#watch parasite again. i command it.

[waterbearable]

yknow its never a bad time to rewatch parasite.

[hwaightme]

Burning

(masterlist) (taglist)

🔥 pairing: best friend!mingi x gn!reader 🔥 genre: fluff, healing, friends to lovers, slice of life 🔥 summary: down winding roads, through the golden fields and into the shimmering night, you and mingi embark on a journey to live and love once again 🔥 wordcount: 5.5k 🔥 warnings/tags: editing??, language, indie film style, loosely inspired by murakami's 'barn burning' + youth mv, injuries/scabs, band aids/treatment, escapism, restarts, running away, love through hardship, healing, implied trauma, food/eating, reflecting on the past, mingi would do anything for you, arson 🔥 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🔥 a/n: happy birthday to @byuntrash101!! my most wonderful cat, i love you, thank you for every moment and here is to many more <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🔥 playlist: the last stop of our pain - hanroro, the setting sun - the poles, bye - car the garden, summer night - jeon jinhee, 14:30 - damons year, silence - sunwoojunga, so life goes on - heo hoy kyung, dear my all - mingginyu

You looked down at your hands, spreading the fingers out and relaxing them again, watching the movement of every line and wrinkle. Band aids bent and took on the shape you commanded; the one in an off-white shade after having taken on the brunt of the physical burdens, - a ring that was wrapped around the middle finger of your right hand was frayed at the edge, having had to through the test of the elements and of haphazard lugging of items in and out of the white car on which you were sitting. The other, skin toned, sturdy and strictly not letting anything dare infect you, hugged the side of the same hand and spread a little to your palm. The markings of a person who ‘could’, and a person who ‘did’. 

Gaze travelling downwards led you to a leather bracelet with a silver charm - a simple accessory, but one that held years of history, meaning and memories that tied you to the original owner. You were never one for big celebrations, having gotten used to treating every day the same as the rest - a uniform, dark reality where you were nothing but a little cog. The only mission you had ever had before this moment was to keep on turning. This bracelet was a promise, and a hope for a new beginning. 

Golden fields and a warm grey sky blending into a hazy blend of yellowish green and burnt sienna. A tired breeze that had long lost its fight reminded you that you could still feel, running through your hair, dancing across your skin. The sweater you had borrowed was much too loose at the shoulders, and thus offered little to no protection from the elements. Nonetheless, the comfort it offered, along with the aroma that had permanently intertwined with the threads of the cotton fabric brought more than enough warmth to your heart, and caused a blush to rise on your cheeks. It was a considerable contrast to your still slightly tear-stained, exhausted eyes around which the signs of last night’s terrors were still remaining. But even then, the despair that had come with the sensation had been washed away by a caring thumb, a loving hand, a single impression that solidified that you were never going to be alone.

You moved to run a finger across the plasters, curious as to how the cuts beneath were healing. Little scars of a warrior. You had fought for your way and for your life and for your right to smile and breathe and enjoy the earthly wonders. The last days before your final decision to escape were somewhat of a whirlwind, tainted by persistent insomnia, demons that haunted you day and night and the yelling of far too many people, projects and parasitic ponderings. Even the things that had been under your control grew minds of their own and searched for ways to destroy you, be it in hiding a mistake in a word, an error in a table or a fiendish administrative problem. Those days were a countdown, until in one last effort to survive, you cried out for salvation and admitted that it was all too much. And in that chaotic flood that was threatening to swallow you whole, one person had been waiting, and before you knew it, you were safe, had someone cheering for you, sharing your anguish.

“Hey don’t do that. We don’t have any band aids left and I’m not about to go Rambo mode and go picking grass to wrap you up,” you turned to follow the sounds of the low, raspy voice, smiling softly as you met your friend’s mildly concerned expression. Black hair, softly tousled; you barely could restrain yourself from reaching out and ruffling those locks. Beauty marks like stars on that wonderful, charming face. Slightly parted lips that appeared to be holding back sagas and everlasting tales. Lips that you could watch move forever.

“It’s fine, Mingi, I was just checking.”

“That was some intense checking you’re doing, refrain from it,” he retorted and crossed his arms while pinching the sleeves of his black knit sweater so as to not let them slide up.

“Says the person who keeps picking at their face like no tomorrow. Without bandages, mind you. At this rate-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll sort myself out, alright?” Mingi winced as his tongue darted to the scabbed over gash on the side of his mouth, making you exhale sharply, bemused. You could sense him taking his words back with a shake of the head. One step back, another, and in a quiet mumble he added: “...at the next rest stop we’ll fuel up the truck, fuel ourselves and maybe get a proper first aid kit.”

“Sounds good.”

Turning one of the many rings on his fingers, your friend could not hold your gaze and resorted to studying the ornate silver patterns and precious embedded stones. It had been the same when he had first offered this way out for you. A man, supposedly tall and impressive in physique, but appearing so small as he stumbled over his words, one idea pouring and drowning another out until they connected like a puzzle and formulated a vision that was somewhat concrete. Though, even if there was no final agreement in his mind, you would have agreed anyway. All that mattered was that each sentence carried a ‘we’. And with that, you were more than happy.

Was it long ago that you had met him? It felt like eternity. You could not imagine any other life, at least not one where you had a chance at happiness. Sure, you had your fights and squabbles. It would be a big lie if you were to say everything was sunshine and rainbows. Both snappy and hot headed at times, you had each said a fair share of things you did not want to say. But it was the awareness and growing from mistakes that had led you to where you were now. You had both walked through some dark times, and ended up in the golden hour, surrounded by an equally glowing expanse of flora, reaping what you two had sowed.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t get it, I know I have the thing on my cheek but… hate to break it to you, you don’t have healing powers,” ever so logical, Mingi was, once again, trying to establish a chain of thought. You had gotten better at explaining your thinking out loud, as did he, but in times where you were particularly wistful, words escaped you.

“I don’t know…”

“As if I do. Are you hungry?”

“I’m not a cat-”

“Then why?” he chuckled, lips automatically stretching into a toothy grin as you chuckled.

“‘Cause I can.”

“Okay then,” a breath escaped you as you stared at his hand, suddenly falling to meet the car’s surface and looked up to see him leaning over, staring intently at you. Through you. Like he could read you. Any courage you had disappeared, and you shook your head in defeat.

“Fine, fine,” how could someone put into words the feeling of wanting to picture an individual in everything and everyone? 

How could you say that even in the grass that surrounded you, in the long winding roads, in the cloudy skies you were glad to be able to see Mingi. It had been a lifetime indeed. A lifetime of seeing him without realising it, a lifetime of looking forward to being together with him and falling apart when you weren’t, and now, when you were side by side with only the sun, moon and empty fields to bear witness, you were scared to blink. Like all this time would disappear. Priceless seconds. Mingi was merciful enough to note a tinge of nervousness, and backed away. It was obvious enough that he did not quite let your reaction go, but neither you nor him were ever ones to push further than necessary and beyond the other’s personal limits. 

“Right, time to get going if we want to make it to the barn by midnight.”

“Okay.”

“Want to ride in the back or-”

“With you,” you did not mean to sound so ambiguous, but thankfully as Mingi was busy opening the door to the driver’s seat, he did not catch on, or courteously did not pry.

“Ah, you’re right. It’ll be getting cold pretty quickly, won’t it?” 

As if you were not wrapped up and huddled in the bunch of blankets, backpacks and crocheted pillows just last night when you were parked at the last rest stop, silently accepting your friend’s reassurance as you mourned a past you were not going to miss. He knew what you were going through, and so he stuck beside you instead of heading for those plasters when he technically could have. 

“A few hours won’t change these little cuts, but they can change you, and I’d rather be here so you’re not alone.”

The phrase resonated in your heart as you took your place beside Mingi, staring out at the windshield. With a quick glance to your left you could just catch his reflection in the glass, and with another tilt, the man himself. His plush lips, the beautiful curve of his nose, how the black-framed glasses that he had fished out of the cupholder between you suited him so well. Focused, he turned the key until a satisfying rumble consumed the vehicle, signifying its awakening. On instinct, Mingi’s arms flew to their respective positions, and he drove out of the improvised parking spot back out to the infinite line of cement - the one sign of civilization that had the ability to assure you that you were indeed going in the right direction. Since Mingi was familiar with this part of the country, however, you would not have minded even a sudden, more wild change in the scenery. 

Choosing to not surf the radio stations in search of something remotely tolerable, you drove to the sound of your musings and let the last of the grey haze wash over you before the sun that was concealed by the thick cloud would inevitably fall into a slumber. For the first time in a while, you could enjoy the quiet without it being interrupted by a cacophony of inner qualms and disturbing rage. You could catch the occasional note from Mingi’s humming - a habit of his that you had grown to love. Every time, it was something unexpected. Be it a tune he was making up on the spot or one that you were familiar with, you never tired of how his thoughts travelled, and were delighted by the soundtrack which he was subconsciously crafting for the life you just so happened to share. Serendipity, writing a future that Mingi was taking you towards.

The idea he had proposed might have been radical, but it was the only one that made sense. Besides, it was not going to cause any harm. At the end of the day, the property belonged to a distant relative, said relative had no use for it, so… the conclusion and final decision basically made itself. The act to mark an entry into being your new self had to be grand, a lot more grand than what you had already done, and Mingi, being a creative mind, of course could be trusted to invent a performance of the century. Just for you.

A dreamlike day turned into an equally surreal evening as you halted at the gas station attached to the last rest stop of your adventure, with Mingi’s call dragging you out of your thoughts. You confirmed to him that you were fine with a quick smile and followed him out of the trusty Dodge. Patiently, you idled about as Mingi unscrewed the opening to the fuel tank and reached for one of the nozzles, rolling a stray piece of gravel under your shoes. Crickets, a myriad of crickets hidden under the cover of nighttime launched into a crescendo of their trill song, so much so that the buzz of the fluorescent lamp that illuminated the lonely station was almost completely drowned out. A light touch on your upper arm alerted you that Mingi was done, and you promptly followed him to the convenience store.

As though by newly found habit, he gravitated towards the bright red canisters lined up by the register, while you gave him a wary glance before ambling towards the ready to eat meals. Soon enough, Mingi joined you, satisfied by his quick perusal, and with a basket in his hand. Without a word, he picked up your favourite snack and was about to toss it in:

“This one, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

It never failed to be amusing how, despite the innumerable occasions when you two had eaten together, Mingi still liked to check with you that your favourite foods were, in fact, still your favourite foods. You had to admit that it was very endearing and comforting to you. Without even considering it, he always gave you room for change, in every way you could imagine. Or maybe you were exaggerating and letting your fantasies speak for themselves. You could not help but dart your eyes at Mingi when he turned his back to you, spotting the two beaded necklaces you had made for him some time ago still being a part of his usual outfit. And so, you wondered, how large was the room for transformation? What could this brand new future of yours include?

“Ah… wait… band aids… should we get that… What was it? Antiseptic-”

“You said a whole kit.”

“Right. Let’s go try and find it… wait what if they don’t stock one?” eyebrows weighed down with doubt, Mingi looked at you like he was about to apologise. You sighed, moving to run a hand down his back. The gesture startled Mingi, but he did not stop you, instead choosing to wait it out and see your intentions. You noticed him lightly biting his lower lip as he stared back at you, perplexed.

“We’ll find the essentials then. It’s not like we are disappearing from society for the rest of time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” had he continued, you swore he would have expressed his wish for what you had joked about to be the case. Luckily, you were pleasantly surprised by the wide selection of items to pick from, and left confident in the remainder of your trip.

In the fluorescence of the small store, and then inside of the parked car as you devoured your pre-made dinner, you were suspended in pure bliss. To your right was your partner in everything, friend or however your silly racing heart wanted to call him. Above you, the stars - a vista worth driving further out from the rest stop for. Propped up on the cushions, this was your definition of heavenly and healing. Colours had regained their vibrancy, and finally, you were no longer too fatigued to notice the intricacy of things that had previously passed you by. Who could have guessed that the packaging of the sandwiches you used to buy before work to throw in the office fridge had changed? And apparently a bit of time ago, too? What else have you been missing? For certain, you had been missing out on times like this, where you could hold a comfortable pause with Mingi, simply enjoying each other’s company while digging into your meals. It was astonishing to think how many breakfasts, lunches and dinners that you could have had with the one person who always believed in you were ripped away from you by obligation and unwanted routine. Not for longer. 

“Mingi.”

“Hm?” he hummed while chewing, eyes widened as he turned towards you. Quickly enough, he swallowed the bite, and waited for you to continue.

“I’m glad… that we can be here like this.”

“Oh… I…” at a loss for words, he let himself swim in your spontaneous confession.

“I am just… happy. Very happy. Thank you. Thank you for being the one who I can trust, thank you for sticking with me through complete and utter chaos, thank you for being you,” the words came naturally, buried under layers of hurt that needed time to evaporate. But now, the ritualistic expedition was wondrous in combating your inner demons, and in turn, let you speak for yourself, for your own feelings rather than those of illusory authority that had previously spoken for and was in charge of your every action, whether you were aware of it or not.

“No biggie. Things get in the way sometimes, but we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, that we are.”

“It’s going to get even easier soon, just you wait.”

A hand in midair, waiting for you to lift yours and meet it. Confused, you did so automatically, yelping when Mingi moved it closer to himself, and in a swift motion planted a soft, almost shy kiss on the back. He was careful to not put any pressure on the cuts which he had just re-cleaned and covered, along with the miniature wounds that only found themselves under the stinging alcohol solution, but kept on holding onto you, debating whether you would let him stay like this to his heart’s content, or if you would pull away. The tips of his digits reached the bracelet, and you could imagine a thrum of kindred energy reconnecting the item and the man. Shock prevented you from acting rashly, and so you simply read the fire in Mingi’s sparkling eyes, your favourite blaze that helped you out of a chasm, one that you would protect with your entire being until the world collapsed on you. And even then, you would stand up and try again.

Relief was evident in his features, from the curling of his lips to the relaxing of his shoulders. Clearly, an unfathomable pressure was lifted from his exhausted body. Every mile travelled, you were making revelations, it seemed. Venturing into the unknown, you were not quite sure who you were looking at anymore. Of course, you were confident in his name, in his presence, in his significance, but the many roles which he played in your years on this tiny planet left you struggling for words. Who was Mingi to you? Who were you to Mingi? Long gone were the days where you two had been moderately content with a distant and rapidly cooling friendship separated by glass and busy schedules. You were close. So close, that if the recklessness of acting on instinct caught up with you, you would get burned. 

Burning, like your hand despite Mingi having let it float in solitude some time ago to stand up and hop out of the back of the pickup truck. Set ablaze like your heart and soul that were feverishly awaiting a shining dawn. Your tired eyes could only watch your one wish turn the key in the ignition again, determined to help you start over. Could he be your sun? If you were to say anything more than a hollow whisper to the moon, would you fall away and lose him? You were about to bring the fingers of your left hand to run over the other, but you stopped, remembering Mingi’s comedically stern words. Instead, you imagined him pressing his lips against it again, heat rising to your cheeks upon recollection. A quick glance to the driver’s seat, and you could swear you caught the ghost of a smirk dancing across your so-called friend’s face, but chose not to comment so as to not spark a conversation you knew you would not be able to continue. 

“We’ll be there soon. There’s a neat shortcut we can take so it shouldn’t take us more than an hour.”

You nodded, trusting his judgement. Your thoughts were elsewhere, anyways and could not offer many suggestions in terms of the journey. These parts were foreign to you, and your decision-making here was as good as whenever you had a professional point to prove or a dream to follow; both flew out of your hands to be smited. At least in the case of the meandering roads, you had Mingi to shield you, letting you wander in your own mindscape for as long as you needed. The mind was a mysterious place, traversing memories both from years ago and ones that documented your most recent escapades much the same, though, maybe now they were all in brighter hues. The last of what was tying you down was packed and stashed right behind you and Mingi, both in the tiny space between the seats and the back of the cabin as well as in the exposed trunk outside. The monochrome madness stuffed into rucksacks, swaddled in sheets like a crying infant manifesting your prayers for the noise of a prior existence to cease demanding your attention. You were ready to let it all turn to ash, and be reborn.

It was fascinating how quick Mingi was to jump into action. Part of you wondered whether it was due to the times you had helped him, and he wished to somehow repay you. Or was this a genuine devotion? As the road turned into an unruly dirt path, you were certain it was the latter.

‘It’s our journey. I might not know everything that’s going on behind your forehead, and you would not know that about me, but the least we can do is stick through the worst storms.’

The grumbling of the engine turned into a roar as Mingi’s heavy combat boot pushed down even stronger on the accelerator. When people spent enough time together, they were bound to become more and more similar; such was the case with you and him. Parts had been exchanged, parts blended, and it was hard to think of a picture where there was a lack of the other’s presence in some form. Be it in behaviour or in little bits of jewellery. Mingi was driving selfishly, because he was driving for you and for the few breaths of air you had remaining in your lungs after holding up boulders of others’ opportunities at the cost of your own passions. There was experience, there was development, but there was also a need for self-preservation and a necessity to stop for the sake of health and mental clarity, and Mingi was not about to lose you. 

“D’ya want to roll the window down? You…” used to do that when you and him were teens. He did not have to say it. No matter the weather, even if for a few seconds, you wanted to be one with the air, a flightless bird that finally got a chance to glide with the wind, pleasantly lost in the elements. Maybe one day you could return to that same carefree nature. You shook your head.

“It’s a little cold outside.”

“How about this…” while slowing down a little to not lose control of the car, Mingi reached around and behind his seat, fishing for something. Finally, having found what he was looking for, he flashed a triumphant grin and produced his dark grey denim jacket, letting it land on your lap.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of what your friend was implying. But as soon as the first hint of a breeze hit you and you saw the window start its slow descent under Mingi’s command, a chuckle escaped you. So it was not a question after all, but an encouragement, perhaps even a challenge. Giving in, you pulled the jacket over yourself like a blanket, and stared at the all-knowing constellations that decorated the cosmic expanse - the best reminder of just how small you really were, and to what priceless insignificance your troubles amounted to. In the grand scheme of things, nothing really mattered, and so, you did not see anything as ‘too out of pocket’ anymore. Might as well enjoy life instead of letting it race past you for once.

It was a mystery to you when you fell asleep; you could only recall the ghostly pale silver and ashen blue that spread over the wheat fields and another serene, barely audible serenade hummed by Mingi. But just as quickly as you had drifted into a dreamless slumber, you jolted awake at the sound of your name being repeated once, twice by your best friend. Momentarily lost, you waited for your vision to focus before following the sounds of the truck door clicking shut and of rubber soles hitting gravel by fumbling for the handle. As soon as you opened the salon, you were embraced in full by the omnipresent hum of wildlife and distant rustle of leaves and tall grass, the field at which you stopped having been long abandoned and left barren, with only dirt to present as a fruit of labour.

Stepping onto the soft earth, you could feel the cool dampness beneath your shoes, a tactile reminder of the quiet countryside that surrounded you as far as the eye could see. Mingi, his presence like a comforting shield in the stillness of the night, paused in his search for the tools he had packed. A profound hush settled over the landscape, prompting you to tilt your head and look on further, to spot the target barely a couple hundred metres away. So this was it. The promised sacrifice. The place where the past could finally quit holding on to you and tearing you apart. The abandoned barn loomed ahead like a relic from another universe and a time long gone.

The moonlight painted the barn in ethereal shades, casting a melancholic beauty upon its worn facade. Mingi's eyes held the weight of a thousand untold stories and observations, and in the quiet exchange of glances, you detected a shared understanding – a recognition that you had the right, and more than deserved to forgive yourself, and throw away the hurt you had accumulated over the years with a light heart. He stood beside you, holding onto the sacks that you had stuffed full of items that haunted you, mutely berated you and induced agonising ruminations. Papers, trinkets, utter garbage that you had never been able to throw out on your own, all collected like nightmare capsules and you were more than elated to bid them farewell.

He had not yet taken off his glasses, eager to move onwards and upwards. One of these days you might muster up the courage to tell Mingi just how handsome he was in whatever style he chose, but that was a mission for a more courageous you. From tonight into the myriad of tomorrows. Your partner in self-revolution stretched his arms towards you, gingerly passing the hefty items over and waiting for you to get a better grip. To think that there were clouds of buzzing paranoia and dread attached to either one - suffocating, persistent.

While regarding Mingi’s tranquil resolve, you discovered a sliver of a near-boyish excitement, so characteristic of him before growing pains had changed your relationship and all that came with it, that your heart ached, and a prickly sensation made itself known on the back of your hand where he had left a solitary peck. And yet, he still was not giving up on you. From the pocket of his jeans - appearing to take on the shade of a washed out chrome under the shining skies, Mingi produced a box of matches, and upon leaning closer to the truck, grasped the handle of a stick protruding from a miniature canister. More than enough to carry out the impending transformation. Mingi’s stunning orbs met yours, and without words, he conveyed a mixture of determination and sorrow, a silent promise and cheer for the grand finale.

