself to a life branded as the shame of his father. At least he'll still have Toothless.

Though not happy with this answer, Viggo isn't surprised.

"Shame, we could've had something great together, could've created some greats things, but you leave me no choice." He tells him. Hiccup casts his gaze downwards, a sense of panic is threatening to choke the breath out of him, but he has given the Hunter Chief his answer and he doesn't plan on taking it back.

"Shame, a real shame," Viggo remarks some more. He'd given Hiccup the chance to change his mind, but it didn't happen.

Then, as if sensing the dreadful end of this conversation, an explosion rocks the entire ship that they're on, throwing the two off-balance.

Slamming into the older man, Hiccup, and Viggo both make a tumble towards the floor, one ending up on top of the other.

"Dragon Riders!" The call is faint, almost too soft to hear, but it's Hiccup's cue to get out of here.

Using his cuffed hands, Hiccup strikes upward against Viggo's face with such force that it breaks his nose powered by nothing but the want to escape. He leaves the man no choice but to take a moment as a burning pain burst free.

Hiccup takes this opportunity to run, climbing to his feet and going for the door.

Toothless has to be here on this ship, too, they've been captured together.

As luck would have it, while he runs down the corridor, Toothless appears and their gazes meet.

"Toothless!" They meet each other halfway, both running to reunite and the dragon pushes the flat top of his head into Hiccup's torso, urging him to grab hold for as much as his tied wrists allow it for a brief hug.

"I'm happy to see you, too, Bud. We have to hurry and leave."

"Just what I was thinking." Astrid pops up as well, having been the one to free Toothless and letting him guide her straight towards Hiccup, always homed in on him.

"Come on," Axe in one hand, Astrid grabs one of Hiccup's in her other and pulls him along towards the deck of the ship, dodging Hunters and bracing for impact with each hit delivered by the other Dragon Riders.

They reach the deck soon enough and while Astrid and Stormfly reunite, Hiccup climbs in Toothless' saddle and the four of them take off towards the sky, the others providing them with cover fire.

"Dragon Riders, we're heading back to the Edge!" Hiccup orders. There were only two ships and they're both sinking, no use sticking around.

"Wow, we're happy to see you, too. Just a nice "Hello!" would've been fine, though." Snotlout teases Hiccup from on top of Hookfang. From what he can see, Hiccup is fine, so he thinks he's allowed to.

"Snotlout!"

"No, Astrid, he's kinda right. I'm happy to see you guys, too. Now let's go home." Hiccup stops Astrid from lecturing the other Rider. Barf and Belch, Ruff and Tuff, Fishlegs, and Meatlug join back up with them and the group heads for home.

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The Dragon Hunters didn't get too far away with their prisoners, but still, it took a good hour of flying before the Dragon Riders arrive on the Edge.

The six Riders and one Dragon are in the clubhouse now, removing the cuffs and cleaning the chafing that they'd caused on his palms. Or Astrid is. Snotlout and the twins are off to the side, declaring their undying hatred for the Hunters while Fishlegs prods Toothless incessantly for possible injuries that may need treating.

"But I need to take a look at you!" Fishlegs exclaims when the dragon moves away again, much to Toothless' annoyance as he just wants to be left alone.

Astrid, who had been watching the rather amusing chase around the room, looks at Hiccup to see his reaction only to find none.

He's been down ever since his rescue. And though, being kidnapped can't exactly be called pleasant, Astrid feels like something else might be going on here.

She dabs his palms with a clean cloth soaked in water a few more times before she speaks up.

"You're not going to say anything?" She asks gently.

"Hmm?"

"About Fishlegs and Toothless."

At this, Hiccup looks up to see what's going on, Snotlout and the twins betting in the background how much longer it'll take for Toothless to get angry.

"Fishlegs, he's just tired and wants to be left alone. So leave him be." It may have sounded a little sterner than he intended it to, but it only further validated Astrid's assumption that something is up.

Turning their attention back to his stinging hands, she has to ask.

"So what's wrong?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I just feel like something is the matter. You know you can always tell me, so do you want to talk about it?" She offers herself up as a listening ear.

