#as for the prompt it feels a bit straightforward but i think there is still plenty of ambiguity with it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cafelattaes · 11 months ago

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beat you at your own game | hrj

summary: y/n has a crush on renjun, who's not that great with people. despite his standoffish nature, she makes an effort to be friendly. but things take a twist when she starts to ignore him.

pairing: renjun x fem!reader

genre: college au, fluff, angst

word count: 3.5k

huang renjun, how exactly would you describe him? well, for starters, he can be a bit cranky. he's all about having his own space, not a fan of dragging things out, and gets things done in a flash. he’s also straightforward and not afraid to speak his mind. people have mixed feelings about him because of it. but oddly enough, it only adds to his charm, making people naturally drawn to him, much to his 'i'd-rather-not' demeanor.

needless to say, you just had to develop a crush on someone who’s the total opposite of you. you’re a people-pleaser; you’d much rather say things that would please others than express your genuine thoughts. confrontations make you uncomfortable, and you lean towards making excuses for those who hurt you on purpose. you also always try to avoid conflicts as much as you can and resort to suffering in silence instead. you're trying to change these aspects of yourself, but since you grew up having these traits, breaking free can be a bit hard. still, you're working on it.

you never intended to let renjun know about your feelings, but your friends were determined to embarrass you whenever he was around, constantly teasing you. it didn't help that despite not being close to renjun and his group, some of them were friends with your close friends, so they eventually joined in poking fun at your crush. one day, you decided to dismiss their incessant teasing and initiated a friendly conversation with renjun. at first, he responded out of courtesy. you weren't stupid though; you could tell that renjun was clearly fed up with his friends and wanted nothing to do with their antics.

he began to dislike being associated with you, offering only short responses and not acknowledging your presence more than necessary. you didn’t pay it much mind, since getting close to him wasn't your original goal. your aim was to ease the awkwardness and shed the embarrassment that accompanied your interactions. you happened to share some classes with renjun, coincidentally, those were the ones where both your friends weren't around. sitting next to him became a default habit, as he was the only familiar face in those particular classes.

one morning, you found yourself running late for your 8am class, prompting you to dash before your professor arrived. you accidentally collided with renjun, who happened to be holding an iced coffee. to your horror, more than half of the drink ended up spilling onto his shirt.

“oh my god, renjun, i’m so sorry!” you looked at him in fear, and it took everything in him to remain calm.

“why are you running around a busy hallway?”

“i’m really, really sorry. i’m late for my first class and i didn’t think i’d bump into anyone.” renjun let out an annoyed sigh.

“whatever.”

“wait!” you started rummaging through your bag to bring out some alcohol and wipes. “do you need them?”

“no, thank you.” he tried to walk past you, but you caught his arm.

“what about the stain?”

“i have a spare shirt. can you let me go now? i thought you said you were late.”

“shoot, you’re right. i’m sorry again, i promise i’ll make it up to you!” you shouted as you ran.

“please don’t,” he grumbled.

later on, you found renjun at the library working on your assignments. you sat quietly next to him and began doing your own. he didn’t spare you a look and just carried on with his work. you spent a few hours completing them, and both of you got it done at the same time. as you got up to gather your things, you spoke to the boy beside you.

“renjun, do you have anything to do after this?”

“no.”

“there’s this new diner that just opened up nearby. do you want to check it out? my friends have prior commitments, and i wanted to make it up to you for spilling your coffee earlier.” you already knew he was going to refuse, but it wouldn’t hurt to still ask.

“sorry, i’ll have to pass. i need to get home quickly.” you nodded in understanding and smiled at him.

“no biggie. take care on your way home!”

“thanks,” he simply said before leaving.

“so, what's the deal with you and y/n?" jaemin asked in a teasing tone. "any progress? are you going out already?” renjun scowled.

“shut up. i want her to back off, honestly.”

“you want everyone to back off.” jaemin pointed out.

“yeah, but most especially y/n.”

jaemin's eyebrows knitted together. “uh, why do you sound so annoyed with her?”

“because she's annoying. i turned her down multiple times, but she can’t take a hint. nothing’s worse than someone who forces themselves on others.”

“relax, man. aren't you being a bit harsh? you’ll see that she’s nice if you give her a chance.”

“what exactly is nice about her being fixated on me? this is mostly your fault, you know. if you guys weren’t such busybodies, she wouldn’t be so pushy.”

you quietly slipped away, making sure they hadn't noticed you. a single tear rolled down your cheek before you could stop it. it wasn't every day you heard someone openly express their dislike for you, and coming from the person you were supposed to like, it stung even more. you never meant to force yourself into renjun's space or push for a connection that clearly wasn't there. maybe it was time to face reality and let go of your feelings for him. it would be better for both of you in the long run to avoid any more awkward moments and misunderstandings.

renjun had grown accustomed to spotting you in your regular seat during your shared class. however, he was met with surprise when he noticed you had moved to a vacant seat considerably distant from your usual spot next to him. he was a bit confused at first, but chose not to dwell on it. he also noted that you didn't notice his entrance into the room, as you were engrossed in some task.

you continued to maintain a distance in your next classes with renjun. he was uncertain if you were oblivious to his presence or deliberately avoiding acknowledgement, given the lack of glances his way. he found it a bit strange that you refrained from initiating any form of interaction, but he didn’t mind. he thought he felt better. at least, for now.

however, renjun was not expecting your odd behavior to persist. it brought another surprise when you ignored him again the following day. even when your eyes accidentally locked for a second, you quickly averted your gaze. renjun wasn’t sure if you really didn’t see him or were just pretending not to. you weren’t wearing your glasses, and your eyesight wasn't the best. but even if you did ignore him on purpose, he didn’t mind… or did he?

it’s been a while since you stopped talking to renjun. at first, he thought he felt a sense of relief, thinking it gave him some space. but after a week, he was confused about why you suddenly stopped. the following week, he could feel his stomach churning seeing you leave class, secretly hoping you’d look back. then, the week after that, he felt a wave of anger because there were more than a few times he bumped into you purposely to get you to talk to him, but you did not utter any word other than a quiet apology. now, nearly a month later, he started to feel dejected because no matter what he did, you always acted like he wasn't even there. renjun wasn’t sure what he did wrong to make you so determined in avoiding him completely.

“renjun’s going through 5 stages of grief,” jaemin said with a smirk.

“what are you talking about?” haechan looked at him in confusion.

“y/n’s been ignoring him for a month.”

“WHAT? WHY?” jaemin shrugged.

“no idea. we’re not close enough for me to ask.”

“what about jeno?”

“he doesn’t want to pry.”

“maybe she got tired of renjun’s grumpy attitude,” chenle piped up.

“could be,” jaemin turned to the boy in question. “look at him, he’s miserable.”

“shut up,” renjun muttered in discontent.

“stop provoking him. it’s his first heartbreak,” chenle taunted, making renjun roll his eyes at their ridiculousness.

“you know you could just talk to her right? ask what’s going on?”

“if she wanted to talk, she would’ve reached out to me by now,” renjun said flatly. his friends could only shake their heads in disapproval.

“don’t be stupid.”

“and i’m begging all of you to mind your own business.”

“if you keep this up, you’ll end up in a situation you can’t fix.”

haechan nodded vigorously. “yeah, don't say we didn't warn you!”

you kept quiet about what you had overheard from renjun in the last month, choosing not to share the details with your friends. you figured they would eventually notice renjun's absence from your life, and when they finally asked you about it, you dismissed their probing questions. you casually informed them that your crush on him had simply faded after getting to know him better. you were quite good at making believable lies, they were convinced by it and dropped the topic quickly.

unexpectedly, renjun sought you out in an empty classroom to confront you about your sudden disconnection. you looked like a deer caught in headlights when you realized who had just entered, walking in long and quick strides to your direction. in your mind, you were already conjuring up excuses to explain yourself.

“why are you ignoring me?” his question broke the silence, leaving you with no room to escape.

so much for attempting to evade this confrontation.

you took a moment to gather your thoughts, unsure how to respond. you tried to conceal your distress as renjun stared down at you while waiting for you to talk. it seemed like he was determined to stand his ground, expecting you to tell him the truth. with a frustrated sigh, you finally spoke up.

“i’m just staying out of your way,” you said after a moment of silence.

“yeah, so why?” his voice was demanding, it ticked you off a little.

you questioned why you were initially afraid of renjun confronting you and why you bothered coming up with excuses. after all, it wasn't his place to interrogate you when you were simply doing what he seemed to want from the start.

“i don’t know why you’re asking. isn’t that what you want? you should be happy.” you began to gather your things so you can leave, but you heard him speak again.

“i never told you to avoid me. if you have a problem with me, just say it.”

“you're right, you never told me directly. you just told other people.”

“what are you talking about?” you turned to face him.

“renjun, i don’t get you. you push me away, you're openly annoyed by me, and you tell everyone you want me gone. now that i’m doing exactly that, you’re still upset with me? what’s your problem?”

renjun ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “stop speaking in riddles and just tell me what's going on."

“fine. last month, i was passing by the library and i overheard you talking to your friends. you were complaining about how i couldn't take a hint and how you wanted me to leave you alone.” renjun looked a bit puzzled at first. when you were about to walk away, his eyes widened in realization.

“no, y/n, i’m so sorry. i didn't really mean what i-“ you shook your head lightly.

“don’t be. you were completely right, and i’m not even angry about it. i just don’t want to do anything with you anymore.”

“please, listen," renjun said, his voice urgent. "i blurted out those things in the heat of the moment. i regret it, especially now that i know you heard what i said… it's just- it’s not how i really feel about you."

“it’s okay, renjun. i didn’t tell you all of this to get an apology. i’m only telling you why i’m doing what i’m doing, like you asked, and to make it clear that i’m done.” as you turned to leave, renjun stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“hear me out, alright? i was being overly sensitive back then. my friends were pushing my buttons, and i didn't know how to handle it so i lashed out. i treated you unfairly and you didn’t deserve any of that. a month without you made me realize a few things. i had to confront what i really want and face some truths i'd been avoiding."

he paused, studying your face before continuing. “i miss spending time with you, y/n. and... well, i realized i've got feelings for you, more than i thought. it never crossed my mind that you'd actually distance yourself and it hit me hard. the idea of losing you if you choose to walk away made me lose my mind.”

your heart raced as he spoke, and his confession stirred up a mix of emotions. your confusion lingered, but you decided to reason through it, pushing aside the sincerity in his eyes as you gave him a skeptical look.