"Here’s to letting go, and to holding on to the things that make us right," he uttered, his voice carrying the power of a truth that echoed in the night air.

“Then… I’ll be right back.”

“I will be here. Cousin said everything’s unlocked. Put things in places where the fire’ll reach.”

One step. Another. Walk turning into run, you chased after who you wished to become and propelled yourself with unprecedented pride. You could do this. With one quick push the door to the barn creaked open, and you made haste in lining the walls with who you used to be. You could taste ash on your tongue and see the fire in your pupils even though you were consumed by pitch black; here, you had the final say. Upon throwing the sacks into whatever direction, you felt your way back out, and returned to Mingi who, apparently, had the time to reposition the car a little to have the back be facing the barn. With a mischievous grin he greeted you, and pulled you into a quick embrace before giving you a matchstick and the box and leading the two of you to the structure one last time.

This had been an agreement between you - you were the one to light the first flame, and he was the one to do the rest. Though this was a journey of healing, he did not wish for you to delude yourself into a guilt-ridden state. Mingi could bear the brunt of that for you and wear it like a badge of honour. As though patrolling the grounds, he went in a circle around the barn, leaving behind the acrid stench of splattered gasoline. Suddenly, the act felt more and more real. A yelp caught in your throat as Mingi shoved the empty canister inside through a loose wooden board, now only holding onto the unlit torch. Gazed at you, awaiting the monumental execution. 

Trembling just a little, on the third try you managed to light the match, and stepped to the building full of your painful memories. the flames danced in the blackness like whispers of farewell. As you approached the ancient barn with Mingi in toe, the match's glow illuminated the grains of wood that had weathered countless storms. The night seemed to draw its breath, as though it sensed the profound act about to unfold. Outstretching the judgement between your fingers, you hesitated for a fleeting moment. The gravity of the act hung heavy – the acknowledgment that setting fire to the past was a painful necessity for new beginnings. Nevertheless, you were certain. The barn, with its history that you will never learn, became a symbol of surrender, resilience and perseverance. Holding your breath, you dropped the match, but when the result did not satisfy you, you sensed a wave of rage. You wanted more, you needed it all gone from sight and experience. 

“Mingi.”

“Hm?”

“The torch, please.”

“Oh?”

“Please.”

With a silent understanding, Mingi raised the torch, the flames licking eagerly at its edges, and passed it to you. The blade that would slash through it all. The full stop at the end of this turbulent chapter. As you touched the fire to the barn, a crackling symphony echoed through the night. The dry wood, with the base generously coated in gasoline caught quickly, and soon the barn was ablaze, a kaleidoscope of oranges, reds, and yellows against the backdrop of the moonlit fields.

The flames danced with an insatiable hunger, consuming the old wood with a fervour that mirrored the intensity of emotions in the hearts of the witnesses. Shadows flickered and danced on the ground, casting ephemeral images of what once was, each crackle of the fire a poignant reminder of the release happening before your eyes. Mingi turned to you, his eyes reflecting the blaze that mirrored the intensity of his and your emotions. In that poignant moment, the warmth of the fire contrasted with the chill in the night air, echoing the bittersweet nature of letting go.

"We are making room for something new," he whispered before pulling you into a long-awaited kiss, as searing and filled with longing as the soaring flames that illuminated your bodies. The crackling fire served as a cathartic release, and in its glow, you saw promise. As soon as you parted, the two of you rushed to the truck, climbing to take the front seats to admire the masterpiece, not daring to sit apart, holding onto each other through it all.

As the fire continued its dance, the night bore witness to the act of relinquishing the old, a solemn ritual that paved the way to more and more. Together, you and Mingi stood amidst the mesmerising spectacle, your hearts intertwined with the rhythm of the burning, ready to step into the unknown and shape a destiny yet to unfold.

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[fantasy-relax]

Sweet Alpha Dangerous Omega

Part 12 Part 13

Writing the instructions for Lucia's “special care,” anger at the words spoken against her made her blood burn but remembering the abuse you had been subjected to caused her to lose control of her strength destroying the pencil in her hand.

Again.

Opening her desk drawer, she took out another one and continued writing however her thoughts continued to wander.

How is it possible that Bela was incapable of watching over a human?

If she doesn't have time to pay attention to you then she should have left you under her command at least she would have something to distract herself while her punishment is revoked.

“Alpha accepted her punishment even though she was only fulfilling her duty to defend us.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes at the Omega's sad statement from her.

“Oh, yes the powerful Alpha defended us from the cruel and evil servant, I'll finish writing this and I'll go look for her to blow her as a reward.”

“…”

An image of her stay with you crossed her mind causing her to drop her pencil in favor of covering her face grunting in annoyance as she felt the heat of her blush.

"Your fault"

"Be quiet"

She hated how you acted like a weakling when she remembered perfectly how you had no problem forcing her to submit to your will of course that she was the one who had total control over the situation using you to satisfy that stupid need that had been annoying her for years.

You are just a tool to deal with her Heat she will use you until your life comes to an end and when her Omega starts acting insufferable again, she will simply look for a new distraction.

Of course, if you don't end up dead first because of another error on Bela's part.

Miss Perfect thinking she knows everything when she can't even take care of a starving peasant alpha.

With how easy it is for to leave the smallest amount of the swarm to watch over you.

Closing her eyes she focuses on the part of her that she left in your room.

She only does it because she knows you're useless in taking care of yourself.

The first thing she sees is how you jump out of bed even though you should still be resting, you really are an imbecile.

“Alpha is very careless with her health”

“An Idiot is what she is.”

She dodges your attacks with ease before showing mercy and leaving only a fly with you.

The last thing she needs is for you to get hurt again.

Letting out a laugh as she sees how you resign yourself to her presence, she rests on your neck.

“How warm”

��It's nothing special”

---------------------------------------------

Normal, being treated like that is completely normal for you.

“How dare them to treat our Alpha like that!”

Insults? Normal.

“Filthy bitch” “Disgusting rat” “Scum”

Violence? Normal.

*BAM* “How dare you?!”

The pain made her vomit the little she had eaten.

Contempt? Normal.

"You can bandage yourself; I don't understand why you look for me, that's weakness S¨***, you shouldn't be weak"

“Cassandra”

Breathing hurts, moving hurts.

“Cassandra”

“You should never show weakness, or do you want to end up like your mother?”

“Cassandra!”

“Be used and discarded”

 The smell of putrefaction is overwhelming.

“Cassandra?”

“Killed by a parasite”

Rot.

“Cassandra?”

She didn't ask to be born, father.

Rot.

"My girl"

Roses

"You are safe"

Roses

"You are at home"

Roses

“Mom will never hurt you.”

Mother

Returning to the present, the first thing she sees is her mother kneeling in front of her with her arms outstretched waiting patiently for her. Cassandra jumps up hugging her neck, hiding her face on it, immersing her in a scent that promises security and love, hands capable of breaking marble gently stroke her back, the ringing in her ears drowned out by the purring coming from her mother's chest.

Mother, Alcina Dimitrescu.

The images Memories fade like water between fingers.

The normal.

-------------------------------------------------- ----

Entering her studio, the first thing she does is go to her easel. Which, while old is in good condition.

*CRACK*

With a light squeeze the wood is fractured which is more than enough to justify needing a new one.

“Our sisters should stay away from our Alpha.”

Her sisters spend more time with you than with her she should have stopped it as soon as she found out about the private classes.

Cassandra had to use all her self-control not to growl as she talked knowing full well that her sisters would use it against her.

“We knew that Daniela wouldn't think twice before touching”

The smell of the sweets that her younger sister unceremoniously devoured hid yours easily.

Also, why the fuck does Bela know that detail about you? You are supposed to have a separate room to sleep in, you had nothing to do in any other room specially her sister's.

“Alpha shouldn't wear our sister's clothes.”

Bela was the one who punished you unjustly, why did you forgive her so quickly?

“To avoid conflicts in the Pack”

Still, why did you agree to wear her clothes?

Do you also prefer her older sister?

"Is not like that"

Have you already wandered off?

“No, Alpha wouldn't do that.”

Towards the responsible, maternal and feminine Bela.

“Alpha is ours!”

The Perfect Woman.

"Ours!"

If Bela had been an omega...

“Alpha not…”

Would you have chosen her over her?

--------------------------------------

“I gave you clear instructions and you still do it wrong. Didn't my sisters teach you to read?”

Others would have run with their tail between their legs upon hearing the venom in her voice, you stood firm and despite the air of seriousness with which you acted, your scent gave you away.

Happiness, adoration, sadness, determination.

Every time she visited the workshop, the moment you noticed her presence you stopped everything you were doing to focus all your attention on her.

"As it should be"

Growling to avoid purring, she destroyed the six easels you had created in one day in seconds.

“Again, and don't use so much varnish this time.”

“Whatever you want, Lady Cassandra.”

She left the workshop ignoring her omega's protests to stay with you longer.

-------------------------------------------

Cassandra can't help but rub her eyes and pinch her arm hard to make sure she's woken up from her nap.

“It's not a dream” The Omega comments despite sharing the same confusion.

In front of her is an Alpha kneeling with her head lowered and in her hands is a white rabbit's fur, the skin is white as snow without cuts that detract from its beauty, simply impeccable.

“For you Lady Cassandra.”

“A courting gift”

At what point do she grab it?

“Sweet alpha, good alpha”

Clenching her jaw she threw the fur to the ground.

"NO"

“Pathetic,” Making sure to keep her tone of voice neutral, she spoke. “You couldn't even complete my order and you come with more garbage, out of my sight.”

“Take it back! Apologize!” Despair and anger emanated from her omega.

"Shut up!"

A voice distracted her from the discussion.

“If you don't want it, I'll keep it, after all it's too nice a gift to be wasted.” Bela held her fur carefully in her hands. “There's no problem, right, Alpha?”

“It's our gift!”

She could feel the blood on her palm, her nails had pierced her skin.

“No problem, Bela.”

“Alpha stop! How can you do this?” She didn't know if the question was towards her or towards you.

“White looks good on me, don't you think?”

"Take it back!"

The blonde caressed your cheek, and you rested your face on it closing your eyes calmly.

“You are so sweet, dear Alpha.”

*THUMP*

“Our gift…”

"I don't care"

“Our alpha…”

"I don't care"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I don't care"

“She would hate us…”

"I don't care"

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't care"

"I am you…"

“…”

-------------------------------------------------- -

From that day on her omega remained silent, she felt her presence but not a sound came from her.

It was what she had always wanted so why the hell did she feel so bad?

Her visits to the workshop continued, the easels you made were perfect however the mere thought that you would go after her sisters the moment you had more free time caused her immense fury that led her to destroy it to avoid it.

Your visits also continued and the silence in her mind remained.

Even after seeing her sisters show off the gifts that she had rejected, her omega did not utter the slightest complaint or comment.

The discomfort inside her grew more every second.

“Cass, I really can't believe you reject gifts as beautiful as these.” Just hearing Bela's voice caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

“Alpha is really a sweetheart, she is so gentle and hard-working,” Daniela commented as she walked next to her, “it would be a waste to leave her alone, I think I'm going to ask her if she wants to be my mat-

The redhead didn't finish her sentence before being pushed with such force that she went through the wall and the bookshelf behind it.

Transforming into her swarm Cassandra left before Bela could reproach her for her actions.

Silence, in her mind there was only silence.

It was then that she felt it, her Heat had arrived.

And everything turned black.

[dragonridernoobie]

Hi, I like your request for a reader as Nifty from Hazbin Hotel. I'm wondering, how Optimus prime, Shockwave, Starscream and Bumblebee react to the fact, that reader almost killed (or killed) Megatron like Adam, launghing like a psycho, smiling and brutally stabbing him in the back (Please)

Sure!!! Sorry this took a bit, like I've said in old post, work is a bitch. I hope you enjoy this and like it!

TransformersPrimeXNiftyReader

Optimus

When reader goes thru the portal, he would panic.

He would go searching for reader.

For days, he would look for reader, fearing the worst.

Intel they get an SOS single from...the decpticons?

They would open a portal and be very cautious.

Since the decpticons can do anything.

What meets then though is somthing they could never Imagine.

Megatron was there with reader in hand.

Holding them like how you hold a cat by the neck.

Megatron: "take them."

Reader: "stab stab!"

Weaving their small knife around.

Megatron is all beaten up XD

Starscream

Ok, first things first.

We know how starscream is.

He won't give a fuck what happens to megatron if he dies.

So, Soundwave will be with him when they find megatron on the ground, knocked out.

With reader stabbing his chest, over and over

Reader: "Stab! Stab! Stab!"

Starscream would act all tough and tries to get reader off.

Reader goes after him.

He would act like a girl running away from a spider.

Soundwave is long gone with megatron.

Shockwave

I think Shockwave would be the reason for reader to be attacking megatron.

Like, Shockwave brought reader onto the ship for experiments but ended up lossing them.

Shockwave will have to go tell megatron the bad news, knowing he will be yelled at.

Though, when he goes to the command room, he finds megatron on the ground, bleeding hard with reader above him.

Reader: "STAB! STAB! STAB!"

He would immediately get reader off and command knockout and breakdown to take care of megatron.

He will make sure to tell them not to talk about this to **NO ONE**

Bumblebee

Oo, I definitely see reader only stabbing megatron if it was to defend Bumblebee.

So, Bumblebee gets attacked by megatron and reader was with him.

Megatron throws bee to the wall and was about to kill him when reader jumps on him and starts to stab him.

Reader: "STAB! STAB! STAB!"

Megatron: "WHAT THE FRAG? GET OFF MY YOU PARASITE!"

Bumblebee would just sit there, optics wide, watching reader stabbing megatron to the point he falls over.

Bumblebee will take reader away if he sees more decpticons coming.

Bumblebee is very thankful for reader saving him and thankful he has a awsome story to tell.

Hi, again, sorry this took a bit, work as been a pain.

[wizardofrozz]

Pictures or It Didn't Happen

Commander Thorn x reader featuring Fives, Kix, Jesse, Vaugh, Hawk, Hardcase, and Original Clone Troopers Zero, Cayde, and Cupid

Summary: A game of Truth or Dare results in Fives regretting what he thought would be a funny dare.

Word Count: ~6.0k

Warnings: smut 18+, this is really just filth. established (kind of secret) relationship, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), brief spanking, creampie. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: I finally finished this smut that I've been promising for way too long lmao I hope it was worth the wait 💀. I also want to thank you @a-single-tulip for letting me borrow her OC, Cupid ❤️

Sometimes you wondered why you subjected yourself to shit like this, especially when the 501st had just come off a successful campaign. 

The night had started out peaceful, but it never stayed that way when alcohol was involved. That’s how you found yourself crowded into one of 79’s booths with Fives, Jesse, Kix, Vaughn, and Hawk, playing a ridiculous yet intense game of Truth or Dare. Vaughn was the most recent target, spilling his most embarrassing encounter with a natborn, which happened to be when he lost his virginity. Jesse and Kix were still trying to breathe through crippling laughter five minutes later. 

“It’s not that funny,” Vaughn huffed, hiding behind his drink. You lightly patted his arm with a smile but he must’ve seen your barely contained amusement because he shot you a narrow-eyed glare. 

“Sorry,” you giggled, nudging Vaughn with your shoulder. It took a few more minutes before the laughter finally tapered off and Hawk offered to get the next round. You glanced across the table at where Fives was sitting, noting the pinched expression on his face. “What’s your problem?” 

“Hm?” Fives hummed, shifting his eyes from whatever he was staring at over your shoulder. “Oh, nothing.”

“Wanna try that again?” Fives rolled his eyes but jerked his chin over your head, prompting you to twist around, noting the few shock troopers standing near the bar. 

“The Guard’s here to ruin everyone’s fun,” Fives grumbled, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Oh, come on, they aren’t that bad,” you argued lightly, watching the three troopers talking to the bartender. None of them had removed their helmets but you picked up on a few idiosyncrasies the longer you watched the trio. 

“They’re stuck up,” Jesse cut in, elbowing Kix when his brother tried to steal the last of his drink. “Think they’re better than us when they just hang around on triple zero.”

“You’re being harsh,” you chided, turning back to the table of troopers. You had met and subsequently formed an easy friendship with Torrent Company when they accompanied you to Geonosis after the parasitic worm incident. Technically, you didn’t work for the GAR but the microbiology lab you did work for had negotiated a contract that allowed you to study the highly classified specimens troops came in contact with. It was pure luck that the 501st was one of the battalions tasked with escorting you and it had all been downhill from there. 

You adored the boys in blue but seeing that you spent a good portion of your time on Coruscant, you had a soft spot for the Corries too. 

“Didn’t realize our little lab rat liked ‘em so much,” Fives noted, arching a brow. You caught the hint of a smirk on his lips and you had a sinking feeling you weren’t going to like whatever mischievous thoughts were swirling around in his head.

“I do see them the most,” you responded, faintly rolling your eyes. Hawk chose that moment to slide back into the booth beside you, distributing drinks around the table and blessedly shifting the conversation away from the Guard. 

“Alright, Mouse, you’re up,” Vaughn cut in, swatting at Fives who was trying to steal his shot. “Truth or Dare.” You had kept it mostly tame, sticking to truth questions and the boys had let it slide but you knew that it wouldn’t last much longer and decided to just give in. 

“I guess it’s time for a dare,” you sighed, mindlessly swirling your fresh drink. The entire table lit up, the brothers leaning together to whisper ideas except for one. Fives was still staring you down across the table, his smile taking on a sharp edge that made you tense. Thankfully, you hadn’t tried to take a drink because the next time his mouth opened, you nearly choked on your own spit.

“I dare you to fuck Thorn.” The entire table went eerily silent, Kix, Jesse, Hawk, and Vaughn slowly sitting back in their seats as they gaped at their brother. You were too stunned to speak, blinking rapidly at the smug ARC trooper. “What? You seem to like them so much so why not? And don’t forget, pictures or it didn’t happen.”

“Dude,” Jesse whispered, glancing between you and Fives. You almost wanted to be irritated by it, knowing Fives was just being an ass for the sake of stirring shit but your devious side won out this time. 

“Fine,” you chirped, cutting off whatever Jesse was going to say next. Five pairs of eyes locked onto your face with varying degrees of surprise.

“Woah, Mouse, he’s not serious,” Kix rushed out, trying to backpedal for his brother.

“And why not? It’s not like he said Fox,” you countered, arching a brow. You could imagine the look on Fox’s face if that were the case and you barely contained the urge to start cackling. The table of troopers just stared at you, even Fives who you assumed had expected you to back down. “Hang tight, let’s see if the boys know where he is.” 

“Wait!” Hawk shouted, trying to grab you when you slid under the table. Ignoring the disgusting floor you hurried out of reach, throwing a smile over your shoulder as you approached the trio of Corries still lingering by the bar. One helmet turned slightly, catching your approach, and you were almost positive he was smiling based on the way he straightened.

“Hey, Zero,” you laughed, coming to a stop at his side.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, glancing at his brothers who had turned at the sound of your voice.

“The 501st is planet-side so they invited me out for a drink,” you explained, glancing at the table of troopers blatantly staring. Cayde and Cupid shared a subtle look before Cayde sighed under his breath, returning to his conversation with the bartender. 

“What can we do for ya, Mouse?” Cupid asked, leaning an arm against the bar and you could picture the easy smile on his face.

“Where’s your commander?” Zero stiffened at the mention of their CO, quickly clearing his throat to cover his momentary slip.

“Everything okay?” Zero whispered, leaning down so you could hear him better. 

“I’m fine,” you laughed, refraining from patting his arm and giving yourself away. “Fives wanted to be cute and stir shit so I figured I’d play along.”

“Involving Fox?” Cupid wondered, tilting his head.

“No, Thorn,” you corrected, darting your eyes toward Torrent’s table. 

“You’re in luck,” Cayde spoke up, turning to face you. “Commander Thorn’s on patrol with us.” Cayde jerked his chin at something over your head and you twisted around just as 79’s doors slid closed, a familiar red-winged helmet scanning the immediate area. You bit back on a goofy grin when Thorn worked his way through the crowd with the ease of a commanding officer. Seeing him in his element, the strong, proud commander made your blood feel too hot, forcing you to stifle the urge to squeeze your thighs together. 

“Commander,” the three shinies synchronously greeted.

“Gentlemen,” Thorn responded before his helmet turned enough to catch sight of you. “Ma’am.”

