#“Do or die

[evillittlebirdie]

Green Eyed Monster: Karlach/Wyll & Onesided Tav/Wyll

Envy can be a ghastly beast. 

Tavianna grew up as a privileged daughter of a noble house in Baldur’s Gate. She wanted for nothing. When she requested to study magic, her parents sent her to the finest school. She was a physically delicate creature that could charm anyone. And even worse, she could manipulate anyone. 

The first time Tavianna laid eyes on Wyll, she knew she had to have him. And obviously, he would fall in love with her. As it stood, her status, power, and beauty should have been enough. Tavianna should have had Wyll wrapped around her little finger. 

But instead, romance fluttered between Wyll and Karlach. Instead of distancing himself from the teifling that made him a devil, Wyll pursued her. Tavianna could only steam as the two shared kisses, as Karlach lifted the man on her shoulders, and as Wyll led her in a dance. 

It should have been her. 

It should have been Tavianna who ran off into the sunset with the figurative Prince. Not Karlach. If Wyll promised himself to Tavianna, he could regain his rightful place in Baldur's Gate noble society. Tavianna would be the perfect partner on his arm. Not Karlach, not some uncouth giant with an infernal engine for a heart. Wyll deserved to be content. Karlach needed to understand that. 

***

“Hey there, soldier,” Karlach greeted Tavianna with a smile on her face. She liked Tavianna (She did not like being called, 'Tav'. Karlach learned that quickly). She was a bit snooty and attracted to the finer things in life. But so was Astarion and he was a good egg. 

"Yes, hello, Karlach. Can you and I have a brief discussion?" Tavianna requested. Something seemed off in her mannerisms. Tavianna's stance was stiff and her eyes were not directly meeting Karlach's. 

"Of course," Karlach nodded. When Karlach accepted the invitation, Tavianna gestured for Karlach to follow her away from camp.

Maybe Tavianna needed a friendly ear. A lot had happened over the past few days since they walked into Wyrm's Crossing. Karlach was itching to get her hands on Gortash. Since Tavianna reported his whereabouts, Karlach had to keep her anger in check. Her revenge could wait. Justice was patient. 

"You and Wyll make a lovely couple," Tavianna commented suddenly.

Karlach felt her heart jump at the mention of her partner. It was a bard's tale. Initially, they were enemies, then friends, then lovers. Wyll was a kind, protective, and brave soul. Wyll risked burning to kiss her. He had been her first hug after Dammon upgraded her engine. She brought him to her parents' graves. In all the chaos, they found love in this mess. 

"Thanks. It's a lucky thing that you weren't a 'shoot first, ask questions later' type of gal when you met me," Karlach chortled good-naturedly. 

Tavianna made a tight-lipped smile before humming out, "Yes, yes, otherwise you couldn't have pled your case to Wyll. He's a sympathetic soul." 

"You've got that right," Karlach concurred. The way Tavianna was responding to her was making Karlach nervous. She moved back and forth on the ball of her feet, wondering when Tavianna would make her point. "He's a real decent, brave sort." 

"It's a shame what happened to him...because he let you live despite Mizora's orders," Tavianna remarked, her voice light and delicate. Everything about Tavianna was delicate; from her small, lithe stature to her mint green eyes to the lavender clothes she favored. 

"Oh..." Karlach responded, thinking about Wyll's transformation. She knew it was a sore spot for him. But Wyll's confidence had returned since then. He grew more confident in his abilities and his skin. "Well, at least we're not locking horns anymore," Karlach chuckled, looking at the bright side. 

Tavianna giggled (Karlach could have sworn she was condescending in her tone) before she explained, "Oh that is the least of his worries. I am more concerned with the torture he suffered as he was pulled through the Hells," She sighed before she continued, "And the look on Wyll's face when his father rejected him..." 

Karlach could the pit of her stomach grow dense with dread. She knew Wyll's sacrifice for his city. He had such a large decision at such a young age. "Well, once we get rid of the tadpole in his father's head. Not to mention the tadpoles in all of our heads...we can square everything away."

