#wondering whether it was a problem with him or me or just circumstances‚ and i was getting kinda paranoid about it so i asked him today

[hzrnvm]

isn't it weird when something happens that by all accounts should make life feel slightly better but you just feel worse?

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[lurochar]

Please please Human Alastor with a bratty reader. He tells her to do one thing and she does the complete opposite, she has tried to steal his wallet multiple times, always trying to get a rise out of him just to see if she can make him loose his temper.

Brat

I hope this is to your liking, Anon

18+MDNI

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

smack

“Darling, have you learned your lesson yet? Are you ready to apologize?”

“...n-no, I didn’t… didn’t do anything wro–! Ahhh h-hah…”

smack

“Hmm, that’s the wrong answer, dearest. You’ve been getting quite out of hand lately and I’m running low on patience. Of course I’m always willing to forgive you, but you have to admit to your mistakes. Can you do that for me?”

“But you said–ah, told me I-I could–!?”

smack

“Oh, I don’t mind indulging you, you know that. That being said, this recent misbehaviour of yours is nonsensical. I have to wonder, are you doing this on purpose?”

“...”

(Your lack of answer causes Alastor to hum thoughtfully in the back of his throat and instead of striking the now burning skin of your rear, he strokes softly. You shudder visibly).

“You’ve taken my wallet numerous times in the past two weeks without the courtesy of asking me. Normally, I wouldn’t even care about a trivial matter like this.”

“A-ah, so… what– what is the proBLEM!”

smack

“Well, my lovely Doe, I’m sure you know well enough what the problem is, but I’ll be blunt since it’s evident that’s what you need right now. You are wasting money on frivolous purchases – purchases that you are not even using.”

(Alastor’s fingers grip into the back of one of your thighs. You swallow heavily).

“Whether you aren’t using these purchases so I can return them, I’m not certain. It’s still a waste of my time. Now, are you absolutely sure you have nothing at all you would like to say to me? It’s clear to you what this is about?”

“I…I wanted to–”

You tensed, waiting for the next strike, but it didn’t come and you were almost confused. Alastor had to hold back a chuckle and his proceeding groan at your cry of surprise when he pushed two of his fingers into your dripping cunt, sliding in easily with how wet you were.

You little debauched brat, enjoying what was supposed to be a punishment.

“Ah fu–”

Alastor flicks your cheek before you can finish what you start, it’s teasing and light, but he certainly doesn’t want to think he will give you a pass to utter such filthy words in these circumstances. He is the one in control right now. “Watch your language. Or do I need to gag you?”

His fingers glide smoothly in and out of you and you let out little puffs of breath, knowing that Alastor is intentionally avoiding that sweet spot inside you. It causes you to turn your head slightly so you can look Alastor straight in the eye, much to his contradictory riled amusement.

“Fuck.”

Hmm, all right then.

You gasp, not sure why you’re caught off guard when Alastor is quickly pulling you upright in his lap by the nape of your neck and then you choke, feeling his fingers leave you and you can taste yourself when they are suddenly filling your mouth, reaching dangerously close to the back of your throat that you heave a little in surprise.

“Spoiled little thing.” Alastor murmured into your ear, a husky laugh leaving him when you slowly start to suck on his fingers once you are used to the feel of them in your mouth. “So depraved you’ve become. I believe I’m starting to understand now.”

You jump and moan around his fingers when he steadies you on one of his legs, wedging his thigh between your own legs before he starts bouncing it and his pants are so very quickly soaked by your arousal.

“Well, Darling? You got what you wanted. You have my attention now. Have I been neglecting you so badly to the point you felt you had to take money from my wallet?” Alastor cooed, leaning back in the chair and observing with lustful glee as you rode his thigh on your own, drooling all over his fingers without a hint of your usual modesty. “My sweet poor girl.”

Maybe he did spend a little too much time stalking his next intended target, but of course he had to assure he didn’t get caught. 

Nothing but death could ever rip him away from you.

“But I’m still waiting. You have yet to apologize.” Alastor removes his fingers from your mouth, leaning casually against his arm as he slows his thigh and you let out a whine. “You won’t get my cock until you do.”

Fuck.

You didn’t want to apologize, even if you did feel guilty about spending money on useless things – it wasn’t an amount that would do much, if anything, to the comfortable life you and Alastor lived, but it was still an amount that Alastor would notice. 

He was the breadwinner and made much more than you did as a mere assistant in the same radio station that Alastor worked at, though he did make it clear he did not mind spending money on you should you want for anything within his means. You rarely asked for much, simply content enough with Alastor in your life.

But lately, he was absent at strange times when he wasn’t scheduled for work and gone for hours into the night, coming home only hours before dawn. He was then too tired to even converse with you for a few minutes before it all just repeated all over again.

This went on for a month.

You had enough of it.

You trusted Alastor, you trusted that he wasn’t cheating on you, trusted whatever he was doing at night and that he would tell you when he felt he could, but damn it – was it so bad to want to spend a little time loving your husband!?

“I just… wanted…” You started, grumbling under your breath. “I just wanted to spend time with you, that’s all!”

“I don’t think that’s an apology, Darling.” Alastor tutted you, pulling you tight against him and making sure you can feel him – how hard he is for you – and grinds himself against your core, earning himself a whiny little noise from you. “Tell me how sorry you are for behaving nothing more like a needy little puppy begging for attention.”

For now. You can go along with it for now.

“I-I’m sorry, Alastor, please!” You can see Alastor’s eyes lighting up with desire, something that you alone are only able to accomplish. “Please, I just wanted you. I’m sorry.” You sniffle, shuddering when a jolt of pleasure rushes through you.

Alastor reaches down to press a finger softly against your clit, rubbing slow circles on the nub. “Was that so difficult?” He asked, not expecting or receiving an answer. “But since you were a good girl and did as I asked…”

You were rather surprised when he picked your entire weight up with just one arm, lifting you up high enough off his lap so he could take off his belt and shove his pants low enough to take out his cock. He held you right over his dick, feeling the heat of your cunt and he felt himself twitch. “I will forgive you, dearest. I always will. I suppose you deserve a reward now.”

“Alastor!”

Said man grinned, gripping your hips tightly as he slowly lowered you onto his length, gritting his teeth when you clenched your walls tightly around his cockhead. “Dearest, relax. I apologize to you – it,” Alastor had to pause and take in a calming breath, “I hadn’t realized it had been this–this long.”

You were so fucking tight, unused to the stretch now and it felt like he was going to cum already at the feel of your warm slick walls squeezing him so snuggly. 

“You’re always so big.” You whimper when Alastor lowers you until his cock is fully inside you and you pant when he thumbs your clit to distract you from the discomfort. “Move. Please.”

Alastor plants his feet firmly against the ground, making sure to hold onto your waist as he finally begins to thrust up into you, finding a rhythm despite the slightly awkward positions. “Fuck! Mmm, Darling, you and your sweet cunt are perfect as always.” He crooned into your hair. “Why would you fret? You know I will always come home to you in the end.”

Your eyes are rolling back when Alastor hits that sweet spot over and over and over with each and every thrust. Tears blur your eyes and you try to swallow down the saliva before it can drool down your lips. You’re already unseemly enough, you don’t think Alastor would want to see even more depravity from you.

“Hmm, why so quiet? You were being such a brat earlier.” Alastor pinches your clit and you let out an interesting little sound he wants to hear again. So he repeats himself, pinching your clit between his fingers while making sure his cock hits that spot in your pussy with each thrust of his hips. You let out little ‘ah ah ah’ noises and while he just finds that adorable, it’s not what he wants right now.

“Ah, my lovely wife, my dearest Darling. I love you, I love everything about you, even that little naughty side of yours. You’re mine, all mine, always mine.” Alastor can feel you stiffen at his words and your walls are beginning to flutter around him. “Tell me the same. Come undone on my cock. I want to hear you.”

Stars explodes behind your eyes and your walls are clamping down on Alastor’s cock and you wail as he fucks you through your orgasm without pause. “I-I love you! Alastor, l-love you!” You slur through the aftershocks of your climax.

It’s only when you say that you love him that Alastor can reach his own end and he tenses, feeling that rush of ecstasy he can only achieve through you or murdering lowlifes as he spills inside of you. Both you and Alastor are breathing hard and Alastor wraps his arms around you and rests his head against yours.

The silence was comfortable, both content and basking in the words said for a while. Alastor does finally break the silence with a thoughtful hum. “Dearest, if you wanted my attention, surely there were better ways to go about it?”

You feel cheeky, maybe the endorphins are giving you too much of a high, but you couldn’t help but to open your mouth and make a snarky little comment.

“I am not sorry for what I did.”

Alastor glances at you sharply with a raised brow and a chilling smile slowly makes its way onto his handsome face and you know you’re in some deep shit. Why couldn’t you just keep your damn mouth shut?

“Is that so, Darling?”

You are fucked.

Literally.

[tkaulitzlvr]

hii can u pls do c0ckwarming with tom omg

STAY STILL - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom can’t wait any longer, but knows that you are too tired to fix his problem the way he wants you to. but you can’t deny the need slowly becoming mutual so, you decide to meet him halfway, and he doesn’t complain.

content: smut (not full sex, just what the req says lol)

a/n: thanku for the req!! SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, hopefully this makes up for it! literally screaming and giggling whilst writing this (help), also the way he moves his tongue in this vid HELLO (need it inside me) ++there won’t be a part two (don’t hate me!) my upload schedule is just too irregular, i have a ton of requests and just don’t think i’d be able to write one, in the future if i’m less busy i may come back to this!!

“please baby, i’ll do all the work, i promise.” tom pleads for probably the tenth time, digging his head into the crook of my neck and placing open-mouthed kisses onto the skin, whining lowly against it. any other time, i would’ve given in the second his lips made contact with my neck, and he knows this, deciding to try his luck once again. however right now, the circumstances don’t work in tom’s favour, much to his annoyance. i am too tired to even properly decline his request, sighing loudly and shaking my head as my eyes flutter closed. this isn’t enough for tom, my lack of response not a concrete ‘no’, this all he needs to press himself against me once more, hoping that it would be just enough to push me toward that three letter word he has been longing for me to say. whilst our proximity doesn’t do that just yet, the frequent motion of tom’s hips rocking against my waist reminds me just how desperate he is, the hardness evident through his boxers - not that the cotton left much to be imagined anyway.

“baby i’m tired, tomorrow, okay?” i sigh out, half-heartedly pushing tom away as a frustrated groan leaves his lips. though he fails to see the mischievous grin that spreads across my face with the small push that i place to his chest when he flops beside me, clearly not understanding what i am doing. honestly, i wouldn’t have minded lazy sex - tom never complains when he does all the work and, if i give in, it will make him shut up, his whining already getting on my nerves, whether he is trying to irritate me or not. but, watching the way his face furrows in utter frustration, wincing every so often at the pain that begs for a release from underneath his boxers, gives me the motivation to tease him just a little more - but in the end, i am more than willing to give him what he wants, or at least, meet in the middle.

“fuck.” he mutters under his breath, wincing a little at my response, eyes squeezing shut as his chest heaves up and down, loud and shaky breaths escaping his lips, making it hard to close my eyes and finally fall asleep. i know that he won’t give up yet, so, i lay silently, wondering how long it will take for him to continue pleading me to let go and give him what he wants. and, as expected, not even two minutes pass before his hand snakes around my waist from behind? his body pressing itself firmly against my back.

“this isn’t gonna go away baby, shit- i’m sorry, just, please…let me do something.” he sighs out, a low whine following his plea, hand firmly squeezing my waist whilst his head buries itself into my neck, teeth digging into the skin softly. “fuck- need you so bad, please.”

a small laugh leaves my lips, stifled quickly once i purse them shut, thinking out loud as my amusement towards his desperation quickly becomes evident. tom stops his slow kisses against my neck, whipping his head upward in confusion, failing to see how i could possibly be laughing right now. “what’s so funny? seriously schatz, this fucking hurts. please, just let me take care of it. i won’t be long, just need to feel you.”

his voice reduces to a mumble, eyebrows knitting together once again, though a wave of relief visibly washes over his expression when i roll my eyes, sighing in -totally forged- annoyance, though he doesn’t recognise that. all he realises is that he is getting something, not even completely sure what, but in this moment, anything at all would be enough for him to release - he is far too desperate to be picky. soon enough, he hauls himself up, hurriedly undoing the button of his oversized jeans and tugging them from his frame, carelessly throwing them onto the floor. and god, if i had thought his problem looked bad through the denim, then i am quickly proven wrong, the firm print of his dick through his boxers almost painfully prominent. his hand brushes against it, the cotton of his underwear now creating more friction, his head falling backward as a low groan sounds from the back of his throat, showing just how sensitive he really is, and now i know that it won’t take a lot to give him what he craves.

he quickly moves to climb on top of me, not getting far as my hand rests flat against his bare chest, halting his movement. his eyebrows furrow in confusion, mouth opening to protest my resistance, though i interject, deciding that if he wants me that badly, then he shouldn’t complain about how he gets me.

“mmm, no. sit back baby, i want to try something.” i whisper, teeth grazing the skin just below his ear, tongue running over it afterward as his eyes flutter open and closed, mouth hanging open with a small smirk on his face. he nods his head quickly, sliding backward until his upper half rests against the headboard, head tilted upward and legs sprawled onto the bed. his hands however, fail to be so still, reaching outward hopelessly and grabbing me by my waist, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls me on top of him.

he winces loudly once i sit directly on top of his chest, the sound soon turning into a low moan, mouth dropping downward into an ‘o’ shape at the dangerously addictive mix of pain and pleasure that i give him. i smirk in satisfaction at his desperation, finding it almost pitiful, watching intently at the way his eyes flutter, on the verge of closing, though they manage to stay half lidded, soon shooting open when my small fingers make contact with the waistband of his boxers. his breathing becomes more erratic, hands flying to my hips once more, chest rising up and down at an even faster pace. right now, wearing only a small pair of shorts and crop top appears to work perfectly in my favour, and tom’s, as his hands reach to pull the strap down, lips soon attaching themselves to my breast, whilst my own hands move my shorts down my body, tugging tom’s boxers down soon after.

his eyes are fixed on where our bodies connect once i line myself up, sliding down onto him at an agonisingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the feeling of being stretched out, going from being totally empty to so full within the space of a few seconds. tom is way out of it, and had been ever since i began to sink onto him, his mouth uttering low curses and grunts under his breath, nails digging into the flesh of my waist, teeth occasionally digging into his bottom lip.

“fuck schatz, yeah…you’re so tight, so good for me.” he utters when i bottom out, though his satisfaction doesn’t last long, eyes quickly opening once he realises that i am not moving, instead staying still with him still inside of me. he decides against questioning my behaviour, his hips beginning to thrust upwards as a slow pace, incoherent whines leaving his lips as he does so.

“ah ah ah…” i begin, lifting my hips upward and almost completely off of him, hand moving to rest firmly against his chest. he slows his movements, pushing my hips so that he is inside of me once again. “no moving baby, just let me sit. stay still, okay?”

i clench around him unconsciously, moaning quietly as he groans under his breath, clearly holding back from snapping his hips upward again. “fuck baby, you’re fucking killing me, you know that?” he confesses, shaking his head slowly, eyes lustful as they stare into my own, the pools of brown silently communicating exactly what he wants to do, the intent behind them nothing close to innocent. but, no matter how tempting it sounds to let him take control, to reverse the roles and have me pinned beneath him, thrusting in and out of me whilst muttering confirmations of how good i feel, how perfect i am, i enjoy seeing him like this, completely helpless underneath me, begging for something, anything, other than the teasing that i keep up, and i don’t intend on giving in.

“you wanted this, right?” i taunt, lips curving upward into an innocent smile, my thoughts anything but, aware of what i am doing, the frustration that takes over his expression proof of my success. “i thought you wanted me, like this…” my voice is low and suggestive, thick as honey, words as addictive as a drug, and he continues to take them all in. my lips make contact right next to his ear, slowly kissing just below it, digging my teeth in afterward, his hips jolting upward at the sensation. and if that wasn’t enough, when i adjust myself on top of him, moving my lips ever so slightly, that is when he loses it, head quickly rolling backward, mouth dropping open, a deep groan sounding from the back of his throat.

“oh my god, fuck- you’re driving me insane, please just- do something.” his voice is shaky, cut off by small groans, his tongue coming outward to play with his lip ring, flicking the silver metal in small circles, all whilst his eyes never leave my own, the desperation within them never diminishing.