“Nice to see you again, Commander,” you murmured, the hint of a smile playing on your lips. Thorn continued to study you for a moment before shifting his attention back to the three troopers standing around you. 

“Head out, boys, we’ll debrief outside before shift’s over,” Thorn huffed, jerking his head toward the door. The three troopers replied with another synchronous “yes sir”, pausing long enough to wave at you before making their way into Coruscant’s cool night. You glanced back up at Thorn, his words sinking in after a few seconds.

“I forgot you’re almost finished for the night,” you commented, smiling when his head tilted slightly.

“Lost track of time, huh?” he chuckled, shifting his weight so he was a hair closer to you. “How’re drinks with the bane of Rex’s existence going?” 

“Interesting,” you laughed, glancing at said trooper from the corner of your eye. All five of them were zeroed in on your conversation, looking more stunned than before and you nearly laughed. You looked up at Thorn again, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you leaned closer, hooking a finger under his belt to keep him from backing away. His hands shot up, hovering in the air near your shoulders and you could only imagine the stunned look on his face. 

“What - what are you doing?” he whispered, his visor never leaving your face. The dare wasn’t necessarily a secret but you wanted to have a little fun before giving in and telling him, so you pressed yourself against his chest. The soft hitch in his breathing was only audible seeing that you were practically glued to his chest plate but it made your face feel warm nonetheless. 

“Do you have any idea how good you looked walking in here a minute ago?” you purred, tugging lightly on his belt. You were close enough to see his throat bob under the collar of his blacks, his arms dropping bit by bit until one hand hovered near your lower back. 

“Mm, why don’t you tell me?” Thorn rumbled, some of the rigidity finally leaving his posture. 

“How about I show you?” you countered, standing on your toes. Thorn didn’t move aside from the weight of his hand settling on your waist, squeezing once. His head was angled down slightly allowing you to lean forward and press a feather-light kiss to his helmet’s mockery of a mouth. A warm hand wrapped around the fingers hooked in his belt but he didn’t push them away, if anything, he pulled you closer, pressing the unforgiving curve of his codpiece into your leg. 

“What the hell’s gotten into you?” Thorn murmured, his grip on your waist tightening again. Although you were having fun winding him up, you figured you should let him in on the joke sooner rather than later. 

“Fives dared me to fuck you,” you stated with a small shrug. 

“I thought they didn’t know about us.” 

“They don’t,” you giggled, rolling your lips into your mouth. Thorn stared at you for a moment, completely silent before his shoulders started to shake the tiniest bit. 

“I think that’s cheating,” he teased, slowly rubbing your side. 

“Want me to try and follow through with Fives’ original idea of seducing Fox?” If it weren’t for his chest's faint rise and fall against yours, you would’ve thought he turned into stone before your eyes. Then his hand tightened again, grip harsher than the first time and it sent a thrill shooting up your spine. 

“Like you’d even try,” Thorn scoffed, yet his hold on you spoke to a glimmer of jealousy at the thought.

“I wouldn’t,” you hummed, absently playing with the edge of his kama. “So are you in or not?”

“The hell kind of question is that?” he huffed, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. 

“I do have to warn you, Fives told me there have to be pictures or it didn’t happen,” you confessed, expression softening. Thorn canted his head, studying you for a moment and you gasped as you felt his codpiece press harder into your leg. It could barely be considered a roll of his hips but it was a far more physical answer than you were expecting. 

“I think I can get on board with that,” he rumbled, his head inching closer to yours. The mere suggestion of documenting what you did behind closed doors had your pulse jumping, painfully aware of how wet you already were.

“Lead the way, handsome,” you breathed, barely containing your excitement. 

“I need to debrief the rest of the boys first, muffin,” Thorn laughed, finally peeling himself away from you, although he continued to hold on to the fingers that had been toying with his belt. “Once that’s done, you can have your way with me.”

“I supposed I can wait that long,” you sighed dramatically, not bothering to hide the almost giddy smile on your face. 

“Come on, troublemaker,” he chuckled, tugging you toward the door. A second before the door slid open you twisted around, eyes immediately finding the table of troopers who still looked just as dumbstruck as they did when you left. You lifted your free hand, wiggling your fingers in a smug little wave before Thorn pulled you out of sight. 

Thorn begrudgingly released your hand once you were outside, approaching the rest of his squad while you stood off to the side. Thorn nodded along to whatever Cupid was saying, watching the trooper absently tapping the spot over his heart and you couldn’t help but smile. However, the smile melted off your face when he tilted his head back as far as he could, arms extended in front of himself, clearly trying to stretch his shoulders, but that didn’t stop your eyes from dropping to the sliver of skin peeking out from under his helmet. 

That pose gave you a wicked idea. 

The shift from a composed, well-behaved boyfriend to whatever insatiable beast Thorn had become had your knees buckling. The second your apartment door shut, he was on you, helmet haphazardly tossed aside in favor of curling a hand around your throat and yanking you into a clumsy kiss. Your fingers instinctively curled around the edge of his chest plate, steadying yourself as he walked you down the hall to your bedroom. 

Your knees hit the edge of your mattress as Thorn’s tongue explored your mouth as if he hadn’t done it a million times before. The press of hard plastoid against your leg had you breaking the kiss, letting his lips trail across your cheek and down the side of your neck. Your fingers curled around the rounded edge of his shoulder bell, tugging lightly, making Thorn chuckle against your skin.

“Go on, you know how,” he urged playfully, his hand moving around to the back of your neck. You almost cursed him, knowing he wasn’t going to make this easy as you felt his teeth graze your thundering pulse. 

“Stop being a cheeky shit and help me,” you huffed, tossing his stupid shoulder bell aside. 

“So bossy,” Thorn teased, smirking against your throat before working his way back to your mouth. A soft sigh passed through your nose as he licked into your mouth, tasting like caf and something sweet he probably stole from Fox. 

Thorn unclipped his belt, his kama falling to the floor with a thud as you worked open the clips on his chest armor, never breaking the kiss. It was a dance you’d done more times than you could count but it somehow still made your heart race. Thorn caught his chest plate before it could hit your feet, breaking the kiss but not without nipping at your bottom lip. He tossed the piece of armor aside, bending over to work on his legs but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Thorn looked up, a few dirty blonde curls falling in his eyes as he looked up at you. 

“Let me,” you urged, guiding him to stand straight again. He angled his head down, eyes glued to your face as you knelt at his feet, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side. You expertly worked off each piece of armor, barely having to look away from his face. With each piece that fell away his eyes grew darker, making your fingers tremble faintly with the weight of his stare. For all of Thorn’s lighthearted fun and goofy grins, he could still be intense, flaying you open with a single look. 

Thorn carefully stepped out of his boots, kicking them to the side as your fingers trailed up the inside of his thigh. The muscles twitched under his skin-tight bodysuit and you had the urge to sink your teeth into the taunt muscle. His codpiece was the last bit of plastoid to hit the floor, his cock twitched when you swayed close enough for him to feel your warm breath. You looked up the length of his body, batting your lashes a bit and you watched the way his chest moved with a shuddering breath. 

You shifted forward on your knees, lips ghosting over the head of his cock and you relished in his harsh exhale. A hand shot out to steady you on instinct as you climbed to your feet again, bringing a small smile to your face when you looked up at Thorn again. 

“Always a gentleman,” you commented, resting a hand over his racing heart. He offered you a lopsided grin, that despite the situation, made your heart swell. “Come lay down.” 

“What do you have planned?” he wondered, narrowing his eyes. You turned your back on him, already working to get out of your shirt.

“Why don’t you come find out?” you called over your shoulder. There was a soft huff of laughter before you heard the bed creak from his added weight and you glanced over your shoulder. You paused, watching the way muscles shifted under tawny skin as he struggled to yank his shirt over his head, nearly toppling over when he finally pulled it off. He blinked a few times, shaking his head, making his blonde curls look fluffy. 

“What?” he mumbled when he caught you staring. Thorn lounged back against the pillows, hands folded behind his head and somehow he managed to look adorable and mouth-watering at the same time. You let out an amused huff before tossing your shirt aside and quickly wiggling out of your pants, catching the way his eyes followed the fabric to the floor before lazily trailing up your body. 

“See something you like?” 

“I guess that’s my fault if you don’t know the answer to that,” Thorn laughed, offering you a hand as you approached the edge of the bed. His jaw flexed a few times as you climbed into his lap, his lips parting around a soft groan when you pressed down onto the outline of his cock. Thorn hooked a finger under the band of your bra, pulling you down for a kiss that had you unintentionally grinding against him. 

Normally, he kissed you like he was trying to memorize the feeling, tucking it away to revisit on one of his lonely nightshifts. Instead of his usual attentiveness, Thorn seemed distracted, something weighing on his mind. You were about to break the kiss and check on him when the support from your bra vanished. Thorn made a soft triumphant noise against your lips and you broke the kiss, forcing your sluggish brain to work. Your bra straps slid off your shoulders when you sat up, a slightly dumbfounded look on your face that only made Thorn’s smile grow wider. 

“Shithead,” you huffed, doing your best to hide a smile. Thorn winked, sliding his hands around to cup your breasts. A sigh fell from your lips as his thumbs brushed over your nipples and you leaned into his hands, bracing yourself against his shoulders and grinding down against him. As quickly as his hand was there, it was gone, making you whine in the back of your throat. You were about to complain when Thorn shifted under you, propping himself up on his elbows so his mouth ghosted over the space between your breasts. 

“You sound so pretty when you get needy,” Thorn hummed, his lips brushing against the swell of your breast. You met his heavy gaze, never breaking eye contact as he peppered kisses across your right breast and your breath hitched when his tongue slipped out. The first flick of his tongue made you gasp but you couldn’t look away from his dark eyes as he traced the shape of your nipple. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, your head lulling forward as your breathing grew heavier. 

Thorn blinked slowly, watching you through dark lashes as his lips closed around the hardened peak. A broken groan slipped past your lips, your hips unconsciously shifting forward, making his cock jump beneath you. Your hand followed the curve of his neck, your fingers threading through his hair so you could gently tilt his head back. 

“No more teasing,” you whispered, your lips brushing his, “we have a dare to fulfill.” Thorn brushed his nose against yours in a sickeningly sweet gesture despite your current position and you smiled. 

“We do,” Thorn murmured, pecking your lips. “How do you want me, muffin?” 

“Just like this,” you answered, finding his lips again. Thorn’s tongue slipped into your mouth, searching for yours as he fumbled to find the waistband of his blacks. You shifted forward onto your knees, your hands bumping his as you tried to help, earning a muffled laugh from Thorn. You leaned to the side in an attempt to give him more room and nearly toppled over, breaking the kiss with a laugh. 

“Having fun?” Thorn teased, grunting as he tried to shove his pants down. 

“More than you apparently,” you giggled, cupping his face. Thorn’s smile was blinding, the expression lighting up his entire face and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Not for long,” he mumbled, letting out a triumphant sound. You looked over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of his legs kicking as he pushed his pants off to the side. His hands landed on your hips, pulling you down onto his lap and you let out a choked gasp, clenching at the feeling of his length pressing against your folds. “What was that?”

“Oh, shut up,” you huffed, rolling your hips. Thorn’s jaw flexed, the grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you forward, dragging you along the length of his cock. “I’d say why not put your mouth to good use,” you teased, reaching up to trace the shape of his lower lip with your thumb, “but I’ve been thinking about cumming on your cock since you walked into 79s.”

Thorn groaned, his thumbs hooking under the band of your panties, yanking them down with a sudden desperation. It took a little careful maneuvering but Thorn was quickly tossing the thin fabric somewhere out of sight. Your nails dug into his shoulder as his fingers traced the dip of your hips, ghosting over your clit, but he didn’t linger, parting your folds as he held your gaze. The sigh that left your lips sounded almost relieved as Thorn pushed a finger into you, his lips parting as he watched your features contort with pleasure. Your head felt fuzzy, arousal buzzing under your skin as you unconsciously started grinding against his hand. 

“There you go,” Thorn cooed, meeting the movement of your hips with ease. He leaned closer, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth as he added another finger. “You look so good fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Would - would look even better fucking myself on your cock,” you forced out, squeezing your eyes shut when he curled his fingers. Thorn hummed, kissing the corner of your mouth but he didn’t pull away, his slightly labored breathing puffing against your cheek.

“Then do it.” You moaned at the harsh edge of his voice, the barely restrained desire lacing his words and you couldn’t move fast enough. Thorn chuckled under his breath, the sound breaking around a groan when your fingers curled around his cock. You matched the pace of his thrusts, clenching your jaw when a third finger joined the others but it still wasn’t what you wanted. It was almost torturous to lift your hips, wanting more than his fingers but hating the sudden emptiness. 

Thorn flopped down onto the bed, his hands folded behind his head as he looked up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes and a sinful smirk. You suddenly wanted to wipe that look off his face, wanting him to look just as restless as you felt. Despite the smirk lingering on his face, you noted how the muscles near his jaw shifted as you lined yourself up, the head of his cock barely brushing against you. Whether it was the first or the thousandth time you’d done this, your lips still parted, a sharp inhale filling the room as you sank down. The sensation was somehow still dizzying, straddling the line between pleasure and pain, leaving you struggling to catch your breath even when you were fully seated in his lap again. 

You forced your eyes open when you realized they had clamped shut, taking in Thorn laid out underneath you. His hands had moved from behind his head to rest on the pillow, his chin tilted toward the ceiling, emphasizing the strong lines of his throat. The caress of your fingers over his stomach had Thorn opening his eyes, endless pupils zeroing in on your face and his fingers twitched. Your eyes slid to the nightstand beside your bed, your datapad innocently charging, and a devious little smile spread across your face.

“Hand me my datapad, please,” you murmured, tracing the faint V-line that disappeared underneath you. Thorn narrowed his eyes, a little puzzled by the request until it seemed to dawn on him and he huffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he blindly reached for the device. 

“What kind of proof do you plan on sending?” he asked, returning his hand to its previous position. 

“Not too keen on Fives getting a peep show,” you teased, arching a brow at your boyfriend over the top of your datapad. The relief that flashed across his face forced you to bite back a smile, something that turned out to be useless when the alternative occurred to him. 

“You never planned on sending a picture of yourself, did you?” Thorn chuckled, although it sounded a bit strained. 

“Nope,” you replied, exaggerating the pop of the p. You lifted your eyes from the screen in front of you, licking your lips as your gaze raked over him, the soft light from the bedside lamp making his skin seem to glow. Thorn seemed to be waiting for your next move, his nostrils flaring as he fought to stay perfectly still, doing his best to ignore the fact that you were sitting on his cock. You held his gaze, bringing your hand down between your legs to gently circle your clit. A high-pitched grunt forced its way past your lips and you clenched involuntarily, giving you exactly what you wanted. 

Thorn’s tilted back again, his mouth dropping open with a harsh exhale and you quickly snapped the picture, tossing the datapad aside as soon as it pinged to let you know the message sent. Thorn grunted, his eyes popping open when you suddenly leaned forward, bracing both of your hands on his chest. One large hand covered yours, squeezing what fingers he could; a silent reassurance as well as an order to keep them there.

The first roll of your hips sent a chill down your spine, accompanied by a breathy moan that made Thorn’s grip on your hands tighten. It felt like you were going to come apart at the seams but there was a part of you that still wanted to stay like this, savoring the fullness of Thorn buried inside you. He, however, seemed to run out of patience. You hadn’t even noticed that his free hand had moved, too focused on the soft ripples of pleasure washing over you, that you immediately tensed when his hand met your ass with a crack. However, the shock didn’t last long and you whined, pressing back into his hand as he squeezed the faintly stinging area. 

“While you do look so pretty like this, cyar’ika, I wanna see you bounce on my cock,” Thorn rumbled, delivering another softer smack to your ass. And who were you to deny him? You pushed off his chest, sitting upright again, and immediately lifted your hips, letting your head fall back as you did as he asked. His hands found your hips and you immediately gripped one of his forearms, your other hand toying with your breast. Thorn absently traced the slope of your hips with his thumbs, the gentle touch drawing your attention and you lifted your head again to look down at his face. 

He was watching how he disappeared inside you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and you clenched as he pulled down onto his cock again, groaning through clenched teeth. Your thighs ached, forcing you to slow your pace and Thorn’s eyes darted up to your face, his hands dropping away from your hips. Without the extra support, you slowly further, squeezing your eyes shut as you continued to grind against him. It happened so fast that you could barely get your arms out when a hand gripped your jaw, pulling you down. 

The kiss was rough, teeth knocking together as you tried to steady yourself, keep up with Thorn as he explored your mouth, and met the short thrusts of his hips. You broke the kiss with a whimper, panting against his bruised lips, shivering at the way his thumb followed the curve of your jaw. You started to press more of your weight onto Thorn and he smiled, but there was a devious undertone to it that made you skeptical. Then suddenly you were moving, a squeal falling from your lips as he rolled you onto your back. You blinked up at him, your mouth hanging open as you tried to reorient yourself but Thorn didn’t give you a chance, snapping his hips forward hard enough to punch the air from your lungs. 

Thorn leaned forward, slanting his mouth over yours as he set a slow, devastating that had your toes curling. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek before groaning through his teeth when your nails dug into his lower back, his thrusts growing faster. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, the pleasure spreading to every inch of your body as you started to tense beneath him. Thorn leaned away enough to see your face and you watched a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face. His eyes dropped to your mouth, the muscles in his jaw jumping before he opened his mouth, his tongue slipping out. The tip of his tongue the curve of your top lip, a teasing touch to coax you closer.

Without thinking you tilted your chin, closing your lips around his tongue and sucking gently. Thorn made a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat, his hips snapping forward with renewed purpose. You released his tongue only for him to surge forward again, kissing you again, his thrusts growing wilder. 

“Touch yourself,” Thorn panted against your lips, blindly reaching for one of your hands. It was overwhelming, every snap of his hips paired with the frantic circling of your fingers had you teetering dangerously on the edge of bliss, desperate for the inevitable fall. The pleasure finally reached a tipping point and you tensed, your mouth falling open with a silent cry as you came, hard. You were faintly aware of Thorn hiding his face against your neck, his hips twitched as he filled you with a muffled moan.  

Faint tremors continued to ripple through your body as you caught your breath, mindlessly rubbing circles between Thorn’s shoulder blades. His breathing had started to even out, the gentle, rhythmic puff of air raising goosebumps across your breast where his head was resting. Thorn exhaled slowly, turning his head to rest his chin on your sternum to look up at your face, a blissed-out look on his face. Your smile was groggy and a little lopsided but it seemed to make Thorn’s eyes twinkle, affection clear in the way he looked up at you.

“Hey,” you murmured, moving your hand to card through his messy curls.

“Hey, muffin,” he rumbled, leaning into your touch. He hummed quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours and his eyes drifted shut again.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned, lightly tugging on his hair. “We need to get cleaned up.” Thorn opened one eye, his brow arching and he just looked at you for a moment before he blinked a few times. 

“You’re right.” The corner of his mouth twitched, making your eyes narrow as he shifted down your body. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Cleaning up after myself,” Thorn replied with a smirk, pressing a lingering kiss between your breasts. Your eyes drifted shut and you settled into the soft mattress as Thorn lavished you with affection until he paused at your hip. It took more effort than you expected to force your eyes open, blinking slowly and you caught the hint of mischief in Thorn’s eyes before he slid down between your legs.

“What are -” The end of your sentence was replaced with a harsh gasp, your thighs immediately closing around Thorn’s head as he licked up the cum dripping out of you. Your arms trembled as you propped yourself up, your mouth hanging open slightly when his eyes flickered up to meet yours. There was a smugness there but the new waves of pleasure spreading through your body distracted you. 

Your voice cracked when you cried out, his name coming out broken when he shoved his tongue into your sensitive pussy. You were quickly rushing toward a second orgasm and you had the feeling it wouldn’t be your last.

The quiet hum of scattered conversations filled the barracks, a sound Fives found comforting as he lounged back in his bunk. Hardcase’s laugh from somewhere above him brought a faint smile to his face and he turned his head, watching Jesse and Kix arguing over a game of sabacc. Fives sighed when the quiet ping of his datapad cut through the room and he flipped it up, his eyes locking onto the familiar notification. 

“Hey, assholes!” Fives yelled, scrambling to lean out of his bunk, searching for Vaugh and Hawk. He jumped when Hardcase’s head appeared from the top bunk, his face slowly turning red. 

“What’s up?” Hardcase asked. 