"Nothing is wrong, just the usual Viggo with his stupid threats." Hiccup tells her, deciding against sharing details about their talk for reasons that are obvious to him.

"Oh no, what was it this time?" Astrid asks, remarking on this being a very frequent occurrence.

Hiccup looks her in the eye and seemingly thinks about something for a good few moments.

Should he tell her?

He stares at her fiercely blue eyes, the long blond hair he loves so much, can feel her hands caring for him as she waits for an answer. Then he looks around the clubhouse, gazing at each of his friends when he finds them. Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut, just joking around and relieving the stress of the day.

He doesn't need to look at Toothless, who has settled on the floor behind him now that he has some peace. He has known from the start, all the dragons have, and they don't care what he is.

Looking at them all, fear wins. He's been so long without this, friendship, fun, just people who like him, you name it. He realizes he doesn't want to lose any of it.

"Hiccup?" Astrid says his name, thinking he's lost in thought.

"It's really just the usual, truce, or die." He tells her and if he reaches far enough, he can explain his lying as being technically not lying. Because what was basically a marriage proposal from one enemy to another is like a truce and revealing a secret such as his to the world is like a kind of death.

"Are you sure? We all know Viggo isn't pleasant to be around, especially for you. So we'll understand if you feel a little awful. Or a lot." Astrid tells him, lifting a hand to lay on his cheek.

Hiccup's eyes flit towards it as its warmth ends up on his skin and he needs to keep a hold on his breath, having a hard time keeping it under control. It's the biggest drawback to a lack of physical touch, the fact that every little thing makes his skin burn with a desire for more.

Astrid suddenly remembers Hiccup's believed aversion to touch, but before she can act on her realization and pull away, Hiccup leans into her hand. So she keeps it there, smiling as every little moment she gets to have with her boyfriend like this is a precious one.

But she has a point, he does feel awful. Viggo's offer and following threat aside, Hiccup hasn't been able to get his touches out of his head. He hates how they made him feel, still make him feel, Astrid's in comparison are much more enjoyable.

And then there is that deep, dark part of him that wants more.

Noticing Hiccup savoring her touch, she grows a little more daring and places her free hand on his other cheek and Hiccup takes her wrist and keeps them there, sighing in content.

Her hands are warm, they're soft though still calloused, and they belong to his girlfriend.

This moment makes Astrid wonder just why Hiccup doesn't like to be touched if he's taking such delight out of this. To her, this just screams a desire for more, and she's sad that he won't allow himself to have more for reasons he hasn't shared with them yet.

Meanwhile, Hiccup is savoring every second he gets because he knows this may be one of the last times he will get to enjoy it. There is no doubt in his mind that Viggo will make good on his threat and that means all of this, Astrid, the Gang, might end soon. It sounds like nonsense, but this fear is real to him.

So he holds Astrid's hands, hoping he can enjoy her warmth just a little while longer before he inevitably loses it all, all over again.

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gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years

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Hi 👋!

I’m Eli! I set up an Ao3 account at Christmas 2020 and I’ve been posting there for a while

My pen name on Ao3 is MasterOfMyFateCaptainOfMySoul and you can find it in the series links

I currently have several series posted with plans for more.

1. Pride Month 2021 where I wrote a one shot for every day of pride

2. The Renegade and the Rebel which is a Renegade!Dick Grayson/ Red Hood Jason Todd. Renegade was originally a Talon and the main story revolves around the eradication of the Court and RenHood’s slow burn.

3. Posadh Eagraithe: The Series which spawned from one of the fics in my Pride series.

4. SpideyTorch Week 2021. All one shots here have been cross posted to Tumblr as well.

5. Whumptober 2021 which is completed as of 31/10/21 and is crossposted on Tumblr too.

6. The Price We Pay For Freedom (the cost of our lives) which comprises of three connected Whumptober 2021 oneshots centred on Wally West, put into a series for ease of reading.

6. that awful sound. A series focused on Dick Grayson and Jason Todd’s brotherhood, continued on from a Whumptober 2021 oneshot that involved Dick killing the Joker. Currently in the middle of writing, but two fics have already been posted

7.. i’d give you my lungs so you could breathe. Same as above, except the OG Whumptober 2021 oneshot was post Forever Evil and involved Dick being captured by Roman Sionis before Jason broke him out. Still writing the conclusion, but two fics have been posted.