“nope, you’ll live baby.” i state in response, leaning forward and resting my chest against his, wrapping my arm around his frame and sighing nonchalantly, closing my eyes. “i told you i was tired.” as i do so, he shifts his weight underneath me, slightly altering the angle that his dick rests inside of me, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. no matter how much he wants something more, he doesn’t refuse my embrace, wrapping his arms around my back, his hands tracing circles along the bare skin, lifting up my crop top and resting underneath it.

minutes pass like this, my walls clenching around him every so often, getting him just a little more riled up, enough to make him sigh out in pleasure and groan at the feeling of slight relief, though it is never enough to satisfy him, just enough to keep him on the verge of losing his mind, to keep him guessing, waiting for something more than just being inside of me. this feels like more of a punishment than a reward to him, the frustrated groans he lets out only seeming to get louder, though he doesn’t give in, knowing that he could thrust upwards into me - all it would take is a slight movement of his hips and he would have me, yet he holds back, almost testing his own willpower, even though we both know that it is non-existent, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise.

and it doesn’t take long for him to finally reach his breaking point, no longer able to handle just having me here, sitting beneath me helplessly, his mind encouraging him to move, whilst his body is too desperate, too completely needy, to even comply with his unholy thoughts. instead, he voices them as a request, trying once again to elicit something from my own still body.

“kiss me.” he mutters into the silence as my head remains rested in the crook of his neck, hearing slightly muffled. though the quiet doesn’t show it, he is becoming more restless, breathing getting louder and faster, his hold on me tighter, almost inaudible whines sounding from the back of his throat every so often.

“hm?” i mumble half-heartedly, lacking the energy to lift my head upward from where it had been resting, staying still within his embrace instead. my thumbs trace the firmness of his back, travelling over each bump, each muscle, all coated with a thin line of sweat, all of it evidence of just how needy he is for this.

“i said kiss me.” he repeats, somewhere on the verge of desperation and frustration, clearly not willing to let me take control of him anymore. as he speaks, his hand moves from my back, making contact with my chin, using it to lift my head upward so my eyes look straight into his own, faces inches apart. warm and heavy, his breath fans against my face when he speaks, the close proximity and admitted need for him creating a light shade of pink to etch upon my cheeks, though it is nothing compared to the helplessness that tom displays, his words proving it if that isn’t enough. “no more games. just fucking kiss me.”

something inside me snaps. whether it is the close proximity, his enticing gaze, or the time that i have spent on top of him, doing nothing to pleasure either of us, it doesn’t matter anymore. all that i am certain of is that i no longer want to tease him, placing my lips onto his quickly. the kiss is slow and gentle as i initiate it, tom reciprocating it, his shoulders quickly relaxing as he already receives some relief after waiting for so long. though it is too soft, too reluctant, too tender for him. he wants more, and he wastes no time in acting on his desire, pressing his lips more firmly against my own, deepening the kiss and biting down roughly onto my bottom lip as it parts in response, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

and when my hips jolt upwards slightly at his sudden movement, he soon realises that he has me where he wants - still inside of him, and that realisation is all it takes for his hips to snap upwards, thrusting in and out of me at a fast pace. his hands find my lower back, trailing down to my ass and roughly cupping the flesh, using them to quicken his thrusts and allow my bounces to meet them, fingers leaving harsh red marks in place of the soft skin. the distance between our faces only increases beyond a few inches once i let out a loud moan, smiling in satisfaction.

he places one final kiss on my lips, flipping us over in one swift motion whilst staying inside of me. i cry out when his tip hits the sensitive spot inside of me, though i soon play it off, attempting to return my facial expression to something as close as neutral as i can get it - on the inside, i am screaming, silently begging for him to carry on. but he doesn’t. his eyes twinkle with satisfaction, enjoying the way i lay helplessly beneath him, even though moments ago, the roles were completely reversed. he picks up on my attempt to act casual, aware that i am just as desperate as he is, if not more, my entire being transparent, almost pathetically easy to decipher to him.

“this whole nonchalant act doesn’t suit you baby. you can stop acting like you don’t want it, we both know you’ll be screaming in a couple minutes, watch.”

those are the final words he says before reconnecting his lips to mine and speeding up his thrusts, soon proving his bold statement to be nothing short of the truth, making my temporary dominance seem a fragment of my imagination within seconds.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[vickyvicarious]

"For your mother's sake."

It hits so hard, on multiple levels. First, what this might mean for her. It's her final effort, the most impactful thing she says after religion, superstition, outright pleading on her knees and crying all fail. She knows that she can't stop him from going, but at the very least she will try her best to protect him as much as she can. She places the crucifix around his neck herself, doesn't just hand it to him.

Did she lose a child to Dracula in the past? Is she seeing echoes of her own son in Jonathan's face? Or perhaps there have been brave young men who tried to fight back against him, who deliberately went to the castle and never returned. Maybe Jonathan is the first person she's met who is actually trying to go there, and while she knows it can only end in his death, the idea of letting anyone go willingly to that evil place is more than she can bear. She's giving up a piece of her own protection. The Count has been sending letters to her husband; he was the one who suggested Jonathan stay here. He knows of her. If she shows any resistance it could mean greater danger for herself, and giving Jonathan her crucifix means losing a powerful totem of self-protection. If he actually listened to her warning, she can probably expect a terrible fate of her own; maybe even just giving him the crucifix alone would be enough to ensure that. But again, whether he reminds her of her own lost son or just because he doesn't know what he's getting himself into, she can't bear to do nothing. She places herself in the role of his mother here. "For my sake," she's saying, "let me do what little I can to save you. Please."

Jonathan is an orphan. We don't know the circumstances of his childhood, but it's possible that he never even knew his mother. (It's my headcanon.) Even if he did, she has been gone for a long time now. And yet these are the words he can't argue with in the end. He was already taking her seriously, and trying to treat her with respect. Her warnings were obviously distressing to him, but there's no way he can actually turn back now. His livelihood depends on this trip, he has no actual evidence to justify leaving, and he also wants so badly to live up to Mr. Hawkins' trust in him. He is already "thinking of his father" (or the closest he has) when he says he has to go to the castle. And yet, the care and fear and love this woman is showing for him hits so hard. I wonder if he is thinking of his actual mother when he accepts the crucifix. Whether the concept of her or an actual memory... Or maybe he too is placing her in the role of his mother here. Maybe, in keeping the crucifix (and not just with him, but around his neck where she placed it, even as he rides away) he is saying yes to that implicit request as well. "I'll let you care for me. I'll accept it gratefully." It's the first motherly care he has probably felt in many long years.

In this book, children are placed in terrible danger again and again, and most of the time they can't be saved. Parents and parental figures are equally doomed, leaving our heroes all orphaned in a sense, unable to rely on any greater source of wisdom or comfort. They have to take things into their own hands and deal with the problem alone, despite still being caught up in grief for what they've lost - a kind of coming of age in that sense. There's even a literal version of this happening with both Arthur and Jonathan (and Mina) specifically, when their father figures die and leave them with sudden new responsibilities. And of course, the inheritances from these father figures help in distinct and immensely useful ways, even as they remain absent from the story throughout. They haunt the margins at best until death steals them away completely, and their illnesses tend to serve to divide our heroes from one another when they needed to be united sooner. I personally don't count van Helsing as a father figure really, but if you do then he is the only one who manages to be around and be directly helpful (and even then, he's unable to save Lucy), even though all the fathers we hear from are loved and loving. But we do actually meet a few mothers, and they are usually unable to alter the story despite being more present. Their efforts to save their children are misdirected and only bring about their own death as well, in the end. Lucy's mother seems to mean well but everything she does directly makes everything harder; the mother at the castle later tries to avenge her child possibly against the wrong person, and in any case is unable to succeed. But here, the innkeeper's wife with her crucifix manages what no other mother does. Even though she assumes this to be another wasted effort (in fact, she can't bear to remain in the room with him afterwards; re: Dracula did such a good job with the hopelessness in her voice when she says the 'mother's sake' line), her assistance helps Jonathan to survive. His 'inheritance' from this momentary mother-figure isn't just the physical crucifix, though that is useful (and also the only inheritance a mother leaves for a child throughout the book, even when it would be expected and easy and make complete sense to do so, ahem). It's also the first and the most knowledgeable and the most effective aid given to a 'child' throughout the entire book.

[cjonesjr]

💜:Hey(I'm new in your blog)

I have a little request about Jax x Reader: What if Reader ignored Jax causing him to get kind of angry about it and Jax goes into Reader's room and finds Reader diary (Reader not being in the room).

(Do it if you want)(^w^).

・﹒・ jealousy, jealousy - request

Other Request by anon: **konck** **knock** **knock** Headcanon de Jax the amazing digital circus or jelouse....? Sorry i don't good with inglish :"<

Summary: You had hung out with Kinger quote often, he had become someone who you felt bad for and wanted to make sure he never felt alone. You wound up genuinely enjoying his company and had become good friends with. However- Jax didn't like that. He had found and taken your diary and had read from it just to show how much he wanted your attention.

Warnings: None

Pairing: Jax x GN!reader

Notes: Hello! I got 2 separate requests and combined them into one since it seemed fitting!

The Digital Circus had very few members, yet you always found someone to interact with here, whether it was Gangle or Kinger, but you never felt too lonely. However, you did keep a small diary to keep yourself sane, writing down thoughts and what happened during the "day" helped to keep you grounded here and from truly going insane. But it was private of course, you wanted absolutely nobody to read it under any circumstances. You always kept it in a chest right in front of your bed along with a few other items that you grew close to and wanted to keep.

You especially didn't want one person to read it- Jax. He was someone who would use that shit as blackmail against you and force you to do things you definitely would not prefer to do. Mainly considering you jotted down the possibility of forming a crush on him, it wasn't a sure thing, just a "maybe" thing. He often antagonized everyone and was a huge asshole, but there was just something so tantalizing about him, you couldn't help but want to learn more about him and spend time with him. 

So, naturally, you ignored him, in fear of actually crushing on him and making it obvious nonetheless. Nobody could blame you as he was the most deplorable out of everyone. You ignored his taunting, his smug smiles, his pranks, you ignored it all in favor of remaining neutral to his mischievous self. Jax didn't say anything about it, but Ragatha worried that you would eventually break from letting him get to you after a while. It was quick to reassure her that that would not happen, that you were stronger than he was. 

However, you were worried when he would eventually break from your lack of reactions to his behavior. Jax was most likely angry from it, but he wasn't acting any more aggressive than how he normally was. He was probably internalizing it until he couldn't one day and you were not looking forward to that day. But that was a later problem as right now, you were helping Kinger build an awesome fort for "protection", making it big enough for the both of you. He was supposedly here the longest, so since he held on this long without being abstracted, he was losing an even bigger grip on himself in this new reality. The chess piece became a good friend to you though, even if his memory and spatial awareness was completely shot.

"Ok let me add one more block here!" You placed a big, yellow block on one side that was open, smiling at how the fort was slowly coming together. Kinger often preferred small pillow forts just for him, but you both occasionally would build larger ones to fit you both.

"Oh that looks wonderful!" He sounded happy as he clapped his not-attached hands in glee, enjoying your presence and "creative mind" as he puts it. He slid over- doesn't have any legs so he just floats- and examined your current area, humming. He then looked over to you, suddenly screaming in fear and fell down on the colorful ground. It was sad, he did this so much because he forgets who he was just talking to and who was right next to him.

"Kinger its alright its just me" You smiled softly as you extended your hand, him grabbing it and you pulling up. You never dared to get mad at him, never allowing any mistreatment of him as his mind was similar to one with Dementia. Unfortunately, the one person here that often didn't enjoy being with anyone was Jax. The amount of times you scolded him for scaring Kinger and he didn't care at all. Went in one ear, out the other as they say. 

"Sorry…what were we doing? OH right, the fort!" Chuckling, you looked at the probable old man as he struggled with simply having as normal of a time here as possible. Besides that, everything was going well as you handed him some red blocks to make a chair when the familiar sights of a tall, lanky, purple, red overall wearing rabbit came through and stared at you.

"You, with me, now" Jax spoke and he was absolutely pissed off, his usual expression of a smile was replaced with a serious one. How dare he try to order you around? Stood with your hand on your hip, you raised your eyebrow as he stood there, expecting you to just go with him.

"No" You didn't have time for his shit, you were having such a fun time being with Kinger and he was not going to ruin that for you. Scoffing, he walked closer with arms crossed and stared you down as he was taller than you was. You weren't afraid of him, there were more things to be scared of here than a simple bully that got dealt the same fate as you.

"Yes, now, I mean it" At the same time, the chess piece came back and stared at the current interaction, eyes wide. His posture became curled up as if he was trying to make himself smaller, not enjoying that Jax was in his safe space.

"Am I uh…interrupting something?" He asked nervously, glancing back and forth. You were about to say no and to tell Jax to f off when he spoke first.

"Everything is fine, Ho-ha, now leave since Mx. "I'm staying" won't" One death glare caused Kinger to rush off in fear, causing you to get so angry. Stomping up to the rabbit, you said nothing for a few seconds as you sized him up, staring at him with a scowl.

"Why are you so fricking demanding all the sudden? And stop-" 

"Calling him Ho-ha. Yeah I don't care. Stop hanging out with him anyways" The rabbit plucked the teddy bear you placed on a pillow and started to boredly play with it. Ripping it from his hands, you gently placed Mr. Cuddles back on his rightful throne and pushed  Jax around towards the exit.

"Ah, now I wouldn't do that Mx." He said, just knowing he was smirking right now.

"And why not?" You stopped right before he would have been pushed through the door when he chuckled and out of nowhere, a very familiar book appeared in his hand. Your diary! Swiping at it, he unfortunately was too tall as he held it above your head, making you jump, curse your height!

"Give it back Jax! Seriously give it back now!" Jumping didn't help at all as he turned around and stared you down, holding it up at its highest point. Growling, you grabbed his arm and pushed it down, earning a "hey!" as you managed to snatch it back from him.

"That's mine thank you very much" You huffed and flipped through the pages, making sure everything was in working order when he said something you would not expect.

""Jax is a rather…interesting fellow. He is rather charming, but also a very rude person, I do not know how to feel about him, yet I want to be close to him"" A large smirk showed on his face with a knowing look, knowing he got you right where he wanted you to be. That bastard quoted from your diary!

"Say, you seem so utterly fascinated by me, why are you hanging out with Kinger instead of me?" He asked with an inflection that was hard to get a read on at first, however, it didn't take long for you to put the pieces together. He was completely jealous. But why? This was Jax you were talking about, who knew anything about him?

"Wait…are you…jealous, Jax?" Hook, line, and sinker. Sputtering, he faltered before a face of anger took place.

"I am absolutely NOT. Don't be delusional" He scoffed, deflecting the fact that he was indeed, very jealous as he crossed his arms and leaned to one side, looking away from you.

"Oh really? Then you wouldn't mind if I brought Kinger back in then! Oh Ki-" Jax covered your mouth, a blessing for him since if you didn't have one, he wouldn't have been able to stop your yelling for the chess piece. You ripped his arm away from you and walked out of the fort, no longer seeming fun to be in anymore, maybe you can build a new one after this asshole leaves.

"Ok I AM jealous. Are you happy now?" You were now outside of the fort, Kinger nowhere to be seen. Jax stood in front of you as he rolled his eyes, not happy with admitting that he was jealous. But why was he so jealous of you just hanging out with Kinger?

"No, because you somehow broke into my room and stole and read my private information!" Huffing, you hid your journal behind your back as you stared him down. 

"Why are you so jealous, Jax?" He was the one in control, now it was time for YOU to be in control now.  You spoke confidently as you walked closer to him, getting into his personal space. 

"Because-" He matched your confidence for a few seconds before pink dusted his cheeks, he went silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say as his eyes drifted everywhere but you. His black eyes finally landed back on yours and he took a deep breath in, and then out.

‘It’s because…I like you ok! That’s…that’s the only reason!” He raised his voice but not to the point of yelling as he curled in on himself, crossing his arms and holding them tighter than usual, he was scared. Slowly walking up to him, you smiled softly as you laid your free hand on top of his.

“It’s ok Jax, I won’t tell anyone. Not unless you want everyone to know you’re a big softie?” You teased, causing the rabbit to grumble as you stood on your tip toes and kissed his cheek. He froze, not expecting it in the slightest as you pulled away. The temptation to be snarky even as a joke crossed your mind, but knew he had issues being vulnerable, so instead, you smiled as you called for Kinger to finish the fort as Jax stood there like a deer in headlights

[madschiavelique]

Hello!

Sorry if you don't write for halsin, I didn't see bg3 characters on your list of who you write for on the pinned post. I was wondering if you could write a Halsin x fem reader where she is the leader of the tieflings at the Grove. They could be competitive or just learning how to work together for their people's interest. I think that could be a really interesting dynamic to explore. SFW or NSFW both sound good, so whatever inspires you.