“Guess who just got a message from Mouse.” A wicked grin spread across Fives’ face as he waved his datapad in the general direction the rest of Torrent was sitting. There was a sudden flurry of movement, boots and socked feet thumping against the floor just barely covering up Kix’s distressed shout. Fives yelped when Jesse borderline dove into his bunk and he caught a glimpse of Vaughn and Hawk awkwardly catching Hardcase as he rolled off the top bunk. Somehow Fives ended up with four brothers piled on top of him. 

“Get your knee out of my ass, Hardcase,” Jesse grumbled, elbowing Fives in the ribs.

“Stop moving,” Fives wheezed, yanking his arm out from under Vaughn. It took a few more seconds of repositioning and harsh jabs before they found a somewhat comfortable position. He glanced over his shoulder, snorting to himself before finally clicking on the message. 

It took a few seconds for his brain to register what he was looking at but when it did, Fives threw his datapad. It knocked into the bunk Kix was sitting on, landing screen up. Fives didn’t even have to look at his brothers to know they were all wearing similar horrified looks. He waited for the same look to cross Kix’s face but instead, Kix threw his head back, laughing like a maniac. The four brothers crammed into the small space started to peel themselves away from Fives, staring at their medic with similar concerned looks. 

“What is wrong with you?” Fives asked, refusing to look at the picture again. It was more of Thorn than Fives ever wanted to see even if it was just his upper body. 

“Oh, stars,” Kix gasped between laughter, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he toppled forward onto the mattress. “Looks - looks like you got what you wanted, huh?”

“No. No, I did not, Kix,” Fives snapped which only made their medic laugh harder. Fives glared down at the now-dark datapad, ignoring Kix’s quiet wheezing, and vowing to get back at you somehow. 

But first, he was deleting that picture…and possibly burning his datapad.

Taglist: @clonemedickix @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @rain-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite @blueink-bluesoul @multi-fan-dom-madness

[yanderes-galore]

I feel like Wyll is not appreciated enough in Baldur's Gate 3 fandom, so can you write a yandere concept for him?

I can try, sure! I researched him the best I could :)

Yandere Wyll Ravenguard Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Fear of loss implied, Manipulation, Mizora is an enabler, Possessive behavior, Conflicted feelings, Violence, Murder implied, Kidnapping, Blood, Forced relationship.

Wyll is a Fiend Warlock with a pact with the demon Mizora as his patron.

He gave her his soul to protect Baldur's Gate and is very dedicated to protecting people.

He is commanded to slay demonic creatures, Tieflings unfortunately included in Mizora's eyes.

Wyll is heroic and kindhearted, his obsession would puzzle him as he wasn't expecting to want to do dark things for someone he loves.

Mizora probably finds Wyll's obsession amusing... her pet seems so infatuated with you...

Perhaps she'll help him obtain you... a treat for her pet.

Even as a hero, Wyll is very playful in nature.

He seems genuinely nice to be around and would definitely be conflicted if he noticed darker desires within him towards you.

Wyll is already conflicted enough as is due to the mischievous nature of Mizora, the source of his powers.

Mizora would definitely feed into the dark desires Wyll begins to develop.

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Mizora senses Wyll's obsession and wishes to play around with it.

She wants to encourage him to take what he wants... something Wyll hates the thought of.

Wyll's obsession definitely develops due to Mizora.

It originally starts as a yearning to protect you.

Especially if you are afflicted with a Mind Flayer parasite.

Wyll's heroic and playful nature would quickly make you two friends (For this concept I am assuming you are not a Tiefling).

As a result, you're mostly on good and mutual terms with Wyll.

You two trust and probably even care for one another as friends.

You don't have much of a clue when Wyll starts feeling conflicted.

He's willing to do nearly anything for you... but how far does he plan to take things to protect you?

Plus, does he even see you as a friend at this point?

With how he feels towards others around you... this may be deeper than he thought.

It doesn't help that whenever he's away from you he keeps feeling a certain yearning that won't go away.

He despises it when Mizora appears to tease and tempt him when you're gone.

The demon always whispers in Wyll's ears small promises.

She can give him more power... enough to take you all for himself.

Why should he watch you from afar and daydream?

Why should he settle for being friends?

Is he really going to let others take claim to you?

Doesn't he feel the burning jealousy within him?

Wyll has to push Mizora away, cursing her for putting such vile thoughts in his head.

Yet the ideas still persist.

Mizora simply promises her pet a gift, a treat... you.

Why should he refuse?

Mizora enabling Wyll is what causes the poor hero to corrupt more and more.

Wyll can't help but stare as you converse with other companions... his grip on his rapier tightening.

He tells himself not to listen, he tells himself if it's meant to be... you'll come to him.

But the longer he has to wait, the longer he has to pine... Mizora tempts him, pushing him to the brink.

He really does want you all to himself, to protect you and care for you.

No other person could care for you like him.

When Mizora meets with Wyll again, she grins.

She can tell her pet has decided to give in.

Wyll apologizes to you as he finds himself committing atrocities for you.

Murder, fire spilling across the land, it's all too much to handle.

He tries to keep his destruction to a minimum.

By the time he snaps, he has you locked away, blood coating his hands and rapier... but you in his arms.

You're so warm against him... as warm as the blood and tears staining him.

When he looks at you he realizes he has sinned.

Mizora has corrupted him more than he'd like to admit.

As he stares at you... he tries to put it aside.

His father was right, he was just as bad as the demon he made a pact with...

But at least he has you now.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 8 ~ Panic Room

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 1

✧ Word Count : 4.2k

In this chapter ~ When the group pushed even harder for answers about the outbreak as a whole, Jenner gives them the harsh and ugly truth. One that they clearly weren't expecting to hear. But the man didn't stop there as they were all suddenly locked inside the large building, the entire thing going into self-destruct mode. It left all of them terrified, wondering if there was any way out of the danger they seemed to walk right into.

"Give me a playback of TS-19." Jenner commanded out loud as he walked into the large room.

Our footsteps echoed around the space, filled with lines and lines of computers and a giant screen in the middle of the wall on full display. Everything in here looked expensive and new, like there were many doctors and geniuses in here at one point trying to do everything they could when the outbreak hit. I didn't miss the mess that lingered in different areas of the room when people obviously began to panic, not knowing how the hell to stop this or what exactly it was. But after Jenner had stayed here for months, alone with his work, he had to have some sort of answer.

Suddenly, seconds after the man spoke, there was video feedback of different 3-D views of a human skull on the screen right in front of us.

"Is that a brain?" Carl asked from beside his mother.

Jenner nodded, "An extraordinary one. Take us in for E.I.V."

The screen then showed the brain having all of these different little blue lights, glowing and flickering in every direction. The stemmed from the front and all the way around to the back, the mind itself looking alive right before our eyes. Jenner began to explain to all of us that the lights we see are a person's life, all of their experiences, basically all of the different things that make you unique. But I didn't miss his change in tone when he informed us that the person we were seeing had been bitten, and agreed to have all of this recorded and watched by others for learning purposes.

My eyes stayed firmly on the projected scene as the man rambled on and on it seemed like, nearly tuning him out as I watched all the once bright blue lights, slowly dim with each passing moment. Though it only continued on faster once Jenner commanded the computer to fast forward through the footage, watching as the person slowly lost their life as the light dwindled down to nothing. The brain then became completely dark as the person stopped moving, fast forwarding even further when something unexpected happened.

Once the person essentially came back to life, red beams suddenly appeared in only a certain part of the mind now. Showing all of us what happens to you after you turn is far worse than what we could even imagine.

"It restarts the brain?" Lori asked.

"You tell me." he replied as he gestured to the screen, watching us take it all in like he had probably done many times in the past, studying over every movement time and time again.

"It's not like before, most of that brain is dark." Rick states.

Jenner then says, "Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part, that doesn't come back. The you part. Just a shell driven by mindless instinct."

The screen then previewed something suddenly hitting the brain straight down the middle, before it all went black again and the person stopped moving completely.

"God. What was that?" Carol asked in shock.

My eyes scanned the person's entire head, looking at the object that was now lodged in the center, "He shot his patient in the head." I assumed, "Didn't you?"

He didn't answer me as he powered down the screen with the press of a button, clearly not wanting to relive the moment. There was something suddenly suspicious about the things he was dancing around, almost purposefully not answering.

"You have no idea what this is do you?" Andrea asked.

Jenner sighed, "It could be microbial, vial, parasitic, fungal."

"Or the wrath of God." Jacqui said under her breath.

"There is that." Jenner said before proceeding to tell us that he truly didn't have the answers we were looking for. He was almost just as clueless about this as any of us were, not having near as many answers as he wished. That only made me wonder what the hell he was doing these past few months if he truly didn't have a clue in the world. Was he just sitting on his ass in his fancy building, waiting for someone to come knocking and save him? I truly wanted to know.

"Man, I wanna get shitfaced drunk after this." Daryl muttered close to me.

I just nodded my head in response, not taking my eyes off the man as he continued talking, though I couldn't bring myself to pay attention. Coming here only seemed absolutely hopeless now knowing everything. We couldn't save Jim, and we would never know what all of this is, what it means, what it would all lead to in the future. The lack of information he gave us was practically useless.

"Jenner, I know this has been taxing you and I hate to ask one more question, but that clock, it's counting down. What happens at zero?" Dale suddenly asked, bringing all of our attention to the big red numbers ticking to our left.

The man grew silent for a moment, shifting from side to side as he visibly grew uncomfortable, "The...basement generators run out of fuel...the power runs out." he eventually explained vaguely.

"And then?" I asked.

He ignored me yet again. Dick. Before his pace quickened to walk straight out of the room as if the conversation was anywhere near over.

"VI, what happens when the power runs out?" Rick asked the computer.

"When the power runs out, facility–wide decontamination will occur." VI responded, a robotic voice coming through the speakers.

We all looked around at each other in slight confusion, not really knowing what that meant and Jenner was already too far gone to explain any of it. Almost as if he didn't want us to know. That alone caught the attention of a few of the guys as they began to quickly leave the room to figure out what the hell was going on, down towards the basement like Jenner mentioned. Daryl was about to leave my side to follow them out, but quickly turned back to me almost as if he forgot something.

"Grab yer stuff, get ready to leave." he told me urgently.

I nodded absentmindedly as my eyes lingered on him, watching him leave to follow the small group out the door, before rushing in the other direction to the elevator to take down to the main level. The door practically flew open with the amount of force I used, not wasting anymore time as I gathered the rest of my things, the books that I had picked out, along with a few bottles of water that were scattered around the space. I fucking knew that something bad was going to happen, I should've bet on it. Something had been off since the beginning, and I hardly said a damn word about it to anyone. How could I have let this just fly over my head like that without taking it more seriously?

My movements suddenly halted mid step as the lights went out through the building, leaving me in the dark, and I didn't hesitate then to pick up my pace. I blindly hauled the rest of my stuff over my shoulders and managed to snatch Daryl's bag along with his crossbow before quickly taking the few flights of stairs back up to where I last saw everyone else.

By the time I rushed back into the giant room, everyone had come back and started hounding Jenner with question after question, all of them he seemed to be avoiding. I fully walked into the area hesitantly upon watching the scene, my eyes catching sight of Daryl from across the way as his brows were furrowed in concern.

He didn't stall before rushing over to me rather quickly, "What the hell took ya so long?" he asked, his tone blunt and angry.

I stood there for a second before handing him his things, "Sorry?" I asked in disbelief.

It hit him then what he sounded like, and he quickly shook his head, "I-...sorry, m' just..." he trailed off, not knowing how to describe the obvious fear he was feeling.

But I understood what he was saying without even needing to hear it, nodding to him as he didn't need to finish his thought for me to know. I myself was feeling the exact same way as I tried to calm my growing nerves, disregarding all the many things that could go wrong in here even though they were far from unrealistic.

For every question that Jenner was avoiding, the harder it was for me to remain calm. The conversation happening just in front of Daryl and I, he seemed to be listening intently to, but I wasn't. I couldn't. My main concern was focusing on my breathing, my heartbeat growing loud in my ears as I was trying to not completely freak out. Panic attacks weren't a new thing to me, but I definitely would rather die than have one in front of a crowd of people.

Rick then suddenly snapped when he realized there was no point in fighting it anymore, wanting to just leave before things got worse. "Everyone grab your things, we're getting out of here now!" 

He didn't have to tell me twice. I instantly started to follow behind everyone else as we headed toward the exit, but a sudden alarm began blaring loudly the second we moved, and the door slammed shut right in front of my face. Locking us in. Okay if I thought I was panicking before, then what the hell was I feeling now?

"Did you just lock us in? Guys he just locked us in!" Glenn shouted in fear.

"Yeah, no shit." I muttered in disbelief, my eyes wide as I scanned the thick metal door in front of me.

My breathing started to grow heavier after Glenn's frantic words, making the situation only realer and far worse, and Daryl seemed to quickly take notice. He suddenly whipped around to the man responsible and ran up to him in a split second, "You son of a bitch! You locked us in here!" he yelled.

He tried to tackle the man in anger but Rick and Shane were quick to stop him by pulling his arms back harshly. I dropped my backpack to the ground absentmindedly, starting to walk back and forth in the giant room that only seemed to be getting smaller, trying to steady my racing heart but nothing seemed to be working. We were really trapped in here, with a timer counting down the minutes to God only knows what.

I was so lost in my own mind that I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt someone pull my arm to get me to stop pacing, seeing Glenn's concern before he guided me into him in attempts to calm me down. But really it seemed to make things worse, feeling his arms shaking around me only proving just how scared he was too. How nervous we all seemed to be of the unknown.

It was then Jenner started to yell, having been fed up with the many voices demanding him for answers and the people beginning to attack him every few seconds. The serious man finally reached his breaking point just as he pushed us to ours.

"Do you know what this place is?!" he snapped, "We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! Ever!"

We were all left to a stunned silence at his outburst, watching as he took a breath and sat back down in his chair, leaving the painful silence all around us. Daryl's eye seemed to catch with mine from across the room and gave me a look I had never seen from him before whilst I was still frozen in place, hating the idea of being trapped.

Jenner then continued, "In the event of a catastrophic power failure in a terrorist attack, for example, H.I.T.S are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T.S?" Rick questioned.

Jenner glanced at him, "VI, define." he commanded.

"H.I.T.S- High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist of a two stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast heat wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive."

I froze. All I could hear in that moment was Glenn's quickened heartbeat, Carol and Sophia holding each other sobbing, and the rest of the men getting very angry as if it was the only emotion they knew how to feel at a stressful time like this. Not only were we left trapped in here, but we were going to die. We were all going to die without even having really lived, and he just seemed to brush past it without a care in the world. Not even considering to bring it to any of our attention before this, and I couldn't have been angrier.

Before I knew what was happening Daryl and Shane brushed past us in a hurry, trying to break the door open by hitting it repeatedly with axes they had somehow found along the way. I slightly pushed myself away from Glenn to walk over towards Jenner to try and hear anything other than ringing in my ears. But I didn't get very far as I felt someone suddenly hug me from around my waist and I looked down to see Carl holding onto me tightly. He was still crying profusely, and I quickly got down on my knees to hug him in return, trying to offer him some type of support as his fear must've been petrifying.

This isn't the way it should go. I felt utterly hopeless. I knew we wouldn't be getting out of here unless Jenner decided so, and by the looks of it he wasn't budging. Even with Rick trying to convince him with every passing second.

"Can't make a dent." Shane said breathlessly to all of us as he took a break from trying to tear down the door.

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher." Jenner informed.

"Well, yer head ain't!" Daryl yelled while coming at Jenner with the axe in his hands, Shane and Rick having to step in once more to stop him again from doing anything rash.

If we weren't about to die, I probably would've laughed at his witty comeback, but Carl's quiet sobs reminded me of the state of the situation and now was not the time. I continued to rub his back reassuringly to try and calm him somehow as I watched the scene unfold in front of me over his shoulders.

Jenner kept trying to persuade all of us that this was for the best, and there would be no pain when we all passed peacefully in here together. But the truth was I didn't want to die, not now, nor did I want anyone else in here to have the same exact fate. And clearly we all were in firm agreement with how much everyone was losing their shit. Reacting in different ways to Jenner's psychotic behavior. Anger, sadness, and panic, yet it was all completely the same. Fear. It always seemed to come back full circle, didn't it?

Lori eventually came up to me to take Carl back into her arms and just held him for our last few moments while she finally let her own tears fall, realizing it was all hopeless. But Rick clearly wasn't ready to give up. I watched him pick apart the man, digging down as deep as he could to try and convince him to just let us make our own decision on this. That we all deserved a right to choose what we wanted our fate to be instead of it being forced upon us. That maybe there was still some kind of hope out there for us to find.

And then suddenly, he broke. The man didn't say a word, not a single word as he silently walked over to a control panel, typing in a few numbers that sent the metal door flying open. Daryl, who was still trying to break through, nearly ate shit when it opened so suddenly as he still attempted to pry it open with the weapon in his grasp. But he recovered fast as he whipped around to grab his stuff from off the ground.

"Come on!" he yelled to the rest of us.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding once it hit me that it was real. He was letting us go. My legs had never moved so fast as I sprinted towards the door, grabbing my things along the way and making sure everyone else made it through the door before me as I pushed them through to the other side.

But I quickly noticed as I looked back that Jaqui and Andrea were staying behind with Jenner, leaving Dale shocked beyond repair. He wanted to save her, I could see in his eyes how much he cared, but he knew there was nothing he could do to convince her, so he stayed too. The sight alone caused my mouth to drop at how many people we seemed to be losing, one after another. Each of them fell just like dominos.

My eyes couldn't pull away from them, wanting nothing more but for them to save themselves and come with us, but just like Dale, I knew there was nothing I could do to change their minds. After all, what could I say? They thought their chance of surviving out there was slim, and they were terrified of the unavoidable death the rest of us seemed to be gravitating towards. That's not how they wanted to go. And as much as it might've pained me, I could also understand that too.

Heavy footsteps from behind me were slapping loudly on the ground below, approaching me in record speed but I ignored it for a moment, wanting to get one last look at their faces before I made my decision too.

"Hey, come on, let's go." Daryl said from right behind my head while grabbing my sleeve to pull me along.

I looked at him with a twinge of sadness in my eyes, but managed a nod and followed him out the door towards the main entrance, not looking back.

The two of us flew towards the front doors where everyone else was waiting, watching from a distance as some of the guys were trying to break the windows with axes and any other type of weapon they could find. I recalled Jenner saying something about not being able to open the front doors again, as the place was on complete lockdown, but it's not like any of us minded that. Where there's a will, there's a way.

Though nothing was working as they continued to struggle, the glass being too thick to cut through easily, that is until Carol approached Rick as she dug through her bag, "I think I have something that'll help." she said.

"Carol, I don't think a nail file's gonna do it." Shane said in frustration.

I blinked. Really?

She ignored him, "Back at camp when I was washing your clothes, I found this in your pocket." she said as she pulled out a grenade with shaking hands.

My eyes widened at the random object. Yeah, I think that'll do it.

Rick then took it from her and told everyone to get down once he placed it by the window. I ducked and covered the back of my neck with my hands when, at the last minute, I felt another body covering mine. Once the window shattered, I looked up to see it was Daryl and he quickly grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out the window as fast as possible with everyone following close behind.

We all took down as many walkers as we could as we made our way back to the cars quickly, breathing heavily with adrenaline coursing through our bodies. I got into the passenger side of the truck with a slam of the door, Daryl's movements only mirroring mine as he didn't waste a single second before getting inside. I found myself looking back at the building once more, just in time to see Andrea and Dale making it out of the window at the last minute and diving to take cover right before the explosion.

I ducked down in anticipation to shield myself once again, only seconds away from the ignited fire before it rang out loudly in my ears. I felt the heat of the explosion blow in our direction along with the smoke that came after that, perishing whatever was left inside. Daryl sat up after a few seconds of silence had passed, hesitantly following his actions in time to see Andrea and Dale quickly making their way into the RV, with the building burning just behind them.

I sat there oddly still in disbelief, trying to process everything that went down in the last thirty minutes. It all seemed to happen so fast.

"Hey, ya okay?" Daryl asked once he collected his own thoughts.

I didn't look back at him, but I nodded my head to show that I heard him, even if my answer was far from the truth. But then I felt his hand, slowly and hesitantly falling on my shoulder as if he was scared to touch me.

"Look at me." he said in a soft voice.

My eyes moved over to him slowly to make sure I wasn't just imagining things. Seeing him worried and speaking in such a gentle tone was a weird new thing to experience, almost weirder than what we just went through seconds ago. He was being so genuine it seemed unnatural...but not in a bad way.

"I'm okay." I finally muttered.

I didn't think he believed me, not for one second, but before he could protest more the cars in front of us started to move, leaving him not much of a choice as he quickly started up the vehicle to follow. I sat completely still while we drove in silence, just thinking. I didn't want Jacqui to stay, leaving someone behind for dead was something I never thought we'd do. But I tried to tell myself that she was at peace, and wouldn't suffer in this cruel world anymore.