“are you… getting your feelings confused with something else? did you consider that maybe your mind is playing tricks on you and making you think you like me because you're used to others chasing after you?”

renjun winced, trying to ignore the implied criticism. it was a struggle for him to open up about his feelings, only for the girl he liked to question it and suggest that he couldn't understand his own emotions.

“i wouldn't be here asking why you've been avoiding me and opening up like this if i hadn't thought it through." he said quietly. "it might be hard to believe right now, but if you give me a chance, i can prove it to you."

“i don’t think this is a good idea,” you said, watching his face fall. he felt lost, trying to find the right words to convince you. taking a deep breath, he gently placed his hands on your shoulders, meeting your eyes.

“please, just give me a chance to make things right. i feel like i've wasted so much time.” the desperation in his voice was clear. still skeptical, you removed his hands as they fell down to your arms.

“i’ll think about it,” you said, turning to walk away, leaving a lingering sense of uncertainty in the air.

renjun’s friends had been observing him for a few days, and he’s become unusually quiet. they contemplated asking him what’s wrong, but they wanted to give him some space. it was glaringly obvious that something was bothering him, and he didn’t want to talk about it. jeno couldn't help but express his concern.

"renjun, you've been awfully quiet lately. everything alright?"

"yeah, i'm fine. just dealing with some stuff." jeno and jaemin exchanged knowing glances.

"we're here whenever you're ready to talk." jaemin assured, patting his back.

he had been feeling down since your conversation days ago. your words had been weighing on his mind and creating an internal turmoil. the fact that you continued to ignored him in all your classes didn't offer much comfort. renjun couldn't help but cast a longing look in your direction whenever he saw you. he wondered if there was a way to make things right, or if he had to live with the consequences of his past actions.

meanwhile, his confession has been replaying in your mind. the idea of him reciprocating your feelings caught you off guard; it was something you never saw coming. after some contemplation, it became apparent to you that renjun really felt apologetic and was filled with remorse. could it be that he genuinely likes you? even if that was the case, you're still unsure whether it's the right move to start something with him.

maybe i should stop overthinking this.

you took a deep breath before releasing a loud sigh, unaware that the boy who had been occupying your thoughts, stood right in front of you.

“y/n,” you looked up to see renjun. you waited for him to speak, but it seemed like he was having a mental struggle, debating whether to say what was on his mind. he mustered up the courage to ask if you were willing to give him a chance. staring at him with an unreadable expression, he didn't know how to interpret the situation. was it a bad time to talk?

“why?” you finally asked. although renjun was hesitant, he answered.

“i was wondering if you already thought about what i said? i mean… i can wait if you need more time.”

“if i say no, are you going to leave me alone?” your heart sank a little when his face fell.

he took a moment before responding. his voice barely above a whisper. “if that’s what you want... i guess i would have to."

“renjun,” you said, causing him to look up.

“yeah?”

“let’s give it a try.” his expression became hopeful.

“really?”

“yes," you nodded. "you said you liked me back, i'm choosing to believe that for now. just... don't let me down."

“i won’t," he promised, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

before you could react, renjun pulled you into a warm embrace. you found yourself returning the hug, allowing yourself to relax in his arms.

"thank you for giving me a chance," he murmured, his words muffled against your hair but filled with sincerity.

“i’m happy for them, really," giselle said, eyeing you and renjun across the room. "but watching those two make heart eyes at each other is sickening."

chenle snorted. "this is nothing. you should see renjun at the dorm."

the group's attention snapped to him. "oh?" karina prompted.

“let's just say personal space is not in his vocabulary anymore."

“huh… i would've expected y/n to be the clingy one."

“yeah, no. but i guess it makes sense, considering how he acted before."

giselle and karina exchanged amused glances, intrigued by the dynamic between you and renjun.

"amazing what a change of heart can do," jaemin mused.

karina nodded, a hint of approval in her voice. "guess he learned his lesson."

the group watched you and renjun for a moment longer, a mix of amusement and fondness in their expressions. it was clear that renjun had undergone a significant change in the way he acts toward you, transforming his initial aloofness to this new, affectionate version of himself.

“i have the dorm to myself this weekend.” renjun said, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

you raised an eyebrow. “and what exactly are you suggesting?”

“you know…” he trailed off, his look suggestive.

“i’m studying for finals," you replied flatly.

“exactly. i find myself more productive when i’m with you.”

“right. because we get so much done when we study together."

“don't you want my hugs and kisses?” he pouted.

“not when i’m trying to pass my classes.”

“i'll behave, i promise.”

“you always say that. i don’t believe you anymore.” renjun's pout deepened. cute.

“maybe i wouldn't be so clingy if you paid more attention to me. you’re always busy, you don’t have time for your boyfriend.”

“renjun, unlike you, i have to put in extra effort to get good grades. i’m not as smart as you are.”

“excuses.” he mumbled.

you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling. “you’re so adorable,” you cooed, giving him a quick peck. “i never imagined you to be the clingy type.”

“baby, there's a lot of things you don’t know about me.” he said, his voice lowering.

“oh? like what?”

he leaned in close. “like how great i am with my hands."

your eyebrows shot up. "is that so?"

“yeah. apparently, i give one heck of a shoulder massage,” he finished with a grin.

you burst out laughing at his endearing silliness. the sound of your laughter made renjun pause. he watched you, a soft smile spreading across his face. suddenly, he felt an overwhelming surge of happiness. taking your hand gently in his, he pressed a kiss to your fingertips, capturing your attention and prompting you to look at him.

"you make me feel the happiest," he said softly. "i love you."

your heart skipped a beat, the euphoria of hearing those three words from him for the first time washing over you. it hit you then - this unexpected journey with renjun had led you somewhere you never imagined. he, too, held the key to your happiness.

“i love you too," you whispered back.

you closed the distance between you two and your lips met his. as he wrapped an arm around your waist, you let yourself fall to his embrace, deepening the kiss.

renjun was met with the realization that while you fell for him first, he descended later, but with an intensity that surpassed a thousand falls.

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silverskye13 · 2 months ago

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Angst prompt submitted by @theunderscorwolph

[Part 2 of 2]

[Part 1 Found Here]

[Trigger Warnings for this part: Swearing, blood and gore, religious self-harm, general angst, threats of dismemberment, torture. Read with caution, it gets dark.]

"He's been taken by the Thieves' Guild, for infringing on our turf," the thug had said. "He always hit the main square -- prime real estate -- and we thought we'd scared him off. But then he popped up last week spouting shit about a Gargoyle, and threw a bunch of our guild members off a roof. He needed to be taught a lesson. Figured we would pick up a friend of his for insurance, something to make the threat stick. Nothing personal against you -- honest! He's at the Guild Hall, just past the Watcher's Den."

Helsknight and Tango jogged down the hels streets, silent as grim death. Helsknight, for his part, was trying to keep his thoughts as still as possible. If he could just manage to keep from thinking about the events that had already passed today, maybe he could stop feeling so gods-awful about them. Control of that sort kept slipping through his fingers though, his thoughts like writhing, circling eels that kept breaking free to coil around the feeling of his sword, and the begging voice, and the wrist that looked for all the world far too breakable. Helsknight felt both exhausted and innervated, like at any moment, he might shudder apart. He also, predictably, really, really wanted to punch something. Flight had never really been an option for him. When he was scared, or stressed, or really just mildly out of his comfort zone, his one and only instinct was to fight.

[Good then, that where he was going, a fight was surely about to happen.]

Tango kept pace with him surprisingly well. Helsknight was starting to learn the Hermit was a bit more resourceful than he'd given him credit for. Pragmatic. He didn't know where he was going, but every few streets he would ask straightforward questions about what direction, and what they were looking for, and he noticed on his own that he could see Evil X’s tower from anywhere in the city.

“Landmark build,” he’d called it, when they rounded into the Watcher’s Den, and it still loomed like a shadowy colossus in the distant haze. He paused long enough to shade his eyes and let out an impressed whistle. “BDubs would build something like that.” Then, when he realized Helsknight was waiting for him to follow. “So you and Evil X aren't on speaking terms, huh?”

“He's evil,” Helsknight said by way of explanation. “I'm not.”

“Yeah… right.” Tango looked him up and down, and Helsknight found himself stifling the urge to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “You're really not evil, huh?”

Helsknight felt a hot flicker of tired indignation. Tango sounded so… surprised. Like he was realizing something for the first time. Helsknight thought for a moment about defending himself. Of course I'm not. But he was very aware all Tango knew of him was what Wels had probably told him, and he was very aware the things he and Wels did to each other when they crossed swords were unkind, and sometimes cruel, and not the sorts of things good people did.

“A matter of perspective,” Helsknight growled, and turned to continue through Watcher’s Den.

“I don’t think it’s just perspective,” Tango said reasonably, walking briskly to keep up with his long strides. “I mean! Most evil dudes don't have fits about torture, for one thing. Like, I know everyone draws lines somewhere, but that doesn’t feel like it’s just a noble choice, you know?”

Helsknight sighed and rolled his eyes up towards the sky, beseeching patience from whatever god or saint would deign to listen.

“And also, you gave me your cloak thing.” Tango continued, flourishing the fabric demonstratively.

“Don’t get attached,” Helsknight snorted. “I want that back.”

“Right right, whatever.” Tango waved a hand dismissively. “But you gave it to me because it would keep me safe. That’s also, objectively, not very evil.”

“How uncharacteristic of me.”