8. Whumptober 2022, which is finished on Ao3 and is currently being crossposted here.

I also have several one shots posted as well that aren’t attached to any of my series.

1. Parjai! It’s a 5k Mandalorian fic with the premise of Jaster Mereel somehow adopting Din Djarin and Paz Vizla.

2. Hour Of Peace. It’s a Witcher fic inspired by the amazing Warlord AU written by @inexplicifics. It deals with the return of Aren of the Manticores to Kaer Morhen through the eyes of his Manticore siblings.

3. Trypanophobia. It’s a UA fanfic dealing with Diego getting his first vaccine and Klaus helping him through his fear of needles. I was just after getting my 2nd one and I was running a fever of 39C* and it seemed like the greatest idea ever. I’m pretty proud of it ngl

4. Every Man Has To Die. An In Deeper Waters fanfiction. You can guess by the title what happens in it ;)

5. it doesn’t hurt. A Sandman x Batfamily oneshot, starting with Death meeting Jason in Ethiopia and the many times she runs into them afterwards.

Hope you enjoy it here :)

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cowthropologist · 4 years

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@pearlsthatwereeyes tagged me in this fic meme! :D

Name: dimerization on AO3 and FFN, although that FFN account is dead

Fandoms: Many. I’ve published work on AO3 for Mass Effect, Castlevania, Dragon Age, and Dishonored

Where you post: AO3

Most popular one-shot: the lesbian alien tentacle bondage porn. FUN FACT, I wrote that in a notebook while attending a children’s Christmas choir concert with my grandmother.

Most popular multichap: The fic of doom in terms of kudos. The fic of death is incomplete but has more subscribers though. (I swear I will finish it someday.)

Favorite story you’ve written so far: Sheesh I dunno. The whumptoberfic is the thing I’m writing that I’m most excited about at the moment. The fic of death has been living rent free in my head since like 2015 with no signs of going anywhere though, it’s kind of a big deal to me. That’s my PTSD magnum opus, or it would be if I ever FINISHED IT LOL

Fic you were nervous to post: All of them lbr. That Castlevania fic is probably the one I agonized over the most; I spent several days revising it after posting and being like wow I hate this

How do you choose your titles: Slowly and painfully. The Castlevania fic title came from a quote from the show; the fic of doom’s title is a Dan Wilson song lyric. The fic of death has a working title but I was too impatient so I posted it anyway -- I still haven’t decided what I actually wanna call it but it sure isn’t “Zombie”. The whumptoberfic title is the name of a tarot card. The uppers fic title is a lyric from Parting Glass, which was stuck in my head THE WHOLE TIME I was high on antidepressants and writing the first draft (lol)

Do you outline: When I need to. I’ve written and lost multiple outlines for the fic of death. I started that story a solid 3 computers ago so almost all of my drafts are gone. All I really have is what’s on AO3.

Complete: All the oneshots, the shenko series (fic of doom being the crown jewel thereof), and that one abortive little series I did for Femslash Yuletide in like 2014.

In progress: Oh god, fucking everything else. I have two Dishonored WIPs that I’m actively writing (the whumptoberfic and the uppers fic), and then I have two 4+ year old Mass Effect fics (the fic of death and my fshenkara control ending magnum opus yeah babyyyyy) that I don’t consider abandoned. I just... haven’t written anything for either of them since 2016. Ha ha. Whoops.

Coming soon/not yet started: I have A LOT of ideas for massively expanding this charming lil tidbit into a giant kidfic epic/political drama spanning DH1, DH2, and the time in between, but that is 99.95% daydreams at this point. I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever write it. It’s kind of a big project.

Prompts?: By all means prompt me but I make no promise about returning fills. I do like them generally though; the whumptoberfic was spawned from Whumptober, and it’s my favorite thing I’ve written in a long time.

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: “Upcoming”?? Literally all I want to do is finish The Tower and A Time to Fall and then maybe we’ll fucking talk. Upcoming. Good lord

Tagging: @tenleaguesbeneath, @lark-in-ink, and anyone else who wants to. if you do swipe this and do it pls tag me, I want to read your answers!