Thank you so much!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : halsin x tiefling fem!reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : a bit of angst but mostly fluff (with some hurt/comfort), kagha being an absolute bitch, mentions of blood and wounds (healer gets hurt but don't worry halsin heals her), other than that lots of fluff, fem!reader, tiefling reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 8,8k

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ author's note : okay so just to say i did not intend this to be as long and if it wasn't for me having life happening i would have made it longer by writing a smut, but hey if u guys want smut from this one i'd GLADLY write it. it took me time to write it also because i had another idea originally but it would have been way too long and have much less tension and would develop the reader too much rather than her connection to halsin SO YEA enjoy hihi

( proofread by the lovely @gracethyomen ☆)

Your people were watching you with concern as you walked down the slope towards the druids' quarters. The little ones had come to you in a panic while you were talking to Zevlor.

All you'd managed to decipher was ‘Arabella, druid, snake’, and you were on your way to sort things out.

You and your group of tieflings had been living in the grove for barely a week. At first the druids welcomed you with open arms, Nettie even allowed you access to the basements and other caverns of the place.

It was an ideal place for tieflings. Although the majority of the grove was outside where you could spend time close to nature, much of the area was sheltered by the shade of the rocks. Your race had become accustomed to living in underground spaces, so what better place to stay than here.

What's more, there were enough cellars and basements to house everyone. Plus, you didn't just stand there and do nothing, you took part in the life of the grove. Whether it was Mattis and his rings to sell or Dammon and his weapons, you were helping out with the trade, and you'd ordered that you and your people should take part in the life of the grove so that everyone didn't look like a green plant in the background.

However, the druids had become bitter of late, and the hospitality you so cherished seemed to be fading as tensions rose. On the one hand, the druids were casting evil glances at the tieflings, claiming that the latter were destroying the larders by their mere presence and that they were an evil people ready to destroy the peace of nature for whatever reason linked to their nature.

On the other hand, the tieflings were defending themselves as best they could by providing manpower for the security of the grove, not lowering the prices of their trade under any circumstances, and getting angry at the treatment they were receiving.

And out of those sides, in the centre, only two people managed to calm the situation: you and Halsin.

You didn't see much of him, as he seemed more preoccupied these days with the problems affecting the area around the little haven of peace, so he was frequently absent. But it had already been more than two days since Halsin had disappeared, and the conflicts in the grove were escalating.

Locke and Komira came towards you as you approached, the tiefling woman suffocating between tears and panic:

“It's Arabella, they took her and they won't let me see her,” she managed to say.

You put your hand on her shoulder to reassure her, ‘I know, I'll take care of it, okay?’

You walked down the few steps towards the fountain where a meditation session was taking place around an idol. Suspicions of a ritual aimed at closing the grove to the world ran from one mouth to the next, a further sign of the descent into ostracism of the latter. Angry druids acted as smugglers, dictating who or what could pass through.

“Stop right here, step back and join the other tieflings”, Jeorna said mechanically, arms folded defensively.

“Let me through, you and I both know I can solve this without any blood baths.” You weren't necessarily strong, nor did you have an innate talent for fighting, but if there was one thing you knew how to do it was to be eloquent, enough you hoped to allow all these worries to be sorted out.

Jeorna pouted, chewing the inside of her cheek as she gave you a simple nod towards the druids' stone door.

“Thank you,” you thanked hastily as you hurried towards it. 

You felt the heavy gaze of all the druids on your back, the weight of your responsibility and your difference in this environment becoming almost suffocating.

You walked past the wall, down the small staircase to the druidic quarters. Kagha was there, next to Arabella, who looked simply terrified. Your eyes fell on the rock beside the girl, the glint of the druidess's vicious pet snake ready to attack at any moment.

“What's going on?” you asked as you approached. 

All eyes turned to you, Arabella's filled with hope while Kagha's face contorted as if a pestilential smell had suddenly taken over the place.

“What are you doing here?” she stormed.

“And what are you doing here ?” you asked back, maintaining a firm tone.

“One of your kind has tried stealing the idol of Silvanus, a punishment is required for such an act.”

“So you'd be ready to threaten a child's life for a... piece of rock?” you asked, confused.

Kagha parted her lips, preparing to reply something, but the very simplicity of your sentence seemed to bring her back down to earth. This little affront, though, which in her eyes seemed designed to belittle Kagha's credulity in the eyes of the druids, made her boil internally.

“I maintain, a punishment will result for her.” she grimaced, her face bitter and twisted with anger.

“If anyone is going to be punished, it certainly won't be a child.” Your eyes lowered to Arabella, her eyes full of tears, “Let me receive what she must receive.”

The other druids took offence in murmurs, a cloud of low whispers encircling you all as you kept your eyes on Kagha.

“Nonsense,” she laughed, a touch of panic and surprise taking over her tone, “she's the criminal in this instance.”

“Since when do we judge children as criminals in this way?” You raised an eyebrow, shrugging your shoulders in incomprehension. “Kagha, this goes against every principle of your order.”

“Don't talk to me about principles, you vermin.’

Any diplomacy you might have shown was slowly fading as Kagha showed her true colours.

“Kagha,” Rath said as if he'd just been punched in the stomach by hearing her speak like that, “stop this nonsense.”

You took a step towards her, then a second, approaching her slowly and never taking your eyes off her. Some people see the underworld in the horns and tails of the tiefling, but your gaze burned with the fires of the Nine Hells.

“And what are you going to do, hm?” you asked as your face came so close to her you could feel her quick breath against your cheeks, “trap me in vines ? get your little pet to bite me wherever you please ?”

“Don't give me ideas,” she added in an evil, mocking tone, “my judgement will be-”

“What is going on?”

All eyes turned towards the entrance to the room, except yours, which remained riveted on Kagha. You hadn't seen much of him, but you knew his voice well enough to recognise him: Halsin.

Kagha took a step away, quickly whispering to her snake to come back to her before saluting, full of surprise: 

“Halsin, you're back.”

Arabella ran towards you, gripping your thigh tightly with her little arms as you felt the fabric of your trousers dampen with her tears.

You tilted your head to the side, still watching Kagha. You had this deep longing, this need for her to remember your gaze, to remember for all the days to come of her eternal life that she would know the anger you bore for all your kind nestled just in your eyes.

Halsin came down the steps, his two arms tensed by the two huge baskets he was carrying. He came towards you, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched Arabella's back twitch. You put your hand on her hair, stroking it gently as she turned her head and her teary eyes met Halsin's. 

He turned to Kagha, who still looked as surprised as ever.

“What is the meaning of this ?” he asked, confused.

Kagha fixed her gaze on yours, expecting you to reveal everything in your embittered state. You stared at her for a long time, then turned to Arabella, exhaling in relief.

“Nothing,” you managed to say calmly, “Arabella just got lost and was scared by the wolves.”

The druids' animals were a perfect excuse for the moment, and Kagha was looking at you with huge eyes. You weren't trying to fuel the fire of hatred, you were trying to calm it down and eventually extinguish it so that you could live together in peace. Throwing her to Halsin’s wrath wouldn’t help either of your peoples. 

Halsin smiled, his eternal gentleness spreading across his face as he knelt beside Arabella. She sniffed, clutching tightly at the fabric of your trousers.

“I can see how they might frighten you, but they've got a good heart,” he said.

He lowered his hand to one of the baskets, taking a handful of wild strawberries that he'd gone to pick along with some other medicinal herbs. He took a small brown cloth bag and poured the red fruits into it. 

“Here,” he said, handing the small bag to Arabella.

She took it in her hand, smiling at him as she sniffed from the tears.

“She should thank you,” said Kagha.

Her venom clearly knew no bounds, and the acrimony you felt towards her was not about to subside.

“She's had a great scare, I'm not going to ask her to be polite,” asserted Halsin.

“Come on sweetheart,” you said, taking Arabella's free hand, “let's get you back to your parents, okay?”

She nodded, squeezing your hand as you headed for the exit. You gave Kagha one last dark look, her eyebrows furrowing as she bit the inside of her mouth.

You took the little girl back to her parents, who took her in their arms. They dried her tears and asked if she was all right, if anyone had hurt her.

“This needs to stop,” said one of the tiefling, “we can't live in fear of what they'll do to us all the time.”

And he was right, you had to find a way to keep your people safe. When evening came, you went up to the telescope that Nadira was occupying, assuring her that she could go to sleep.

You needed a break from all the pressure. You were trying to prevent a conflict breaking out between two completely different peoples who had to live together. The prejudices of your race didn't leave you with an easy task, and this supposed ritual that the druids had started...

You watched the stars, hoping they would give you advice and answers to your questions.

“Beautiful, isn't it ?”

You almost jumped as you turned your head towards Halsin, who came to sit across from you on the cut log.

“Nature has always brought beauty everywhere, in the skies, on the grounds, even in people,” he smiled, resting his forearms on his knees.

You sighed, watching the skies. “If only all people had the beauty you speak of within them.”

"It's a part of nature to be as deadly as it is beautiful.” he said, shrugging as his eyes drifted to the sky in turn. “Plants will make their poisons, predators will make their prey, roses will make their thorns. It's a part of it, just like within each and everyone of us lives a part of light and a part of darkness. We're made in nature's image, after all.”

You leaned back on the rock against which you were sitting, looking at him. He was so serene, so gentle. It seemed impossible at the time to consider that he had any darkness in him.

“What can a rose do against a sheep and its hunger?” you asked, curious.

He laughed softly, his eyes landing on yours as he faced you. “I guess she can't do much, she can try her best with her claws but... nature is as beautiful as it is cruel.”

There was a melancholy in his sentence, hidden behind the softness of his smile.

“Has nature disappeared in the Shadowlands?”

His smile slowly faded, his honey-coloured eyes illuminated by the moon watching you.

“It has not disappeared,” he said, “it has... shifted, been turned into something dark, something undead that defies the laws of nature itself.”

You nodded, your tail coming to rest on your lap.

“Maybe the shadowlands is the only place where the rose can sting the sheep,” you said, gently brushing away the dust that had settled on your skin.

You could feel him looking at you, and you didn't know whether you wanted him to go on forever, or for your eyes to meet his and for him to look away.

“Is that why you're so absent from the grove?” you asked as you finally found the strength to look up and meet his eyes again. “To search for a way to cleanse the land?”

He nodded, smiling gently. “Indeed. The shadows of the past haunt me, they have been doing so for the last hundred years.”

You sometimes forgot how wise he was, how many lives he'd lived, how many lovers he must've had… You find yourself thinking about the question for a moment. His kindness was unparalleled, his generosity and selflessness boundless, and to top it all off: By the Nine Hells, he was handsome.

You wondered if he had a partner, if he had vowed never to love again after his one and only love, or if he wasn't interested.

You straightened up, kneeling before him as he looked at you with surprised eyes.

“Halsin,” you began as you looked into his eyes. “I know that you try to do good in every place that has suffered, it is a noble goal I can't deny it.” You sighed, the despair of the last few days weighing on your shoulders as you loosened them. “But you have to understand that I am starting to be the only one trying to keep the grove at peace.”

His lips parted. You stood up, wiping the dirt from your knees.

“And the grove is not part of the past,” you said to him as he stood, “it's now or never.”

You waved goodbye for the night, leaving to find your sleeping bag in the subterranean caverns while you hoped that your words would have brought him some clarity.

The next morning, ready to take part in the day's gatherings and help in the grove, you learned that Halsin had left earlier that morning, and that once again there had been no news from him.

Your hopes were gradually crumbling.

The rumour that a druidic ritual to close the grove off from the rest of the world had been set in motion under Kagha's orders was well-founded. You sighed, hoping that Halsin would return during the day and not be absent any longer.

Another member of the grove seemed to be missing. Old Auntie Ethel was nowhere to be seen near her stall of potions and other health elixirs. So it fell to you to supervise it during the day.

Night came, and just as you were about to go to bed, Arabella and the other children came running to you, screaming.

“Do you want to wake the whole place up?” you shouted in a whisper.

“You've got to come and see, quick!” urged Arabella as she pulled you along.

The children crept towards the fountain, and you followed them, wondering what they had been up to. You passed the stone wall, descending the steps to the druids' quarters.

“Are you insane? Do you want to get yourself killed coming here?” you scolded them in silence.

“We've found something you really must see!”

They took you to the centre of the room and made you wait there, passing behind some vines to open what you recognised as a chest in the half-light.

They came back to you with a letter in their hands, holding it out to you insistently. You took the letter in your hands, and what you read in it made your blood run cold.

Shadow druids. Kagha had allied herself with them.

“What are you doing here?!” 

Kagha's furious voice echoed around the room, the little ones next to you flinching.

"Go back to bed,” you said firmly to the children as your eyes locked on Kagha's. 

“But-”

“No buts, you're going back. Now.”

The kids didn't wait a second longer, running for the stairs.

“You're not going anywhere,” Kagha shouted as she came towards them, but you blocked her path.

“So you’ve chosen the Shadow Druids,” you said bitterly, pointing to the letter.

Kagha's face broke, realisation washing over her face with a meagre transition to raw anger.

“You'll never understand anything,” she spat.

You frowned, a flash of destructive malice shining in her eyes.

“Always getting in the way where nobody wants you,” she said, looking at you with disgust and contempt, starting to circle you like a wolf around its next meal, like a predator around its prey, like a sheep around its rose. “You think you have every right here. You and your kind think that you can steal anything you can get your hands on, destroy the order of the grove, intrude on the tranquillity it offers, and you think you'll never have to pay anything in return.”

She chuckled, watching your gaze darken. “You'll never be welcomed, and I'll see to it personally.”

Kagha drew her scimitars, and you braced yourself for whatever injury it might cause.

It was an unfair fight, you had no weapon, no spell, nothing to protect yourself with. All you could hope to do was dodge. She sliced an arc through the air towards you, and you stepped back. She made another strike that split the air, but still couldn't reach you. You were agile, and that worked in your favour.

You ran the length of the room, jumping and trotting to avoid her attacks, but you didn't have time to read the labels on all the potions on display, or the contents of the parchments lying here and there, which could have been of great help to you.

Kagha got fed up with chasing you soon enough, and her voice boomed through the room when she said: “Flagellum!”

A bramble whip wrapped itself around one of your ankles, knocking you off your feet and taking your breath away as you hit the ground. The thorns of the whip dug deep into your leg, and you could already feel the blood spreading under the fabric of your trousers.

You tried to get to your feet but Kagha punched you in the face and cut your lip, rolling you onto your back as she knelt on your arms to stop you doing anything.

“Did you honestly think everything was going to work out?” she said through clenched teeth as she pressed the tip of her scimitar into your arm, “That everything would work out perfectly and we'd find a balance?”

The blade of her sword dug in past the fabric of your shirt, the pain slow and making you grunt. “Never, never would both sides have emerged victorious,” she growled as she withdrew the blade from the flesh of your arm, coming to place it under your throat.

You held your breath, were you going to die like this?

“The shadows were always the answer.”

And as you tried as best you could to shake off the thorns tugging at your leg or to lift your arm out of her grip, you felt the metal covered in your own blood pressing against your neck.

“Kagha!”

Halsin's voice echoed around the room, Kagha turning and letting her attention wander enough to loosen her hold on you. You kicked at the ground to push yourself away from her, the brambles wrapped around your leg making you grunt as you managed to put some distance between you and her.

She sat up, panicking. Halsin was with Rath, the children must have alerted him and found Halsin on the path.

“Halsin, I can explain-” Kagha stammered.

“Your fate will be decided tomorrow. You let yourself be devoured by power, and for that you will be judged,” Halsin said, trying to restrain his anger. “Rath, take her to one of the cells.”

His eyes fell on you on the floor, bloodied, his fist clenching until his knuckles were white.

“I'll look after her,” he said, walking slowly towards you.

You tried to calm your breathing, to take your mind off the fact that you'd just had a brush with death and it had left its scarlet signature on your throat.

He knelt down beside you, examining your leg, surrounded by brambles. He brushed away the thorns and the vine, letting his hand fly over it, but leaving open wounds all the same.

You watched him as he examined you, and noticed that he too was injured. Blood was beading from his forehead and his salient arms were covered in scratches. 

His eyes came back to you, and he brought his hand to your chin. Your body instinctively recoiled, and his eyes softened. Tenderly, he ran his fingers over the drying blood on your throat, his eyes drifting to the arm you were holding, which was staining your hand red.

He sighed, and the muscle in his jaw tensed, your cheeks warming at the sight. He turned towards you again, wrapping one arm under your knees while the other encircled your back.

“Hold on to me,” he indicated as your able-bodied arm came around his neck.

He lifted you as if you weighed absolutely nothing, pressing your body against his and making sure he didn't hurt you.

He began to walk, taking you towards what appeared to be his own quarters.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

You pressed your head against his chest, sighing as you gradually came down from all that emotion.

“The children brought me back here to read a letter. Kagha has joined forces with the Shadow Druids, and she intends to perform The Rite of Thorns and cut the grove off from the rest of the world.”

“The Rite of Thorns?” repeated Halsin, not quite believing it.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sighing, a nervous chuckle running up your throat, “she doesn't fancy us.”