“And you clearly care about Tanguish,” Tango continued, ignoring Helsknight’s sarcasm. Helsknight raised an eyebrow at him, trying to figure out where all of this was going. “I mean, the minute I said he was gone, you wanted to look for him. And yeah, you were kinda mean about it, but you let me come along. And when those thugs attacked you, you didn’t yell at me to come help you -- which, I mean, obviously I was going to. But you didn’t expect me to put myself in danger. You went into that fight thinking you were going to be protecting me from something.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I think it didn’t occur to you to make me take some of the heat.”

“A tactical error.”

“What changed?”

Helsknight sighed again.

“I mean, everyone’s heard you and Wels’s rap battle thing.” Tango said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It was a little dorky -- but that’s Hermitcraft. We don’t do real serious wars or anything. But. The threats sounded. Genuine? Destroying everything someone loves. Being someone’s inner darkness. That’s evil.” Tango looked up at him. “Right?”

“Tangotek.”

“Knight of the Hels variety.”

“Don’t ask questions that have messy answers.” Helsknight rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m a redstoner.” Tango’s eyes rested briefly on his sword, before he seemed to decide Helsknight wasn’t threatening him with it, and he met Helsknight’s gaze instead. “Every question I ask has a messy answer.”

Helsknight almost ended the conversation there. He wanted to. He could not rightly describe why, but he didn't like that a Hermit might consider him a good person. It made him squeamish to be looked at and judged on the truths of himself, rather than the biases and fabrications of his other half. At least then, if he were found wanting, or lacking, or cruel, it was because of Wels.

“Has it occurred to you yet,” Helsknight said, “that I can be every bit the villain Wels says I am, and still manage to care deeply for someone?”

“Well yeah, obviously.” Tango answered simply. His voice was so light and conversational, it was hard to tell he was being earnest. But he was. He looked Helsknight in the eye, and didn't flinch. “I just also think there's more to it than that.”

Helsknight sighed. He decided to cut off… whatever this bungled heart-to-heart was, now, before it could escalate into territory where Helsknight felt too raw and vulnerable. He told himself it was knightly: it did not do to arm your enemies against yourself.

“What you think doesn't matter to me,” Helsknight said decisively, glowering down at Tango. “What Wels thinks, or any of you Hermits think, doesn't matter to me. What matters to me is what I think about myself.” Helsknight sighed, and allowed himself a little more straight honesty. “And I care what Tanguish thinks of me as well.”

Tango took all this in, turning it over with ponderous weight, like he were considering a tricky line of redstone coding.

“And what do you think about everything you've done today to rescue Tanguish?”

“I think if I manage to rescue him, and he's in one piece, and I haven't come too late, then I will still be able to sleep tonight.” Helsknight grimaced. “Though I may go to confession when he's not looking.”

“You go to confession?”

“Knights and religion,” Helsknight shrugged.

Tango nodded, snapped his fingers like he'd come to a conclusion, and said smugly, “Antihero.”

“Pardon?”

“You should read comics, Killer,” Tango smiled. “They're up your alley. Might even give you some inspiration for your outfit.”

Helsknight glanced down at his armor, and when he realized Tango kept walking without him, felt foolish as he lengthened his stride to catch up.

-------- -

The Thief Guild was a small basalt compound on the outskirts of Watcher’s Den, one reclaimed set of structures probably stolen from the Watcher itself -- fitting for a pack of thieves. It seemed less like a proper building, and more like a honeycomb burrow someone dug into a naturally formed basalt cathedral. Only the fact that it was surrounded by other dilapidated buildings gave any indication it wasn't a stolen part of the landscape.

They didn't approach by the main road, opting instead to spider through the alleys surrounding the compound. Helsknight kept an eye on their surroundings, making sure they weren't spotted or followed, while Tango navigated them closer to their quarry. Once he knew where they were going, he had a pretty good head for directions -- Helsknight chalked it up to all the times the Hermit had explored new generation, or gotten lost in his own strip mines. Pathfinding was a skill honed just like any other.

At last their alley intersected with the entrance to the compound. Peeking around the corner, they got a glimpse of locked gates and a barren stone courtyard, leading to purple-grey stairs. There was a landing, flanked by a pair of guards, and a closed door. From this distance, Helsknight only knew they had bows because he caught the flicker of light off the tip of a flint arrowhead.

“So, what's the plan?” Tango whispered, eyeing Helsknight as he drew his sword. “And if your answer is ‘storm the castle like an idiot', guess again.”

“I would have stopped at ‘storm the castle’.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm a knight.” Helsknight hissed, scowling. “I don't do sneak-thieving. Even if I wanted to try stealth, I think the clattering armor will give it away.”

“So you've decided your only other option is running death-or-glory for the front gate?” Tango asked, his voice threatening to tilt out of its already over-loud whisper. “They'll turn you into a pin cushion before you run five steps!”

“I have netherite gear,” Helsknight muttered testily.

“On your arms and legs, congratulations! I'm sure that's what they'll be aiming for, and not your big head.”

“You have any better ideas?!”

Tango opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. He tapped a finger to his lips like he was shushing himself, maybe forcing himself to think before he spoke again. “Let me see what I've got.”

Tango rifled through his pockets, found what looked to be a small black die, and tossed it to the ground. The moment it landed, it hissed into the shape of an ender chest, and with a kick from his boot, it flipped open. Tango stood quietly like that for a few minutes, hands on his sides, muttering under his breath as he parsed through the indecipherable contents. Eventually he kicked it closed.

“I've got an idea,” Tango whispered. “I'm going to make a distraction.”

Helsknight raised an eyebrow at him. “How mysterious.”

“You'll know it when you see it,” Tango chuckled. “Cover your ears.”

He started off down the alley. Helsknight called after him in a loud whisper.

“Don't kill anyone.”

Tango stopped and cast a skeptical look back at him. “Why not?”

“We don't know where their spawns are set,” Helsknight said, squashing down a feeling like guilt that was clambering to life in his stomach. “If I have to fight through an army today, I'd rather only do it once.”

Tango swallowed uncomfortably. His bow was still slung over his shoulder, and he reached up to it now, fingers plucking at the string. “Any uh… any tips?”

Helsknight searched through bitter memories of Colosseum fights for the things he knew he couldn't fight through. Those times when he, and the people he fought against, stopped seeing each other as people and instead as problems in need of solving.

“All the limbs and joints.” Helsknight gestured to his elbows and knees. “Stay away from the thighs, the neck, the body.” He hesitated, then grimaced, the ghost of a memory tangling in his guts. “If you're desperate, and someone won't stop coming at you, you can hit them here, but save that as a last resort.” Helsknight drew a circle low on his abdomen, where organs got twisted and complicated. “It hurts like all hels, and kills slowly.”

Tango grimaced and went a little pale, the flames in his hair and tail taking on a greenish cast. It seemed to be sinking in, belatedly, just how gruesome this whole business might end up being.

“You don't have to go in with me,” Helsknight offered, forcing some steel into his voice, self-assuredness he didn't really feel. “Make your distraction, come back here, and wait for me and Tanguish to come out again.”

Tango teetered on the edge of agreeing to that. Helsknight could see it in the way his body leaned, someone who wanted to run away, to make something not his problem. Helsknight couldn't blame him for that. He didn't want it to be his problem either. There was a world of difference between fighting in an arena, and making war on someone, no matter how justified that war was. But Tango, as Helsknight was repeatedly being reminded, had resolve that was hard as obsidian, and cut like diamond. The Hermit swallowed, took a bracing breath, and shook his head.

“I've come this far, right Killer?” He said, and darted away down the alley.

Helsknight waited. He wondered, briefly, if it had been wise to let Tango go off on his own. He waited longer. He rubbed the side of his face tiredly, trying to stave off the fatigue that came from boredom and a trying day, and, when his mind threatened to wander, he found himself itching the cut on his wrist. It was hard to scratch with his gauntlets blunting his nails, which was probably for the best.

Helsknight's gauntlets were made in pieces. It made them easier to clean, which, after many months of fighting in the Colosseum, was something he'd come to appreciate. The main part of it was a thick leather glove, with netherite plate buckled and riveted over top. There were versions of the gauntlets where the metal plates used fully encircled the wrist, and extended down each individual finger for maximum protection, but he found these also hindered his range of movement somewhat, and given how often he wore armor out and about in hels, his were a bit simpler. The metal plating stopped at his knuckles, and only covered the top of his hands and forearm, cinching underneath with tight buckles that he kept adjusting. It was easier to take on and off, easier to pull apart to clean -- and it meant his dagger had only had to shear through leather before finding the skin beneath.

Helsknight wondered idly as he slipped a finger beneath the cut leather, if he had armored himself better, if he would have been able to hurt himself in his panic. Would he, upon glancing his dagger off the hardened plate, simply dropped the knife and prayed? Or, he wondered with macabre humor, would he have found somewhere more inconvenient to stab? He wore a chain shirt, but it was a simple thing to lift that away and access his thighs, where large veins could bleed someone dry in the seconds it took for pain to travel. He didn't think he had it in himself to kill himself over guilt. He feared dying too much. The deep unknown of whether the universe would devour him in the moments before respawn was a lurking terror that still strangled him on dark nights, and during particularly bloody fights.

[Then again, Helsknight thought grimly, he hadn't thought he was capable of torture, and yet, desperation had driven his hand to that particular blade with startling speed, even if circumstance had spared him the swing.]

Tango’s ‘distraction’ sent him hurdling out of his poisonous thoughts like a man thrown from a second story window. There was a loud explosion, something near-deafening, that shook the air and the ground, and sent sheets of dust cascading around Helsknight. The ground beneath his feet cracked ominously, and the wall at his back groaned and resettled itself, bowing slightly in the middle as something integral in the ground destabilized. Two smaller explosions kicked the air overhead, billowing smoke and the high, tinny whine of spent fireworks. Helsknight's world narrowed to haze, and the pervasive smell of gunpowder.

Tango, a flickering spark that seemed to leap at him from the gloom, materialized at his side. His hands were soot-stained, his grin wide and manic. He reeked of sulfer and salt peter, and the chemical high of ignition.

“Consider them suitably distracted!” Tango keened, his words mangled by giggles. “Time to kick some butts!”