#tag game #whumptoberfic #uppers fic #fic of doom #fic of death #man i think those last two tags actually predate this blog #do i have content on here for them? i feel like prly not #shit dude

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mystique-6 · 10 months

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Kinktober Day 4: Thigh Riding/Sex Pollen/Forced Orgasm (it's really more like Whumptober)

Summary: Ailis accidentally drugs herself with an aphrodisiac. Not knowing if ignoring the effects of the drug are fatal, it forces a sexual encounter with Astarion when the two are barely on speaking terms.

Hello! My hyperfixation on Astarion has got me in the writing mood so I will be participating in Kinktober using @flightlessangelwings Kinktober list. The pieces may be part of a bigger fic(s) that I'll be getting too when I have more time or they may be standalones. Either way, I hope you enjoy. I do plan on completing the 31 prompts though it will take me past October. The first fic I am listing below. I also have posted on AO3.

Warning: Anyone under 18 do not interact. Please pay attention to the tag warnings below.

Tag Warnings: Thigh Riding, Sex Pollen, Forced Orgasm, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Fuck or Die, Crying, Whump

**** Important Note**** Okay this prompt really got away from me. It was not supposed to be this long and it definitely wasn't supposed to be angsty at all. This is part of kinktober but I think it's clear I turned this into a whumptober post. Please pay attention to the tags. Due to the fact that it's not really kink anymore I am not going to include it in the tags. I don't think it fits.

Also, these prompts are possibly going to be in my main fic for Ailis/Astarion. They were meant to be written so they could be read completely on their own but as I said...this prompt got away from me. There's something referenced that might be a bit confusing but I think you can probably guess a bit of Ailis' backstory from what is provided.

Additional Note: This fic involves Spawn Astarion.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from BG3.

Ailis and Astarion traipsed through the Underdark in a stony silence, both doing the best they could to ignore the other. Ailis wished she’d been stuck with any other member of the rag tag group she’d been traveling with. Usually, she didn’t mind being paired with Astarion, but he’d been insufferable from the moment they descended into the Underdark, being prickly and rude to everyone. They had had words, and now weren’t currently on speaking terms.

For the past day, if they had needed to pair off, they both opted to go with a different companion. There hadn’t been an option this time. They’d stumbled upon a set of timmask mushrooms and set off its confusing causing spores. The confusion had separated them from the rest of the group. It had been about an hour now and they still hadn’t found them. She hoped the rest of the group had managed to stay together.

“Do you hear or see any sign of them?” she asked, breaking their silence.

“If I did, I would have said so,” Astarion replied icily. He didn’t even look at her. Ailis felt her anger rekindle and she stormed off ahead of him a few feet. She had reached her limit with his attitude. She understood he was upset over losing the sun again, but he had no right to take it out on her and the others. She tried always to grant him grace and patience, but when he got like this, he made it so difficult for her. She didn’t like the reminder of her more negative traits. She was trying to be better.

Suddenly, she felt something deflate beneath her boot and she became surrounded by a gold dust that puffed up into the air around her. She began to sneeze and tried to back out of the dust cloud, but she ended up creating another cloud when she stepped on, what she now saw was, another mushroom. She began to panic as she saw she’d stumbled into a field of these mushrooms, and she’d be unlikely to make her way out of it without stepping on another between her sneezing and the thick cloud of dust that was beginning to impede her view. She took a hesitant step but felt another mushroom beneath her boot. Just as she was about to call for help, she felt a hard tug on her arm and she was dragged out of the mushroom field, somehow managing to not burst another mushroom in the process.

“You would think, considering what happened due to the timmask spores, that you would pay more attention to where you are walking,” Astarion scolded her harshly.

“Well, if you weren’t being such an insufferable jerk…”

“Don’t blame me for your missteps,” Astarion snapped. “If I were you, I’d spend my time hoping those mushrooms aren’t poisonous.”

Ailis felt her anger be replaced with worry. She glanced back at the mushroom patch, but they looked just as foreign to her as everything else did down here. She looked back at Astarion. “Do you know what kind of mushrooms they are?”