He walked through the doorway into his room, which was deeply filled with plants, bags of herbs and a bookcase full of nature reading. He set you down on his bed, which was absolutely huge. It was strange that an elf should grow so tall, and the bed reminded you of that. You looked round the four corners of his room, filled with plants climbing the walls and unvarnished wood.

Halsin didn't ask you any questions at the time, suspecting that your mind was wandering between what had just happened and the present moment. However, as he closed the door to his room to avoid any further worries, he couldn't help asking you a question: “You seem surprised,” he asked as he turned to his shelves to prepare his remedies. “Why?”

His question snapped you out of your reverie, and you turned to face him. His back was facing you, and your thoughts took a different turn for a moment. Enough, however, for your cheeks to heat up.

“It's just... I thought you were so connected to nature that you would just sleep outside on the grass.”

He chuckled softly, turning to the table that was to serve as his desk as well as his workbench.

“Most of the time that's the case, but you have to admit that the comfort of a bed is sometimes more pleasant than the rock, or a rod that ploughs your back.”

“Don't you sleep in bear form, though ?” you asked, trying to adjust your posture so as not to let drops of blood fall onto his sheets.

“I do, but I can't stay in its shape forever.” he stated, pressing herbs, fats and other ingredients into a mortar. “Going back to instincts at all times can do no good to us all.”

You hummed, nodding in agreement.

Your eyes fell on your ripped sleeve, the light glinting off your open wound as it drifted down your leg. The fabric of your trousers was speckled with black spots, the blood taking precedence over its original colour.

You wanted to apologise, for the blood, for your presence here, for the trouble your people had caused. But could you blame your people for simply living? Sure, children pilfered, and the history attributed to your race didn't help prejudice, but to the point of closing down an entire place simply by your presence? No, you couldn't apologise.

Not when you were helping them, not when you were doing your best to contribute to the serenity of the grove.

Not when that crazy Kagha had almost taken your life on the sole pretext of your appearance.

“Why did you leave ?” The question escaped your lips, a little more shakily than you had hoped from the tightness in your throat.

Halsin turned to you, frowning. 

“Last night, were my words flat of meaning?” you could feel an intense knot in your throat.

He came towards you slowly, bowl and leaves placed on the ground as he knelt in front of you. Even so, he reached your sitting height. His lips were parted, his gaze soft and attentive.

Your heart broke, and your voice cracked as the beast of sadness clawed at your eyes and throat.

“You left me, after I told you I needed help,” you cried, hot tears of anger and exhaustion running down your cheeks.

“I-” began Halsin.

“You left me.” you repeated, your lips and chin quivering as you saw the reflection of your demonic eyes in Halsin's. You lowered your head, closing your eyes as you brought the back of your good hand to cover them.

All of a sudden, everything fell apart. The quarrels you had to watch over every day, the hard work you put in to make yourself look right, your escape from death tonight and the constant insults and hatred took their toll on your strength and made you break down.

Your face twisted with fatigue, tears trickling down your nose to your chin. You twitched, you were so tired.

Then, like someone covering you with a warm blanket, Halsin came and took you in his arms. He wasn't afraid of your dark eyes, or of being pierced by your horns in his arms, or of your claws that could be used as a weapon. His arms wrapped around you, and you felt so small and safe in them.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly as one of his hands caressed your back.

You began to sob again, your hands coming to rest on his broad back and holding him close to you as if this candour were going to vanish at any moment. You didn't know that you needed this embrace. To be held, to be comforted, to be safe in his arms. He didn't say anything, just stroked your back and hair gently, letting your tears and emotions flow into the silence.

When it seemed that you had no more tears to shed, and that you had calmed down, you remained like that against him.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled against his shoulder. “for the blood, and for screaming at you and... for the trouble of my people.”

Halsin pulled away from you, and you regretted his action. Part of you wished you'd stayed there, in his arms, talking softly with an open heart.

The thought that your reaction would have been different if it hadn't been him who had embraced you came to mind, and your still swollen eyes met his, full of tenderness and understanding. He took your face in his hands, and your head seemed very small at that moment.

“This is far from being your fault, little bird,” he assured you, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears on your cheeks. “I left you alone in the face of the fiercest of enemies: ignorance.”

“Yes, but I could have probably done better, at keeping the peace of the Grove in one piece.”

“Look where this led you,” he said softly as he eyed your leg, your arm, and your cut lip for longer than the previous two before coming back to your eyes. “You'll never stop compromising your own well being to help others, will you ?”

“I guess that makes something we have in common.” You smiled, and it was contagious enough for Halsin to mirror you.

“I cannot deny it, but I cannot deny the fact that you having been hurt because of my mistakes and blindness fills me with intense dread and guilt.” One of his hands ran along your shoulder until it came to the cut of your arm, his fingers pinching the fabric as his second hand came to hold your arm. ”May I ?”

You nodded, and Halsin waited no longer before tearing off your sleeve with total ease and setting the fabric aside. He stepped back slightly, placing both hands just above your knee, his gaze on you as he waited for you to confirm. You nodded once more, and the fabric, stronger than your shirt, tore like the transparent film covering the egg yolks. 

Your leg and arm were burning, tolerable of course, but that didn't stop it from being extremely unpleasant. He took a basin, placing both your feet in it, and conjured up water which ran down your legs and cleaned your wounds.

Halsin watched the wounds, muttering under his breath words that you didn't fully understand. The only thing you could translate from him at the moment was his frustration.

“It's going to be a bit cold,” he warned, almost in a whisper.

He took the green goo he'd concocted, spreading it with his fingers over your wounds as you shuddered and breathed in through your teeth.

“Why not simply use a healing spell?” you asked as he placed a leaf on the poultice.

“Kagha fights with poison, her scimitars can be coated with it by occasions, and I don't doubt that her link to the Shadow Druids might have altered her magic to the point where these thorns could be poisoned as well.” He turned to the next wound on your leg, “And I prefer to use real remedies if that's the case.”

You watched him at work, carefully applying the mixture and then pressing a leaf onto it.

“Are your wounds related to the reason you left today?” you asked.

His eyes drifted to the scratches on his arms, as if he'd forgotten about them.

“Yes, it so happens that one of the druids came to warn me in the morning of a problem not far from the forest. I suppose you see who Madame Ethel is?”

“I replaced her today at her stall,” you replied.

“We went to her house, it seemst that the Sunlit Wetlands have been profoundly changed by an evil that Ethel spread. She was a hag.”

You frowned. “Was?” the past tense made you doubt things had gone as planned.

“I went there on my own and as I entered the swamps I realised that something was wrong. It was when I got to Ethel's cottage that I realised her true identity, leading me to tracking her down deep underground to get to the bottom of it. She poisoned this land, I couldn't let her get away with destroying nature forever. I ended her henchmen and took care of her right after. A hag knows how to defend herself, she left me with a few meagre memories that will be gone soon enough but she was a tough opponent.”

Halsin had been out all day, investigating and risking his life to flush out a Hag who was deceiving the people in the grove into thinking she could help them. Who knows the next person she would have picked out and brought back to her cursed shack?

You also knew that Halsin preferred to avoid bloodshed as much as possible, and that he had spent a whole day killing creatures in the marshes. The guilt was creeping up your cheeks and up the back of your neck.

“And I screamed at you for doing something right, by the hells I'm so stupid,” you sighed as you brought your hand to your forehead.

Halsin smiled, regaining your eyes as he finished with your leg. “You had your reasons to be angry. I don't blame you, I don't know how I would have reacted either if I were in your situation.” He straightened up, dipping his fingers into the cup again before gently spreading the contents over your wound. “I never thought you had so much to endure by yourself. Between us both, I am the one that should be sorry.”

You said nothing, simply watching him at work. Once the last leaf was in place, he looked at your split lip, and your cheeks heated up like the inferno.

Halsin hooked your chin, his thumb pressing just below your lip as he watched the cut with a look you couldn't quite make out. Your cheek had swollen slightly, Kagha hadn't gone easy on you.

“Punch?” he asked simply, without taking his eyes off your lips.

“Mhm,” you simply hummed, hoping with all your heart that Halsin wouldn't feel your frantic heartbeat on your lip.

His thumb flew over the skin of your lip without ever touching it, murmuring: “Te curo.”

Your lip sealed, painlessly, with the electric sensation of magic emanating from his fingers.

He moved away, preparing to clean his utensils, but you stopped him. “May I?” you asked, pointing to his wounds. You wanted to help him in return, to do something, anything.

“It's just a few scratches,” he reassured you, “I can take care of those myself.”

“You took care of me,” you said as you tenderly took the bowl from between his hands, “Let me look after you.” He sighed, knowing you wouldn't flinch. He sat down properly in front of you, almost between your legs, placing his hands on the sheets not far from your hips, ready.

Just as he had done before, you said the incantation: “Aqua Pura.”

The water ran down his arms, cleaning his wounds until it ran up his temple to clear the cracked blood on his forehead.

“I didn't know you practised spells,” he said, surprised, “How did you learn?”

You dipped your fingers into the generous remains of the mixture, straightening up to gently apply it to his wounds.

“We were travelling during a summer so hot it felt like the underworld had swallowed us up again,” you began. “Hunger was an agony and madness we could endure, but the lack of water was starting to genuinely affect us. Luckily, some druids took us in for a few days in their temple. While some druids-to-be were training to learn spells, I was allowed to learn some of them alongside them. Nothing really extraordinary, just some healing spells, but above all a spell that would prove indispensable if the thirst returned: the creation of water.” You placed a few leaves delicately on his wounds, feeling his attentive gaze on your face.

“I told myself that, by coming here, I would find the precious help that had been given to me and my people,” you moved on to his second arm, “but I don't know if I was right.”

You felt an electrifying warmth settle on your thigh, Halsin's hand having rested tenderly in compassion on it.

“I'm terribly sorry that my absence and ignorance led you to doubt the help you were entitled to receive. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to put an end to this nonsense.”

You gave him a tender smile. You trusted him, after all he had just saved your life. You tilted your head to one side, your fingers tucking behind his pointed ear a stray lock of hair that must have fallen out of his bun during a day full of fighting. You applied the last of the poultice to his wound.

“I'm grateful that you came tonight,” you said. You cupped his face, looking into his eyes before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”

Halsin seemed surprised by the touch, but smiled softly, straightening up and turning to face a wooden chest of drawers. He pulled out a shirt and trousers which, from what you could imagine just by looking at them in the half-light, would be far too big for you.

“You can take my quarters for the night-” He paused for a moment, watching your arm, and clutched the clothes in his hand. “Would you... need help putting these on ?”

Despite Halsin's care and attention to help with your injuries, your arm and leg were still hurting intensely. You couldn't find words that wouldn't make you sound desperate, so you simply nodded, your heart racing again.

He came to kneel beside you once more.

“Can you stand up for me?”

You tried to stand up, pushing on your good leg to keep yourself upright. You almost lost your balance, but Halsin took hold of your waist to keep you in place. Keeping his eyes on you, he took one of your hands and placed it on his shoulder.

“Hold on to me,” he offered.

He brought his two giant hands to your belt buckle, loosening it and unbuttoning your trousers, sliding them gently down your legs, taking care not to move the poultices. His fingers brushed against your skin, under which little fireworks sparkled.

Once the trousers were off, he took the ones he'd pulled out for you in his hands, a sort of sirwal pants that was loose-fitting and wouldn't touch your wounds too closely. 

The fabric was thin, and his warm hands running up your legs sent shivers down your spine. You hoped he wouldn't notice them, that the half-light and the cold on your bare skin would be enough of an alibi. You wrapped your tail around your leg so that it didn't stick out too far from your pants.

He tied the lace of the latter around your waist, not tightening it too much. Then he raised his eyes to yours, his hands still on your hips, gently pulling you back onto the bed to sit up.

“May I?” he asked again.

And again you nodded.

His hands moved up from your hips to your waist, gripping the sides of your shirt and helping to pull you out of the fabric. The cool night air spread over your back, but its freshness couldn't quell the fire in the back of your neck as Halsin's eyes bore down on you.

There was a moment of hesitation, of expectation almost. Waiting for a gesture, a sound, a look that would mean yes.

But Halsin inhaled deeply, taking the shirt between his fingers, rolling up the sleeves so that you could slip it on without worry. The shirt seemed as long as a dress, reaching halfway up your thighs.

He pulled the covers over his bed, opening them so that you could slide under them.

“Get some sleep, if you have a problem, I won't be far,” he said as he tucked you in properly.

“Okay,” you assured him.

He looked at you for a moment, his hand coming to brush a strand from your face.

“Sleep well,” he said before standing up.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

And he left.

Your lungs let out a breath they'd been unconsciously holding. You took the duvet and covered your head as if it could hide you and mute your heart.

Your duties as leader had, for most of your life by now, forced you to put aside advances or the idea of romance to keep your head on straight. But Halsin was getting in the way, shattering the wall of protection you'd built for yourself.

You could feel the fabric of his shirt on your body, a caramelised smell of wood, tall grass and warm stone permeating the fabric. His smell.

You surrendered yourself to its comfort.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. The long day's work and your near-death experience had made you very tired.

It was the sun streaming through the windows that woke you up, its warm caress on your arm and face providing a pleasant morning kiss. You had no idea what time it was, you didn't know how long you'd been asleep, but it had been more than restorative.

Swapping the sensation of rocks and gravel scraping your back every night for sleeping on a straw mattress with a real bed worked wonders. What's more, your arm and leg weren't hurting so much any more. Halsin's poultices had sucked out all the poison they could, and the wounds had largely healed.

You tried to sit up, then to stand up. You took off the trousers, turning them the other way round and putting them on again to let your tail slip under the lace so that you didn't have to keep it wrapped around your leg.

There was still a little weakness and numbness in your leg, but fortunately it wasn't unpleasant enough to stop you from walking.

You rolled the fabric around your ankles to avoid tripping over the length of the pant legs, and walked out of the room. The place seemed deserted, so you set off back outside the Druid quarters to find your people. They must have been worried, and you feared that the absence of their leaders had led to a catastrophe while you were resting.

The druids' cave was empty too, which was most unusual.

You reached the stone door, passed through it and fell silent.

Around the fountain of Silvanus, the druids had gathered. The rite had stopped, much to your relief, but there was a real sense of tension.

Kagha was on trial before her entire circle.

You didn't move any further, not daring to violate this sacred and serious moment.

“Kagha,” Halsin spoke as he stood in the centre of the fountain, high up where the idol of Silvanus once stood. “During my absence, two papers representing evidence of your connection with the Shadow Druids were found. The first,” he pointed to the letter you had read the day before, “was found in your chest here in the Grove. And the second,” he held up a second letter for all to see, passing these two to the other Druids so they could all read them, “in the swamps.”

You crossed your arms, attentive.

“Yesterday, following rumours that proved to be true, I began a cleansing of the sickness that had taken over these lands. During this operation, however, on my way to one of our ancient sacred trees, I found this paper in a hole in a false bark.”

The druids' eyebrows furrowed one by one as they read and heard Halsin's arguments.

“The hatred and contempt of others for Kagha led her to join the Shadow Druids.”

There were shocked murmurs and surprised looks were directed at Kagha, who seemed to be dying of shame and guilt.

“These ideas and behaviours led her to want to perform The Rite of Thorns,” he turned to you, his gaze resting on yours, “and to come to violence.”

He called your name, and in an instant all eyes were on you. 

He came down the steps of the fountain, coming to you so that you could lean on him and walk to your people.

“Kagha even went so far as to attack the leader of the tieflings and deliberately wound her in an attempt to kill her.”

Shock was rising among the druids, and your people all came to you as soon as Halsin had brought you close enough to them, who were waiting on the steps leading to the fountain.

Halsin turned back to the druids.

“Many stories were relayed to me during the night by the Tiefling, accounts unworthy of the status of druid and protector of nature. Kagha was prepared to kill a simple, frightened child in need of help.”

Kagha looked down at her feet, her face contorted with guilt. 

“Every druids in our circle will exchange as to your fate, Kagha, for we cannot remain indifferent to your actions.”

Two druids came and grabbed Kagha's arms, leading her towards the stone door. The rest gathered round, chatting frantically amongst themselves.

The children hugged you, tears in their eyes as they asked you what had happened. The parents and the others were furious that this pest had had the audacity to touch you. Zevlor pushed them aside, insisting that you were hurt and needed some air after all that had happened.

“You scared the hells out of us, are you alright ?” he asked.

“Everything's fine, more fear than harm,” you reassured him. “I've spoken to Halsin, things are going to be alright.”

Halsin walked towards you, and Zevlor took the opportunity to move all the tiefling away so that he and you could have a private conversation.

“Slept well I presume?” he asked, a charming smile gracing his lips.

“Best sleep I've had in ages,” you confirmed, leaning against a wall to keep yourself upright and not put too much weight on your leg.

“How are you feeling?” he questioned, placing his palm on your forehead to see if you had a fever, then taking your arm in hand to roll up the sleeve and see the state of your wounds.