We had been driving for hours and I could tell that the sun would start setting soon enough, leaving us to find somewhere to stay for the night. It frustrated me slightly that we had to start all over with finding a safe place to hunker down, although I didn't have a lot of faith in the CDC, it could've been a nice safety blanket for a while. Better than mindlessly wandering place after place only to be left with nothing we could rely on.

"Did ya wanna stay?" Daryl suddenly asked.

Although I barely heard the question fall from his lips because it was more of a whisper, yet I was still taken off guard at his words. Was that what he thought I wanted? I didn't want anyone to be under the impression that I wanted to take the easy way out, all because I stopped for a moment to look at the others. I wanted to save them, but I didn't want to join them.

I quickly answered him, "God, no..." I breathed shakily, "No...I didn't."

He looked over at me, as if to try and see if I was lying, "Then why did I have to pull ya outta there?"

"You didn't have to pull me out of there, I just-," I stopped myself, trying to figure out how to phrase what I wanted to say. "I...I just wanted to take one last look at the others. It was the last time we were ever going to see Jacqui...you know?" 

He remained silent for a while after that. I began to think that my explanation was just stupid to him since he didn't utter another word, but it was true. I didn't want to just forget about her or forget her face, so I stayed for a few seconds longer because it was somewhat important to me.

"Don't do that shit." he suddenly spoke in the midst of awkward silence.

I turned to him in confusion, "Do what shit?" I asked.

"Don't scare me like that" he responded.

My eyebrows raised in slight shock. Scare him? The man that wasn't afraid of anything, willing to tear someone's head off or take out an army of walkers before him. But I scared him? I almost didn't think I heard him right. "Sorry." I said simply, a smile creeping to my face.

He returned the small smile with a shake of his head, "S' fine." he muttered.

"Why do you care?" I found myself asking.

He only looked at me with a blank expression, so I clarified, "I mean, you hardly know me all that well...why does it matter to you if I wanted to stay or not?"

His eyes focused back on the road, and he started to chew on his bottom lip slightly while his mind was elsewhere. It didn't seem like that deep of a question, but he sure as hell was taking his time thinking about it.

"Well, if yer part of the group now...means I gotta watch yer ass just like everyone else." he said with annoyance clear in his voice.

My heart sank a little at his response, but what did I expect? He wasn't the caring or comforting type of man, bottling up his feeling to no end from what I've seen. I guess I was just a little flattered when he said that I had scared him a bit, and maybe there was a part of me that thought about what it would be like if I was a little more important to him. I'm not a saint, okay? It crossed my mind. But clearly that wasn't the case.

I didn't utter another word because I truly didn't know what else to say, only moving to press play on the Metallica cd that we listened to yesterday and began to stare out the window, trying to think about something else. I wanted the CDC to be a distant memory and nothing more, but the questioned remained as I watched the city get smaller and smaller. Where the hell do we go from here?

~ Thanks for reading!

[pookiebeary]

Finale

Young Justice!Roy Harper x reader

Warning: angst, mentions of death and guilt etc

Word count: give or take 871

Synopsis: In order to buy some time for an escape, you have to do what you have to do. You've failed him all those years and this time you won't.

Reader is Black Canary's former sidekick and has the charmspeak ability, which is a type of hypnotism or persuasion in which it allows the speaker to convince someone else to do or get whatever they want (cited from the riordan wiki fandom)

"Never!! I will not be taken again!" You hear Roy angrily declare as he takes an offensive stance, the blaring security alarms making him fidgety like a wild animal.

You feel the guilt of failing to find him all those years jab at you as you look at the near feral expression on his face. Taking a deep breath, you steel your resolve and shorten the distance Roy's put up.

"Easy there buddy," you make your voice as soft and disarming as possible but still clear enough to hear through the deafening sound of the alarm, it works to calm him down as you shush and lull him with sweet nothings. You smile assuringly, promising that you'll make sure he never gets captured again. Never. You'll make sure of it even if the odds are stacked against the both of you.

"You won't be taken again, okay?" You cup his face with your palms, placing your forehead against his as you whisper, "I promise you."

You take in a shaky deep breath while you watch his features soften before you continue to speak again.

"Listen to me Roy. You will walk away from here." You command and with a ghost of a smile gracing your lips, your resolve begins to wave when you watch his gaze turn foggy as if he's trapped in a trance-like state. Tears pool in your eyes but you refuse to cry even as your lips tremble slightly. Your hand moves to gently caress his cheek and you take in every minute detail of him, burning the image of Roy Harper one last time in your mind.

His dazed look suddenly twists into horror when he realizes you're using your charmspeak on him to force him to abandon you, "N-no (Name)! Don't you fucking dare-"

You cut him off, adding even more intent on your tone, "You will run and save yourself and only you. Leave me."

You see him struggling to fight against your charmspeak but you've already reaffirmed your resolve and you can't back down now. This is your repentance for having failed him all those years ago. You owe him this, "You will escape and you won't stop running until you're back with the others."

Roy's horrified and furious look fades away as he nods blankly and you smile, knowing that he cannot disobey the charmspeak you've placed on him.

"Goodbye Roy. I love you. Tell Dinah I'm sorry," you murmur quietly, your thumb wiping away a drop of tear that has rolled down his eye. Giving him one final kiss you figured you could have before you meet your end, you reluctantly let go when the troop's stomping gets louder- mercilessly reminding you of the inevitable.

You see Roy nodding dazedly before abruptly turning around as the charmspeak compels him to follow your orders. He runs away, melding into the shadows as you turn to face an army of supersoldiers alone.

***

'No no no no no!' Roy tries to move his body, to will himself back to you but your charmspeak is much more powerful than he remembers. All those years he was trapped in ice you must've honed your skills because he'd usually be able to break free from it.

'(NAME)!!' He screams and tries to resist the charmspeak as he struggles to slow down, to no avail. His body isn't listening to him as it continues to run even as exhaustion and grief clings into him like a parasitic daemon.

He feels tears run down his eyes as he remembers the time spent with you all those years back. The flood of memories from your first meeting flashes on his mind like a movie; the both of you had been so young then- fresh newbies to the crime-fighting life that you've both been introduced to by your guardians. And as much as he hated his days as a sidekick to Green Arrow, meeting you when he was still Speedy was the greatest thing that ever happened to him.

He remembers how he initially taunted you and goaded you to prove your meta abilities because he wasn't sure how to talk to you even though in hindsight that had been a horrible way to make friends. The result of said interaction was you charmspeaking him to punch himself. The purple bruise on his cheek served as a humbling and humiliating reminder to him for the next few weeks that Oliver never let him live it down.

He remembers how you both used to sneak around after curfew to hang out at rooftops and enjoy each other's company when a busy Dinah dropped you off in Star City for Ollie to babysit you. It had taken a lot of convincing on his side for you to break the curfew rule with him, involving promises of your favourite snacks and drinks being present.

He recalls the smile you'd had given him when you apologized for making him punch himself even though it was a well-deserved punch. But even as a war cry left his lips and even as tears continued to stream down his eyes, his legs wouldn't stop running even as he desperately wished to go back and fight beside you in that losing battle.

He doesn't stop running.

[lensman-arms-race]

Episode 73 part 2

Just watched it, now to rewatch a couple of times with commentary. (Haven't had a chance to reverse TTv's lines.)

Why did TCam and TSpeaker wait to attack while TTv and G-Toilet were grumping at each other? Just deck the fucker! :D

Now we know yellow and green orb = explosion. Why didn't G-Toilet try the yellow and purple orb, though? TTv would be the most useful Titan to possess because he can command the other two.

I do like how TCam 'nuh-uh'd the yellow-and-purple orb! :D He's become genre-savvy.

Also lols at how un-gracefully TTv landed after doing a big sword attack. I guess rolling gracefully is hard when you're that size. (Also there's a cloud of black fog when he lands - did TTv summon some fog to disguise his ungainly fall? Because lmao)

G-Toilet appears to be fundamentally flush-proof, just like the first time the Alliance tried that. Maybe his cistern's empty.

Poor, poor Titan Speaker, getting parasitised again. I was surprised - I thought he'd be able to no-sell it this time, and we'd be misled into thinking the parasite had gottim but no, he crushed it or something. But he really does get re-parasitised! TTv says something, and it already sounds like 'Get this shit out' when not reversed, haha.

TCam speaks again! "You're mine." How is he doing that??

Rambo Toilet makes a re-appearance and narrowly avoids getting squished. Burrowing exploding toxic waste toilet is pretty cool - it's like a robot mole/crab. The blast radius even makes poor POV cam lose an arm!

We don't see TTv remove the parasite from TSpeaker - I wonder if DFB wrote it that way on purpose to give fans an opportunity to write/animate their own version of how that went down. (Maybe we'll get a look in the full version, which DFB said would have extra scenes.)

Fuck yes! TTv finally remembers he has some fuck-off back spikes!

Does G-Toilet say "You need me"?? I'll have to check once DFB makes the full episode and adds subs. Implying that G-Toilet is the only one who can stop the Astros, perhaps - or that G-Toilet knows some other secret that the Alliance wants to have.

"I will survive." Oh, now we know what the G stands for (Gloria Gaynor).

Wait, so what was in the shipping containers? Just a load of dripping piss rockets? That was all?

Oo, Titan TV is not a happy bunny.

Wait, why is it a thing that G-Toilet can fly over the horizon and stymie the Titans? They can all fly too; why don't they just follow him? :D

[daiki1k]

FIVE MINUTES BEFORE ROUND 7.

.

.

.

Well behaved. That is the only way to describe Tina. The epitome of perfection, doll like features carefully carved to smile, laugh and sing.

With anyone else, she would have feigned concern in watching their body fall, limp and lifeless as she sat above the stage. Being a nepo baby came with many privileges but none of them helped calm down the nerves in her stomach that threatened to come up as Daiki broke the news about her performance.

She's going to go up there. Her Daiki.. her dearest Daiki. Of course, Tina knew Daiki was talented -- Daidai could do anything if she wanted to. (Keyword on '*if*.) But danger was always present, a slimy parasite that threatened to ruin everything.

Fingers tap against the ground. Teeth chew on the skin on her lip, the taste of artificial peaches permeating. A deep breath that fills up too much of her lungs as she figures out what to say.

If she loses, Daiki will be gone and she will be alone again. That thought alone is terrifying.. imagining the real deal is worse.

Exhale. Her chest falls. Hands find their way to her lover's shoulder, a tight grip with a squeeze as she forces her to look at her. Tina has never shown anything but joy and whimsy but today -- today, furrowed brows and a tense stare take over. Not once has she had to give a warning as serious as this. Most days, it was just a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug to send her off.

"Daiki." It comes out as a whisper, "Promise me you'll win?" Less of a question, more of a command. She will win. Tina won't accept 'no' for an answer, "I need you-- you can't leave me here like this."

[halestrom]

Orange Rose - experiencing constant as well as distracting thoughts of the other person + character of your choice

its short...ish. some mclorne for you. evan pov.

“Major.”

Evan lifted his head away from where he had been staring at the blue lights behind the Colonel and grimaced. “Sorry, sir. I missed that last bit, what was it?”

Sheppard frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Sir?”

Sheppard leaned back in his chair. “You’re distracted. That’s weird. So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Evan said, lying through his teeth because the last thing he would do was tell his CO he was daydreaming about Rodney’s eyes. “Been a long week,” he elaborated when Sheppard looked unimpressed with his answer.

Sheppard sighed. “That is has. As I was saying…”

--

Evan stared up at the ceiling, wondering when he had ended up on his back. Ronon’s unimpressed face filled his view a second later.

“You alive?” Ronon asked.

“I’m debating,” Evan said as pain began to bloom across his face.

“You’re talking. You’re fine,” Ronon said, holding out a hand.

Evan took it and he was jerked up with an ease that made him a little pissed off. But he ignored it in favor of pressing against his cheekbone. It wasn’t broken, but it was going to have a hell of a shiner.

“You’re distracted.”

“I’m fine,” Evan said, poking at his cheek once more to avoid looking over to where he could see Rodney’s handwriting warning about a broken panel that hade distracted him.

“Uh-huh,” Ronon said. “Whatever. Come on. Focus and lets try again.”

--

“Have you considered going to metrology?”

Evan frowned, looking over at Radek. “What?”

“For the clouds that your head is in. Very unusual being so low. Perhaps they can help,” Radek said, looking back down at his laptop.

“Ever consider stand up?” Evan asked, not looking at the screen with the video of Rodney ranting about something the rest of the lab techs were watching. It was from the declassification tour he was on and had gone viral. Whatever that meant.

“Bah, would be funnier in Czech so you would all misunderstand.”

“I’m sure there’s a laugh track somewhere,” Evan replied, leaning back. “We can get it put in.”

Radek shot him a look. “Shoo, Major. I am busy and your face needs ice.”

Evan rolled his eyes, and then regretted it.

--

“Major Lorne, what on God’s green earth did you do?” Carson asked, taking one look at his face and waving at him to sit down.

“Ronon,” Evan said, sitting down on the chair.

Carson tutted. “Come here, let’s see if you have a concussion.”

“I’m fine, Doc. Really. I just need some ice,” Evan replied.

Carson shook his head. “Well I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, shaking his head and beginning to mutter about idiot Major’s that needed to get their heads checked and not for the reasons they think. Evan bit back a smile, and the comment about how Carson might be spending too much with Rodney.

--

“Anything else, Major?”

Evan turned his head, aware the rest of the command staff was staring at him. “No, sirs,” he said, not even sure what they were talking about.

Woolsey peered at him over his glasses. “I thought you wished to talk about the delegation that would be arriving tomorrow.”

Evan nodded. “Right, yes, sorry, sirs,” he said, waving a hand at his face as if the black eye would forgive him of all of his sins.

Thankfully, it seemed to work and Evan grabbed his tablet and looked away from watching the gate to see if it would dial, and Rodney could come back home early.

--

The door opening had him looking up, perking up as he watched Rodney stroll through and drop his bags onto the floor with a groan.

“If I ever, ever, get the urge to do that again have me checked over for another parasite because I am not doing that again,” Rodney said, hands planted on his hips, looking tired and stressed and it was the best thing Evan had seen all day.

He stood and walked over, wrapping Rodney up into a hug his partner returned with a groan.

“Earth is stupid. Blow it all up,” Rodney mumbled into his neck.

“Cheetos,” Evan replied.

“The Cheetos can stay, everything else, bye bye.”

“Mmhmm,” Evan said, feeling Rodney’s arms tighten around his waist for a moment before they relaxed.

Rodney leaned back and looked at him, mouth opening before a frown crossed his face and he grabbed Evan’s face, carefully. “What happened to you?” he demanded.

“Training with Ronon,” Evan said, pulling back. “Already checked it over with Carson, I’m fine.”

“Your face is blue!” Rodney snapped, blue eyes worried. “In what world is that fine? I’m going to kill Ronon!”

“I’m fine,” Evan repeated, patting Rodney’s hand. “I was just distracted. That’s all.”

“Distracted by what?” Rodney asked, still looking like he wanted to commit murder.

“Missing you,” Evan said honestly, watching the way Rodney’s face went slack with shcok before he smiled.

“Really?”

Evan nodded.

“Oh,” Rodney said, looking down and away. “Well. I missed you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rodney said, sounding bashful. “I’m glad to be home.”

Evan pulled him into another hug, feeling Rodney’s arms wrap around him tightly. “I’m glad you’re home as well.”

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

For a Druid, Majexatli seemed remarkably uncomfortable at the Emerald Grove. 

It seemed ironic, given that it was Majexatli who was the one who dragged everyone into this mess. Shadowheart herself didn’t care for the refugees and the Druids and whatever conflict they had, but Majexatli seemed much more a bleeding heart. Though as little as she cared she could at least appreciate that Majexatli stood their ground. 

Astarion didn't want to be involved in any of this, neither did Lae’zel, and both were quite vocal with their disdain. Yet rather than capitulate to their whining, Majexatli pointedly ignored both of them.

Shadowheart had nearly written Majexatli off entirely as some pacifistic empathetic do-gooder, not her first choice in companion, certainly, but tolerable. But at moments, there were hints of… something beneath their pristine exterior.

Shadowheart remembered watching as Lae’zel ordered that tiefling to bow before her. She expected Majexatli to immediately step in, but instead, they allowed it. At least at first, quietly saying something in Infernal to the man that seemed to reassure him. 

When Lae’zel made a comment about tieflings afterward, Shadowheart hadn’t exactly what she had said, but she did see the dagger Majexatli pulled out of nowhere, sharp and silver with a worn leather grip. It was against Lae’zel’s throat in a split second.

“Speak of my people like that again and see what happens,”

They sent both Lae’zel and Astarion to return to camp afterward.

As admirable as Shadowheart found it, it hardly seemed druidic.

Majexatli was a druid, though. The druids in the grove—at least for the most part—seemed to acknowledge them as a druid, albeit an outsider tiefling druid. The leather armor they wore resembled what the druids in the grove wore, though it was different and much more worn. 

Regardless, they were able to command a presence, speak Silvanus’ words with a firm wisdom enough to get Kagha to release the tiefling girl, assuage Nettie’s fears and promise to take her poison the moment they felt the symptoms of ceremorphosis. 

It almost seemed like Majexatli belonged in the Grove, that being among fellow druids was a comfort.

Almost.

As soon as Nettie turned to go back to the infirmary, Shadowheart saw the gentle smile on their face drop, shoulders relax as they let out the breath they were holding. Majexatli quickly busied themselves with looking over the notes on the Archdruid’s desk.

“Anything of interest?” Gale asked, stepping over to the desk with Majexatli.

Majexatli hummed in acknowledgment before replying.

“Some notes on the parasite. Though I think Nettie was right, we might need the Archdruid Halsin himself to get an expert opinion.”

“The path is clear, then. The tieflings need safe passage on the roads, and Archdruid Halsin has been captured by the goblins. If we take out the goblin camp, we can help the tieflings, help the grove, and learn more about these tadpoles,” Wyll said.

“Kill two birds with one stone,” Majexatli said and they continued to leaf through the Archdruid’s notes.

“Indeed, though I imagine you’re not one to kill any birds when you can speak with them,” Wyll smiled, looking at Majexatli with clear fondness already.

“Perhaps we should avail ourselves of the library, there’s a chance there are more notes on these parasites somewhere among the books,” Gale said.

As Gale spoke, he stepped away from the desk, beginning towards the shelves of books. He had barely made it a few steps before someone stepped out from behind the corner and let out a gasp, startled enough to drop the few books she had been carrying.

She was an older-looking halfling woman, frizzy grey hair pulled into a bun.

“Apologies, we didn’t mean to startle you,” Gale said, leaning down to help her gather the fallen books.

“No, no, it’s no issue, I was just lost in my own thoughts, I must not have heard you all come in,” She laughed, setting down the small stack of books she had been sorting, “My name is Calnys, I’m something of the librarian here,”

“A pleasure to meet you, Calnys, I am Gale of Waterdeep,”

Calnys’ eyes lit up at the mention of Waterdeep.

“Ah, Waterdeep, it’s been a while since I met another from there. Is there anything I can help you with, child?”

“I don’t suppose you have any books on ilithid parasites and ceremorphosis, do you?”

“Ceremorphosis…? I’m not certain we do” Calnys paused for a moment in thought, then her eyes widened, “Oh! You must be the ones from the gate! Word travels quickly here, I’ve heard all about how you helped defend our Grove. And you’re the ones who protected that young tiefling girl and talked some sense into Kagha,”

“Oh, while I certainly helped at the gate, the credit for stopping Kagha does belong with our fearless druid companion, Majexatli,” Gale gestured to Majexatli, who pointed turned away once again focusing on the various notes on Halsin’s desk.

Calnys didn’t seem to pay attention to his words.

“It’s awful, really, to see my own people treat a child that way,” Calnys shook her head, “Terrible. I wish these sorts of things never happened,”

“I do hope this isn’t a regular occurrence,”

“Oh, no, no no. Master Halsin is one of the kindest archdruids I’ve met, I haven’t heard of any ill that happened while the grove was in his care. Not that Iliris was unkind or irresponsible with the circle. Though what happened with that child…,” Calnys trailed off.

Out of the corner of her eye, Shadowheart saw Majexatli flinch, almost imperceptibly, at the mention of Iliris.

“Iliris?” Gale asked.

“Hm? Oh, you’ll have to forgive me, my mind wanders more and more these days. Iliris was the archdruid at the circle I once was with before the Emerald Grove. Further north, I was born in Waterdeep, as I said,”

“You mentioned a child?” Shadowheart took it upon herself to ask, keeping an eye on Majexatli in the corner of her eye.