Astarion snorted. “Why would I? Too bad you didn’t get stuck with Gale. The wizard would probably know.” He frowned as he gazed down at her. She must have looked pathetic because his expression softened slightly. “Do you feel all right?”

Ailis thought for a moment, taking stock of her body. She didn’t feel sick or light-headed. After the initial fit of sneezing, she had no trouble breathing nor was she in pain. “I feel fine.”

“Let’s get a move on then,” Astarion said walking on ahead of her. “Try not to walk into any other mushroom patches, hmm?” She scowled at his back and followed him, paying more attention to where she stepped.

After a few minutes, she did start to feel strange. She became warm and flushed. Her heartrate sped up a bit and her breathing changed to quick and shallow breaths. To her shock and horror, she felt heat pooling to in between her legs and she could tell she was already wet. Feeling panicked she called out to Astarion.

He turned back to her, clearly annoyed. “What is it now?” he asked. His expression quickly turned to one of concern though. “Ailis, what’s wrong?” He walked back to her and placed a hand on her waist to steady her when she swayed a bit. She moaned. They both stood there shocked for a moment. “Ailis, what…”

“I think it’s the mushrooms,” Ailis gasped. “I..I want…I need…” With no control of her actions her hand slipped into her pants and undergarment. Her face became even more flushed. She was appalled by her behavior.

Astarion’s expression was both shocked and amused. “Those mushrooms must have been an aphrodisiac,” he said. He then grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand out of her pants, and began to lead her forward.

Ailis whined. “I need…”

“I know what you need,” Astarion told her. “We’re going to take care of that in a moment for you. Let’s try to find a more secluded place first.” She whined, but continued to follow him. The intensity of her need only grew and she would have been lost if he hadn’t been holding her hand. He finally led them over to a small alcove formed in the middle of a rock formation. He sat down on a rock that time had leveled out. He spread his legs to be shoulder width apart and then pulled her forward so she was straddled over one of his thighs, but made no other move to touch her. She gazed at him in confusion.

“Well, go on, Ailis. Take what you need,” he said, raising his thigh to bump against her core so she would understand what he intended for her.

She whined, from both the contact and dismay. “I want…I want you to touch me.”

“Well unfortunately for you, I’m a bit cross with you right now and I don’t want to touch you,” he snapped. “You should consider yourself lucky that I’m letting you hump my leg like some common bitch in heat.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She didn’t want to use his body to meet her needs if he didn’t want her, but her desire was too strong. She lowered herself onto his thigh and then gently grinded herself against it. It was barely anything at all, but she still groaned in relief and she slumped against his torse. She was surprised when his arms came up around her and he began to stroke her back.

“Come on now, darling,” he said much gentler than before. “Take what you need.” She moaned and moved again, pressing down harder on his thigh. Her pace increased with her desperation. “That’s it, darling. Keep going.” She whimpered and she rocked and grinded against him. He continued to murmur words of encouragement and gently stroke her back. She chased her need until finally her orgasm ripped through her so violently, she passed out.

When she came back to herself, she found Astarion had moved her so she sat comfortably on his lap instead of straddling his thigh. He was murmuring sweet words to her, but her foggy brain wasn’t taking them in. She enjoyed the sensation of his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back, and sat there contently for a moment. Her content didn’t last long. She whined as her body began to beg for release again.

Astarion pulled back so he could look at her. “Ailis, what’s wrong?” he asked. He looked and sounded very worried.

“It didn’t work!” she cried. “I still need…” She broke off with a groan and started rocking herself on his lap even though she was no longer straddling him and it brought her no relief. She couldn’t help herself.

“All right, Ailis. Hold on,” he said. He then lifted her up into his arms as he stood up and then laid her on the ground. He quickly undid her laces and began to pull her pants and undergarment off.

“What are you doing?” Ailis cried.

Astarion met her gaze, continuing to remove her pants. “Helping you.”

She felt tears sting her eyes. “But you don’t want to,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “It won’t kill me to have sex with you.” He began to spread her legs as he said it. She forced them closed even though she yearned for his touch.

“That’s not the point,” she said, tears spilling over now. “I’m not going to force you into sex when…” Astarion pulled her up into his lap and held her against him. She buried her face in his neck to try and hide her tears.