“Better than I expected. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up.”

“I'd rather not imagine,” he assured. “I spoke to Zevlor and the others last night to explain the situation, and their explanations were very surprising. I honestly had no idea what was going on here.”

“I think we came very close to a catastrophe,” you confirmed, your eyes riveted on his.

“Why did you lie,” he began, “when I came back and Arabella was crying?”

“I thought... blaming each other wasn't going to solve anything. I just hoped that Kagha would understand that she had made a mistake.” you say, your eyes drifting over the fountain which, until recently, was an object of constant torment. “Besides, I was alone in a whole room of druids who were supposed to obey her, I didn't know how things could develop with so much tension.”

“I understand why you did what you did, but I beg you: if ever in the future any incident of this kind should happen again, I ask you to come and see me and tell me about it. What do you say, little bird?”

The nickname for the second time made your heart leap into your chest.

“All right,” you assured him.

“Good,” he turned to the group of druids still chatting. “I must get back, but be assured we will have a long discussion necessary for the balance of the grove after this.”

“I'll wait patiently,” you smiled at him as he turned to leave.

The verdict came, and Kagha was exiled. Halsin came to find you, and a long conversation about recent events ensued.

At the end of it, he came to the conclusion that he had to ensure that his presence was  in the daily life of the grove until you could all leave peacefully.

You and Halsin looked after the harmony of the Grove between the druids and the tiefling, while you helped him with the purification of the land.

There were many things you and Halsin didn't say, glances that lingered, closeness that went beyond the merely professional, and a tension in the air that needed to be broken.

The goblin camp that had so far caused problems was deserted thanks to some travellers, and soon a party was organised for the tieflings' departure.

The evening before departure came, and the Bosquet fountain was decorated as if in a real fairytale. Garlands of magical fireflies hung in the air, butterflies fluttered everywhere, and the dishes scented the night air.

Alfira played her lute with other druids for music, Vollo told the children fantastic stories, and everyone danced and enjoyed themselves.

You were wearing a dress sewn by the druids in gratitude for peace, with a relaxed, elegant cut, made from their own fabrics and detailed with lace made from spider's webs. Your horns were adorned with jewels, your eyes highlighted with make-up and perfumed with delicate flower essences.

It was Halsin's turn to arrive at the fountain, wearing a superb suit in shades of brown and green that blended perfectly to underline his elegance.

He greeted a few people, his gaze roaming over the crowds before finally settling on you, his eyes roving up and down your silhouette in what seemed like a trance. You smiled, bringing the cup of your drink to your lips.

He moved towards you after greeting most of the people.

“I almost didn't recognise you,” he admitted, “I'm glad I haven't been drinking yet, if I had I would have choked uponseeing you, and I wouldn't have had all my wits about me to properly appreciate this rare opportunity to see you like this.”

Heat rose to your cheeks.

“I hope my glass will let me hear and understand all the lovely things you have to say to me.”

“Then I can start with the most serious part,” he smiled, facing you, “I wish to travel with you.”

It was you who nearly choked at the announcement, turning to him, confused.

“Travel with us?”

“Only if you agree to receive me,” he continued, not wishing to impose this idea in any way. “The Shadow Lands still haunt me and I know that you must inevitably pass through them to get to Baldur's Gate. I simply ask to travel with you, to give you my help if need be, and…” his hand along his thigh came gently to take yours, “to spend more time with you.”

Your heart was racing in your chest, and you grinned until your cheeks ached and you started to laugh.

Halsin looked deeply confused, had you had more than one drink already, or had he simply said something ridiculous ?

“What is it?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing, it's just," you composed yourself, pressing his hand in yours, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me all that.”

His face relaxed, relief lowering his shoulders.

In the distance, Alfira and the orchestra were now playing softer music. 

He raised your clasped hands.

“Could I have the undying honour of dancing with you?” he asked.

“It would be my greatest pleasure,” you confirmed as you joined the group of dancers. You put your free hand on his shoulder, and his came to rest in the hollow of your waist.

“How long have you been thinking about asking me this, to travel with us ?” you questioned.

“Since the trial of Kagha, when things started to get better at the Grove,” he said, waltzing gently with you.

“And,” your smile widened, tilting your head back slightly, ’how long have you been thinking about wanting to spend more time with me?’

He couldn't help but smile back. ‘Since our discussion under the stars.

“About the sheep and the rose ?”

“Precisely the sheep and the rose,” he agreed. He moistened his lips, his eyes falling on yours. “And then the next night, after Kagha had wounded you.”

You remembered that night as if it had been etched in your memory forever. As well as the fear, the pain and the fatigue, you could never forget the feel of Halsin's hands on your body, or his smell, or his eyes on you.

“I have to admit I could barely refrain myself from keeping my touches polite,” he admitted, lowering his lips to your ear. "My hands were aching to linger on you."

“I wish you had never left them from me.” you confirmed in a whisper, his voice and breath on your neck making you shiver.

Halsin hummed, his chest vibrating against you. You were aware of how close you were, how the air you shared had thinned.

“Fortunately,” he murmured, his hand roaming over your back and bringing you a little closer to him, ”this is something I can remedy for both of us.”

Your breaths spread across your cheeks, your noses brushing.

“I want to have you by my side, in every land we roam, in every place we stay, under any sky that covers us.” he whispered as you felt the warm, tender skin of his lips graze yours. “I want you.”

Neither of you waited any longer to kiss, abandoning yourselves, to the feelings, to the envy, to the sweetness of the night.

Cheers of joy echoed around you, applause resounding throughout the grove. Halsin smiled against your lips, his hand cupping your face as he continued to kiss you.

Everyone celebrated your love, which had no intention of waning.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I turned my coworker in for using his phone?

☎️ for obvious reasons.

So I’m gonna put this up front: this isn’t actually about the phone, it’s about the coworker. The phone is just convenient.

Our players are me (35 AFAB), Coworker A (~30 M), Supervisor C (N/A M), D (N/A F), and L (N/A F).

So first, the reason I have beef with A: he has never had a conversation with me that didn’t involve hitting on me and/or inappropriate questions. These have included demanding to know who I voted for, how my paycheck is delivered, whether I’m in a throuple with my roommates, and whether I have a boyfriend, which wouldn’t be weird except it was literally the first question he ever asked me—he didn’t even know my name yet. After I yelled at him over the voting thing because he refused to take “I don’t discuss politics at work” for an answer FOUR TIMES, he tried to break my glasses when I put them down so I could put on my safety goggles.

You may be wondering why I haven’t turned A in for harassment, ESPECIALLY after the glasses incident. I have. The problem is, he’s very good at looking pathetic and saying “I was just _________.” In this case, he was just looking at my glasses (never mind that you shouldn’t be playing with someone else’s expensive medical device!), and just making conversation. In spite of the fact that he was ignoring his trainee and distracting me from my work, he somehow got away with this. After a few of my screwdrivers went missing the same day he went pawing through them and he broke my brand-new pen, C told him to stop having anything to do with me, that his attention WAS NOT WELCOME.

Now we get to L and D. They’re two of our coworkers who can solve just about any problem you have. Ever since A was warned off, I’ve noticed that if I’m working with L or D, suddenly A needs all kinds of help that keeps bringing him over to our machine, and he always seeks out help from whoever it is I’m working with—if I’m with L he’ll go to L, if I’m with D he’ll go to D. If you’re a dude and think I’m overreacting, go ask a couple of the women in your life—you probably know someone who’s had similar experiences. (And for the record, another coworker I only know to say hello to has commented that his behavior toward me makes her feel like “he wants to wear your skin or something.”) I don’t think A is actively dangerous, but he’s very clearly a creep—especially because he also has a girlfriend and baby and still keeps doing this.

Now we get to the phone. I work in a factory where we’re not allowed to have phones on the floor because we work with food product and a phone dropping in a box is a huge contamination issue, on top of which distraction at my job can lead to life-changing, possibly even life-threatening injuries. (I was on a machine that threw its chain drive once and the only reason I didn’t lose an eye is because there happened to be another machine piece between me and the snap.) So: phones are a big no. Management will look the other way for people in extenuating circumstances, like having a sick kid at home, but in those cases your phone is to remain in your pocket and if it rings and you need to answer, you have to leave the floor.

I have caught A texting FOUR TIMES in the last month. Once I caught the words on his phone screen, and he was making plans for a party. That’s definitely not extenuating circumstances, and twice I’ve found his phone in the product catch tray.

So: very against rules that are there for the safety of us and our end users, and if I turn him in he’s going to get a writeup and possibly even a termination, which would mean I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. On the other hand, if he gets fired for violating safety standards he’ll have a hard time getting new work, and his baby doesn’t deserve hardship just because Dad is a creeper. Also, while I don’t carry my phone on the floor, I worry that turning him in could lead to a blanket ban that affects those in extenuating circumstances, because I’m almost positive he’d try “I was just checking on the baby” as his excuse.

WIBTA?

[brucewaynehater101]

Love the blog! I have been thinking about what would be interesting ways for Jason to slowly adopt a 'no killing' philosophy. I want it to do nothing with Bruce Wayne or the Batfam (the self realisation is so so so much better,, plus I don't want it to be like... him forsaking his philosophy for... just family stuff, it has to be more) and I've been loving reading ur blog for the past few days so I was wondering if u have any thoughts on it.

I really liked Beast World's approach on it 😭😭, smth like that!! I also like the approach of how killing is actually vvv hard on Jason, and how he maybe uses it as sh sometimes. Interesting stuff methinks !!!!

Hi 👋 Thank you ^^ Very interesting premise!

Tw: Death, purposefully giving someone permanent disability, torture (?), let me know if I need to add more

I do think this depends on Jason's characterizing, but the main problem with Jason switching over to not killing is his main ideology with it:

The prison system is not adequately preventing hardcore repeat offenders from committing heinous crimes

It feels... Disingenuous if Jason just stops killing without this major flaw being fixed. Yes, maybe you could go, "It is not your job to harm yourself like that for everyone else," but he is a Bat. Giving their entire being to the cause is what they do.

In order for Jason to stop killing, he would need proof that other methods are working. Here's a few suggestions:

Blackgate/Arkham reform [and no one escapes for over a year]

Inhumane procedures/failsafes against high-risk criminals (such as bomb in the head, loss of limb, impairment, heavy medication use, brainwashing, etc.) [Wouldn't be killing, though]

Legal system fixing [would take years to implement, though]

Dangerous criminals shipped off to the Phantom Zone or some other virtually inescapable place

Some of these methods are impossible without the batfam, though :/

There is one ideology I can see Jason adapting in the meantime, however.

If they die, they stop suffering.

As long as someone puts the little notion into his brain, it will get the ball rolling. He would start to morph from killing shots to permanent injuries. Not only would this affect their quality of life, but their medical bills will become expensive. It's also a permanent reminder of what they've done (I'm not arguing for this method. This is a reflection of what might change his mind to refrain from killing).

As he slows or stops killing, he may find this to be preferable (lessens the blood staining his hands).

I also think the Outlaws could help him with these realizations. They may kill as well, but that would allow Jason to have open and honest communication about the costs.

Jason could also use his tactical prowess for designing personal hells for every person he deems worthy of it (like the real disgusting jerks out there).

In the end, he would refrain from killing unless he deems it necessary for his, his teammates, or civilians' safety.

As far as using killing being a form of SH, I can agree with that idea depending on the circumstances/how it's interpreted.

We could see how killing takes a literal tax on his soul, but I'd prefer to analyze how killing harms his relationships/support system (not talking about his friends. We stan them and their unwavering support).

The Bats, his family, are actively against killing. This is not an argument of whether they should or not. This is a statement about their boundaries. Jason knows that the Bats are against killing and that maintaining a relationship with them while killing would be extremely arduous, or, in some iterations, impossible.

We could argue whether or not Jason should even be part of the Batfam (for his own sake) or how he may have hoped they'd love him in spite of that. We could debate on how much Jason's independent actions should affect the Bats considering their vigilante status vs their family status.

Those are all separate but vital arguments.

Bottom line, Jason knew/knows that killing is a HUGE point of contention. How the others react (and, in some cases, they react horribly) is besides the point.

So, if Jason is trying to play nice with his family by not murdering anyone, he could easily jeopardize himself/his relationships by killing again (this is not a discussion about how the Bats react/what Jason deserves). In one action, he would destroy everything.

I've seen a lot of fics where Jason renegades his agreement due to one of his family members being hurt. He ends up killing again due to the severity of the perpetrator's actions against his loved one(s). This is fabulous angst.

However, I haven't really seen one analyzing Jason killing again because of his low self-esteem. After months of not killing, he relapses in an effort to push everyone away from him with the eventual goal of impersonating a dumpster fire.

In this scenario, Jason kills again to scream, "Look! Can't you see? I am the monster I think I am. I don't deserve love/kindness. I don't deserve you."

Thus, him killing in these circumstances is actively harming himself and fucking up his life. A good batfam would communicate and help him through this. A bad batfam would allow Jason to distance himself or, worse, provide the punishment he feels he deserves (i.e. being banished from Gotham, being locked up, etc).

But, overall, I agree. Jason shouldn't change his methods just for his family. It's an important piece of his identity as a vigilante. He, as a murder victim, believes that death is justice for those wronged. While not all victims would agree to this, it is how Jason feels. He no doubt would be relieved and less fearful if the Joker was dead.

[good-beanswrites]

Fe Aspec Week Day 1: Coming Out

WOO It's aspec week time!! 💜💚 To no one's surprise I'm starting off with Lukas :3 I know we have the wonderful support convo when he and Python sort of come out to each other, but I was always curious about the loose ends that it brings up -- how he comes out to/is treated by his family, the woman he's left behind, his fellow nobles, etc. This drabble doesn't really answer any of those questions sadfsadf but it's coming from that thought 😂

Father,

I am writing to you now, so soon after my previous letter, as there is something I have yet to confess. It may be difficult for you to hear, but

The sentence stops abruptly, a small dab of ink at the corner of the ‘t’ where the pen had rested a moment in contemplation.

A man sits back at his at a desk. His candle illuminates the page, displaying a few brief lines at the top. He dips his pen in ink time and time again, but the page remains mostly empty. 

At first, the man believes his problem to be a lack of words. No title exists for men like him. He’s well-educated and well-connected in the army; he has an extensive vocabulary for how the upper and lower class categorizes its people. Whether it’s a scholar’s dull terminology, vulgar common language insults, or the carefully chosen phrasing of a gossiper, none of the usual descriptors fit him. All he has are the distantly connected criticisms he’d heard his whole life: “heartless,” “cold,” “detached.” 

When the candle burns lower, however, he realizes the real issue. He has far too many words.

Where would he even start? Should he describe his contentment with his life here? How not one of his fellows ever brought up the lack of a woman at his arm, or how dinners with the King and Queen themselves were filled with pleasantries that never touched on his romantic endeavors? Whatever his father had been preparing for, it had never come.

Or should he begin earlier, when he was first accepted by this group of people? He wasn’t sure if he could properly convey all that he experienced on that fateful night, speaking softly with the unit’s archer – a man he’d come to call one of his truest friends. The man had heard for the first time in his life that there were others like him. He heard that they were content. They were whole.

He could go back further and describe the moment that the realization first hit him. How his father had been right in a sense. Just as he said, one day when the man was grown, he would be in the arms of another, and everything about himself would suddenly make sense. There was only one difference. He’d been forced to bury that clarity, since it wasn’t the same kind that everyone else came to.

Or should he start even further back? He could recount all little hints that haunted him across his youth. His dreams for the future never quite aligned with those of his peers. Nothing ever seemed to align. His choice of stories to read, of games to play, of jokes to make. He wouldn’t ever claim he was mistreated as a child, but everyone would agree that the signs had appeared even then.

The man sighs. Where is the beginning, when one has always been this way? 

The clock strikes on the hour. It is late, and he will need to be at his sharpest tomorrow for drills and meetings. He has no more time to fret over words about his past. 

The man tries a new method, and wonders what his friends may write about him. He can’t resist a dry smile. He knows that he can never, under any circumstance, allow them to exchange any correspondence with his family. 

But the exercise gives him an idea.

He writes out a single statement. Then he blows out the candle and heads to his bed. 

there is nothing broken about me.

Cordially,

Lukas

[francis-writes]

In the dungeons

Judge Claude Frollo x fem!reader

Smut. I might got carried away.

You were standing in the hall of Palace of Justice, nervous and shivering. Not only it was cold there but also you never liked this place, it made you feel uneasy. Maybe it was the thought about all the people who were tortured and sentenced to cruel death in this building that caused your antipathy. In normal circumstances you would never come there but you needed to see your husband. He wasn't one of the poor prisoners - but who knows if it wouldn't be better for you. Your husband was no other than the infamous judge Claude Frollo.