“Was that TNT?!” Helsknight coughed, trying to pull the collar of his tunic over his mouth and nose. The smoke stung his eyes and put a bitter taste in his mouth, and he kept blinking to clear away tears.

“No good redstoner ever leaves home without it!” Tango laughed, shrugging his bow off his shoulders. “After you Killer, before the smoke blows away.”

Helsknight nodded, gathering up his determination. He drew his sword and charged for the gate. The explosion had knocked askew one of the support pillars holding it up, and Helsknight found it relatively easy to kick it open. The lock held, but the cracked stone gave up the hinges on one side, and Helsknight vaulted over the twisting metal as it fell. Behind him, Tango cackled, impressed. The smoke billowing through the courtyard sheltered them, so that the remaining guard by the door only knew Helsknight was there when the knight was slamming the flat of his blade against the side of his head. He crumpled to the ground, and Helsknight shouldered his way through the front door which was, thankfully, unlocked.

Inside the compound, the corridors were dark and close, lit intermittently by shroomlights in the ceiling, casting everything in a dim orange glow. Helsknight paused, tilting his head to listen. Ahead of him, the building split into three hallways, one continuing into some kind of foyer, while the other two branched into long tunnels. There were shouts down one hall, mostly names and demands about what had happened and who was hurt. The other was relatively quiet, emptied perhaps, after the ruckus. The foyer started empty, but as Helsknight watched, a pair of thieves passed into it, looking shaken.

“Get the one on the left,” Helsknight told Tango, and charged in while the Hermit sputtered, and drew an arrow to his bow. Helsknight was on the pair of thieves in a handful of long strides, his gauntleted fist connecting with one’s sternum with the full force of his run behind it. He felt the satisfying huff of air bucking out of their lungs as he winded them, and as they crumpled to floor wheezing, he turned to the second. He caught their drawn dagger on his gauntlet, but before he could raise his sword to them, Tango’s arrow took them in the leg, and they fell.

Helsknight, running on adrenaline and the need for swift action, turned to slam his boot down on the arm of the one he'd winded. He wrinkled his nose at the sound and feel of bone breaking. He took a second to gulp down his revulsion, and then demanded, “Tanguish, the Gargoyle thief. Where is he?”

They pointed him towards a nearby open door. Helsknight narrowed his eyes towards the corridor, not entirely sure if he should trust the direction given. He swallowed, and once again dredged up his dread persona from the Colosseum, the remorseless villain that didn't trust, and didn't relent. He ground the heel of his boot down, eliciting a long shriek of pain.

“Perhaps I should drag you with me,” Helsknight said in the cool, quiet voice he used for villain speeches and threatening monologues, “so, if I find out you've lied, I can break your other arm as well?”

“N-n-n-not lying!” They gasped, eyes wide and terrified. “That hall. Down the stairs. Past the big doors. Guild boss is down there with him.”

Their friend, who was now staring down the point of Tango’s next arrow, nodded fast agreement. “You can't miss it!”

Helsknight nodded. He was about to move, when a clattering sounded from the entrance to the foyer. He turned to watch three more thieves come into the room from where he and Tango had entered. One of them he recognized as a street thug who had ambushed him. That one took a frightened step back, while the other two drew swords and knives.

[Not good odds.]

Helsknight opened his mouth and said something. He wasn't really paying attention to words, only pulled a suitably terrifying line at random from a list of memorized Colosseum threats, and focused on the tone of his voice and the lines of his body. The thug he'd met before turned abruptly and ran. The other two took hesitant steps backwards, and lowered weapons. Beneath him, the thief with the broken arm whined. Tango gulped audibly, and cast him a wary glance. Reassured he wouldn't be followed, Helsknight turned and made for the hallway he'd been pointed down. Tango backed after him, keeping his bow trained on the thieves for a few seconds longer before coming to his side.

“Maybe… I take it back,” Tango laughed nervously. “There might be a little evil in there.”

Helsknight raised an eyebrow at him. “That bad?”

“I mean yeah that was kinda threatening!”

“Wasn't paying attention,” Helsknight grunted. “Glad it worked.”

Tango blinked at him, incredulous. “What do you mean you weren't paying attention?!”

“I kind of just… say things sometimes.” Helsknight admitted, shrugging. “Something that came from my relationship with Wels, I think. Sometimes I focus on what I want, and don't pay attention to the words really, and it'll stick. Comes in handy when I'm improvising villain lines in the Colosseum, though I've had some people ask me not to do it, since it gets a little personal. Red especially hates it.”

Tango opened and closed his mouth a few times in a good impersonation of a startled fish.

“What'd I say?”

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Tango gave a bark of baffled laughter. “Just, you know, something about taking the marrow from their bones before the mercy of respawn. Reasonable threat.”

“Oh. Gross.” Helsknight snorted and rolled his eyes, “Sounds too dramatic to work.”

“It helps that you're like, twice everyone’s size and obviously know your way around a sword.”

“That helps,” Helsknight grunted, refocusing on the hallway ahead as doors began opening up along its sides.

Startled people, thugs and thieves and whoever else happened to have business in the Guild, were peering out to gauge the commotion. Some of them took one look at an armed and armored knight, flanked by an archer, and promptly scrambled to close and bolt their doors again. Several didn't. Helsknight charged to meet them, taking advantage of the closeness of the hallway, and the forced bottleneck it made. Three, four people at a time he would struggle to fight off, if he could fight them off at all. One or two, though, he thought he could manage, if he was quick enough.

Helsknight ducked a knife, parried a hand axe, and punched the nearest throat he could reach. His focus narrowed to his hands, his feet, and the flickering of metal in the dim light. Twice he felt a blade clatter off his armor, the thick grieves protecting his forearms. Once, someone managed a lucky stab at his ribs, and while his chainmail caught the blade, he felt something bruise, and lost half a breath. Someone -- the axe wielder -- slammed their blade hard into his sword and he dropped it. This was not ideal, but Helsknight was a man who preferred a sword in his hand. He was far from helpless without one. He drew his dagger, buried it in the axe-wielder's shoulder, then ripped their axe from their now limp hand and promptly chopped it into someone else’s knee. While he was ducked low, Tango’s arrow caught someone else in the shoulder, and then the forearm, and they fell howling.

By the time Helsknight had hacked and slashed his way down the hall, his arms were bloodied up to the elbow. His breath came in gasps that rattled in his sore ribs in growls. There was a fiery line of pain on one thigh that threatened to make him limp, and a bone-aching bruise on his left arm where someone smashed him with what he thought was a chair leg. Fatigue was starting to worm its way into his muscles, the repeated shocks to his joints made him grit his teeth through increasing aches. His stomach churned, adding to the chorus of discomforts. He was not used to so much blood, and the smell was cloying; so physical it had a taste.

Blood was one of the many things respawn scrubbed away, the universe setting harms to rights. In leaving so many people alive in his wake, all that wounding had nowhere to go, so it clung to him like groping hands, and ran in rivulets down his armor. Helsknight felt mad, a rabid animal barely in control of his senses. His sword, returned to his hand as he'd cleared the hall, was both slick and sticky all at once. It all felt deeply, deeply wrong.

[Confession, as soon as the next one wa held. Or he might just preemptively bleed himself dry begging for forgiveness.]

Helsknight's Saint, it had to be said, was not a squeamish divinity. They were the Saint of Blood and Steel. Most of their prayers were made not with words, but with the opening of veins. But the Saint, for what Helsknight thought were very good, very obvious reasons, didn't condone wanton violence and cruelty. Helsknight’s tenets were so tied up in reasons why not to raise his blade, sometimes he wondered if he shouldn't keep it peace-knotted like the paladins did.

[The Saint, he thought, would not like what he was doing now. He thought he fought with good reason. He thought he wasn't being unnecessarily cruel. But he thought many people probably thought that way, when justifying atrocities to gods.]

[He wondered, distantly, as he reached the stairs down, if Tango thought he was a villain yet.]

Regardless of what Tango thought of him, if he thought anything at all, the Hermit was at his back. His nervous laughter had stopped about halfway down the hall, giving way to exhausted concentration. They were back to back, Tango keeping an arrow trained behind them in case someone tried ambushing them, and from their closeness Helsknight could feel him shaking. He didn't know if Tango shook from horror or fatigue, but he could hear the Hermit’s breath quick and harsh, and his fire had taken on a permanent greenish cast that greyed the red-orange hues emanated from the overhead shroomlights.

They descended the stairs together in breathy silence. Tango fired a warning shot behind them, and whispered something so soft and hoarse, Helsknight couldn't hear it over the sound of his own rough breathing. He deciphered the meaning well enough though, between the tone of voice and the arrow: People were coming behind them.

Helsknight moved quicker, taking the stairs two at a time, until he emerged into anothers at foyer of some sort. There was a pair of double doors -- like the thief had described -- at the end of the room, and past that, another set of doors that he watched close and lock. Helsknight stormed through the abandoned room, past overturned chairs and other signs of haste. When they passed the open doors, Tango stopped.

“I'll make sure no one can follow us,” Tango said, closing them and running for some of the nearby furniture. “You think you can get those open, Killer?”

Helsknight put on a grim smile. “No force in hels can keep me out of that room.”

“Villain vibes!” Tango called to him, only halfway joking.

Helsknight strode up to the closed doors and, reasonably, he thought, tried the handle first. It was locked. Helsknight rolled his shoulders and sighed.

It took three kicks to break open the doors. The first broke the lock. The second bent the latch, and sent a wide crack spiraling up the wood. The third had them thrown open so hard, they banged off the walls and shuddered, and one tilted askew off a hinge.

Helsknight’s eyes locked on someone who looked vaguely like a leader. At the very least, they wore clothing that looked more official, and better kept. Tanguish was at their feet, slumped over onto the ground. Helsknight spared Tanguish enough of a glance to see no mortal wounds, before striding across the room, sword held out wide, the bloody tip ringing as it grazed across the ground. He didn't know what he planned to do exactly. Beating the Guild Leader senseless was probably on the list somewhere, but for now he would settle on looking terrifying and unstoppable.