"If only it were so easy..." Tavianna lamented, "Sometimes it takes forever for such wounds to heal. The enormity of what Wyll has gone through...It just tears at my heart." 

Karlach twisted uncomfortably. She glanced over her shoulder to the camp. Wyll and Gale were chatting by the fire, laughing over something. Wyll was smiling, but was the light meeting his eyes? Karlach looked back to Tavianna.

"With all due respect Karlach...I don't think you fully understand," Tavianna pointed out.

"What do you mean, Tavianna?" Karlach questioned, defensively, not understanding where this line of question was going. 

"He's lost everything...His family, his confidence, his body, his society. All because of you..." Tavianna added on, sympathy coloring each syllable. 

"I...I know this..." Karlach struggled to get out. Tears choked her voice. Guilt pulled her down. "He's...He's told me this..." Suddenly, she felt Tavianna's tadpole connect with hers.

Karlach's mind was assaulted with a variety of memories from Tavianna's point of view. She saw Mizora yanking Wyll by an invisible leash. She saw his body's violent transformation. She saw the pain, rejection, and sadness that colored each step in his walk. Karlach was not at Wrym's Crossing during Gortash's coronation. Through Tavianna's eyes, Karlach saw Wyll's distress. Wyll confided to Tavianna bout what happened with Mizora. 

Karlach struggled to keep her emotions in check as Tavianna showed more images of Wyll. What stuck out the Karlach the most was the sight of Wyll by himself at the party after they saved the Grove. He was withdrawn, drinking a goblet by himself by the river bank. He was self-consciously rubbing his horn. He blinked his eyes, staring at his reflection in the water, before throwing the goblet at the reflection. 

***

Tavianna kept her connection to Karlach's tadpole strong. She spent a lot of time with Wyll and had many memories to share with Karlach. 

But Tavianna needed to ensure that Karlach would realize that she did not belong with Wyll. Tavianna was a creative, intelligent woman. She could manipulate the memories she had. Even though Wyll did not directly say the words to her, Tavianna could figure that Wyll had to be at least thinking it. Wyll had to know that Karlach would drag him down socially. Even if they managed to break Mizora's contract, he would never be rid of Avernus. 

"But I have to stay with her, Tavianna," Wyll told her, "Karlach is the only one who'll have me like this...I don't want to be alone and I don't want to hurt her. After all this...a life on the run is the only thing I have to look forward to, I suppose...Running until Zariel's devils catch us..."

Tavianna was relieved that the false memory translated easily. Karlach looked like she had been slapped in the face. Tavianna did not overplay her hand. She pulled from Karlach's mind. She watched as Karlach struggled to speak. The larger woman couldn't even look her in the eye. 

"I...I need to go...I...I just need some air...some air away from here," Karlach rushed out, stumbling over her words. She instantly dashed from Tavianna, disappearing into the trees beyond the camp.

A small smile curled on Tavianna's lips. 

[sometimesraven]

With You, I Am Enough

Whumptober No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.” Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

Fandom: The Witcher (Netflix) POV: Jaskier Whumpee: Jaskier

Yennefer pulls Jaskier from a deep, dark moment of self-doubt.

AO3 Link

“It should have been me.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, allowing the salt of his tears and the grit of dirt to cast rivulets toward the iron on his lips, mixing until they began to taste of rot. The sting of every cut and throb of bruises and fractured bones taunted him with the painful reminder that he was alive. He was alive, and they were not.

Another camp of elves had been slaughtered. Jaskier had scarcely managed to escape by the skin of his teeth and the grace of whichever Gods watched over him now. Perhaps it was their cruelty. He could not decide.

”Self-flagellation is a woefully unattractive quality for a man.” Yennefer was teasing, he knew — attempting to break the misery hanging between them in her own way. Still, Jaskier fell silent, accepting the shooting pain of whatever potions she’d whipped up to clean and aid with healing him. He could feel her violet gaze burning into him, disturbed by his lack of complaints, but could not bring himself to even meet her gaze. “If you had died there would just be one more corpse. Destiny doesn’t care how many sacrifices you make.”