Honestly, you wasn't worried when your parents decided that you should married him. Though his old age, in your opinion judge was still handsome and his authority and coldness somehow only made him more attractive to you. It was hard to decide whether you're friends were more frightened or disgusted when you told them about who's gonna be your husband but you always had a thing for older man. Well, maybe there was something wrong with you but at least you had fun.

I mean... for some time.

You shouldn't complain about your marriage. Frollo provided you safe, wealthy and comfortable life. You lived in grand mansion in Paris, without any duties, large group of servants helped you in everything and they were at your command. You could have almost anything, Claude was very lavish with you and he was willing to fulfil your every whim. He was smart, handsome, he cared about you and treated you with respect... your life was almost perfect. Except for one little detail. You felt lonely.

It sounded stupid but that's how it was. Your husband was very reserved and he rarely showed you any affection. He spent most of the time at work and when he came home, he was talking about his job. This... you could even understand. Due to the difference of age and passions between you, there was little amount of topic that interested both of you. But you talked with your friends. You always found yourself something interesting to do in your free time so you didn't need your husband to accompany you at the day. But at night - there was the problem. 

Claude didn't avoid his marital duties, he probably enjoyed them but you couldn't stand how boring and conservative your love life was. Sometimes you noticed a glimpse of desire in Frollo's eyes. You knew you were beautiful and your husband wasn't made of stone. But the bigot in him looked for sin in any pleasant activity and that's why sex between you always was so modest. And dull.

You were young and hungry for life - that's why you decided to visit your husband in work. You hoped that you'd be able to convince him to going home earlier than usual.

You knocked to the door of Frollo's office. Hearing cold "Come in", you entered the room with a bit of a worry and a bit of excitement mixed in your heart. He was sitting behind a desk, reading documents but when you came, he stopped working and looked at you surprised. 

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" Frollo asked with a note of irritation in his voice.

"I, uhmmm...." your throat became dry as you wondered what to say. Your husband had another disadvantage (though it was certainly very useful skill during interrogating prisoners): in his presence you always felt litlle and insecure, as if Claude was not your husband but an inquisitor arresting you.

(Fact that it was turning you on didn't help)

"I just wanted to see you" you finally said, immediately realizing how stupid it sounded.

Your husband raised an eyebrow.

"You saw me at morning and you would see me at evening when I come home. Is it not enough of my company for you?"

Oh God, it was bad idea. You tried frantically to find a good explanation for your visit.

"am I bothering you here?" You asked.

"No, not really" Claude steepled his hands "I simply thought you had an important reason to visit me"

You blushed. Well, this discussion was already awkward so you decided to be absolutely honest. What bad could happen? (Probably a lot of things but you didn't want to think about this now)

"So, I know this isn't the best moment to talk about this but I feel like I don't attract you"

(That wasn't actually true but it sounded better than "you're a goddamn prude and I want you to pound me as if your life depended on it")

"What?" Judge asked in a shocked tone.

"When we're together you seem so distant and cold... I understand that you have a reputation to uphold but... even when we are in bedroom-" God, you could feel your cheeks getting redder and redder "you... you don't seem interested and sometimes I feel that if we didn't spend nights together, it wouldn't make you any difference"

You felt silent, waiting for answer. Probably your husband would scold you for talking about such things in his work.

Claude looked at you, full of thoughts and inner turmoil. To say he didn't desire you was a complete lie. Since the very first moment he saw you, he thought you were incredibly beautiful and he looked forward for your wedding night. And after it, his feelings only intensified but he tried to hold back his desires and restrict his love life to make sure that he doesn't commit sin of leacherousness but the sight of you standing in front of him, blushing, made him forget about his doubts. Suddenly he had a wicked idea. If you felt that he doesn't desire you.. maybe it was a good time to show you what he fantasised about?

"I think that I can fulfill your needs" he said, getting up. "Just come with me".

You followed him, titillation and impatience seething in you, especially that you went down the stairs to the floor where prison cells and torture chambers were located.

When you entered one of the dungeons, Claude hanged the torch on a wall and locked the door.

"Why-" you wanted to ask but he interrupted you.

"I'm making sure that no one will find us. I have a reputation to uphold"

His stern voice and a little smirk on his face when he looked at you, made you shiver. Though you weren't sure whether it was a caused by fear or by excitement.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to see what I dream about when I look at you?"

You replied without hesitation.

"Yes"

"Then take off your clothes " he ordered. You blushed as you always made love in darkened room, under the sheets, but you began to take off your dress. You weren't going to disobey your husband, especially not now.

When you were finally naked, Frollo stood there for a moment in silence, eyeing you up as if he wanted to note every inch of your body in his memory. He probably still tried to hold his mask of a pious judge, but his face, his eyes, were barely hiding his desire and long tamed lust.

Finally Claude came closer and grasped your hands, then handcuffed them above your head. Position was highly uncomfortable but you didn't make a sound, wondering what would happen next. You could see a lot of different torture devices around the room (honestly you didn't even have idea how some of them worked) that only increased your fear.

You weren't able to turn your head much and see what's happening behind you, you could only hear footsteps of your husband so first lash of the whip was unexpected. You screamed loudly as ineffable pain pierced your back. You still couldn't see Claude but you had an impression that you heard a pleased gasp.

"I want you to count strikes while I'll be punishing you". And after a moment of consideration, he added "ehm, if you feel that you can't take it anymore... and you want to already stop, just say 》red《. Nothing else will stop me. Crying, groaning, whining, begging for mercy will be ignored. You understand?"

"Yes" you whispered. Your back felt as if it was in fire and you had no energy to speak but somehow... You wanted more.

"Speak louder, I can't hear you. And call me 》Your honor《. Clear?"

"Yes, your honor"

Then another strike hit you.

"Two!" You shouted, tears streamed down your face. Your voice was shaking, your back was burning, your arms ached because now you were almost hanging on them.

Another strike.

"Three!"

Now you openly started sobbing and whimpering.

"I am s-s-so sorry, your honor... I beg you, have m-mercy on me... I will d-do whatever you w-want!"

Frollo put bat aside and embraced you, with no regard for your hurt back. His one hand caressed your skin, wandering from your thighs, belly and spending longer time between your breasts. He buried his face in you hair, enjoying the  moment. After a while he rested his head on yours, pressing cruelly his body to your suffering back.

"If you're begging so desperately... I will have mercy"

He stood in front of you and freed your hands. You fell on your knees, too sore to stand.

Frollo smiled, enjoying the feeling of power that punishing people was giving him. He took of his robe and pants. Standing naked in the light of the torch made him feel uncomfortable but thought of having sex in clothes was simply unappealing for him.

He put his hand in your hair, stroking it gently.

"I'm lucky to have such obedient wife" he murmured.

You raised your head and looked up at him, with tears streaming down your face.

"Will you..." you gulped, unused to talking openly about intimate things with your husband. Ironically, you talked  about it with your friends, especially before wedding, trying to guess how your married life's gonna look like - but never with the one person it concerned. "Will you take me now... your honor?"

He crouched and took your chin if his hand.

"I thing you deserved it" Claude leaned over and kissed you. He never did it so passionately, aggresively even, before. At some point he bit your lip. You pulled of, surprised with sudden pain. You touched your lip. After seeing blood on your fingers you looked at your husband who was observing you carefully, and smiled. God, honestly you used to think about Frollo punishing you and having sex in dungeons but it felt much better than you could ever imagine. You wrapped your hands around his slender waist and sank in his lips. His hands were roaming your body, causing a pleasant shiver. You could barely breathe but you didn't want to interrupt the moment. After a moment you tried to pull Claude on the floor but he stopped you.

"No" he said standing up and grabbing your hand "there's a better place"

He led you to a massive table - or rather a rack - in the corner. As far as you were concerned, prisoner's hands and ankles were fastened to rollers on devices ends and executioner was stretching victims body until it caused excruciating pain.

"Get on it" Frollo ordered and you obediently followed his command. He began tying your hands to the rack.

"Are you gonna use it on me?" You asked jokingly but with a bit of anxiety. After all, you didn't know how far Claude wanted to take this game. Well, he told you that you can stop whenever you want and you supposed you can trust him.

"Maybe another time" he replied in a serious tone and kissed your neck, sucking on a delicate skin. Then he crawled on the top of you and stroked his member a few times until it got hard. He didn't fasten your legs to the table so you wrapped them around his hips.

"Are you ready your honor?"

He nodded with cocky smile and entered you.

It wasn't painful like the first time. For a long time it was awaited moment and you loved feeling him inside you, thrusting, feeling his warm breath on your neck and hearing quiet moans, proving that as much as he doesn't like to show this, your husband enjoys what you're doing. Usually your hands were wandering along his back, sometimes scratching it, but this time you were restrained and you could only arch your back when pleasure was too overhelming.

Finally, Claude came and fell on your body, breathing heavily. You wanted to move hair from his wet forehead but with tied hands, you could only raise your head a bit and kiss his cheek. Frollo kissed your lips and smiled.

"I love you, y/n. You know it right?" He said and you felt surprised. Of course, he was your husband but Claude rather avoided talking about feelings so you had to guess if he has any affection for you. This confession made your heart warm.

"I know, Claude, I know" you smiled. "And by the way, we need to do it more often"

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Teaching Evasive Maneuvers

Previous =-= Next

Author's note: More of Symith in mermay.

Summary: Symith and his younger brothers and cousins are patrolling, he spots a new arrival coming in. Realizes it's a Custodes and teaches rapid evasive maneuvers and gets them all back to base before the Custodes makes a splash.

Warnings: ... Let me know if I need to add more.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34

Symith is with the same mixed squad of Ultramarines and Space Wolves, all of them younger than him by decades, how they got here, was usually due to battle- and the strange twist of circumstances that had them from one breath to another There to Here. He's not one to ponder who gets chosen or why, and from what he's heard, even Custodes have been dropped onto Ancient Terra, not many, Thank the All-father, for they are far more dangerous than even the worst of Rampaging Khornate Space Marines.

He's heard the stories of whole pods of Space Marines being torn asunder, Loyalist, Renegade, and Chaos, because the Custodes deemed them unfit for Life, or because they wouldn't listen to the words of the Loyalists, explaining when and where they are. He suspects that they are trying to seek out the much younger version of The Emperor. Which, well- he wonders if they'll find him or not. He wonders if them being here will effect the time line, or if they are now in a new timeline, or if this will just be a temporary thing and won't actually affect things at all. Or- one of the younger space marines swims over to him with a concerned frown.

"You're bleeding from the nose," The young Apothecary with them says in concern, "Did you hit your head or something?"

"Ah- just got a wicked headache," He says waving the youngster off.

He had been... thinking about- oh, bad nope, not going to try going to think or poke at what is for Witches and Rune Priests to deal with. He's good at teaching and protecting and fighting, among other things. Such navel gazing and thoughts of philosophy and causality and other fancy-smancy nerd shit is for those of a higher intelligence than him. He allows the young Apothecary fuss over him as the Warp wipes away his thoughts on things that he should really not try to think too hard about. It just is.

"You didn't have to fuss so much," He says with a mild grumble

As they continue to patrol this area of the seas, on Ancient Terra, there had been some Excitement, some Idiot Chaos Psyker had tried to do some Great Working and it had twisted and gone wrong, and potentially really cursed an underwater cave system nearby.

Exactly where, he's not been told, mostly so he doesn't go poke at it with his bolter and get bitten by something Nasty. Also, another thing, there was some rumblings about a Nurglite Infestation that had nearly destroyed a Coral Reef ecosystem, that too, was being handled by those who are qualified to handle it. He had his squad are to try and see if they can find other Strange Things that might be happening, or Chaos Bastards who aren't where they are supposed to be.

Also, he's unsurprised that the Chaos Marines are Up To Shit, and Causing Problems On Purpose for everyone else. It's what they do, they are, after all, Chaos Marines. He has Opinions on this 'armistice' between the two sides, especially since he knows that certain factions within the Chaos Marine pods and shoals aren't doing their part of the deal as well as they should. The larger Chaos Marine Pods would claim that it was smaller shoals that aren't a part of the Alliance that lies at fault, but he's got his doubts on that. Even odds on whether it's true or not. He swims to the surface and looks up- he'd spotted something glittering and sparkling above him and then swum fast down to where the Scouts are.

"Boys!" He calls sharply.

Gratifyingly they all turn towards him swiftly. "We need to move out of the area- a new Custodes is landing in these waters."

They all seems startled and start to whirl, "Move it lads! I don't want to become shark chum from a raging Custodes having a fit from their arrival. We also need to let the Chapter Masters in the area know so they can decide on the approach. Now- get moving!"

They are all loyalists, but depending on when the Custodes is from, what they were doing, and where they were before coming to Ancient Terra... being Reasonable is Not something that was designed by the Emperor within his Golden Host. So- they are swimming, fast and in the deep and in a circuitous pattern- he's barking out orders to them to help them with evasion and hopefully, staying unnoticed by one of those Stuffy, Uppity bastards who were more likely to kill, than listen to anything anyone said, or pull their weight and bully any and everyone who knows exactly what they are to their advantage, taking more in supplies and resources, and knowledge faster than they usually allowed new arrivals to have.

But such was the Custodes- catering to those bastards whims.  New Custodes, are very likely to be Unbonded. Trying to risk sending a message to one of the Bonded Custodes about their newly arrived brother, usually they would deign to speak with their brother and explain things. Which was a better way, in his opinion, let the Bonded Custodes deal with unbonded Custodes and leave them out of it.

He thinks it had worked, none of them are dead without realizing it, and he's not heard the whale song- and booming crooning calls of a Custodes on a hunt, when they decided to be noisy. Informing the Captain in deck of what was going on had been fun, but since he's done his job, and now that problem is so far above his paygrade it isn't funny. He grabs his squad of Scouts and tucks them into one of the shared nests to make sure they are all safe, alright, and most importantly, do not be stupid and try to catch a glimpse of a Custodes. His boys are safest where he can see them, scruffing the Apothecary and tucking him into the middle of the group.

[bolognamayhem117]

Title: Rat-holed Memories.

Length: 4500 words

POV: Astarion

Pairing: Astarion/M!Elf!Tav(Rorik), rogue/paladin

Rating: MATURE 18+

Themes: mlm, consent, clarity of expectations, dissociation, manipulation, setting boundaries, light erotica, internal conflict.

Content Warnings: References to rape, incest, broken family dynamics, murder, slavery, mild knife play, anger, emotional outbursts.

Author notes: First and foremost, I created this character on my first playthrough after Robert and I bought the game a year ago. I picked up the controller with zero knowledge of the game's contents after being told you could play as a vampire. I said "That's bold of the developer, fuck it, I'll make Rorik's dumb ass and Smegol my way through the forgotten realms or whatever..." Turns out the person who told me that was referencing the Astarion Origin playthrough. I said "Screw It I'm Doing It Anyway! With the power of IMAGINATION." To my delight and surprise it really wasn't all that hard to use paladin spells, items, scroll hoarding, and armor to very closely model the homebrew build of Rorik the Degenerate Dhampir Sun Worshipping Paladin. He has his own issues which this ficlet hints at. He's cringe, be gentle.

@ghostkingart wrote a post desiring that the fandom wrote more fic about Astarion being denied intimacy due to concerns about intent and whether he's actually in the headspace to do so, with emphasis on his canon tendancy to go somewhere "a million realms away". I thought I could oblige. Digging in my docs for inspiration revealed that I'd basically already written this exact piece, give or take a few details. Decided to put on the Big Boy pants and be brave enough to post this.

I think healing is going to be messy for him. He's a big personality and these are some big complex feelings for a man who's been on the world's shortest leash for 200 years and also has had to solve every problem with either his body or a blade.

This fic also heavily implies that some healing and learning has already taken place so bear with me. Enjoy

“I don't know. It's veiled from me… I can't remember that clearly. Just. Parts… I think so.” Rorik told Astarion.

"Nothing? You remember nothing of circumstance or even who delegated to you at all?” Astarion scoffed and crossed his arms.

Astarion had been warned that some questions he might have may not have much of an answer, for Rorik was good at burying memories too sharp to hold. Knowing of the predilection toward purposeful forgetfulness didn't make this conversation any less frustrating. He wanted to know if Rorik had ever been sent to Baldur's Gate on loan, as Rainar often ordered him to do if a nobleman or another vampire lord bid high enough. He said he'd been to the city during that time, but maintained that he couldn't remember why.

“You want to know if Cazador ever paid Rainar to have someone vanish, don't you?” Rorik asked a new question rather than answer one they both knew the answer to.

“You told me the name Cazador Szarr was familiar, once.” Astarion probed.

“It is.”

“Then you should understand why that would concern me.”

"I do.” Rorik assured him with a single nod as he half-dozed, sprawled on his back.

Silence fell upon them as they lay still but restless in Astarion's slightly tidier than usual tent. Fitting two bedrolls in it necessitated some level of order. Frankly, Astarion hid the trash and used glassware behind his temporary abode. Rorik probably knew where the mess was, but said nothing.