The Guild Leader lunged for Tanguish and yanked him to his feet, a dagger shoved up against his throat threateningly. Helsknight stopped dead in his tracks, sudden fear shooting frigid lines through his veins.

“There we are,” the Guild Leader said, smiling tensely. “Let's be reasonable here.”

Tanguish was awake and alert in the Guild Leader’s grip. There was an ugly purple bruise beneath one of his eyes, and he breathed irregularly, like it was a labor. His eyes were wide and fearful, and brimmed with unshed tears, his expression a war of relief at seeing Helsknight, and terror of the circumstances.

“H-Helskn--”

“You stay quiet,” the Guild Leader hissed, pressing the dagger against Tanguish’s skin. They didn't draw blood, but the delicate skin dimpled warningly. Tanguish let out a soft, fearful noise, almost too pathetic to be a whine. Helsknight seethed. Anger and fear were snakes in his ribs, his adrenaline a lighting buzzing to life in his veins. He felt like he had when he’d pinned the thug to the wall, desperation on the verge of moving to wicked violence.

“Let him go,” Helsknight demanded, his voice cold and soft as a deadly promise.

“I would love to,” the Guild Leader said amiably. “But see, I'm not stupid. As soon as he’s away from my knife, that sword is coming for me, and I would rather not flirt with the universe today, if it's all the same to you.”

Helsknight heard a noise to his side, the slip of a boot. He glanced over and saw two thugs waiting near the wall on that side of the room. One had a sword, the other, a daunting looking spear. A quick check of his other side, and Helsknight saw a third person waiting, sword in hand.

[Blundering right in here had perhaps been a tactical error.]

“Drop your weapon,” the Guild Master hummed, and this time when they pressed their dagger against Tanguish's throat, they didn't relent until a trickle of blood spilled free. Tanguish, very bravely, did not whine, but he screwed his eyes shut painfully.

Helsknight tossed his sword to the ground, and watched Tanguish flinch every time it clattered. He tried to collect all his helpless anger into the center of his chest, where he could bury it. Anger wouldn't help him right now. He wasn't sure anything could help him, but anger certainly wouldn't.

[Tango.]

Tango hadn't followed him into the room. He didn't dare look back to see if the Hermit had been caught. It would just draw attention to him if he wasn't. Helsknight couldn't hear anything besides the cautious approach of the henchmen he’d stumbled in on. Their footsteps were hesitant, skittish. He felt them more than he heard them, like spider legs on his skin.

“Check him for further weapons,” the Guild Leader said, and as their thugs moved in to do so: “Well, this wasn't how I anticipated getting you here, but you did get here. So, now my threats can have the weight I need them to have.”

Helsknight was still listening for Tango, trying to figure out what, if anything, the Hermit might plan to do. He decided the best way he could help was to be distracting. [It would give the Hermit time to escape, if nothing else. There was no point in everyone getting killed here today.]

As well as he could, Helsknight shoved his emotions down in favor for his Colosseum theatricality, to make himself threatening and dangerous, even disarmed. One of the only perks to being drenched in blood, was ir proved not all of his pretense was an act.

“Watch yourself,” Helsknight murmured to the brave thug who reached him first. They watched him warily, freezing halfway to reaching for his belted dagger. “I bite.”

They took a rather large step back away from him, and he flashed his teeth in something that was more snarl than grin.

“Don't be ridiculous.” The Guild Leader snorted. “Put your hands over your head or something.”

“I would rather not.” Helsknight splayed his blood-spattered hands, a motion that startled one of the three thugs trying [and failing] to search him into jolting back a step. “For obvious reasons.”

“Not my fault you decided to cut your way through half the compound.”

“And I'll cut through the rest of it before I'm done,” Helsknight said levely.

“I don't think so.” The Guild Leader said, and nodded to one of the thugs.

A boot planted itself in Helsknight’s knees, and he dropped to the floor. He caught himself with his hands, but the flicker of metal at his eye level kept him from springing back up again. The swordsmen were flanking him, their blades crossed over the back of his neck, the tips intruding on his peripheral vision. He had to force himself to breathe slowly, to ignore his panic as it crawled to life in his chest and set his heartbeat racing.

With Helsknight secured, the Guild Leader finally released Tanguish, shoving him roughly to the ground. Helsknight had to bite his tongue to keep from calling out to him. He didn't like how weak Tanguish seemed to be, how easily these thugs yanked and tossed him around. But he worried showing his concern would make their situation worse, or at the very least, give their captors vindication. Instead he glowered, and searched Tanguish for anything that could be wounding.

Their eyes met, and Tanguish flashed him an agonized expression. His voice was small and broken as he whispered, “I'm sorry.”

Helsknight found his resolve breaking almost immediately. His gaze softened, and he whispered back as comfortingly as he could under the circumstances. “Don't be.”

The Guild Leader flourished their dagger, a motion that set the metal flashing in the dim light. Tanguish flinched at the motion. Helsknight only watched it warily, waiting for the blade to find a reason to bite.

“I do pity you swordsman. I didn't want to get you involved--”

“A wise decision,” Helsknight growled. One of the swordsmen hovering over him tapped the back of his neck warningly with their blade.

“--but you see, we here at the Thief Guild, well, you've heard the saying thick as thieves I'm sure. We built this place to protect each other. Hels is a very large, very dangerous place.”

They flourished the dagger again, and this time, Helsknight caught a flicker of something in the reflection of the blade. He couldn't be sure, but for a brief second, he thought he saw what he thought was firelight ducking back behind the wall.

[Tango.]

Why was the Hermit still here? Surely he should know to cut his losses and run. There was no saving them from this. No way Helsknight could see, anyway. Helsknight couldn't run, even if his tenets didn't keep him from it, he didn't think he could break away from so many blades. Not now while he was pinned. And even if he could somehow fight through these four thieves, with no constricting hallway or element of surprise to aid him, he couldn't go back out the way they'd come in. Tanguish still had no reflection to leap through, and Helsknight didn't think he could get him one in the time it would take his captors to remove his head from his shoulders.

Dread and helplessness were poisons in his stomach, weighing him down, draining him. Helsknight realized, now that his blood had a chance to cool, that he was exhausted. The cut on his leg still burned. His arms throbbed, both from bruises and from his rough use of them. His back, shoulder and neck hurt from swinging his sword, and the contact of bodies. A bone-deep weariness was settling across him, and he was pretty sure just getting here already had him borrowing strength from tomorrow. If he were the sort of person who gave up, he could very easily see himself laying down here on the cold ground and waiting for the inevitable. There was only so much fight a body could muster.

Helsknight pinned his gaze to the floor beneath his hands. His brow creased in a slight frown. Slowly, praying the movement didn't draw attention, Helsknight shifted his hand over to rub at the smear of blood on his gauntlet. Netherite was not nearly so reflective a surface as iron or gold, but it did have some luster. He could see his own eye reflected back at him, and the hazy shapes of the swordsmen overhead.

The beginnings of a plan tumbled together in Helsknight’s head. He thought there was a large chance it wouldn't work. He thought a lot relied on Tango being clever, and good at timing, and pragmatic enough to not make stupid mistakes.

[He thought, if the Hermit had proved nothing else today, he had proved he was good at those three things.]

Helsknight let out a derisive noise in the back of his throat, cutting off the Guild Leader halfway through their threatening monologue. They had been pacing, and now they stopped, flourishing that dagger in their hand again.

“Can we speed this up?” Helsknight asked, disdain thick in his voice. “I'm not sure if you idiots have looked in a mirror lately, but you're not exactly scary, and I'm getting tired of kneeling on your stupid floor.” He narrowed his eyes daringly at the Guild Leader and spat. “Whatever you're planning to do, get it over with. There are a thousand things worse than dying here. Listening to you blow hot air for the next hour just might be one of them.”

The Guild Leader blinked at him, caught somewhere between incredulous and irate. Helsknight actually watched their face redden with anger. They stalked over to him, kicking aside Tanguish as they went. Tanguish who, as soon as Helsknight stopped speaking, immediately started making excuses for him.

“He didn't mean it! Please, leave him alone! He's got nothing to do with this--!”

Tanguish started to crawl to his feet, but the spearman was over him in an instant, harrying him back down.

Helsknight twisted his arm so that the reflection on his gauntlet faced Tanguish. He knew Tanguish needed the physical touch to leap through, but all he or Tango needed to make the jump from the other side was the ability to see their other half--

The Guild Leader grabbed a fistful of Helsknight's hair and yanked his head back, twisting him uncomfortably so his throat was bared. Fear, cold and relentless, washed through him like ice water, radiating from the point of the knife as the Guild Leader hooked it beneath his chin, and all thoughts he had fled him.

“You know,” the Guild Leader hissed, “you're entirely too smug for a prisoner. I think you could use some humbling.”

Helsknight suppressed a shudder, if for no other reason than he feared the jerking movement would slice him open on the knifepoint.

“I was informed you threatened to take off one of my thief’s hands,” the Guild Leader said. “I don't know about you, but I don't think a swordsman is quite so effective without both of his either, wouldn't you say?”

Helsknight's mind went very still, and very cold, emptied of any ability to reason and plan. He felt as though he'd been very abruptly shoved underwater. Fear smothered him, made him senseless and slow. What was it Tango had called it? Shock?

He thought [N…]

He thought [No…]

Someone shoved him down roughly. A boot stepped down on his gauntlet, holding his arm still and outstretched. The joint at his elbow was exposed, that diminutive gap between armor and mail.

He thought [He didn’t want this to happen.]

Tanguish was shouting.

He thought [This can't be happening.]

The people holding him down were discussing the best way to go about their business. Helsknight tried to thrash, tried to break free, but his angle was awkward, and he was tired and sore. The second swordsman pressed a knee against his back, pinning him down.

He thought [Is Tanguish worth this?]

One of the swordsmen passed their sword to their leader.

He thought [He has to be worth this. Because otherwise it was for nothing.]

The blade gleamed as it was drawn back. Low light flickering. Helsknight's heart beat so fast he thought it might give out and stop. His ears rang, his head full of empty fear and animal panic and void static.