“Yes, yes, terrible business, it was. A tiefling orphan not unlike all those walking around out there, though this was some time before Elturel. Oh, he was quite shy and quiet, quite ill, but he was a talented young druid,” Calnys smiled fondly, “He started using wildshape when he was only 14, after only a year of living among us. I think he was even the youngest in the circle’s history to gain a title, though he only had it for a year, perhaps. His mentor—“

“We should get going soon,” Majexatli interrupted, still standing at a distance, arms crossed as they avoided Calnys’ direction, “Daylight is waning and we still must speak with Zevlor and we need to make camp before dark,”

Calnys blinked, looking at Majexatli as though she hadn’t noticed them before.

“You remind me of him, actually, the boy,” Calnys said, looking Majexatli over.

Shadowheart saw Majexatli stiffen, tense slightly.

“I hope not just because I’m a tiefling,”

“No, no, it’s the eyes. Forest green? I’ve never seen another tiefling with green eyes,”

It hardly even looked like Majexatli was breathing, their whole body was still. Almost. Shadowheart saw their hand twitch slightly, move towards their hip where something under the fur caught the light. If she hadn’t seen them pull their dagger before, she might have missed it.

“Perhaps you just haven’t been around enough tieflings,” Majexatli’s voice was calm, tinged with a politeness that seemed at odds with their body language.

“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean to imply you were related or anything like that. You must be at least a decade or so older than he would have been, not to mention the horns,” Calnys paused, “Though you still seem so familiar… are you from one of the High Forest circles? Waterdeep? Neverwinter? Perhaps we crossed paths before,”

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken, I’ve hardly been north of the Chionthar. I was born in Baldur’s Gate,” Majexatli smiled stiffly, “I do apologize for my bruskness, it’s been quite a long day and we all have much to do,”

They didn’t wait for a response, they simply turned on their heel and left. As they walked, for a split second, the candlelight reflected off something in their hand.

A dagger. 

Different than the one Shadowheart had seen earlier.

Very curious for a druid, indeed.

[inkformyblood]

i lose all but not him #4 (Codywan)

Written with CWW Prompt "This isn't what I signed up for" Ao3 link

Nowhere is ever truly quiet on a ship.

Cody waits for the medbay door to hiss closed behind him, the tang of bacta heavy on his tongue, before he turns away from the route to his quarters, heading for the training rooms. His thoughts crackle and pace, pressing against the steel walls of his mind and he can’t tell if they’re his own or emanating from the hollow that isn’t him but sits and watches regardless. His dreams have been heavier, forgotten the instant he wakes but something from them clings to him regardless, the claws burning pinpricks into his shoulders. 

Back on Kamino, there had been a small crowd on one of the lower bays, hidden enough from the watchful cameras that different command groups could mix. Cody remembers a hand in his, Fox’s maybe or it could have been Rex, except the hair had been dark like his own, close-cropped and matching in every way. They’d been important to him, somehow, but the reason slips away from him, pulled away by a cloaked hand.

Answer: they’re not important. Focus on the mission.

The mission. What is his mission? On Kamino, Cody remembers stepping closer, saltwater clinging to his boots, wind cutting through his blacks, and there had been a body. His memory is fluid, stuttering and scrambling like he’s trying to tune a holovid to the correct frequency, the limbs changing from scales to skin, pale and dotted with freckles, fins fluttering to soaked red hair and back again. Cody blinks, breathes, and tugs on the threads of thoughts that aren’t his, reaching out and leaning against a support that he knows is rotting beneath his grasp but he can’t not. He’s no different to the fish that lies in front of him in his memory, choking down the hook that would eventually kill him. 

There had been a parasite on the fish’s tongue. 

No. It had been the fish’s tongue.

Legs had prised the mouth open from the inside, a head extending out, jaws clicking together and Cody had let go, reaching for his blaster instead because— because—

Answer: The mission. Focus Commander. You’re a good solider. 

He is. He was. He will be. 

CC-2224 straightens, his spine locking into place, and he reaches for his blaster.

Cody steps forward, catching himself on the exposed hollow of a pipe before he pitches forward. He swallows, teeth clenched and jaw locked, swallows again and again because they don’t have the rations spare for him to throw up resources, he’s a solider, he’s made for this. The moment passes with a shudder, nails raking down his spine and counting every divot, searching for the imperfection that would break him and coming up empty. For now. 

Where had he been going? His memory is… not blank. Blank implies there had been something there that had been removed, a space where something had been that he could worry at until the scar bled and he knew the rough shape of it beneath his fingers. His memory of the last few moments never existed, a vidfeed set to not record, and it isn’t right.

Answer: you were going to the training room.

Cody starts walking to the training room. He had always been heading there, had stepped straight out of the medbay and turned down the corridor and hadn’t paused, hadn’t faltered. He passes by a huddled group of troopers, tucked into the carved out patch in the corridor. One of the troopers is stripped to his waist, his armour clutched in the arms of his brothers and one of them holds his helmet balanced on his hip, the visor focused out along the corridor in an ineffectual sentry. Cody doesn’t pause, keeps his gaze focused on his destination because if he doesn’t see it, then it isn’t his problem or his issue to write up in a report. He catches the network of scars over the other clone’s belly, the flat surface as pitted and ragged as the battlefield they had just emerged from. Contrasted against his skin, however, is a splash of colourful ink, the shape too abstract for Cody to make out out of the corner of his eye but it is bright and vibrant and everything they hadn’t been allowed to have and now grabbed on with both hands. 

It’s such a shame it would be changing soon. Black is traditional, after all. 

Wait. What?

 It doesn’t matter. It matters so much because that wasn’t his thought, isn’t him and there’s something just beneath the surface, something rotting in his mind and he has never been more scared about anything because death is just him, this is so much more and— it doesn’t matter. It. Doesn’t. Matter. 

It doesn’t matter.

The training room is expansive, carved deep into the belly of the ship when it had become clear that the war would be a slow and lumbering thing, not the flashfire that some of the politicians had hoped for in their cozy plush offices with their unconcerned drinks hovering next to their elbows. Fox hadn’t admitted to spitting in some of them, there were too many official channels between Cody and him now to whisper together while they waited in line, both alone and gravitating towards each other like two shattered planets in a decaying orbit, but he knows Fox. He knows what the slight pause between his sentences mean, the silence louder than anything he might have said openly. It isn’t the same as his communication with Rex, that is louder, brighter somehow. If Rex is a note folded into a palm and flicked over the length of a table then Fox is a drop-spot in a park that is unceremoniously blown up a few hours after use.

There is always a few troopers in attendance, somedays it felt like Cody would open a drawer and a trooper would tumble out of it following a handful of brother’s tendencies to sleep inside storage crates even back on Kamino, but Obi-Wan is a rarer sight to see. Cody doesn’t pause in the doorway, reassessing, recaluculating, adapting to the situation before his foot makes contact with the floor.

The Kaminoans likely never expected that their calculated perfect solider’s abilities would ever be used like this. 

Obi-Wan stands in the middle of the room, orbited by a small detachment of troopers. The troopers are standard-build, one a few inches taller thanks to the crest of his hair and two have dyed their hair, one with patches of pink and the other with a dark regrowth at his roots to compliment the brass of the rest of his curls. Cody doesn’t immediately recognise them, a sensation which is quickly growing more familiar, pushed aside in the same instance. It had bothered him the first time he encountered a number he didn’t recognise listed next to a name he also didn’t recognise in a casualty report. What had it been? He can’t remember it, even now.

Turning his attention back to Obi-Wan, Cody breathes through the flutter in his chest, knowing that this would be enough, he could live like this. The Jedi stands, graceful even while stationary, his hands clasped behind his back. His tunic is fresh from the laundry, a faint scent of industrial strength cleaning solution permeating the usual tang of sweat and exertion that subsits throughout any training room if it’s designated as such for long enough. It doesn’t fit him like it once would, gaping slightly at the colour to reveal the jut of his collarbone, sinched in at the waist another notch than he had been using at the beginning of the war, any excess weight folded into muscle or it has been discarded.  It is more noticeable on the Jedi than it ever would be on the clones, they had never been allowed to gain any softness to them while on Kamino and the war didn’t lend itself to any gentle touches. 

Cody continues walking, raising his hand in greeting to Obi-Wan as the other man looks over. The grin he receives is achingly familiar, the same one that Cody will delude himself is just for him, and Cody returns it before he can think of stopping himself. He doesn’t join in the training session as the troopers step out once more, moving instead to the ladder to the observation room and beginning to climb.  (They’re approaching it wrong regardless, needing to be further apart to exploit the Jedi’s blindspots and take advantage of the gaps in his guard. Soresu may be defensive but it isn’t perfect, especially when the attackers are men that Obi-Wan will care for. He would need to make them bleed and he would pause. They all would.) 

“You’ve all done marvellously well,” Obi-Wan says. His voice doesn’t waver, that isn’t what catches Cody’s attention and makes him peer over his shoulder, tipping his chin to avoid the curve of his pauldron. There’s an odd note to Obi-Wan’s voice, something huge passing beneath the surface so all that is distinguishable is the swell it leaves in it’s wake, and Cody catches his tongue between his teeth before he continues to climb. The rungs leave a dull sensation on his hands, his gloves tucked into his belt and he forgets how cold things can be. 

He forgets what the universe is like without the shell of his armour and the cover of his gloves and the span of his calluses. 

But he knows Obi-Wan. 

Something is wrong. 

Up in the observation deck, Cody swipes his hand over the console and brings up the schedule for the room. Obi-Wan’s training is the only one booked, his time beginning from almost the moment they had returned to the ship and it lasts until the next day. The troopers, by all counts, shouldn’t be here. Looking down, the trooper with the pink patches in his hair lands on the ground in an uncoordinated sprawl. He makes to stand, rolling onto one side and drawing his legs close to his body but it doesn’t stop the another trooper from stumbling over him, effectively putting them both out of the fight. (Shoot him from the ground. He won’t notice if he thinks you’re out of the fight. Angle higher to account for the difference in elevation.)

“You’re all improving so much in such a short time,” Obi-Wan tells them, returning to his starting position. From this angle, Cody can see his hands clench and twist where they are clasped behind his back, a tremor rattling through his fingers like a speeder engine pushed to the brink and beginning to tear itself apart. 

“Thank you, sir. Would we—”

“Clear out now, troopers.” Cody can’t remember thumbing the intercom button but he is, leaning forward to brace one hand on the console so the troopers can see him. One of them jumps, his head turning to the speaker system before he looks up at Cody, and he seems so young from up here. He’s unmodified, his armour unpainted and his hair has only just begun to curl over his ears where it has grown from the standard short cut on Kamino, and Cody can’t remember ever being that young, that soft. He’d been moulded into his armour since he had been pulled from the tube, had to be strong, had to be capable because if he wasn’t, if he faltered, then someone would die. It is a simple equation. 

The troopers don’t argue, their salutes not as sharp as they could be, and Cody returns the gesture without pause. His shoulder aches, the muscle folding into an unconstrained shape from what he had been trained to hold, but it is only for a moment, and they leave. Cody drops his hand and taps the intercom once more when the door had closed behind them. “Would you like me to leave as well, sir?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head before Cody had finished speaking. “No, Cody. I’d like you to stay, if you can?”

It’s a question, a choice, and Cody knows that he could say no and there would be no repercussions, no punishment. Just an easy yes or no and it is Cody’s decision to make. 

There’s a click somewhere in the back of his mind and Cody feels hands on his shoulders, long-fingered and cold, far colder than any human touch he had experienced before, and he cannot think of anything but the oceans on Kamino and of drowning. There’s foam in his lungs and he cannot breathe as he tastes salt on his lips, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the effort of trying to answer. 

It would be easier to die.

It would hurt less to die.

He tries to speak and he can’t. Seawater pools in his mouth and something crawls over the blunt edges of his teeth, brushing against the inside of his cheek. He’s hollowed-out, long since decayed inside the shell of his armour that’s continued to move without him, march and follow orders (and love Obi-Wan), and he will continue to walk until the plastoid is torn away by something bigger, taller, hungrier trying to scrape any meat it can from him. 

Query: what is happening to me?

Answer: nothing you weren’t made for. 

That isn’t a comfort.

(Let him be alone, let him sink in the endless pools of his grief and his misery and let him Fall.)

No. That isn’t what Cody wants to do. He wants to stay, to make that choice for himself.

He’s made to be a good soldier. Jango signed them over to the Kaminoans for the payment of a single unaltered clone he could raise as his own and he did train them. He gave them the building blocks of what they could learn in the quiet shadows beneath the cameras where they passed tips on how to pass the regimented tests, the way of scuffing up their curls so one brother could stand in the place of another, the exact angle a sparking wire needed to be applied to the identification code in their arms so they could swap amongst the sims. They may have been made from the same genetics, but variations are as inevitable as a sunrise. Cody had toed the line for so long and he is tired of it. He’s made his own choices, he has chosen to love Obi-Wan, and he won’t give it up without a fight. 

(Very well then. Some adjustment will be necessary for you, Commander.)

“I’d like to stay,” Cody says and something clicks, no, snaps in his head, a breaking of a chain link in a tether stretched long and taut and fraying. He forgets in the same moment, unimportant, unnecessary, because Obi-Wan is smiling at up him and everything else can wait. 

Then Obi-Wan sags, his shoulders rolling forwards and his head dropping, chin to his chest, exhaustion clear in every line of his form, still delicate and graceful but closer to cracked glass now, a porthole threatening to buckle but still holding firm. Cody uncurls his fist and tips his palm to inspect the fresh indentations on his palm, perfectly evenly spaced, no flaws, no defects. How long could they both keep going like this, the clones and the Jedi facing a universe that feels too big for them to hold together? Cody would die on his feet, he knows this, but he hopes Obi-Wan has a softer death (a knife between his ribs perhaps, a poison consumed by two, too many variables, you know this too, Commander). He blinks away the sudden burst of pain, swallowing against the taste of salt and reaches for the comm again. “Shall I come down, sir, or–”

“No, no.” Obi-Wan pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, breathing out slowly. His hair is cut short, the edges valiantly trying to curl and at any other time it would make Obi-Wan look like the cover of a cheap holo, especially now, as bare as he is, but with exhaustion staining beneath his eyes and the slight tremor in his limbs, he looks abandoned, uncared for. 

It only lasts a moment before Obi-Wan straightens, squaring his shoulders as he pulls on the mantle of Jedi General once more, an armour that doesn’t give him the same protection as Cody’s does but removes him from the world all the same. If Cody touches him like he has before, a brush of the fingers, nothing more than that, would his skin feel cool like plastoid, a hard ridge over the sides of his palms where a seam should lie? Cody swallows against a burst of bile, presses his tongue between his teeth and bites until his jaw aches and the humming pain washes everything else away.

“May I come up, Cody?” 

A question and one Cody can answer. “Yes, sir, Obi-Wan.”

A name for a name, a line drawn in chalk and scavenged paint that can be wiped away but it exists for the here and now, and Obi-Wan grins up at him once more, relief clear in his face. “Thank you, Cody.”

Cody steps away from the system, the light from the screen dimming with the movement, and Obi-Wan disappears from view. He turns his attention to the network that runs along the length of the door, terminating in a heavyset console that sits offset from the casing surrounding it. Makeshift and makedo. Ducking down, he runs his fingers over the seam, searching for the serial number and then, just below it. The paint is rough beneath his fingers and it would be roughly the same shade as the casing to better disguise it, but it’s still there. That brother would be remembered, not in any holo broadcast or news report, but in the deliberate sanctity of paint and metal. He had been here. He had done this.

Cody stands straighter as if that simple action of realignment, the remembered feeling of a hand pressed against the crown of his head that didn’t flinch from the sensation of his freshly cropped curls and another planted into the space between his shoulder blades, moulding him like he’s still soft and pliable from the tube. He remembers the touch, the rough cadence of the words as he tried not to squirm away, a penance to be bourne and accepted because if it wasn’t him then it would be another brother and CC-2224 wouldn’t be able to save them. He would be nothing, nobody, a number in a system, a piece in a machine. 

He’s a Commander. He was made for this, for them, for him.

Cody keys a few commands into the door controls, locking the system down from the outside. It wouldn’t hold against an emergency override or Obi-Wan’s code but it would dissuade any other shinies from sneaking inside to bask in Obi-Wan’s presence. The hatch groans as it lifts as Cody turns to it, kneeling to draw the cover back. The handle strains beneath his grip, a screw beginning to work free and it is yet another thing that would need to be fixed after this war has drawn on for longer than anyone had predicted. This repair, as the handle is still attached and it is only just beginning to give way, falls somewhere below the strange noise that the engines keep making that coincide with a sudden jerk to the left that they’ve all grown accustomed to bracing for and above the cracked floor beneath one of the bunks that, until it starts growing mould or gets any bigger, will remain additional storage for the brother assigned to that bunk to barter. 

Obi-Wan scrambles through with a grunt of effort, his hand warm in Cody’s, and the cover drops closed behind him. Cody hadn’t realised, hadn’t fully appreciated the size of the control room before now. The consoles on the wall press into the already limited floorspace and overhead, pipes interlock and disappear into the walls drawing them even closer. There’s enough room for them both to stand, and Obi-Wan draws Cody to his feet before he lets him go, taking the single step allotted to him to sink back against the disengaged console, his shoulders curling forwards. 

“The younger troopers have a lot of energy,” Obi-Wan says, as if that is the sole reason for the dark stain beneath his eyes and the pale cast to his skin.

“They do.” Cody can remember being that young, the rotation of batches to groups to squads, emerging from one training simulation that had felt like he was drowning, saltwater in his lungs and he could still taste it despite it not being real, only to be thrown into another where the sun would burn lines into his skin that would only last until the power was turned off. He couldn’t ever remember being like them, however. He couldn’t remember turning to a batchmate and laughing with no care for the cameras or the line of command. 

He thinks about Fox. The closest thing that he has to a batchmate anymore after the Kaminoans had reviewed the results and deemed only Cody as satisfactory. His memories are plastoid, stocky and built to last, but blunted. There’s a scar that runs along the edge of Fox’s hairline, bisecting his dark curls into a demarcation line of greys, and Cody can’t remember what it feels like beneath his fingers. He remembers the cause: a poorly maintained practice weapon, the padding coming away all at once as Cody had swung for a final hit, only just managing to turn the weapon in time. He’d gotten a commendation for it, a note added to his file as he had stood next to the limp body of his brother, his hands bloody for the first time in his life. He thought he’d killed him, that his first death wore his face.

He can’t remember touching Fox after that. 

He can’t remember touching anyone.

Until Obi-Wan.

Rex had come close. The other battalion had only just departed the ship, and everything still felt too empty without the ringing chorus of voices in every available space and someone perched on every available space. It had been nice, similar to Kamino after the newest shinies were unbatched and their numbers swelled, and Cody had someone of a similar rank he could bunk with. What did they speak about? Cody tries to think back, draws the plans to his room in his mind from the cramped squeeze of his bunk and the single desk that is losing the war against the pile of flimsiwork and datapads on top of it. Rex had slept in the bunk, Cody folded along side him and wrapped in his own blankets to combat the busted heating system. They must have spoken but he can’t remember what about. 

(It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You’re a good solider, focus on your mission.)

His mission. He has a mission?

There has been no briefing, no parameters laid out around a wireframe map of a battlefield or documented in triplicate for future referral when Cody stands in front of a High General to inform them that Skywaker’s plan that involved almost entirely demolitions was discussed beforehand. Something is wrong. 

“I will confess, Cody,” Obi-Wan says and Cody’s attention snaps to him completely. “I wanted to stay here under some guise of usefulness.” He swings one of his legs out and stops the motion at the peak, rotating his leg to point his foot. It’s graceful, his leggings flush to his skin so the hitch of his knee as his leg locks into place, every motion deliberate. The bottom section of his leggings, mostly tucked beneath the worn-soft leather of his boots, is charred, the edge jagged and fraying in a rough dust of ash. He swings his leg back down and curls forward, addressing his clasped hands. “This is by no means my first conflict, or even my first war, but I feel a unique sense of helplessness with it. It may just be that I’m older now, or I’m in a position where I can influence matters in a way I couldn’t before, but—” 

He breaks off, squeezing his eyes shut as if the dim light pains him. Cody steps forward, his leg bumping against Obi-Wan’s, feeling helpless himself, an itch beneath the solid welding of his knuckles and reaches out without a thought to how the action would end. He halts before he touches Obi-Wan’s arm, his fingers close enough to brush against the roughspun fabric and feel the latent heat of Obi-Wan’s skin. Choices piled upon choices and Cody knows he can retreat, he can retract his hand and nothing would be made of it. It would just be what it is. 