“What would you say if you found out tomorrow that we passed like ships in the night long ago? What would it change?” Rorik inquired, appearing curious toward the demeanor of the bees in Astarion's bonnet.

“I'd ask what Cazador would have paid to have you do. I have to lay there, every damn night, wondering if that bastard sent the Gur down the street where I lost everything. It could just as easily have been you.” Astarion explained irritably. Sometimes Astarion felt like he had to spoon feed Rorik his thoughts. He should be able to string together the pieces by now.

"I have an opinion, Astarion, but it might not be a thought you want reinforced.” Rorik offered with a warning.

“give it.”

The dhampir spoke as if reading off law rather than opinion, the gravity of his tone leaving little room for argument. “Vampires are known to stalk a target for days. You should know, to a point. But lords, or true vampires, looking to create spawn for their own uses are different. They assign much, although sometimes arbitrary or even nonsensical, ritual to their pursuit. I'm certain, if he didn't send the Gur himself, he was already watching your every move for months.”

“...You're telling me he was inevitable.” Astarion muttered with venom and a curl of his upper lip.

“...I'm saying: vampire lords aren't spontaneous.” Rorik clarified.

“Well, all I'm saying is: you're missing my point. I wish you remembered. So I could be sure.” Astarion complained with a flick of his hands in the air above them.

“If it reassures you at all, I know for a fact that Cazador didn't send me. I'd have proper fucking killed you too completely to bring back.” Rorik abruptly stated.

“What!? Exactly what makes you so sure of that.” Astarion spat.

“Beating the guts out of a magistrate but not enough that a vampire cannot turn him sounds like a miserably delicate chore… I was never bought for things like that. I'm too heavy handed.” Rorik asserted bluntly.

In mostly mock hurt, Astarion went on the defensive. “No, I mean: what in the hells makes you think I was an easy mark?”

“Hmm? How much do you weigh?”

“Eh?”

Rorik sat erect to turn and loom over Astarion, arms caging the other as he held himself up with palms pressed flat to the floor by each of the elf’s shoulders.

He huffed through a smile full of sabers, he was about to tease, “Couple sacks of grain, if you were soaking wet, I’d guess. I could toss you over my shoulder and run up a hill without losing my breath. I imagine you wielded a quill and inkpot then. The sharpest thing in your arsenal might've been a letter opener.”

How dare this often bald cunt of a man wear that disgustingly smug grin, smear insults, and manage to be bizarrely charming all the while?

“Wrong,” Astarion rebutted, “men of Baldur's Gate are required starting at age nine to learn archery, and it is short sighted for an individual of my former station not to be prepared for scorned citizens challenging him to a duel over an unfavorable ruling. You would've bitten off more than you thought.” Astarion stubbornly asserted, completely guessing although he wouldn't admit that. He had no idea what he used to do in his spare time as a mortal, or where he lived, or even what his favorite food used to be…

“Hmm, you make a good argument, sure. But your hands wouldn't have known much hardship. Could they have fended off these ragged mits?” Rorik's right hand slid against the reed mat until fingertips found Astarion's elbow, from there encircling his forearm and following its shape until he met a wrist, then the hand he meant to squeeze.

Rorik's hands were square in their shapes, knuckles scarred until the skin remained thick and rough, crooked fingers from many breaks, and strange knots of bone that betrayed how many times he'd fractured his dominant hand as he gripped his sword and struck a shield or armor rather than flesh and bone. Astarion could feel every callus like a knot under the skin of Rorik's leathery palm. Their textures were jagged and would pull runs in fine silk.

Such a gnarled paw might've repelled Astarion a month ago. His always empty guts used to twist at the touch of a victim with hands like these. Those nights and those marks did feel as though they pulled vicious runs in the silk of his skin.

Rorik was just, as per fucking usual, the one outlier. Terrible hands on him, but they squeezed his fingers carefully, they were almost warm, and their textures were becoming nuanced to Astarion's touch. He was starting to think, perhaps, if you queued up ten men of the sword, whose hands were all terrible, he could pick out Rorik's while blindfolded.

He brought Astarion's knuckles to his lips, dragging them across his cheek with a sigh that teased a quick flash of his maw of ruthless thorns.

Rorik's eyes flickered an uncanny glimmer from the candlestick glow, the eyes of a smitten predator fixed to Astarion's equally haunting gaze.

“So soft now, softer still long ago I bet, but not as soft as your eyes.” Rorik cooed down to him from behind a finger he selected to kiss.

It made Astarion's throat itch dryly to hear that. His thirst always doubled when Rorik spoke of his eyes.

The bastard grinned against his hand with too many teeth showing. Rorik's way of flirting and giving a compliment was very different from Astarion's well practiced methods. He was much too frank. Rough cut gems was what the rogue called these moments in the relative privacy of his thoughts. Rorik was getting too cocky, however, so strange charms couldn't go unpunished.

Astarion hooked a heel into Rorik's knee, kicking that load bearing joint out from under him and destabilizing him just enough that the edge of a palm clapped around his jaw easily pulled him over. This allowed Astarion to roll with him, reversing the pin. His dagger, kept tucked under his pillow, was gathered in the lightning swipe of searching fingers and brandished at Rorik's jugular.

And Rorik? He simply went limp and chuckled. The Jackass had offered no resistance and gone slack under him, hands thrown back in surrender. It offended Astarion to be allowed to win their grapple, but Rorik's implicit trust in spite of the blade threatening him always made Astarion ache somehow. The inveterate crank under him snapped his jaws at anything that pressed his boundaries, but never Astarion. Adorable Idiot. To be fair, Rorik knew that these jabs and tussles were only fun and games.

“I was not entirely defenseless, and certainly no guileless lamb. Besides, you were no different than a spaw- pardon, but you were under the complete control of Rainar. If you were ordered to destroy a man without outright killing him, you’d have no choice but to comply.”

“I think you'd remember me. I'm not something you'd mistake for Gur. Unlike some people, I shall not name them, I actually look like an undead wretch.” Rorik shook his head -foolish to do with a blade pressed near to skin- and laughed softly against the cold kiss of Astarion's dagger.

The way the apple of his throat bobbed under the razor edge could wring any vampire’s stomach with hunger.

“...True, but not quite so any longer.” Astarion dragged a finger led by a languid arm from Rorik's navel to the space under his chin.

He meant to tilt this face for a closer appraisal. Rorik's expression changed, glazing over as Astarion's thumb followed the shape of his lower lip.

“You've turned rather pink since we began this little jaunt,” Astarion reminded him.

Interesting creatures, dhampirs. One foot in the grave at all times and a hand clawing a stubborn grip on life. Apparently, if they've been behaving like their undead half they will look the part, but Astarion had yet to observe Rorik feeding. That abstinence from the sanguine was reflected in his freckled, peachy skin. He might've been a touch sunburned across the bridge of his nose and the tip of each notched ear.

Rorik gazed up at Astarion, eyes searching, questing about his shapes. He stared as though he were looking upon that sun god he claimed not to love. Silly beastly thing. Blindly devoted damn fool.

“...Would you let me kiss you?” Rorik breathed.

What could one more impossible moment hurt? Who knew when Rorik would wake up and realize Astarion had no precious light to offer him?

“Mm, just this once, darling,” Astarion hummed with lips pulling into a loose smile. It was his turn to tease.

Rorik waited so very patiently, licking his scar streaked lips with what could be perceived as lewd eagerness, but eyes wide and full of something else that called softly.

Astarion retracted the dagger, slowly, making a show of it as he held it away from their bodies. Then, Casually, as he leaned back and settled his weight over Roriks lap, he allowed the blade to slip from his fingers and pierce the mats and dirt below. He left it sticking there, at the ready, but easily forgotten as he pitched forward to claim his companion's delectable mouth.

Rorik had tried to lift himself to greet Astarion, but palms clapped over his shoulders sent him back to the floor with a hollow thud resonating from his chest. The dhampir let slip the faintest moan of approval as his jaws parted for Astarion, offering the warmth within and the taste of his nightly herb brew. His arms wove themselves all about high elf.

Rorik always squeezed, held, stroked the rogue. It briefly repulsed Astarion that first time, when Rorik held so tightly and explored him so earnestly, but that had changed. The paladin longed to be close. He didn't want Astarion's body, Rorik wanted Astarion. That came with its own new form of revulsion. How could Rorik's standards be so low that he actually wanted all of the filth under Astarion's perfect surface?

Astarion knew the answer to that. He winced silently and masked the upset by delving deeper into the pleasures of Rorik's gasping mouth the moment he was done stealing a breath.

The ex-wife, Zarla, must surely be why Rorik found Astarion an acceptable partner. Astarion himself had uttered the perfect analogy for it once before. When you're accustomed to drinking from the sewer, even plonk is a marked improvement.

Anything at all must be better than being forced to swallow every last drop of misery to survive a borderline incestuous arranged marriage to a complete and whole nightmare of a woman.

Rough fingers massaged up the back of Astarion's neck, soon cradling the back of his head. Rorik seemed to like playing in his hair, since he had none of his own until very recently.

The moment Astarion thought of it, he moved to push his fingers though that scant half-inch of strawberry blond. Rorik had still been shorn up top the last time they… But he'd thought about it, curling his fingers in it, gripping it so tight, using it to shove Rorik's keening face in the pillow to muffle him.

Once, it was their second late night encounter, Rorik had mewled things in a tongue Astarion didn't know, both betraying the wellspring of his faint accent and revealing his patron god. A heathen sun diety which pre-dated Lathandor. That night many moons ago, Astarion had delighted in watching the paladin slap both hands over his gaped jaws to keep that holy name out of his mouth while he behaved profanely.

All Astarion could think about was gripping that short ginger crown and pulling Rorik’s head up from a pillow to hear his name mingling with half formed prayer. Oh, the things which come unraveled from Rorik's disciplined tongue when Astarion fucked him were always delectable. There was something sinfully gratifying in defiling a holy man. It must be the same thing which kept Rorik coming back for more and more of Astarion. He must crave to be engulfed by the elf’s tainted touch, like an addict who craved the deadly bliss in his own destruction.

Astarion slipped his curious tongue between the split halves of Rorik's. Maybe after, he'd ask why the man had his tongue sliced. Could be a faith thing, or perhaps a fun story, but hopefully not another rat-holed memory from worse times. He set aside the thought and chose instead to be gratified in the way Rorik arched under him.

Rorik's hands curled in hair and slid down Astarion’s spine, but that left claw hesitated at his waistband and instead formed a self-restraining fist in the elf's untucked shirt. No, no, he wanted Rorik to go further. He wanted to give Rorik his hit of destroying bliss, keep him close, keep him asleep and unaware of how unfit his favorite “pain in the ass” was for him.

His guts were grinding acid at the wolves playing tug-o-war in his silent chest. Rorik aroused Astarion's dead flesh and dead heart, that was true, but it repulsed him that the only catharsis he could summon for that were the things he could do to Rorik's flesh to lure him closer. It made it feel like working one of his marks, the men and women who’d walk and blush at his side without knowing they were good as dead. This felt like raping himself and Rorik with a predatory false self.

Astarion wanted to sink through the floor into the dirt and become beetle shit, he wanted to make Rorik wail his name, and he wanted to drag all of the beauty in the world through the tar in his soul for revenge. He hated feeling it all at the same time, but most of all, his worm-holed brain screamed to keep Rorik in place, with him, blind to his truth but with him.

Gods, five minutes ago he'd accused Rorik of potentially being involved in his murder, then held him at knifepoint while the fool giggled at the game. It was only a matter of time before he saw it all for what it was. The flailing of some irreversibly ruined creature. But he could keep Rorik coming back...

I just need a little more. Stay a little longer. A few more moments to last me once you-

Astarion flattened himself to Rorik's sprawled body to let him feel the arousal he’d inspired. Putrid. Rorik's lips stretched open to drag in a much needed breath, face screwing up as his head fell back while he was ground upon. He submitted to the desire to crush Astarion closer. His arms would snap taut about Astarion so fast when he became overcome by desire. This yearning squeeze was the signal of victory for Astarion every time. He'd won. Rorik was his. He'd pushed him to the-

Rorik broke from the embrace of their lips and turned his face away, sucking down two great breaths between his words “Solan's tits… Astarion?... Astarion, Wait.”

Rorik's arms loosened from him, then carefully lifted away. He put them at his sides and flattened his hands against the reed mat in a calculated manner. Astarion's command over the situation had slipped away. He could feel warm breath heating his cheek and sense eyes trying to find his own. Astarion didn't meet the other's gaze, he couldn't because he didn't want to see Rorik's bloody concern. It was worse than the most depraved leer.

“What? Darling, you're souring the mood. Wouldn't you rather…” Astarion tried to put them back on course by laying a perfectly placed kiss at the space just under Rorik's right ear.

Predictably, the man shivered at that delicate affection and his hands clapped over Astarion's thighs to apply their crushing squeeze of approval. Gods, you're easy. Right back on the road, like recalling a loyal mutt gone sniffing too far ahea-

The thought nauseated him the moment it completed itself in his head, comparing Rorik to an animal to be commanded. The revulsion turning his stomach gave him pause, stopping him dead in the middle of suckling a decadently soft earlobe between his lips to hiss mournfully.

Rorik's hands pressed over the mound of each shoulder. He pushed slowly, putting space between them. Chaos erupted within Astarion like a crowd of men shouting over one another.

No! Not yet… Gods, thank you… Don't leave!?

Astarion was made to sit up with Rorik as he rose from the mat. He was then seated in the paladin's lap, but there was nothing titillating about it. Rorik's eyes bore through him like drill heads. His stare made Astarion feel naked when they were like that, stripped, but not erotically. He just saw him. Through him. Into him. He used to hate that and it still unnerved him, being seen.

“Astarion, let's talk about this first,” He spoke much too softly, like addressing a sniffling child. It made Astarion feel infantile.

“Talk? Why? Don't you want to forget where we are? For just a moment?” Astarion pivoted, sliding a palm over Rorik's cheek to hook his fingers over the back of his neck, bringing him close again.

If he kissed and nibbled just right, between the scars, Rorik would offer a feed. Bastard loved pain. Probably needed it to get off at this point. A bite would put a stop to this nonsense, all Astarion needed was permission. It was time to bring a sword to a knife fight.

“Ast-... Oh my….- wait, wait! No.” Rorik forced his hands between them again to put a foot of distance between his neck and Astarion's fangs.

Gods damn it. Astarion's stomach twisted, but not out of hunger, at the word no. A word he barely knew how to use. He couldn't ignore it. Rorik had refused him. He had to stop.

“Astarion, I don't-... I want to be told what you want. I don't want to guess. We agreed not to, I want to be sure this is really what you want.” Rorik told him, again too gently, and let his hands settle at either side of the other's waist.

“I would have thought I seemed damn sure of what I wanted eight seconds ago, but I'm starting to think you've gone and robbed me of even that!” Astarion swatted at Rorik's hands to banish them from his body and spat bitterly before he could think better of it.

He’d lost at his own game, all because he couldn't hold his disgust at bay anymore. Rorik must have sniffed it out. Bastard had ruined him. Taken away the one thing he truly was good at. Or good for.

Rorik said nothing and only looked at him, brows pinching and turning upward just as his eyes revealed his exhaustion. Astarion had to look away. It hurt. It was fucking agony to be looked at that way and see how lost Rorik appeared on what to do or say.

I'm projecting. Fuck.

No, Rorik knew exactly what he wanted to do. He'd wanted clarification on what Astarion wanted and expected and asked. Astarion on the other hand…

“I-... I don't know what I'm trying to do.” Astarion lied and told the truth at the same time. Felt disgusting, hiding intentions but admitting uncertainty in the same breath.

“What do you not want to do?” Rorik asked, but Astarion wasn't sure what to make of the phrasing.

Ah! Yes, a reference toward Astarion's lurid tendencies. Yes, he used to pretend to “want” just about anything to hook a mark and gain their implicit trust. Astarion's palm struck Rorik, albeit not as hard as he deserved, upon the creek and jaw to shove him away. Bastard's hands clenched in his shirt on reflex, making escape more difficult than it should be. “The hells is that supposed to mean? Do I have to spell it out for you again?! I played the role of a prostitute. It was all lies and-”

“No no! I meant that: Sometimes it's easier to know what you don't want.” Rorik barely restrained a bellow as he rushed the words past the hand which muffled him. He continued, more mindful of his voice. “Which is. I don't know… Something to go on.”

Gods, Astarion loathed to do it, to let go of the misfired anger, but the wisdom Rorik spoke was sufficient. He felt foolish for the misunderstanding, too, and he burned with renewed anger and irritability. He knew one thing he didn't want, and it left him feeling that he appeared inordinately needy as he dropped his hands into his lap uselessly.