He thought [

He thought [S

He thought [Stop]

He thought [Please]

He thought [Saint of Blood and Steel]

He thought [Any God.

He thought [Any Saint.]

He thought [Anyone.]

He thought [Anyone!]

He thought [Please.]

[Don't let this happen.]

Tango sprang out of the sword’s reflection just as it began its arc downward. His bow was in his hand, the arrowhead a blazing smear of reflected light. His flame was the blinding white of fear, and the anger that chases fear, and the fear that chases anger, and the anger that chases fear. He was, for a moment, weightless, timeless, frozen. He was, for a moment, the will of gods, and divine intervention, and the fumbled attempts of someone who lacked all heroism trying his best to be help.

Tango’s arrow took the Guild Leader in the chest. The shot was terribly close. The full force of the bow and the air and everything that made arrows work couldn’t work at such a short distance. Shouldn't work. But it was a very powerful enchanted bow, and the Leader was unarmored, and Tango was desperate, and a Hermit, and whether he knew it or not, the universe loved him deeply.

The shaft sank halfway to the fletching in the Guild Leader’s chest.

The room exploded into motion and sound. Tango landed heavy on the floor, and was immediately ducking a swung sword. The spearman lunged for him as well, and the one unarmed thug was busied trying to keep their dying Guild Leader from collapsing. Helsknight, all panic and anger, and the need to fight anything if it would stave off future helplessness, came lunging off the ground. He barrelled into the spearman, his shoulder planting itself squarely against their chest and sending them off their feet. Helsknight's sword was in his hand -- he didn't know when he’d picked it up -- and he turned on the swordsman and crashed his blade into theirs before they could stab Tango.

Their blades met once, twice. His arms hurt. His chest hurt. His leg hurt. The edges of his vision were blurs, and the only thing he wanted was to make these people gone, now, before they could kill anyone.

The Guild Leader was dead.

The second swordsman had picked up their dropped sword, and they came at Helsknight with grim ferocity. He slapped away their lunge with neither finesse nor calculation, only the knee-jerk and instinctual power of the frenzied. Helsknight backed up a step, and his boot kicked into Tanguish’s tail. Tango was trying to help him to his feet, but when Tanguish tried to stand, he whimpered in pain. Behind them, the spearman was retrieving their spear, a hand clutched to their winded chest.

“Get him out of here!” Helsknight snarled at Tango.

The Hermit looked at him, looked for a moment like he might argue, and then to Helsknight's infinite relief, he yanked an arrow from his quiver. The metal arrowhead glinted as he turned it in his fingers.

“No!” Tanguish argued, horrified. “Not without--!”

Tanguish reached for Helsknight a second after Tango reached for him. They vanished.

Leaping towards Helsknight from where they had been, came the spearman. Helsknight twisted, hacked away the spearhead, and lost his breath when one of the swordsmen lunged and jabbed hard at his ribs. What once was bruised, broke. Helsknight’s breaths, when they finally came, lanced him with pain, and that pain focused him, grounding his wits momentarily. This time when a swordsman lunged, his blade snaked out to drive into their shoulder, and they fell back bleeding. The second swordsman and the spearman attacked him in tandem and he back-stepped hurriedly, focusing on parrying the spear. His shoulders touched the wall behind him. The swordsman leaped for him, victory spurring them into a headlong rush. Helsknight’s sword sheared through their throat, and as they fell, the spearman lanced forward.

The air was driven from Helsknight's lungs again as the spearhead plunged into his stomach, punching through a few weakened rings of his mail and burying deep. Helsknight’s entire world narrowed to white, hot, electric pain, and the intimate wrongness of intrusion where nothing was supposed to be able to reach. He doubled over, his hands groping for the spear shaft, his sword dropped and forgotten. Before he could grip it, the spear was ripped from him, and he would have screamed if he had the breath to.

Helsknight crumpled to the floor and curled in on himself, fists bunched against the wound. He didn’t know if he was trying to stop the bleeding, or simply trying to shield himself from the awful sight of it. Touching it made his hands shake, lanced him with another wave of pain, and a feeling of wrongness so intense he nearly gagged. He had taken wounds like this in the Colosseum only once or twice before, and that experience didn't help him. It was every bit as breathtakingly painful as he remembered, and it seared his thoughts raw.

Out of the corner of his eye, a hazy silhouette loomed. The spearman was watching him.

A shattered thought, more instinct than coherency, made Helsknight search for his sword. It was within reach.

He wanted to reach for it, but fear stayed his hand. His wound was terrible, but it was in the deep, complicated places of the body that didn’t kill with immediacy. Helsknight, above anything else in life, feared death. He thought he would rather suffer here on the floor for the next hours, hels, the next days, if there was a chance he would live. That someone might bring him mercy, and healing, before he had to face down the maw of the universe and respawn. But if he picked up his sword… if he made himself threatening…

There was no one left here for him to protect. No one to distract from any coming wrath, or vengeance from the thieves in the hall. It was just him.

He was alone, and he was dying.

Fear sank its withering roots deep into him, twined in his ribs, where his already haggard breathing grew tight and suffocated. It wrapped around his spine, commanding him to be still. It commanded he wait, and suffer, and hope and pray and be helpless, for the barest chance death might pass him over.

The spearman moved slowly, stalking around so that Helsknight could see them better. They were not anyone Helsknight recognized, though there was a detached coldness in their gaze he didn’t think he’d ever forget.

“You’re so quiet,” they informed him, as he lay on the ground and bled. “Even when you’re threatening people, or in pain. It’s uncanny.”

Helsknight took a breath, and tried to muster enough coherent thought to speak.

They kicked him.

They only did it once, but they kicked him where his fingers interlaced over the wound in his stomach. It was a cruelty driven by frigid curiosity, someone pulling the legs off a spider to see when the squirming would stop.

If they expected Helsknight to scream, he didn’t. He would have, if he could. Between his fear, and the broken rib, and the intrusion of his diaphragm on the wound in his stomach, breath was a thing Helsknight could only sip shortly and painfully, in hitches and gasps. There wasn’t enough of it in him to scream properly. But every muscle in his body contracted in agony, and a gag ripped its way up his throat, and when the little breath he had left him, it left him in a whimper that shook and strangled out when blood pulsed with his heartbeat onto his hands. Helsknight’s vision contracted, edged in black, spangled by multicolored stars.

The spearman seemed unimpressed. They took their spear in both hands and studied him, considering.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to be tough, or if you’re just pathetic.”

[Pathetic.]

[Pain made heroes of no one.]

The spearman moved, pointing their bloody spearhead down at him. For a moment, Helsknight feared they had decided to kill him and be done with it. They lowered the broad spearpoint down towards his hands, as though they expected to probe the wound again. Helsknight’s hand snapped out with a suddenness he didn’t even know he was capable of, driven by one last faltering, frigid spine of adrenaline. The dying ghost of self preservation. He gripped the weapon shakily, and hissed in fleeting gasps.

“Touch me again, and when I come back here for you, I will bring every knight and paladin in hels with me.”

Helsknight didn’t speak with sureness or authority. His voice was a weak and wincing thing that threatened to break at the end of every word. But he meant it. He meant it with every fiber of his being. A place like this, with people this cruel, could not be allowed to exist. Not if he was allowed the chance to leave. If no one else, he knew his Saint wouldn’t abide cruelty like this.

Helsknight had never been a paladin. In truth, what the paladins went through in their blind service scared him almost as much as dying did, but he would unleash their fury on this place in a heartbeat.

The spearman laughed at him and yanked their spearpoint out of his hand. It cut his palm, but it was such a small hurt compared to all the others, Helsknight barely felt it.

“Really? And how are you going to do that, huh? Knights don’t listen to people like us.”

[People like us?]

“I’m a knight,” Helsknight gasped.

They laughed again, “Really? And did you leave your cloak at the cleaners when you went on crusade?”

“It’s on loan, you asshole.”

The spearman startled, turning on their heel towards the voice. Helsknight didn’t know when Tango had returned. Probably it had been just now. He didn’t have time to wonder how Tango had made it back to him again. Wels stood behind Tango, a look of horror and fury on his face. The resplendent silver and diamond of his immaculate plate didn’t gleam so brilliantly in the dim red of hels, but he was an imposing figure nonetheless. Wels’s own fist was balled sympathetically against his stomach, like he could feel the ghosts of Helsknight’s pain through whatever connection they had. His double’s empathetic rage washed over Helsknight like a wave, buried his own dread and fear beneath a wall of righteous fury. Breathtaking.

Wels moved like a hawk swooping, quick and arrow-point keen. The spearman, caught off-guard, barely managed to lift their spear.

Then Tango was kneeling beside Helsknight, cutting off his view. He swore bitterly when he saw the wound, and clasped his hand against Helsknight's, as if he thought the extra pressure would help. It didn't. Or if it did, it paled in comparison to the spike of pain it wracked through Helsknight. He must have made some pathetic noise, because Tango keened fearfully back at him, yanking his hand away.

“I'm sorry! Just hang in there, Killer,” Tango said, rifling through his pockets for anything reflective. “I've got like-- like six health potions with your name on them brewing back at Hermitcraft. Just-- just-- you know. Keep it together.”

Helsknight didn't think the ‘keep it together’ was directed at him. He must have looked pathetic indeed, because Tango clasped his hand in Helsknight's in an attempt to be reassuring, and shouted for Wels to hurry up.

[Had the little fool really come running back here so fast, he forgot to bring a reflection to escape with?]

After what felt like a small eternity, where Tango mumbled awkward reassurances, and all Helsknight could do was breathe, and try very hard not to bleed to death, Wels rejoined them. His armor was pristine as always, though he had a new cut on his cheek, and a disgusted expression on his face. The emotions radiating from him were of the purest contempt, probably directed at the spearman he’d killed. They softened to pity and nervousness when he laid eyes on Helsknight again, like colors bleeding in water.

“It's a bad wound Tango,” Wels said hesitantly. “It might be kinder to help him respawn.”

Tango shook his head briskly, “I promised.”