Cody places his hand on Obi-Wan’s forearm, squeezing in what he hopes is comfort. 

“I can’t help but think that I didn’t sign up for this, Cody. And if I didn’t sign up for this, then what does that mean for you and your brothers. You should have had a choice.” 

(Pull away, step away, leave him. Let him Fall. This would be just a taster of the betrayal that he will face.)

Obi-Wan flinches, his arm twitching beneath Cody’s touch. Similar to applying a bacta patch, Cody thinks behind the rush of an ocean and the whispers of a part of himself that wants the world to burn because it has hurt him, hurt them, the initial shock of the application, the innate worry of further pain. Blinking, Obi-Wan raises his head, close, so close, like they had been at that first meeting when Obi-Wan had been dark and cool with rain but undeniably beautiful and Cody had chosen to love him, the first choice he had made entirely for himself and one he would continue to make again and again and again. 

“Cody, what—”

“Obi-Wan.” Cody speaks past the intrusion of his heart lodged in his throat, the world growing ever more unstable beneath his feet because he’s going to die when he finishes speaking if he’s not already dead and this is some pretty scenario cooked up by a final few flashes of electricity in his mind. There’d been nothing in the simulations to cover what dying felt like, only pain so they would know better, do better the next time. This feels entirely different. 

“We might not have had a choice then, any more of a choice than you did in any of this, but we do now. We make our own choices everyday and I will continue to choose to stay by your side, to stay in this war because I am needed here, and I will have choices after the war as well.”

Something snaps in the back of his mind, cold iron laid against the crown of his head, and Cody braces himself for pain. Nothing like Kamino had happened since they had left but waiting for the other boot to drop, the invisible blade hanging somewhere suspended above him is exhausting, so if he finds out now, here, then he will know. He still hopes that he’s wrong. 

Obi-Wan’s face is pale, drawn tight by exhaustion and every burden he insists on carrying throughout the war, but his grin is still the same one that Cody knows, warm despite everything. “What would you do after the war, Cody?”

It feels wrong to admit that he’d been thinking about after the war. Cody is a solider, and he’s a good solider (the thought echoes, knocking against some obstacle that Cody has already forgotten). Obi-Wan is a General, his General. There should be no ‘after the war’ for either of them and yet, and yet…

Cody glances down and Obi-Wan is still wearing the socks that Cody had made him, the orange faded with time and dirt and there is a neatly darned hole in one of the mismatched cuffs in a brighter shade of gold. He had gotten a little better since then, the socks could generously be referred to as a pair now, but the second one still sits on the needles in his quarters, untouched for the past handful of weeks given the battle they’ve just emerged from. 

It had given Cody time to think.

“I’d look after my brothers first.” It must be written somewhere in his file, listed beneath his measurements which are as average as they could be and his test scores, which had been carefully above but not too high to draw attention. He’s practical down to his bones and the sequence of his DNA, his brothers would come first. 

Obi-Wan’s face softens. “Of course. I would expect you to do nothing less. But after them, what would you hope for?”

He could stop, back away from this edge at any time. Cody’s still holding Obi-Wan’s arm, the muscles clearly defined beneath the thin cover of fabric, and he feels the distant reverberation of Obi-Wan’s thumb working into the lines of his palm. “I’d like a home, something small that’s just mine. Somewhere I can have visitors.”

He can’t look at Obi-Wan as he speaks, addressing his words to the curve of Obi-Wan’s collarbone, the slouch of his tunic exposing a scattershot constellation of freckles. 

“I’d imagine you wouldn’t be short of admirers to entertain.” 

“There’d only be a few people that I’d want to see and only one person who’s admiration I’d care for.” Cody glances up despite himself, his stomach twisting just as it had when he had stepped onto the landing bay railing, slick with rain beneath his feet, and held his hand out into the unknown. Obi-Wan’s eyes are dark, fond with something lurking just beneath the undercurrent, a behemoth that Cody could only guess at the shape of with his limited hope. 

Obi-Wan is close, closer still before he pauses, the slight inhalation as his mouth parts impossibly loud. “Cody, I—”

The room floods with a deep red light as the warning klaxon begins to sound and Obi-Wan jerks away with a curse. In the shifting light, his cheeks are dark but the colour only lasts for a moment before General Kenobi squares his shoulders with a sigh. “For the Force’s mercy. Cody, shall we? We will pick this up later.” Obi-Wan pauses, biting the inside of his cheek. Something in Cody’s chest catches, a thumb hovering over a trigger and he doesn’t know if the blaster is armed or not, a dull whine echoing in the spaces between the alarm. 

“Please?”

A question. Needing an answer.

Cody nods. “Yes, Obi-Wan.” 

He steps away from Obi-Wan, letting his hand drop, and they are resigned to their roles once more, the hissing possibility of what could have been coiling around them both. 

[bonefall]

I assume Frecklewish never finds out, but how do you think she'd react to finding out Birchface is essentially the reason she (among others) ended up in the Dark Forest? Granted, she did lash out at the kits and (unless you changed it) attacked Mapleshade in front of them, so it's not like she's completely innocent in this ordeal comapred to say, Reedshine. But I can imagine if she ever did find out? I can't say she'd ever want to see his face again after what his sign caused, even if he didn't want or expect it to go that far.

I think Birchface is the only one who knows, and it burns inside of him. If he tells, could they throw him out of StarClan? Would he join his family in the Dark Forest? ...what would they say to him if they found out he was the reason why they're there?

It terrifies him that it could get out, even now, so long after it's been done.

With Frecklewish though... I think if she found out, she'd be a little angry of course, but what does it truly matter?

In her eyes, they were HalfClan brood parasites. The children of her brother's murderer, Mapleshade’s little lies. She'd been tricked. Ask the Frecklewish who has lived in the Dark Forest for YEARS, the one who is about to take part in the Battle of the True Eclipse, and she has no love or sympathy left in her heart.

She's been there too long and forgotten the love she had for those innocent kittens.

I don't think she had lost that love, when she was watching the kittens swept away. The Frecklewish on the shore that evening isn't the same Frecklewish that stands before you today. Not because the Dark Forest corrupts you with eeevil magic, but because she's doubled down on her opposition to StarClan

They judged her unfairly, took Mapleshade's side over her own, and banished her and Oakstar to the same place her killer went.

What does it matter that it was a false sign? Birchface told her the truth in death.

StarClan doesn't deserve her love or loyalty, not after what they did. Not them OR their new commandment through Darkstar. Both of them should be torn down, in her eyes.

[blackjackkent]

Poor Wyll is in a bad way. In-game, I had Rakha talk to Minthara and Jaheira first because I was curious why Minthara got pulled out of the party temporarily, but the truth is Rakha definitely talked to Wyll first as soon as they started climbing out of the fleshpit.

"Gods be damned. With that parasite in his brain, father could wreak untold havoc in the Absolute's name. Should Baldur's Gate fall to the Absolute, every one of the Coast's cities will be ripe for the plucking. We're not just fighting for our cure. We're fighting for my father. We're fighting for the Gate. We're fighting for all of Faerun."

It's interesting, because while Rakha feels at perhaps her lowest point since her story began, Wyll on the other hand sounds more fired up than she's ever heard him before. His father and the city where he was born are under attack; he wants to go forward. He wants to fight.

She feels numb and exhausted, but it's as if through him she can feel something of the care for the city and man she doesn't know, even though she can't feel it on her own.

"The Absolute's cult has Ravengard," she says. Her voice is even more low and monotone than usual, but she's watching him attentively, unblinkingly. "Where will they take him?"

"Wyrm's Rock fortress," Wyll explains gravely. "All travelers to Baldur's Gate flow through it. It serves as headquarters for the Flaming Fist - and their commander, my father." He huffs out an agitated breath. "The Absolute's army's on the march. Gods forbid a tadpoled Grand Duke throw open the gates for them."

Rakha nods slowly. Yet again she is grateful for him, for his patience with her, his willingness to explain the things about his world and his home that would, perhaps, be obvious to anyone else. She will need it, more than ever, if she is going to press forward in this fight.

"What do you know about Gortash?" she asks. "And Orin?" Again, her face twists with a slight spasm of pain in her head as she thinks of the Bhaalist woman.

Wyll purses his lips thoughtfully. "Orin I'd never heard tell of," he says. "But Gortash I know. Or know of, more precisely. A self-styled 'strategic advisor' to Baldur's Gate's peers. A bit player with dreams of a leading role, the way father told it. He has no use for Gortash, and even less for his 'advice.'"

He snorts softly. "I don't remember much beyond that, but where these 'Chosen' are concerned, i have a suspicion we're about to know more than we'd like."

Probably true. All the same, Rakha feels a flash of frustration. Gortash, it seems, is a known quantity, but the things she hears of him from different people don't add up into a cohesive picture. In Karlach's words he was an arm's dealer and backstabber. In Florrick's words, a rising noble. In Wyll's words, an ambitious nobody.

She doesn't like the uncertainty. There are too many holes in her understanding as it is.

As for Orin... only Minthara seems to know anything of her at all.

Only Minthara and me, she thinks bleakly. But I can't remember what I know...

She can't think about this anymore. Her head aches so badly...

"Mizora said you can say what led to your pact and exile," she says abruptly. "It's time I know the whole truth."

She can see him flinch slightly, and for a moment she regrets the question. But she needs to talk about something else, about him - something to pull her thoughts away from Orin, and the Absolute, and that Myrkulite torturer who apparently cut her open over and over and over in the time lost to her memory...

Wyll thinks for a moment in silence, then nods. "Yes," he says. "But first - a question. If your home were under siege, what would you sacrifice to save it?"

Rakha blinks. Home? she thinks, mildly bemused. What home does she have? She remembers nothing. Apparently she lived here, once, but this is not home. This is a place where she and everyone around her was a monster.

What does the word even mean? Safety. Stability. Rest. There is none of that in her life... Except with him. Almost from the beginning, Wyll's words and his touch and his steady loyalty have been the only place - the only consistent one, at least - where she has felt any kind of peace.

The myconids were a transient thing. Lae'zel has been an unsteady, chaotic maelstrom. Even the guardian shows little warmth, even though she soothes Rakha's mind. But Wyll...

If Rakha has a home at all, it is him.

Her heart thumps heavily in her chest at the thought. She wonders if Wyll recognizes the question he is really asking.

What would she sacrifice to save *him*?

She feels a strange, anxious straining start in her temple. She realizes the answer, and it frightens her more than almost anything else.

"I'd give my life,"(*) she says, almost too low to hear.

She is almost relieved to see that Wyll doesn't seem to recognize the underlying meaning behind her words. His gaze is distant, looking past her into his memory.

"As would I..." he says quietly. "And more."

There's a long silence before he goes on. "I was seventeen. Father - Ulder Ravengard - had just been named a Grand Duke, and was called away to Elturel to help settle a dispute. That's when the Cult of the Dragon made its move."

Rakha makes a soft, questioning grunt. "What's the Cult of the Dragon?" she asks. The flare of anxiety eases as she focuses on his story, the facts she can gather up and put together. "I've never heard of them."

"A religion devoted to conjuring the most evil of goddesses," Wyll explains. "The dragon Tiamat." This doesn't mean much more to Rakha, but she nods, letting him continue. "A tenday after Father left, I heard a whisper as I slept. 'Dusthawk Hill. The Queen of Chaos awakens. Go alone.' I grabbed a rapier and set out. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, yet not a single star was shining." His lips tighten at the memory. "There they were... gathered at the foot of the Hill..."

Perhaps he recognizes that she has not context to picture any of this, because he presses a finger to his temple and she feels a sudden stirring inside her head.

Narrator: Your head tingles. Wyll wants to show you what happened.

It's natural, instinctive, to let him in. To want to see what he sees.

Allow Wyll to share his memory with you.

At once, she disappears into his thoughts, visualizes a dark, starless night, an enormous hill, an icy coldness in the air punctuated by the heat of a body standing behind her.

Narrator: In the looming shadow of the mount, five groups of five figures each encircle a lofty totem. Atop each totem, a dragon's head is carved and a massive orb held in its mouth. The cultists chant - first softly, then crying to the starless sky. There is a crack of thunder, a gust of wind - and a dragon's white head appears in the storm.

Narrator: As the maelstrom howls, Mizora's lips press to your ear. 'She will destroy Baldur's Gate. Grant me your soul and I will give you the power to save it,' she whispers.

Rakha's eyes clear, and she looks up to see Wyll watching her, looking tremendously sad and tired.

"She read the terms while two devils stood witness," he says. "And I said yes. One soul for one city."

Rakha casts her mind back into this new memory that is not hers. Wyll's thoughts - younger than she knows him now, and frightened and desperate. Mizora - cool as always, calm and smug. Rakha feels her own rage rise, as it always does, in thinking of the devil, of what she's done to Wyll.

This is what Wyll means in sacrificing himself for his home. Not her selfish interpretation, but throwing away his soul for the lives of people he has never met.

She does not know if she would be capable of it. She thinks perhaps she would not. She is not worthy of him. She never has been.

"A brave choice," she mutters hoarsely. "And a frightening one."

"I don't know that it was brave," he says quietly. "I just know that it was right."

Another slight pause; then he goes on, suddenly very matter-of-fact. "The moment I agreed, I burned with the fires of Avernus and oozed the rot of Dis. The cultists choked on our poisons and burned from our flames. When we were done, all that remained were five greyed orbs atop a pile of ash. My soul was bound and my lips were sealed."

His mouth droops at the corners and his head ducks. Clearly he is coming to the harder part of the story. She doesn't really want to ask, but she does anyway because she knows he expects it.

"And what about your father?" she asks. "The Grand Duke?"

Wyll smiles bitterly. "He returned to an unsuspecting city and a wayward son with a smirking devil at his side. I tried to tell him the truth, but my mouth couldn't form the words. I led him to the battlefield, but Mizora had swept it clean." His voice lifts with remembered desperation - then calms as he regains control of himself. His back straightens and his jaw goes tight. "After, he said only one word. 'Go.' So I did."

Rakha breathes out slowly. Her head is buzzing with a strange mess of emotions she doesn't have the energy to process. Rage, mostly - rage against Mizora for the pain she's put Wyll through. Love - love she has no words to properly articulate. And those lingering threads of anxiety, the knowledge of how much he's come to mean to her, and how much she will never feel worthy of him, of the decisions he has been able to make.

I don't know that it was brave. I just know that it was right.

She sighs, reaches out for him - an involuntary motion to pull him close, reassure herself that he is there and real. He tips his head, presses his lips to her neck.

She closes her eyes and lets herself draw a little comfort from his touch.

One day I will tear Mizora apart for how she's used you. Perhaps that's the only thing I can give you... but I promise you that much.

-----

(*) Full line is "I'd give my life if it meant keeping the residents safe," but this is better and more Rakha-ish so I'm changing it. :P

[actuallyevilgay]

The Apathy (Part 6)

Astarion x Male Reader/Tav

DNI if you are a minor. Dead dove don’t eat. Please read my about before replying. Content: Ascended Astarion x Male tav, this is post epilogue.

Summary: Astarion's experience of the hand-holding got a little too intense for him.. Meanwhile Gale is trying to figure out what's going on with Tav. Content Warnings: This part contains some smut! NSFT!! A/N: We get some much-needed Gale pov! Hell yeah. Hope you enjoy. Read on ao3 as well!

......

On the way back to the homestead Astarion was renting, his head was racing with many conflicting thoughts. He thought he could keep his cool.. But didn’t expect to so quickly lose sense of his composure after Tav ran off.

The smell.. He was obsessing over it and certainly needed some privacy to come to terms with what happened today. He made a mental note to look into the crazy woman situation, since she would likely show up again sooner or later, his tiefling disguise may have another role to play soon. Just in case, he had commanded the local vermin to keep an eye out for Tav. 

Tav may have tried to hide his magic powers due the guard incident, strange as it was for him to cower behind a complete stranger, perhaps he was trying to lie low.. Something about how helpless Tav behaved put Astarion on edge. He’d never seen him like that. 

Then again, if he’d been here all this time without anyone knowing he would have built a new identity for himself. No hero of Baldur’s gate, just a barkeep at a tavern which serves tea apparently. Perhaps the final fight with the netherbrain made Tav want to retire into a simpler life, leaving the idea of adventuring behind. Astarion could only speculate on the reasoning.

Astarion didn’t say a word to either Vand or Ty when he entered the house, just traded eye contact and dismissed them by silent command. He headed up the stairs to the bigger bedroom, taking off all his garments and clothes until but the undershirt and pants were left.

With an annoyed grunt, he settled down on the bed in a meditative position, only to swap resting angles several times.. Reverie would not come for him as easily today.

‘’What am I doing..?’’ The mumble tumbled out of his mouth, his fingers slid over the soft covers, finding a pillow to dig his face in.

‘’..Tav..’’ He moaned, squeezing his hands together. The vision of their fingers intertwined returned to him. ‘’Oh.. Dearest..’’ his voice muffled under a deep breath.

A cold hard yearning welled within him, building and building, becoming harder to contain with every second. A single tear escaped from his eyes.

He needed to clear his head as soon as possible.. There were things to be done.

For his trance, he decided to focus on a memory, a particularly fond one he hadn’t revisited since the break up. It was the second time he slept with Tav, only to realise he had grown fond of him in ways he never perceived himself to be able to.

The tiefling party was definitely not to his taste, even now, it still made him feel weird to be celebrated as a hero. Back in Baldur’s gate, that's what he now was known for. It took a lot of manipulating and gaslighting to make sure no one questioned him taking over the szarr estate, ensuring his road to securing the city as his territory.

Back during the adventure, the parasites were the furthest from his mind, he could only think of how worried it made him a monster hunter had joined the band of travellers.. Playing hero had never been part of the plan, the plan was to just survive and slay Cazador.. The road to freedom.

The very first time he slept with Tav was almost no different from when he slept with his marks. The smell of alcohol and dopamine intertwined with adrenaline was Cazador’s favourite part of his ritual. Only to end it with watching his slaves dine on dead putrid rats while he had finished feasting on his victims. 

But the second time, at the party, it.. The air had changed. While Tav had not been a victim or target in his mind, the first one night stand was without feeling, just sex. 

Asking him the first time was easy, the second time not so much. He was more hesitant, nervous about the journey and going out to sleep in the woods again.

With every pick-up line possible, Astarion kept shooting his shot, wondering to himself why he had been so insistent to sleep with him again even though his protection should be guaranteed by now.

It was less ‘’need to’’ and more ‘’want to’’ or.. ‘’I yearn to,’’ With a lack of better words to explain what he was feeling.. Unsure how to express it beyond physical touch.

When he eventually managed to convince Tav he would be safe, they sneaked away from the festivities to their previous spot.

He recalls walking to the little moonlight lit grove, only to turn around to see Tav quietly and slowly slid his shirt off his shoulders. The light reflected off his skin, glimmering.

While Astarion had pictured this is what he looked like to Tav that first time together, now the roles were reversed and he was mesmerised. There was something incredibly dreamy to him, unforgettable. An ache in his chest and a throb to his undead heart.

Astarion stalled, his fingers firmly clenching his own shirt while he watched Tav never take his eyes off him while undressing himself.

He didn’t realise he had frozen until Tav walked up to him bare, laying a hand on his and guiding him only to stop. ‘’Are you alright..?’’ Tav questioned in a gentle tone.

‘’Are you sure you want this right now?’’

‘’I want you.. I want to devour you.’’ Astarion replied, unfreezing and quickly undoing his clothes to join him bare.

The kiss that followed left him wanting more and more as he drowned into the touch, that uncomfortable feeling of arousal rose up and down until it found its rhythm, sending a wave of pleasure flowing through him.

His hands travelled over Tav’s skin, dancing across tiny hidden scars, pinching the subtle curves in his body. Tav’s back arched, he moaned the second Astarion’s lips found his neck.

He could bite him right there and then, but preferred to tease him.

The scent of alcohol intertwined with dopamine had something to it.. It was much sweeter without the addition of Adrenaline, which had a salty and unsettling flavour to it.

Tav kept drawing him in, his hands caressing gentle patterns over Astarion’s back and his arms. It wasn’t long until their bodies crashed onto the bedroll, with Astarion thrusting himself into Tav’s embrace.

Tav moaned so sweetly, covering his face with his arm out of vulnerability. Astarion wanted to yank his arms above his head, but decided on a gentler approach, kissing his neck until he relaxed in between the thrusts. 

When they found a common ground within the rhythm, Astarion started moaning loudly into Tav’s skin. Burying himself with sloppy kisses across his collar bone, licking the sweat off his neck.