“Ailis, look at me,” he said. She shook her head. He stroked her back and she shivered at his touch. “I know you don’t want to, but I need you to look at me, Ailis.” She slowly sat back so she could look at him. He cupped her face in his hands so she couldn’t look away.

“You are not forcing me to have sex with you,” he said, wiping her tears away. “I am choosing to have sex with you, to help you with a very unfortunate situation. It does not hurt me to do this for you.”

Ailis shook her head. I can manage without sex. I…”

“I’m not sure you can,” Astarion interrupted. “Ailis, your heart is racing and I can tell your blood pressure is too high just by how flushed you are. I’m worried of what could happen if you don’t get release.”

She felt panic begin to consume her. “You think I might die?”

“If we can’t get the aphrodisiac from those mushrooms out of your system it might be a possibility,” he said. “We’re not going to let that happen though, okay?” He laid her back down. She must have still looked hesitant though and he kissed her forehead. “I’m not going to force myself on you. If you really don’t want to do this, we’ll do our best to manage this another way. However, if you’re just saying no because you think you’re hurting me I promise you, you’re not. Now, will you let me help you, darling?”

She gazed up at him for a moment and then slowly opened her legs for him. “Good girl,” he praised and she actually whined. He wasted no time settling between her thighs. He pulled her legs over his shoulders. He parted her lips, exposing her core, and then licked from her perinium to her clit. She nearly sobbed from the relief. Her hands reached down and clasped onto his white curls, urging him to continue. He kissed, licked, and nipped along her labia before dipping his tongue as deep into her cunt as he could. She cried out and thrust her hips into his face. She felt him smile against her, but he didn’t pull away. He slowly dipped his tongue in and out of her, until she thought she would go mad. Just when she was about to beg him to touch her where she truly needed him, he moved back to her clit and sucked.

She screamed as she came. Her back arched off the ground and her whole body shook from it, but she felt no release when it was over. She sobbed. “Astarion, I’m still…”

“I know, darling. I know,” he soothed and dipped two fingers into her. She groaned. His thumb rubbed tiny circles over her swollen clit as he pumped his fingers inside her. He leaned over her for a quick kiss. “I’m going to take care of you. Don’t worry.” She whined and pulled his face back down for a deeper kiss. He broke the kiss and then nipped her gently on the jaw before soothing the sting with his tongue. He trailed kisses down her throat and then across her breasts. He slipped a third finger into her at the same time he sucked a nipple into his mouth. He free hand moved to pinch and tweak at the other nipple.

Ailis arched up into his mouth. “Please,” she gasped. “I need…I need…”

“Yes, darling?” Astarion teased, continuing to play with her nipples. “What do you need?”

“I need to cum!” she cried as she thrusted down on his fingers inside her, trying to catch her release.

“If you insist,” Astarion replied and applied more pressure to her abused clit while also thrusting his fingers deeper inside her to press against the spot he knew she was most sensitive. She moaned at the assault of pleasure and tipped over the edge of her release, her body trembling violently. When she regained the ability to think she realized Astarion was still moving his fingers inside her, though with less force. She whimpered at the overstimulation, but couldn’t help but thrust down to match his tempo.

“Any better, darling?” Astarion asked, brushing a strand of sweat soaked hair off her face.

“It’s not as intense as before but I’m still…” She let the rest of the sentence go. It was obvious she was still affected by the aphrodisiac.

Astarion nodded. “I think one more time will do it.” He removed his fingers from her and she whined at the loss, but she shook her head at his suggestion.

“I can’t cum again,” she sighed.

“I assure you, darling, with me as your partner you can.” He gave her a wicked grin as he unlaced his trousers. “Besides, at this point I could use the release too.” She saw his erect cock as he shoved his pants and smalls down. It was usually a welcome sight, but she only felt an increasing wave of anxiety from the sight of it now. Astarion noticed and immediately stopped what he was doing.

“If you really don’t want to do this, Ailis, I won’t force you,” he said. “We can stop now and wait and see if the aphrodisiac will wear off.”