“The trip through the void--”

“If you won't bring him back for me, move your metal butt closer and I'll bring him back myself,” Tango snapped. He grimaced and said a bit gentler, “They're scared of respawn here for some reason. I don't get it bu-- but-- just-- I'll owe you one. Okay?”

Wels sighed and looked down at Helsknight. It was not a hateful, cruel, or wary look. It was an expression like someone trying to make his way through hard choices.

“Wels--” Tango started again, but stopped when Wels knelt beside him.

“This will hurt,” Wels warned, and then pulled one of Helsknight's arms around his shoulders. Tango grabbed his other arm, and Helsknight's world was consumed by fire in his stomach, and a blurring of star-filled black and breathless pain. He must have cried out again, because Tango was babbling apologies beside him, and Wels radiated the kind of nauseating determination one acquired when about to embark on a holy war.

“Hold onto him tightly,” Wels instructed. “If we lose him between worlds, I doubt we'd find him again.”

They fell.

----- ----

The Universe was a living thing.

It muttered, and felt, and spoke.

It was not human.

It understood, in broad strokes, human concepts like emotion and religion and thought and living and art. If it had a mind for metaphors and analogies, it might describe its understanding as the same understanding a human has for ant pheromones, or the way a sea slug hunts for certain chemicals in the water. A human hears the word pheromone and knows, to an ant, it is probably a sweet and enticing smell, like lavender or fresh bread, but a human will never smell an ant and smell something desirable. A human will hear the word chemical, and know whatever the slug is hunting probably has a taste, and to a slug, that taste is like honey, or sugar, or, again, freshly baked bread. But a human could never sift through the ocean floor and taste something enticing.

The Universe liked the idea of bread.

The Universe thought, in the closest way the Universe could think about anything, in thrums and chords like discordant melody, in tapestry and weave and time, that the things it loved most in itself were like bread. They were molded and shaped, and through fire and heat, they rose. And they made something that smelled desirable, and tasted enticing, and the Universe, above all else, loved to devour. It devoured bits of itself every instant, and through that devouring, it remade itself again.

And the Universe said: nothing is separate from any other thing.

There were two bright stars falling through the Universe, and they smelled to it like baking bread. Between them, held in hands that clung for life and limb, was a dark spark of dying and nothing and never should have. It was a familiar never. It was a spark of flame made so one of its best loaves could rise. A bright star.

The Universe didn't want to devour that flame of never, and shouldn't have been. The Universe could not want, as all it needed, it was.

The Universe liked to set itself to order. It liked the making of bread. It liked the things inside of it that set its world to order, and made with their hands, and rose. It liked things that were like itself.

And the universe said: you are a flame of what never should have been

And the universe said: I feel nothing for you, for you came from nothing

And the universe said: you are weak and small and failing

And the universe said: your heat may not be strong enough to form a rising

And the universe said: you are disorder, and chaos, and change for the sake of changing

The jaws of the universe neared, wide, and hungry. It liked to set things to order. It liked leavened bread. It liked two bright stars, very like itself. Between them was a dark and dying thing, that never should have been. It was a dark and dying thing that they should not hate, because nothing had no substance to despise. It was a dark and dying thing that they should not love, for nothing had no substance to enjoy. But it was a dark and dying thing that they clung to regardless.

The Universe clung to many things it should neither hate nor love. Things like stars, and orbits, and worlds. Things like code, and making, and living.

And the universe said: you are creating change

And the universe said: you are creating chaos

And the universe said: someday you must be set to order

And the universe said: but the bread has not finished rising

The Universe let them pass. It did not decide to let them pass. If the Universe were able to speak in metaphor, or even in words that the pieces of itself could hear, it would say it could not decide to let them pass. Just as the lungs do not decide to breathe, and the heart does not decide to beat, and the spine does not decide to hold. As a heart that times itself to another, so that two bodies close together might feel comfort and belonging, the Universe timed itself to their movement, and they passed.

And the universe watched those bright stars and said: I love you

And the universe said: Even the absence of something has purpose

And the universe said: Rise

Helsknight must have passed out somewhere between hels and Hermitcraft, or if he didn't, he faded so close he had no memory of the crossing.

He awoke on a bed that wasn't his own, hot and sweaty and uncomfortable. Everything ached. There was a persistent pinching and cramping in his stomach where healing hadn't quite finished its work. He was hungry -- or nauseous. He was thirsty. He was exhausted. He itched with dried blood, and itched again where links in his chainmail pressed uncomfortably against his body. Someone had done him the kindness of taking his gauntlets and boots off.

There was a cold hand clasped in his, a soothing reassurance against his own feverishness. That simple touch alone made him, inexplicably, want to cry.

[It hadn't been for nothing.]

Helsknight opened his eyes and looked over to see Tanguish sitting in a chair beside him. The arm that wasn’t reaching to hold Helsknight’s hand was pillowed beneath his head. If he wasn’t asleep, he was well on his way. Worry, sluggish to wake through his tiredness, rose slowly in his chest. How long had he been out?

A flicker of light highlighted the doorway to the room he was in [one of the Hermit’s bases, probably] heralding Tango’s arrival. The Hermit was balancing three health potions in his arms, still warm enough from the brewer to be bubbling slightly. His eyes passed over Tanguish first, a look of weathered contentment on his face. He awkwardly shuffled the potions in his arms so he could run a hand through his hair, a small, worried motion that made him seem… very human. Helsknight didn’t idolize the Hermits -- if anything, he disdained them for what they were. But in that moment, he had never related to another person’s care and weariness so much in his life.

“Oh,” Tango said quietly, eyebrows raising. “You’re awake.”

Tanguish’s eyes opened immediately. He sat up quickly, moving so he held Helsknight’s hand in both of his. “Praise every god and saint in hels.”

“Was I out long?” Helsknight asked, his voice a rough rasp in his dry throat. He started to sit up, and let out a painful breath as the twinge in his stomach shocked him still. It wasn’t nearly the unbearable stab from earlier, but it stiffened his spine and threatened to take his breath. Tanguish’s hand was on his chest pushing him gently back down.

“Easy does it, Killer,” Tango said, offering half of a laugh he clearly didn’t feel. He passed one of the potions to Tanguish, who got to work uncorking it. “That was intense.”

“I’ve had worse,” Helsknight said dismissively, not entirely sure if the statement was true. He may have had worse wounds before, but he didn’t think he’d ever had worse circumstances. He sipped on the potion and sighed with relief as the intensity of aches and pains across his body soothed. The lance in his stomach dulled to a bitter, persistent throb. He looked down in time to see what was left of the wound knitting itself back together, and then grimaced, when he realized the blankets he was on were spattered in blood. “Uhm… sorry for ruining whoever’s bed this is.”

“Blankets needed washed anyway,” Wels said from the doorway. Just about everyone in the room startled -- apparently Helsknight wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard him enter. He’d taken off his armor, and stood in only a blue tunic and breeches, his empty scabbard cinched around his waist. The cut on his cheek was still there, though the blood had been washed away.

[Enough time to get rid of his arms and armor, but not enough time to heal himself.]

[Intentionally defanged.]

Helsknight curled an arm around his stomach, shielding a hurt that was no longer there. Wary.

“What happened? I have Tango's side of the story but...” Wels asked quietly, soothingly. It was not the quiet of violence or anger. It was the quiet of someone trying very, very hard to be nonthreatening. He looked to Tango first, and when the Hermit looked away awkwardly, not sure how to answer, he looked to Helsknight. “Please.”

“I-it was my fault--” Tanguish started nervously.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Helsknight interrupted. “A group of thugs took Tanguish captive. When Tango and I realized what happened, we went to get him back.”

Helsknight briefly toyed with the idea of taking responsibility for what had happened. He found himself… somewhat protective of Tango. Something noticeable in how he saw the Hermit as a person had shifted. He didn’t have time yet to untangle just what or why, but he thought if Wels was going to get high-and-mighty about what had happened, he might try to spare Tango from the brunt of it. It wasn’t like Wels could hate Helsknight any more than he already did.

“A group of thugs?” Wels queried, his voice taking on a slightly more grim cast.

“I didn’t know they existed before today.” Helsknight answered honestly. “They will not exist for much longer.”

Tanguish looked at him, startled. “You… you can’t. Helsknight they almost--”

“I know people who can,” Helsknight said. He downed the rest of his potion, and this time when he sat up, he did it painlessly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at how gross he felt. He scowled disgustedly at himself, at his gore-splattered clothes. His arms were strangely bare now that the gauntlets were off, two swaths of unmarked skin surrounded by havoc.

“We should get you cleaned up,” Wels observed.

“I will take care of myself at home.”

“Tango said your house was trashed.”

Helsknight shot the little Hermit a glare.

Tango only held his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t think it was a secret, sorry.”

“Tango,” Wels said, his voice still that cool, soothing quiet, “I have some food cooking. Make sure Tanguish gets something warm.” He rested his gaze on Helsknight. “Come on. I’ve already gotten started on your armor.”

He disappeared into the hall. Helsknight, Tango and Tanguish all exchanged glances.

“If… if he tries to fight you,” Tanguish stammered, “come back here. I’ll get us home.”

Helsknight studied the empty place Wels had been standing.

“... I don’t think he wants a fight,” Helsknight said cautiously. He hesitated a moment longer, then stood and followed after Wels.

Helsknight’s other half had gone outside. He lived in a small castle away from the other Hermits, though he was within easy sight of one of his neighbors in the river. He had moved several tools outside: cauldron, grindstone, and a drying rack among them. Helsknight’s gore-streaked sword was propped up against the grindstone, his gauntlets and grieves in the grass beside it. The gauntlets had already been scoured once, though looking at them, Helsknight knew he’d probably be scrubbing them down with a toothbrush for the next few days before he got out every bit of blood.

“No one’s on this side of the server besides xB, and he’s probably half a league underground right now, diamond hunting,” Wels said, grabbing up a rag and dunking it into the cauldron. “Get your chain and your shirt off. No one will care -- and if you care, no one will see.”

The bitter creature of animosity he always held for his hermit wanted to crawl to life and argue. You will see. But Helsknight was tired down to the bottom of his soul, and while Welst’s emotions seemed muffled and odd to him right now, none of them seemed to contain bad intentions. Helsknight did as he was told, peeling off first his tunic, then the chainmail and padding underneath.