He cried out Tav’s name, who only moaned in response at their shared climax. He took a loud breath before opening his eyes looking into Astarion’s directly. Astarion stared back dreamily, pondering in silence.

This was bliss.. It must be. It has to be.

Tav looked at him with cheeks flushed, brushing Hair out of his face. ‘’Careful now, if you’re going to keep looking at me like that I might actually start to believe you’re in love with me.’’ His chest heaved, a pure moment of honesty.

Astarion remembers the weight of the pit in his stomach. Such a sweet moment, one he ruined like so many others.. ‘’Only for tonight, darling.’’ A charming line, perhaps the biggest lie he’s ever said, and he did it so confidently. Scripted, rehearsed.

Tav’s eyes glazed over somewhat, he released a sigh, stretching beneath Astarion. ‘’You haven’t pulled out.’’ He muttered, looking away almost embarrassed as if they did not just have extremely hot passionate sex.

Astarion smirked, feeling rather gloomy when he pulled away, he frowned at Tav, who had now turned to his side, avoiding eye contact.

The vision of the memory began shifting by force, making Astarion roll his head during trance. He couldn’t control what he’d see next.

Astarion could see Tav’s vulnerable bare body one moment, only to be exchanged with a tearful and exhausted expression of shock back at the elfsong inn.

‘’You’re asking too much of me right now, I just want to sleep, to rest.’’

‘’You want to rest? Right now? Walk away in the middle of the most important conversation you’ve ever had?’’

‘’Astarion I-’’

‘’You know what, forget it. I don’t need this.’’

‘’What? I didn’t mean to insult you- today has been a lot for both of us-’’

Astarion couldn’t hear the words he shouted even though they came out of his own mouth, the once so sweet dream now ruined by the night of his enlarged ego. The rush of power fresh in his veins, only to be aimed in the wrong direction.. He didn’t mean it, he didn’t. He was overcome with emotions he could not control, and in that moment he broke his own heart in two.

‘’I’m just so tired..’’

The exhaustive look on Tav’s face came back into his mind, as he turned around and disappeared through smoke and dust.

‘’I’m sorry.’’

The words echoed loudly, sounding just as real and new as the first time he’d spoken them. Astarion could envision the scared look on Tav’s face back in the alley, the nervous glances before he ran off.

He could feel the pressure of his squeeze in the palm on his hand, which shook him out of trance. The wet dream had been pleasant, but now there was just the scent of guilt hanging in the air.

‘’I need a bath..’’

……

The wizard of Waterdeep! Gale Dekarios.. A Teacher at Blackstaff Academy teaching Illusion. Exalted wizard of a  and Ex-chosen of Mystra. Son of Morena Dekarios and beloved friend of Tara the tressym.

Not too long ago, he visited his friends 6 months after the defeat of the netherbrain on invitation by Withers.

Gale had been elated, exhausted, as his new job came with a lot of complications.. And he was much in need of seeing familiar faces. ‘’A social palette cleanser’’ Tara called it, ‘’Since you have no other friends,’’ and it had been.. Refreshing. Surely.. Up until the revelation that everyone’s busy lives meant no one had actively looked for Tav. Except for Jaheira perhaps..

Gale’s priority had been to fulfil his promise to deliver the crown to Mystra and be rid of the orb, at the time he had hoped to run into his friends again as soon as it was over with. Eager to get out of Mystra’s hair and her eye, her hands and her whims.

Who would’ve thought that being a goddess’ lover was to be a sour experience? He was over her, that much was certain.. But his acceptance of his mortality and station somehow invoked in her the idea that she could potentially influence him again. To control him.

Requesting Gale to kamikaze had been the tipping point for him to realise their power dynamic, he nearly went over the edge, compelled to take the crown for himself and pursue godhood. But no, he was above it. He was above her antics, even as a mortal.

And this time.. Gale rejected Mystra. He worried she’d smite him for the act, but no. She was satisfied and tossed him out of her realm after business had finished.

No more social calls from Elminster occurred since. Nothing, not even a letter. Perhaps the centuries old arch mage tried to distance himself from Gale for good reasons. Or, Mystra had demanded it. And Mystra gets everything she wants.

Not that it mattered to Gale anymore, he was on a different mission now. One that had nothing to do with mindflayer invasions, hoax cults on the rise, ancient artefacts, or the goddamn goddess of magic herself. 

Tara had looked forward to Gale taking a vacation from his stressful job of teaching young adults the wonders of illusion magic, so she could perch in his lap without him enduring overtime on writing original lesson material..

Gale was a stickler for details, much to the academy’s dismay.. He could not keep his word to give his class a beginner friendly course, so they saddled him with a class of chaotic mages instead. A challenge he gladly undertook, enjoying the opportunity to put his students in their place by threatening to blow himself up every now and then.

To his students' obliviousness, the orb was long gone. No more netherese influence for Gale. No more worries about blowing up the wrong place at the wrong time.

Unfortunately for Gale, his life had become chaotic still. Not because of orbs or goddesses, but because the quest to locate Tav in neverwinter had been much easier than he thought it would be.

He’d only just arrived at his holiday location and secured a place of stay when he came across a quirky little tavern tucked away in a very busy district of the city. Gale made a mental note to visit it, when he was stopped by a sending spell sent directly into his mind.

‘’Professor Dekarios. Urgent. Dharma’s gone missing. Think she went after you. Very worried. Please be lenient. Need the class. Send her home.’’

Twenty-two words, three short for a sending spell. But he recognised the voice of Dharma's mother. The woman had been dismissive of her daughter’s increasingly concerning demeanour towards him. If she was coming after him on his vacation, Gale could finally begin the procedure to ban her from his class formally…

With a flash of orange hair dye, she was right behind him, not moments later. He eyed the young woman trying to convey his disappointment by facial expression alone. He could lecture her of course, but she wasn’t worth his personal time nor his elaborate vocabulary. Learning from his past relationship alone, he opted to ignore her to see if she could take a hint.. But it simply invited her to follow him into the tavern.

After scolding Dharma with much needed help from the halfling tavern owner, Gale clapped eyes on a malnourished and gloomy looking Tav. They never spoke a word, but it kept him thinking. At first Gale thought Tav was pretending to not know him.. He looked depressed at most. Gale felt guilty.. But also suspicioned something else was going on.

The halfling was too excited for his repeated visits, and Tav’s quick glances were that of a complete stranger. Gale hoped Tav would call him out, tell him to leave. Yell at him for not coming after him.. For not helping him with whatever he appears to be going through. 

Yet.. He never does. Never, even if he had every opportunity to do so as Gale kept visiting. Gale enjoyed his little vacation exploring books with Jilvy’s other customers during club hours. A means to pass the time.. To observe.

Tav’s body language did not change. Tav’s expression did not change. A moment had passed where he could’ve feigned a look of recognition, and Gale wanted to speak up, he simply couldn’t make himself do it. Tav never questioned his silent attempts to make conversation. Didn’t question him for staring. He kept working, never sitting still for too long unless he started feeling sick. And he was sick very often.

Finally, he concluded that Tav was experiencing some sort of memory loss. Unsure of the cause, he reflected to the last moment he saw his dear friend. The absent-minded glossed over eyes, apathetic and exhausted. The same look that he bears on his doll-like expression every single day nowadays.

What could’ve caused this? The trauma of the final fight? He recalls some debris hitting Tav’s head during the fall into the chiontar.. But shadowheart fixed him up before he suddenly walked off, so.. They’ve been through many battles and Tav always kept standing right back up leading the party through the fray bravely.

Gale searched his memories, pondering for some time.. Quickly he came to a stop. There simply was no way to be sure about Tav’s situation if he didn’t talk to Tav to begin with.

Observing him quietly was weird and doing so made Gale feel creeped out by himself.

He’d hoped to run into Jaheira, Shadowheart… Or anyone else really, to converse about the situation. No. It was time to take the matter into his own hands.

He had to confront Tav. To confront his guilt for abandoning him. Surely Tav would understand he had to rid himself of the orb? But.. Then he got a job as a professor and lost track of time..

Tav was an empathetic person, but also a survival-centred individual. He definitely would’ve understood it wasn’t personal.

This conversation had to happen regardless of how Gale felt about it. He owed it to Tav.

When he made it to the tavern, it was the closing hour. He’d hoped to pass a letter to Jilvy to request a private conversation with Tav in a safe environment outside of work. He wasn’t sure how Tav would take it if he really had amnesia.

Only.. The door was left wide open. Gale stared at it, sensing an arcane disturbance in the air. He turned his head to see Jilvy waltz up to him with suspicious eyes.

‘’What’s the meaning of this?’’ The halfling looked up, carrying a large bag of supplies over her shoulder. Her suspicion faded when she recognized the worry in Gale’s eyes and took note of the letter in his hand.

‘’I shouldn’t have taken too long..’’ Jilvy drops the bag into Gale’s arms forcefully as she inspects the door. One of the hinges had come loose and it was dangling from the spare.

‘’Tav is your lost friend, isn’t he?’’ Jilvy continued, looking for the door’s missing screws in the snow. ‘’You knew?’’ Gale’s eyebrows raised in surprise from Jilvy’s casual tone.

‘’I figured as much, the boy clearly has amnesia. And I assume you figured that out yourself as well?’’ She turned her head up to Gale with the recovered metals in her hands.

Gale didn’t answer her, he looked at the footsteps in the snow, noticing a disparity in pacing. He turned around to follow the pattern, recognizing fresh imprints. One was from someone who’d have jumped abnormally far, blowing snow out of the way while doing so.. The others were dragging their heels, moving with force, as if carrying something heavy that needed focus to maintain stability.

‘’A moment, miss Fogwater.’’ Gale handed back the bag of supplies to Jilvy as she watched him draw a few symbols by hand and mutter some incantations.

‘’vide magica.’’

The divination ritual spell takes hold, and Gale sees the traces of magic. Psionic, and very familiar.. One he had only rid himself off months ago. Netherse magic. Tav must’ve retained a semblance of his illithid abilities to make that forceful jump forward. The psionic energy lingered on the ground and the door..

The remainder of the arcane traces of weave he saw were much more worrying. A failed charm spell, and a disintegrate spell, unfired. 

‘’This is bad.’’ Gale mumbled, Jilvy was about to ask him what he meant by that when Tav came running back out of breath. He nearly tripped over a pile of toppled snow when he saw the wizard with his boss. 

‘’Tav! You’re back.. Oh dear. I’m sorry-’’ Jilvy puts her groceries down on the ground this time, not pausing to make sure it wouldn’t fall to its side.

Gale puts away the letter in his coat, silently watching the halfling comfort Tav as if he were a lost boy. 

Tav, out of breath, barely able to speak, manages to stutter. ‘’T..The- Door..’’

‘’Dharma.’’ Gale can barely hear the name as it falls from his lips, only to see Tav shockingly look behind him, trying to find Dharma. He figured out she went after Tav because of his visits.. Tav’s reaction speaks volumes.

‘’Dharma who? She owes me a new door. The brat.’’ Jilvy continues patting Tav’s back as he’s trying to regain composure. ‘’I’m fine..’’ He mutters, walking over to grab her groceries for her, the halfling stops him midway. ‘’You’re not fine! You’re sweating rivers in the middle of a very cold winter evening!’’ She pulls his hands away and holds them together.

‘’Come, come, come inside. Tell me what happened.’’ She nods to Gale, suggesting he better join them.

Tav, nauseous from his experience, takes a moment to recuperate so Jilvy serves him a hot drink. Not tea, chocolate milk.

He takes a large gulp before he speaks his story, retelling from his weird night time experiences and hearing movements.. To the visit during closing hours and being pursued.

‘’Why didn’t you ask the guards for help? No- you would.. They’re.. Ugh, no matter! Those folks are too busy trying to catch a homicidal freak. Dharma owes me a door and food supplies!’’ Jilvy huffs. ‘’Has no one respect for small business owners these days?’’

Jilvy stops mid tantrum when she takes notice of Tav’s posture stiffening. ‘’And my dear employee, of course.’’ She puts her hand on his, trying to comfort him.. Tav’s stiffness does not let up. He lets out a nervous breath.

Gale raises his eyebrows at that. There’s a homicidal freak going around neverwinter? He’s only been here for little more than a week and he’s never heard of it. ‘’Homicidal freak..? I thought neverwinter was the most civilised place out there.. Well, I guess Volo doesn’t know the splendours of Waterdeep very well.’’ He jests, referencing a quote of one of Volo’s guides.

Then again.. There was some commotion in the town squares not too long ago. Perhaps he overlooked something, too busy with his vacation activities.

‘’Aye, red curved dagger. Attacked a wintershield guard during his off duties. Unusual, there’s posters of it drawn up everywhere.’’ Jilvy interrupts his thoughts.

The description, it just.. It just clicks. For Gale at least. A red curved dagger.. Unusual design, and the only likely culprit.. Tav may appear nervous on the outside from Dharma’s murder attempt, but he might in fact be hiding for committing a crime.. Whatever for? 

Tav wasn’t someone who’d just lash out against authority figures on a whim. He was very particular about avoiding the flaming fist while they were trying to figure out how to get rid of the steel watch.

‘’I’ll make sure to write a lengthy report to the blackstaff academy, if you could.. Write a complaint I can add, seeing as your business was damaged in the drama of uh.. This student’s behaviour.’’ Gale swallows. ‘’If you could, keep it out of the wintershield’s hands, I aim to look for Dharma and have her sent off as soon as possible. This is my problem to begin with.’’ He searches his pockets for his wallet. ‘’And mine to fix..’’

‘’No, no.. I can’t just take your money, dear. I’ll write a lengthy report of expenses with my complaint.’’ Jilvy answers. ‘’I prefer earning it the normal way. Besides, Tav is a victim here as well. And.. You two need to talk.’’ She brushes gently against Tav’s arm, giving his hand another squeeze. ‘’Just yell my name if you need me, dear.’’ Then, she departs with the bag of groceries in hand, not before putting a curtain in place of the broken door.

The chill creeps in, Gale takes a sip of his cup of water, watching Tav’s absent-minded eyes for a moment. He can see him shiver.

‘’Do you remember me?’’ Gale asks, finally. And to his dismay, Tav’s eyes remain the same. He looks to him as if he’s a barely familiar stranger.

‘’You’re the wizard that’s here on vacation.. Gale, right?’’ Tav answers, he brushes his hand through his hair, fidgeting with his cup.

Gale tries to figure out if now is really the best time to break the news.. Tav is vulnerable, but he isn’t sure how vulnerable.

 ‘’Yes, that’s correct.’’ He pauses. ‘’And I came here, looking for you.’’ He looks into his water, avoiding eye contact.

Tav stammers a bit, he puts his cup down and avoids looking at Gale as well. ‘’A-ah..’’ The room grows quiet as more of the eerie wind outside creeps in.

‘’..Am I a bad person..?’’ Tav whispers.

‘’What..?’’

‘’..I.. Must be.. I keep seeing these flashes..’’

Gale isn’t sure how to answer that, but it does answer some of the riddles.. Tav’s amnesia is definitely traumatic. He should’ve known. The signs were all there.. The absent eyes, the apathy and gloom. His self-neglect, he isn’t acting like himself.

‘’I think I’m being punished.’’ Tav sobs, hiding his face in his hands. ‘’You came looking for me.. I don’t even know if I deserve it-’’ He wails softly, trying to hold back his cries and plants his face on the table.

Gale stands from his seat and sits beside him with his knees on the floor, pulling Tav from his position into a hug. ‘’You were a hero. At least to me.’’ He allows him to stain his coat with tears and mucus as Tav continues to cry in his confusion. When he calms down, he wipes the snot from his nose, looking uncomfortable from his own actions.

‘’I don’t even know who you are.’’

Gale gives him a gentle smile and grabs his hand, reassuring him. ‘’I’ll tell you all you want to know my friend.. But first, I need to take care of this Dharma problem. I endangered you necessarily.. This is my fault. You shouldn’t be..’’ Gale shakes his head. ‘’I’ll come back, make sure to stay with your boss, Jilvy, you’re safe here.’’

Tav looks confused by his words and gentleness, the wizard is determined to act and return as soon as possible so he could help Tav. To repay the favour. 

It wasn’t too long ago Gale had spent days thinking of ending his own life.. And Tav was the one to tell him he deserved to live. And live he did.. Time is of the essence.

…

It wasn’t just Gale who was concerned with spending his time wisely. The next day, Astarion stumbled on towards the tavern, noticing the posters plastered all over the windows. As a Tiefling adventurer, he did look a little similar to his noble Elf self.. But only a keenly trained eye could notice the similarities. His curls were black and long, and so were his sclera dark and intimidating in this form. The red skin and ridges matched with glamoured armour did a lot for this disguise. Attractive on its own, he thinks.

He casually stood there, reading the advertisements the tavern owner had put up.. Something about a book club and a bookstore offering discounts for members.

He pondered for a moment if he should just knock on the door and act as an oblivious customer when a halfling popped the crooked door open and started chattering about the posters to him.

Astarion barely listened to her rambling when he turned around and smiled friendly.

‘’..And I suppose I could really hire someone to look after my employee.’’

Oh, damn. He really should’ve listened to what she was saying.

Given the context, this was Tav’s boss.. She likely heard of the attack yesterday and worried about him. A little odd, he thought. This halfling spends money to protect her lone employee..? A motherly look in her eyes softened his suspicious concerns for her reasoning.

But.. The door looked awfully damaged.. Perhaps she was just looking out for her business.. No, she could fire Tav from his job if she didn’t care for him. 

What an opportunity!

‘’You want to hire me as a bouncer..? For your.. Tea tavern?’’ Astarion asked, making sure.

‘’Yes, that’s what I was getting at, you look like the opportune sort? Fancy the job? I don’t want my employee and customers to worry though.. So you could pretend to be a regular.’’ The halfling nodded, clearly happy with her idea.

‘’That makes sense.. I’m expensive though.’’ Astarion thought about it, he needed to look professional to make sure the woman didn’t get second thoughts. ‘’To be honest, I think I ran into your employee yesterday- he was being chased by a.. Mage. Asked me to pretend to be his boyfriend. Are you sure hiring me is a good idea?’’

‘’Hmm.’’ Jilvy eyed his tiefling form, thinking long and hard. Then she grins. ‘’If you give me a discount on hiring you, you eat for free.’’ This halfling.. He liked her attitude. ‘’Just don’t eat all my supplies, deal?’’

‘’I wouldn’t dream of it. My name is..’’ He paused, trying to think of a good tiefling name. He had to decide fast so hoped the name wasn’t too unusual for a tiefling. ‘’Morlock.. Grey.’’ He’d almost used Karlach’s last name, but that wouldn’t be good for cover. If his friends were around, they’d put one and two together.

‘’Your name means Black Grey? Huh. Parents weren’t the creative sort.’’ The halfling then realised her tone may have been a bit.. Offensive. ‘’Oh, sorry. That was unprofessional. I am Jilvy fogwater.’’

‘’Hah! I’m a tiefling Ma’am. I don’t need to explain my.. Past, obviously.. It’s not the pleasant kind, all too common for someone growing up with horns and a tail.’’ He figured that she wouldn’t ask more, considering how he remembers the elturel tiefling refugees being treated by their surroundings. All tieflings experience some sort of discrimination. Many aren’t even born to tiefling parents..

Jilvy grows a sympathetic look, she stares at the ground for a moment. ‘’Well, nice to meet you, Morlock.’’

‘’Let's talk business, how many hours per day? How much? Will I be paid weekly or per hours?’’

‘’I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you, Morlock.’’

‘’Likewise.. Mrs fogwater.’’

He follows her into the tavern, partially listening to Jilvy pretending that he’s signing up for the book club and discussing the latest hot novella gossip.

He’s only been there barely three seconds when his eyes meet with Tav again. He doesn’t seem too surprised, just put off by a familiar face with a raised brow. Then, without a worry in the world he continues checking on his baked goods.. Working efficiently and unbothered by Astarion’s presence..

To him, there wasn’t Astarion though.. There was Morlock, the tiefling adventurer who’d saved him the day before.

‘’Aye, Tav, come here for a sec. I heard you met Morlock?’’ Jilvy chimes in, it's almost as if she read Astarion’s mind.

‘’Oh, yeah- I didn’t catch your name…B-before.. Hi.’’ He looks flustered. If only for a little bit, the glazed-over doll eyes disappear. There is a light in the darkness.

Even in this disguise, Astarion has some hold over him. Not that he can tell it’s Astarion though.. Which is the point.

But, that aside.. Astarion feels a little jealous at the looks he’s giving to Morlock.

So.. His plot thickens, while he schemes to create the perfect scenario to get Tav back in his arms, as soon as possible.