“I…” she trailed off. She didn’t want to have sex right now. She was exhausted and overstimulated from her previous orgasms. She was also scared. She was scared that another orgasm wouldn’t work. She was scared of what could happen if they couldn’t get the aphrodisiac out of her system. She was scared of what this encounter could cost them both. And she was scared of the darker memories that were pushing at the forefront of her brain. She met Astarion’s eyes. “Do you think one more will end this?”

“I can’t promise you that,” Astarion said, “but the effects have seemed to have faded a bit after the last one. I think it’s worth a try to go another round. The choice is yours, Ailis.”

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, but she nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. “But just this last time.” Astarion nodded and aligned his cock to her entrance. He sank in easily; she was so wet and ready for him. The sensation was overwhelming. She couldn’t decide if the feeling was more pain or pleasure. Her tears spilled over and Astarion kissed them away. She stared up at the rock ceiling of the Underdark and began to drift. Her mind shifted back to her time in the trenches. She felt panic consume her, but before she could lose it completely, she heard her name being called.

“Ailis!” Pulled back to the moment she met Astarion’s gaze. He’d stopped moving. “You’re not there, darling. You’re in the Underdark, right here with me. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” She nodded.

“Kiss me. Please?” she pleaded. Astarion smiled and then kissed her as he began moving again. She anchored her mind to his presence. She touched him everywhere she could reach so she would know it was him touching her; so, she wouldn’t drift back there. It didn’t prove too hard. The pleasure overtook the pain and her hips were rolling of their own accord to meet his thrusts. She felt her tension pull tighter and tighter until finally it was released. In the back of her mind, she could feel him find his own release inside her, but she faded to the void before she could be aware of anything else.

When she came back to the world, she found herself cradled in Astarion’s arms. She was sore and exhausted. It felt like she had the world’s worst hangover and her groggy mind was having trouble bringing her thoughts in focus. They slammed back to the forefront of her mind after a moment and she ripped herself out of his arms.

“Ailis?” Astarion questioned.

“How long have I been out?” she asked woodenly.

“Maybe twenty minutes,” Astarion replied. “Darling, are you okay? How are you feeling? Has the aphrodisiac worn off?”

“Yes, it’s worn off,” she replied frantically pulling on her clothes. She felt filthy and disgusted with herself for getting them both in this situation. She just wanted to hide her body from his gaze.

“Are you all right, Ailis?” he asked concerned as he stood up. He’d already re-dressed.

“We need to find the others,” she said without answering him. She went to walk off but her legs wobbled at the movement and she would have gone down if Astarion hadn’t caught her. Tears burned her eyes.

“I know you don’t want to be near me right now, and that you don’t want to be touched,” he said, “but if you want to resume searching for our group, you’ll need to lean on me.” She clenched her jaw to stop it from quivering, though she couldn’t stop an angry tear from spilling down her face, and she leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around her waist and they resumed their search. About a half hour from when they started moving again, they saw smoke rising ahead of them.

“Are you able to stand on your own?” Astarion asked. She nodded and stepped away from him. “I’m going to scout ahead and see where that smoke is coming from.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” she said.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her. “No one will see me if I don’t want them to. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She did as he said, watching him disappear around a rocky hill. She waited anxiously until she saw him coming back toward her.

“Well?” she asked.

“Our search is over,” Astarion said. “The camp belongs to our companions. Let’s reunite.” He placed his arm around her waist again and they both stumbled their way into camp in their rush to get there. Their companions looked up warily at their approach but looked relieved when they recognized them.

“There you are!” Wyll exclaimed.

“We looked for you for hours,” Shadowheart said sounding only slightly annoyed. She then noticed Ailis was being held up by Astarion. “What happened?”

“Is she hurt?” Gale asked concerned.

“She’s not hurt,” Astarion assured them while helping her down onto a bedroll. “It’s just been a long day.”

Ailis saw Wyll look at her for confirmation. She forced a weary smile on her face. “I’m fine. Really. Did you all have any trouble?”

“We had the great misfortune to come upon two minotaur,” Gale said. “It was hard to say who among us was more surprised, us or the minotaur, but needless to say we came out on top.”

“If it was needless to say then you shouldn’t have said it,” Lae’zel remarked snidely.