”Destiny isn’t fair,” he muttered, the words vaguely spat through bloodied teeth. “What’s the life of one human compared to theirs? I should’ve done something. I’m a coward.”

”Coward you may be,” Yen hummed, “and the value of your life…” She tilted her head, pretending to be considering it, but seemed to abandon the joke when he finally lifted his grim gaze to follow her. “Don’t start comparing the worth of lives, Bard. You’re too… pure isn’t the word.”

“Naïve,” he offered dryly. “To think I could be anything more than a coward.”

”You keep using that word.” Yennefer’s eyes grew stormy with thought, staring him down with an expression he’d seen before. The worldly, motherly judgement she so enjoyed throwing at others. “What would you have done, hm? Thrown yourself at their swords, ‘take me! I’m important enough that you’ll leave them alone!’”

”I watched them tear the ears from a child,” he spat, voice shaking as a fresh flood of tears stung his cheeks. “I should have thrust a knife through his throat before he had the chance.”

”And the next would have taken his place, and your life would mean nothing.”

”My life does mean nothing.” The conviction of his words shocked even Jaskier, his gaze averting as he realised the weight of what he’d said. “I thought-.. I’m just a man, Yen. I have suffered so little compared to these people— to you. I thought I might make meaning from that. Use my life to elevate theirs. But I-.. I’m nothing. Just another body to buy them time.”

”That is what this comes to? Comparing suffering?” Yennefer’s voice was cutting as ever, but something shifted. A pain underlying, betraying her concern. Jaskier’s stomach turned, sickened that she should waste that on him. "Yes, you're a human man. You're also an artist bedding an elf-blooded sorceress and a witcher. You've been tortured, near-killed and imprisoned. Different suffering does not mean less suffering, and less suffering does not mean the absence of suffering. But that doesn't matter. Martyring yourself won't stop a war."

"To save one life should be enough."

"Then you've done enough." Her voice grew softer still, hands almost tender as she dabbed at a cut on his brow. "Sometimes a flower is just a flower, but you are a dandelion. You lay down your roots and take on all the poison in the earth so that others can thrive. You don't die just because you lose your head; they would have to tear you from the soil and poison the ground you walk on." Her hand grabbed his chin as he made to avoid her gaze, snapping him to look at her. "Your songs are your roots, Sandpiper. Without them, how many more would die?"

Jaskier couldn't answer that. His mind travelled to elves and spirits and visions of the past, to his songs sung with hushed voices as storms battered the rotting wood of another old ship he could scarcely pack the people into. He was no warrior. No mage nor fighter. Stories were all he had, and all he could offer, and perhaps-- perhaps that was enough. To live, so that little elven child would not be forgotten to the ash and dirt.

"Good." Yennefer huffed, roughly dropping his chin and returning to patching his wounds. "Can I stop being nice to you now, bard? It's exhausting."

Jaskier managed a weary, wobbly smile. "I'd never accuse you of being nice, witch."

[its-my-whump]

Whumptober 06

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

You don't need to read the whole story. Every day can stand for its own. And that poor soul has to suffer through every single one of them, I promise!

Hummingbird 06

(Story starts here) previous

...He screamed from the top of his lungs. His heart wanted to jump out of his chest in painful jumbling beats. His arms felt like dead weight, his legs giving in. The torture stopped. Little electric impulses still on their way to leave him and slowly his world turned black.

His mind floated away to a point in time roughly 2 days ago.

...

"You don't need to come in tomorrow, Cooper."

Sam was dumbstruck and just stared back. More satisfaction in Harolds eyes. "We're letting you go."

...

'Yeah, he had lost his job! He had lost his job?'

Frantically Sam sucked in oxygen, as he suddenly came too again. 'What just happened? He was at work and now he was... strung up? Where was he?'

A firm slap to his face and he unfortunately remembered, that he had been drugged in the club, where he had tried to drown that shitty day. 'So he HAD actually lost his job.'

His mind was back and his body finally realised, that he was currantly being tortured by this freak, that was now and again calling him a fucking hummingbird.