“I don't want to be alone… Tonight I mean. I don't want to be alone tonight.” Astarion admitted part of the problem, painfully.

“And I am happy to resolve that. Anything else you don't want?”

Astarion was reassured, a little. Trying to think about what he wanted was, indeed, fucking impossible. He was too shameful to admit that he was trying to pick up where he left off seducing Rorik for fear he would one day leave him in the absence of sex. Astarion tried to figure out how to tell enough of the truth not to hate himself.

“I don't want to… I don't want to hate it. Sleeping with you. I don't want sex. But I want it.” Astarion gripped Rorik's shoulders tightly and mimed jerking him close, but his eyes soon had to crush shut to hold back tears. “...But I can't. The thoughts, the loathing. It comes when I used to be able to just. Put myself away and do what I came to do.”

Rorik's hands covered the back of Astarion's fingers where they pressed red marks into his shoulders, pulling them down to be held tightly between their bodies. Thumbs stroked over his knuckles so tenderly. It was far more than Astarion felt he deserved.

Rorik kept his eyes on their entwined hands. “I understand, I think.”

“I don't… Want to treat you like a victim. But I don't want you to..-” he lost his words in his throat.

Rorik lifted Astarion's left hand to his lips, as he so often did. He was starting to wonder if the man had a hand fetish. “You can tell me anything, I swear that I'll try to understand. What don't you want me to do?”

Why are you good to me?

“I just. Don't want you to leave… Tonight.” Astarion wasn't ready to tell Rorik that he was waiting for him to wake up one morning jaded and too exhausted from this game to carry on playing it.

lips pressed to the inside of Astarion's wrist. “Then you have me until Sol calls me to prayer, and then you'll have me again if you wish it. And you may do, or not do, whatever you like with me... And changing your mind is perfectly legal."

That made Astarion's chest tight. Bastard was getting too good at quelling the storms in Astarion's head. It scared him, the possibility that Rorik could use that new talent to manipulate just as he'd been manipulated. Drag along the carrot of innocent affections. But, to gain what? Rorik had offered it countless times with almost no gain. He just didn't seem work the way Astarion did.

I don't deserve this.

At least, for now, Astarion knew what he wanted after a moment more watching Rorik tenderly worship his hand with a savage mouth. He longed for more of that specifically.

“Would you let me kiss you?” He parroted, then added after another moment of careful thought, “...I want that. With certainty. I want to kiss you until our lips bruise, actually,”

Rorik smiled in Astarion's favorite way. His head tipped to one side while a silent laugh left him through a grin which pressed his eyes closed.

“I could gladly piss away the whole night with that if you let me, you should be careful what you wish for,”

“Oh? You're dealing with a professional. I doubt you'd last ten minutes.” Astarion goaded.

“Sounds like grounds for a bet. Loser has to be the big spoon.” Rorik taunted back.

“Done,”

Arms clenched tight under Astarion's weight, scooping him under the rump to smash him close. Rorik slotted his face under Astarion's chin for a kiss at the join of his clavicle.

“Cheeky,”

“You never specified where I was to kiss you, care to offer further instruction?” Rorik murmured into his skin.

Smart bastard, “You're tricking me into setting boundaries again, aren't you?”

“Yep,” was Rorik's shameless, one syllable admission of guilt.

“Fine, nothing below the neck.”

“And not my ears, please.” Rorik added.

“... Because that gets you-”

“Unreasonably hot, yes.”

A kiss brushed under Astarion's left jaw as Rorik's arms relaxed to let him sink again. It made him shiver.

“So, we have an accord?” Astarion had to beg one more assurance just because he knew he'd be given it freely.

Lips pressed dryly over his own before he got his answer. “Yes,” he heard right before another peck landed right between his eyes, followed by a chuckle.

“This isn't exactly what I had in mind.” Astarion complained softly, unsure what to do with the squirmy, restless feeling in his core. Rorik was being too endearing. That's what got them into this mess. Fucker kept making him feel- well…. Making him feel.

“Then, I will require another round of your instruction on how, precisely, Mr. Ancunin wishes to be kissed?”

“Gladly.” Astarion promised.

[okminer07]

Slave to the Light Pt 7

A Baldur's Gate fanfiction

Lorelai stared up at Gale, shocked and confused, "What do you mean under different circumstances? what possible circumstances are there that would make you travel with a fucking vampire!?"

The vampire, or Astarion as the others seemed to call him, merely scrunched up his nose at her remarks. Gale's eyes fell away from her, clearly pondering something.

"Well, you see" he started, "All of us here happen to be dealing with the same problem that we are all in dire need of rectifying".

She raised a brow, "What kind of problem?"

Gale pursed his lips, as if debating whether he should continue, "All of us.... currently are hosts to illithid parasites".

Lorelai's eyes widened, "What?"

"We basically have these worm-like fuckers swimming around in our brains" chimed in Karlach.

"No- I know what an illithid parasite is, but...." she looked the man before her up and down, "Shouldn't you have.... transformed?"

"Now that, is something we are all wondering about" said Gale, "None of us have shown any real signs of... well, turning into tentacled monsters. So, since we have seemingly been blessed with spare time, we're looking for a cure. Hence the give of us being together."

Lorelai stiffened, "there's more of you?"

"Yes, but you'll meet them later, that is... if you decide to stay." over Gale's shoulder, she saw Karlach grinning down at her.

"You're offering to let me stay? Why?"

Gale chuckled, "Well you're clearly in need of some assistance, and I dare say your presence wouldn't cause much of a hassle" he leaned in closer, lowing his voice, "And to be honest, I don't completely trust Astarion to not.... forget himself."

"I can hear you; you know." grumbled Astarion.

Lorelai looked down. Being with these group seemed to be presenting more risks by the second. First, a vampire, and now illithid parasites. But what about the number of risks if she went it alone? and as dangerous as these big folk might be, they could be of use to her.

She met Gale's eyes again, "Alright, I will take you up on your offer" her gaze hardened, "But if I see any of you begin to sprout tentacles I'm out of here. And if your..... companion tries anything-"

"We'll make sure he doesn't."

"Well, if he does, I won't hesitate to teach him a much harsher lesson than I did last night, perhaps with something much sharper."

Astarion let out a snort of laughter that made her blood boil, "That's cute."

Lorelai's fingers tighten around the needle, wishing she could shove it right through one of those awful red eyes.

Gale straightened, clapping his hands together, "Right, now that's sorted, how abouts we give you some alone time?" the moment he had finished his sentenced, Astarion turned on his heel and quickly made his way out of the tent, shooting Lorelai one last glare.

"That means you too Karlach. I think you may have overstayed your welcome" Gale held the tent flap open and gestured for the Tiefling to follow suit.

"Can't I stay? I know it's your tent and all... but come on" she looked down at Lorelai, "I can stay right?"

Lorelai thought for a moment. She had been deeply looking forward to not being surrounded by towering figures and was about to ask her to leave, but once again Karlach was giving her that hopeful grin.

She sighed, "Yeah sure, you can stay. But just be quiet, alright?"

Karlach beamed at her before smirking at Gale who rolled his eyes before leaving.

To her surprise, the Tiefling was able to stay quiet. She had simply sat herself down and watched Lorelai eagerly as she continued to work. It began to feel a little weird though after twenty minutes went by and Karlach was still staring. Lorelai kept looking up from her work only to be met with the same intense gaze.

After the tenth time of looking over her shoulder to see if there was any change in the Tiefling's behavior, she resigned herself to fully focusing on making something wearable.

Hard to say how much time had gone by when she had finally locked the final stitch and held up her handiwork: A rather small top and a pair of short and baggy pants, both an obnoxious shade of purple.

"Hey, not bad." said Karlach.

Lorelai sighed, "Do you mind staring at something else for a moment?"

"Oh fuck, yeah sorry."

The ground shifted as Karlach spun herself around, so her back was to her.

Lorelai threw the articles of clothing on the ground before going to remove the sorry excuse for a dress she was currently wearing. She had managed to pull it up over her legs before she gasped out, being hit with a stinging pain the moment she tried to pull it up over her back.

"You alright?"

"Fine" she grunted, gritting her teeth. The fabric must have fused itself to her wounds. She groaned before taking hold of her dress again and quickly tossed it over her head. Her back stung with pain that slowly subsided once she had ripped the fabric away from it. Tossing it aside, she reached down and pulled on her newly made shirt and pants.

She poked her head around the pile before stepping out. Karlach peeked over her shoulder before turning back around. She looked Lorelai up and down before an amused smile appeared on her face. The Tiefling let out a snort of laughter, looking away and covering her mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing" she lied; her eyes still upturned, "Just looks a little big on you."

Lorelai rolled her eyes, walking over and heaving herself up onto the plate to snatch up another grape, glaring at it as if it had been the one to make the remark.

She leapt down, tossing the half-eaten fruit aside and began heading for the exit.

"Where are you headed?"

"Outside."

"What for?"

Lorelai groaned, "Does it matter?"

"Can I come with?"

"I don't care."

She continued forward, stepping out into the open. She couldn't help but tense slightly at the sight before her. Four other massive tents were set up in the distance, all of them different colors and had an assortment of items outside their entrances. They all surrounded a campfire that at the moment was nothing but burnt wood and charcoal. But that wasn't what had bothered her, what bothered her was the towering figures meandering around the tents. She could feel through the ground the slight quiver from their steps from here, all of them, lumbering around like big oafs the lot of them.

Lorelai shook her head, focusing back on the task at hand: arming herself. It only took her a moment of looking around before she spotted a patch of trees to the east. She began to make her way over there, her eyes fliting around to look back at the big folk and know where each one of them was at the given moment. She kept an especially close eye out for that vampire, even though he shouldn't have been able to be out in the sun. Being apparently apart of this little team, he was almost certainly still lurking around somewhere.

She had noticed Karlach had left the tent, though she had reframed from following her and had instead gone over to what Lorelai assumed was her own tent. There didn't seem to be too much of a reason to keep an eye on that one, she seemed docile enough.

The grass began to reach up past her waist as she trudged into the beginnings of a forest. The sun was shining down through the many leaves of the trees, illuminating their shape and color, which was exactly what Lorelai had been hoping for.

Her pace slowed as she scrutinized each tree she passed, looking from its leaves to its branches to its trunk. There was a good deal of oak and dogwood, both much too knotty to work with. There was also some hickory, too fragile to moisture, and some elm, too likely to crack. Then she spotted just what she had been looking for, a yew tree.

She hurried over to it, looking over it once more. Yes, it would do very nicely. Looking up, she pinpointed the lowest branch that was the right thickness before she dug her fingers beneath the crevices of the bark. Her muscles strained but ached with an almost pleasant and familiar burn as she scaled up the trunk.

When she was perpendicular to the branch she wanted, she began to shimmy closer over. Securing her feet in the groves of bark, she reached out and took hold of one of the smaller branches. With some effort, she managed to snap it off the main branch, almost losing her balance as she did so. her hands scrambled to grab back onto the bark, stick in hand that she surveyed with a nod.

The trek down was much easier, only made tad harder, having to tow down a stick nearly as long as she was tall down with her.

She jumped the rest of the way back to the ground. Holding the stick now like a great misshapen staff, she looked along the forest floor. Now... all she needed was- that might do.

She bent down and picked up a jagged rock, turning it over in her hand. It would have to suffice. Heading back over to the yew tree, she sat herself down with both rock and stick in hand. Placing the stick on her lap, she turned it over a few times before finding the sharpest side of the rock and getting right to work.

[crazycurly-77]

The submarine -

Ch 2

Director Shepard looked at you seriously and said: “We have a problem.”

You didn't know what it was about and wondered whether you should even respond to her statement. But Gibbs made the decision for you and asked with his usual self-assurance: “What's up?”

“The SECNAV is pressing for an explanation as to why the new software for launching guided missiles from submarines is apparently not working, even though the tests so far have been successful. All missiles are missing their target or misfiring.”

You could only shrug your shoulders. “I’ve no idea why this is happening. Everything has been going correctly so far, but according to the protocols, someone is sabotaging the tests just before they are carried out. It is so short notice that it must be an insider who knows the exact time and can hack the program. He must be on board the submarine being tested on, because he logs into the system from there. But we don't know who or why, and we can't find out from here either."

That let Director Shepard sink in for a moment. Then she nodded and said: "Good, then you'll be boarded on the submarine."

Her words made cold sweat break out on your forehead and sheer horror was written all over your face.

"No. I'm not going on a submarine. Never. Forget it. Under no circumstances," you said vehemently and shook your head.

"But the program obviously has a malfunction that needs to be fixed, and McGee gets seasick at the sight of a glass of water. You wrote it with McGee's help. He can't. So you have to go on the boat and clarify the matter," argued Ma'am Director Jenny Shepard, trying to appeal to your reason.

Yes, her logic was compelling, but your claustrophobia was stronger.

You were on the verge of a panic attack and your hair stood on end as you stood in front of her desk, shaking your head the whole time. Slowly you started to take small steps backwards and started to shake.

Gibbs sensed that you were panicking and he suspected that he knew the reason for it and decided to help you.

You had a good relationship with each other. Even if he didn't like that he couldn't reach you.

He was more worried about you than the others.

Why? He had never asked himself that. It was just like that.

Then you felt it. Your boss Leroy Jethro Gibbs, who stood next to you like a rock in the surf, took your hand to calm you down.

He stood there by your side. He didn't move an inch, didn't sway in the slightest and you held his hand as if your life depended on it.

"There is no one with your knowledge of this system. Please, you have to go,” Jenny finally begged you.

“No. Absolutely not. I can’t do that,” you said firmly. Your brain shut down and your body prepared to flee. Everything in you resisted and only one word dominated your thoughts: “No. No! NO!!!”

“Okay, then I’ll make it an order. You will leave in an hour,” the director finally decided in a final tone that said the conversation was over for her.

Your blood froze in panic and your body went stiff.

“Then please shoot me. That’s much more merciful than forcing me to do it,” you said, staring into her eyes.

At this point in the conversation, Gibbs spoke up in a firm tone:

“No, we won’t do that. But to strengthen your position on board and give you the support of a male colleague, I’m coming with you. I don’t want to leave you alone and unprotected, surrounded only by men. We can also find out together who the saboteur is," he explained, but left no room for argument.

She briefly looked at your joined hands with interest and then looked up at you two. 

"Good, let's do it," the director concluded. "You two go home and pack your things. Your flight leaves in an hour. You can go now."

With that, she turned to her computer and Jethro tried to pull you towards the door. At first you were rooted to the spot, but then he pulled firmly on your hand, which he was still holding, so that you followed him out of the room.

He closed the door to Jenny's office, wrapped his arms around you, rubbed your back up and down and whispered calming words in your ear.

Panicked and still shaking, you clung to him.

"It's okay. I'm here and I won't let you down," he whispered.

"Just breathe. In and out. In and out. Breathe with me. In and out," he said.

You did what he told you and your shaking slowly subsided.

(To be continued...in Chapter 3)

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

Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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

Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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

[syrupsyche]

In the previous chapter, we focused on Marius and his reflection on Valjean. Now, we see Cosette's reaction to Valjean as well. However, she doesn't have any context as to what is happening; all she sees is her father acting even weirder than normal and treating her like a stranger.

Now more than ever, we see that Cosette has always been treated like some precious, fragile artefact, being passed along from person to person. From her mother to the Thénardiers to her father and to Marius; in her perspective, it feels as though everyone who has ever loved her has abandoned her. I won't be surprised if after canon, Cosette begins to freak out on Marius not just for his part in alienating Valjean but also whether or not he'd be the next to leave her. Poor Cosette!

And as per Hugo's writing, her conversation with Valjean here parallels her past conversations with him back when it was just the two of them. Back then, Cosette was able to force Valjean into taking care of himself because in his eyes, she was still under his care and Cosette knows this. And so she uses this against him:

4.3.4:

“Father, I am very cold in your rooms; why don’t you have a carpet here and a stove?”

[...] “Because you are a woman and a child.”

“Bah! must men be cold and feel uncomfortable?”

“Certain men.”

“That is good, I shall come here so often that you will be obliged to have a fire.”

—

“Father, why do you eat horrible bread like that?”

“Because, my daughter.”

“Well, if you eat it, I will eat it too.”

It is no surprise, then, that when these circumstances change – when Cosette no longer has power over Valjean – he goes back to a cold, dark room, and eats nothing. Cosette's previous strategy of "threatening herself" cannot work anymore because Valjean does not see himself as responsible for Cosette's wellbeing anymore. And Cosette is not given any reason for this! She doesn't know why her father doesn't think of himself as her father anymore and of course, wonders if its because of her:

“Are you angry with me because I am happy?”

Poor Cosette. No one ever wants to tell her anything while everything and everyone around her is changing rapidly; I too would start to think whether I'm the problem around here. They may love her dearly but god damn are they leaving her with a slew of abandonment issues and self-doubt. She deserves so much better.