Gale looked taken aback but ignored the remark and continued speaking to Ailis. “We only just set up camp. We were hoping you’d find us so we waited on dinner, but finally had to get it started. It will be ready in thirty minutes or so.”

“Great,” Ailis said curling up on the bedroll. “Someone wake me up when dinner’s ready.” She was asleep before she even heard anyone agree. When Wyll woke her up later she was feeling a little better. The meal also had her feeling more herself and she made her normal rounds around camp, though she avoided Astarion.

After checking in with everyone she decided to clean herself up a bit before bed. She was exhausted, but she knew she’d regret waiting until morning to do so. She slipped behind a rock formation blocking her from camp and used the bath supplies that someone had already set up there. She was just relacing her pants when she heard someone clear their throat.

“Are you decent, darling?” Astarion asked. She felt her anxiety begin to peak again. She really didn’t want to speak with him right now, but she knew they needed to discuss what happened and putting it off wouldn’t be helpful.

“Yes, I’m decent,” she sighed. Astarion came around the corner of the formation. They both stared at each other awkwardly for a moment and then they both blurted out at the same time, “I’m sorry!”

Astarion’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “Darling, why are you sorry?” he asked.

“I forced you to have sex with me when you didn’t want to,” she said. “I should have dealt with the problem on my own.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything, Ailis,” he said and then shut her down when she tried to argue. “No, no. Listen to me. You didn’t force me to have sex with you. You got drugged accidentally and I chose to help you. That was my choice.”

“But you said you didn’t want to touch me,” she whispered as she felt tears welling up in her eyes yet again.

Astarion’s expression became pained. “I know. That’s what I wanted to apologize for. You were right the other night. I have been taking out my frustration of being out of the sun again on you and everyone else since we got here. That hasn’t been fair of me. It especially wasn’t fair of me to purposefully say something I knew would hurt you just because you called me out for my poor behavior. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” she said. “And I’m still sorry too.”

“Ailis…”

“Not for forcing you into sex, but for getting us into the situation,” she said.

“Ailis, you accidentally stepped on some mushrooms,” Astarion said. “It was an accident. You don’t need to be sorry over an accident, especially since you were only distracted because I was being an ass.”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry we were both put into that situation in the first place,” she snapped. “Can I be sorry for that?”

Astarion smirked. “I’ll allow it.”

She rolled her eyes, but then gave him a softer look. “I’m also sorry for what I said the other night.”

“Why?” he questioned. “You were right. I’ve been an ass.”

“You have,” she agreed, “but you’re also dealing with the loss of something important to you that you just got back after years f misery. I should have given you more grace and showed more understanding. It’s just…”

“Just what, darling?” he asked when she paused.

“I don’t like being down here either,” she said. “All these dirt walls on every side of me, anywhere I look, it reminds me of the trenches. It sends my mind right back there.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t realize you were struggling.”

Ailis met his sympathetic gaze and suddenly all the emotions she’d been trying to suppress hit her at once and she burst into tears. “I promised myself I would never lose control of my body again!” she cried.

“Ailis,” he murmured and immediately pulled her into his arms. He then thought better of it and started to pulled away, but she clung tighter to him so he began to gently stroke her back. “I’m sorry you were in a similar position today. I know you didn’t want anything that happened today. I’m sorry that I contributed to your trauma.”

Ailis shook her head and looked up at him. “You didn’t,” she said. “I didn’t want to do anything that happened today, but that didn’t have anything to do with you. You helped. You let me choose whether you helped me or not. I just wasn’t happy I had to make the choice at all. I know if I said no would have stopped. Thank you.”

“You always have the option to say no to me, Ailis,” he said seriously. “Now, come on. Let’s get you to bed. You’re practically dead on your feet.”

“I know. That’s usually just your thing,” she teased and then laughed when he lightly smacked her on the ass. There was no sting to it.

“That’s very rude you know,” he whined, but she could tell he wasn’t really aggravated. “I’ve been so good to you today.”

She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. “I know,” she said gently tugging on a white curl that fell onto his forehead. “Thank you.” He smiled and then leant her his arm. She leaned heavily on him as he led her safely back into camp.

#bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #astarion ancunin #astarion

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