Before he could get a complete picture of his situation again, the cattle prod was jammed into his other calf. His legs jumped again. He jerked in his restains. The pull on his wrists let him think, his arms were being seperated from his burning body. As if on queue his agitated left arm was also regarding his attention.

His heartbeat actually hurt with every frantic thud. His body was violently trembling, chains rettling loudly. But he could hardly hear his own screams above the rushing in his ears.

The buzzing stopped, his body was still slightly thrembling. Sam's head had lolled forward, too heavy to lift it again. Sweat was dripping from his face. His eyes closed and he tried very hard to keep conscious.

"So, now will you be my good little hummingbird again or do we have to go another round?" The voice was almost cheerish, but there was an undefinable edge at the end of his question. If Sam hadn't been too out of it, he would have almost mistaken it for some kind of plea. But his mind was playing tricks, despite his own blood rushing in his ears was muting the outside world almost beyond recognition.

Sam could hardly breath, even less speak, but he wouldn't barge. Gravity and limb muscles kept him hanging in his restrains, but he wouldn't give this creep the satisfaction of winning. His head was lifted slowly by the man's gloved hand, tears of pain and drops of sweat glistening on his cheeks. Sam's glacy eyes fixated onto his perpetrator. "Nee-ver. Sooo go'on... Aand s-s-eee. You jj-st made my pp-oin-t, mm-ister fuuckfac..."

The cattle prod was jammed right into the old scar above his heart. The man was furiously screaming at him.

"So, it's DO or DIE for you! YES? But YOU’ll never make me! Because the world will never EVER take my HEART! So, I'll just have to make you understand then! YES HUMMINGBIRD?"

The fizzling electrodes burning the cotton of Sam's sweat soaked shirt. His heart was surely ripped apart from the inside out right now. The pain was unbearable. The smell of burning flesh reached his nose. Another flash of white agony, like someone just pushed a gleaming knife right through his heart and the world stopped.

TBC

Tagging: @dresden-syndrome @vixenngloss @kazieka @goodluigi999 @ratsarekool @trinket-treasury @whump-me ;-)

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[lastoneout]

I just love it when video games let you do really stupid shit that kills you immediately. I love being like "oh this is a terrible idea" and being able to do it and then die. It's good game design.

[eastgaysian]

[symphonyofsilence]

Let the poor man rest.

[catmask]

being the most left leaning family member means everyone will always think that youre insane and then in two years they will believe what you were explaining to them two years ago but still think youre insane now. and you do it anywaybecause you love them

[sreppub]

jason ignored the clearly labeled tupperware and ate tim’s leftover garlic chicken pasta

[fawn291]

[strawberriesandmist]

Everyone from home says that you’re so cool, c’mon everybody to the boarding school

[geospiral]

AND WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU TWO.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Brucie Wayne gets into a mild accident in public (read-got hit by a car). And Batman would just walk it off (“it’s barely a bruise”), but Brucie obviously… can’t.

So he has to suffer the ordeal of having civilians call paramedics, getting fussed over, and having-

Having his dead son get into the back of the ambulance with him.

Oh- oh no. He must have hit his head worse than he thought. He thought he was past this…

[hinamie]

ṇ̵̛̱͌̅̃͛̔o̴̮̓̀͂́̃_̴̛̲́s̷͈̋̈́̄̋͠ị̶͔̗̐͐̐̒̕g̵̛̱̘̣̑͂ņ̴̰͔̘͇̏̒̓̇͠͝a̸̜̥̩̭͋̌ḷ̶͔̖͗͋͛͛̃͆

[tariah23]

The manga industry, especially JUMP, needs to hurry up and do away with weekly scheduling for mangaka. There needs to better regulations put into place for their health and safety because this is pitiful. Two weeks - monthly updates should’ve already been the standard for the manga industry at this point. These money grabbers will only continue to put the lives of these artists at stake for the sake of capitalism unless some serious changes are implemented.

[nova-rpv]

death leech shadoo.....

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[elllteo]

What's the matter? Lives flashing before your eyes?