“Leave your chainmail here,” Wels said, picking up one of his grieves and getting to work scrubbing. “Though I recommend taking your shirt to the water with you.”

“I know how to clean my gear,” Helsknight muttered.

Wels shrugged. “I didn’t say you didn’t.”

They side-eyed each other for a moment, gauging reactions. Helsknight sighed and waded into the water.

The river was cold. That was something Helsknight had to admit he wasn’t used to. Running water in this much quantity in hels was already a rare thing. This much cold water in hels was practically impossible. It sent goosebumps sprinting across his skin, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from squeaking ingloriously when it swirled up to his waist. Satisfied he was deep enough to suitably clean himself, Helsknight got to work scrubbing everything he could reach.

He had hoped it would be soothing. At the very least, he hoped getting the blood off would ease the persistent nausea still squirming around in his stomach. Watching the water slowly redden around him, though, only made him feel sicker. What started as calm, scrubbing started to get rougher as a tremor worked its way into his hands. Every pass of his touch across his clothes, his skin, all earned him more blood. Helsknight found himself taking long, intentional breaths in an effort to keep himself calm. It was his hair that broke him. He carded his hands back through the messy locks, only for his fingers to snag on mats and tangles, and when he knelt down in the water to wet the ends and comb them out, a clot of brown-black ugliness came out onto his fingers.

Helsknight’s hands were shaking. What had started as low-level nausea suddenly twisted his guts in something much more intense and immediate. He stamped it down as best he could. He was the Champion of hels, for helssakes. He’d seen blood before. He’d seen more than blood before. He shouldn’t be acting like this, feeling like this. What was so different between what he’d just done, and fighting people he knew in the Colosseum?

[He’d never maimed people with the express intention of leaving them alive, in the Colosseum.]

[No one had ever kicked his wounds, purposefully, because it seemed like a fun thing to do in the Colosseum.]

[No one had ever held him down while he struggled and thrashed, and threatened to dismember him in the Colosseum.]

[And in the Colosseum, he’d never done that to anyone else.]

Helsknight didn’t know what repulsed him more: the den of snakes this whole fiasco had revealed, or himself. The thought of going back there, of leading knights and paladins to the place to clear it out, sent a pang of dread through him so fiercely, it squeezed his chest tighter, and made it hard to breathe. Helsknight shivered, and shivered again, and couldn’t stop shivering.

[He needed to get the blood off.]

A sense of calm and serenity suddenly blanketed Helsknight, washed over him like the cold water of the river. It draped itself over his thoughts, slowed them to a halt. Tenseness in his shoulders and spine relaxed almost against his will. The shuddering in his hands stopped.

[Wels.]

Helsknight turned to look at his other half, who had doubled over the cauldron, a look of deep concentration on his face. He was breathing in long, slow, deliberate breaths, and when he exhaled his mouth moved as he counted. Wels, with determined intent, and no small amount of sympathy radiating from him like smears of sunset color, was anchoring Helsknight like a port in a storm. Forcefully, by controlling himself first.

“You did what you had to do,” Wels said quietly, but honestly, and that honesty was golden light. On anyone else, it would have been a binding shackle, an imposition of will. On Helsknight, who was immune to that from Wels, it was a display of sincerity. “You are the perfect knight, Helsknight. You’ve said so yourself: Knighthood is ugly, and unkind.”

Slowly, like a storm cloud passing over, Wels’s blanket of assuredness rolled off of him, and when it did, Helsknight realized he was crying. They were small, contained tears, the kind of thing that came from fatigue more than anything. Shame and bitterness crawled to life in his chest, and he did his best to stamp them down.

“Fuck I’m tired,” Helsknight said, the most self-aware thing the thought he was capable of at the moment. He should have seen this coming. The exhaustion after a long fight, the emotional fallout of finally coming down from fear and adrenaline.

“I didn’t think it was wise to let you rest for too long,” Wels said somewhat cautiously. “I know us.”

“Needed to get cleaned up before everything rusted anyway,” Helsknight muttered, finally dragging himself from the river. His clothes would need another wash at some point. There were still stains that he hadn’t managed to scour away. But the blood was off his body at least.

He looked with disgust at his sword, his stomach twisting again when he saw it. He forced himself to take it in hand and, when Wels offered him a rag, began wiping it down. Wels had moved on to his chainmail, running over it with a bristle brush to clean the links. Laid out beside him were pliers and a box full of rings -- apparently he intended on repairing it as well.

They worked in silence, broken only by the small, lethal noises of cleaning and polishing and scrubbing. Blood had gotten underneath the leather wrapping around Helsknight’s sword hilt, so he unwound it to re-oil the leather, and seal it with wax. Wels moved on from scrubbing the chain to repair, and the air filled with the soft clatter of the links moving, and Wels occasionally discarding links that didn’t fit back into the box again. Intermittently, when Helsknight’s mind had been still for too long, anxiety would make his hands shake, and the ghost of the boot against his stomach would twist like a knife in his guts, and his world narrowed to the quickness of his breathing and the determination not to vomit into the grass. Every time it happened, Wels stopped what he was doing and breathed, and counted, and, when the fit passed, repeated, “You did what you had to do.”

With a single-minded purpose they put Helsknight’s world back to order. It was as efficient as it could be. It was relentless, and determined, in the way two knights focused on one goal could only be. It was the slow, methodical purging of discomfort, seeking normalcy. Helsknight felt that Wels was trying to put him back in the box he was meant to live in -- force him back into being something he expected to see. Helsknight wondered, if their situations had been reversed, if he would react the same way. If he would piece his other half back together, purely because seeing him ripped apart was too uncomfortable.

[He thought he might.]

“What happened?” Wels asked quietly, as he bent another chain link in place with his pliers. He paused in his work, watching Helsknight with those frigid, sky-blue eyes. Helsknight thought they were carefully neutral, the wind holding its breath over a lake. “What happened to cause the panic, specifically.”

Helsknight looked down at his sword. He had polished it to a shine again, though he’d had to rinse the rag a few times to do it. The edge was marred with chips and dents. He would be sharpening it for ages.

“Tango said you go to confession,” Wels said at length, when Helsknight said nothing. “I don’t know how yours works. Mine mostly involves two people sitting in a room, talking. Normally they can’t see each other. The anonymity is important. We could set our stools back to back.”

Helsknight shook his head. “You wouldn’t like how my Saint takes confession.”

A ripple of discomfort broke the intentional, smothering placidity clinging to Wels. “Tango, uhm, also said you cut yourself.”

“Prayer.”

“Ah.”

Wels snapped another link into place.

Helsknight picked up a whetstone Wels had laid out for him in the grass. He propped his sword against his knee. Before he ran the stone across it, something prodded him gently in the shoulder. Helsknight took the knife Wels offered him. It was a small blade, a tool, not a weapon, but the edge was sharp. Helsknight stared at it for a long time, while Wels patiently bent stubborn links into place.

“I’ve never chosen this for myself,” Helsknight whispered. “The Saint is supposed to tell you your penance.”

“What did you do that was wrong?”

Helsknight took a long breath.

“... I was cruel.”

Wels snapped another link into place.

“... I was… cowardly.”

There was the rattle of metal as Wels searched for another link.

“... I was wrathful.”

The pliers clicked as Wels pulled the ring apart, twisting it deftly, a practiced craft.

“... I served myself, and my aims, instead of my Saint’s.”

Helsknight turned the little knife in his hand. He let out a slow, steadying breath. He ran his thumb down his forearm, tracing the direction of the vein there. He stumbled through memories of going to confession, of what price the Saint had asked of him for similar sins. He decided on a cut to his sword wrist, something painful and inconvenient, that would take time to heal.

“Your Saint,” Wels said, and Helsknight paused before he could draw the blade across his skin. “Does he have more knights?”

“They have many, yes.”

Wels nodded. He pried another link in place and sat back, running the chainmail beneath his hands. He hadn’t completely patched the hole the spear had made, but he was getting close. A few more links until the gap closed. He ran it over his hand again, making sure all the links were laying in the right directions.

“I heard you speak a little… before we came through to hels.” Wels admitted. “Something about bringing every knight and paladin in hels down on the place. Does that include your Order?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell… your Saint… everything that happened today, when you ask them all to come?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure your Saint will lend you hi-- their knights?”

Helsknight let out a slow breath. “My Saint doesn’t suffer cruelty.”

“So then, your Saint would approve of what you did today.”

Helsknight shook his head almost immediately. “No. They can’t.”

“You… uhm… you just said…”

“That was cruel,” Helsknight said. “That was terrible. I was terrible.”

Helsknight felt that smothering blanket of calm start to drape over him again, and he tried to shake it off.

“I threatened-- I almost-- I would have--”

“They took your friend hostage. They tried to take you hostage.”

“I cut through so many people. You saw me. I was-- I was a bloody mess. I was a terror. I was a ruin.”

“They held you down and tried to disfigure you.”

“I would have torn that place apart brick by brick. I was one man, and I would have razed that place to the ground. I was the wrath of gods, working under my own will.”

“They stabbed you in the gut and tortured you with it.”

“Stop-- stop--- stop acting like I was being reasonable.”

“Then stop acting like you deserve to suffer for it.”

Helsknight flinched at another touch to his shoulder. He glared at Wels, and then blinked in puzzlement. Wels held out a hand to him, palm up, waiting patiently. Helsknight really must have been tired, because it took him far too long to realize Wels was asking for the knife back.

“They tortured you once already,” Wels said quietly, sternly. “Don’t retread the ground for them.”

Helsknight’s chest felt tight. Something like panic welled up inside him so fast it was nearly blinding. He was scared. He was terrified. Not just by what he’d done, but what he was capable of doing. No man, no matter how desperate, or for how good a cause, should be allowed to do what he had done today. Not on their own. Not without divine intervention, something holy telling them what they’d done was right. He could not be trusted with the responsibility of starting his own crusade. He had no right to be judge and executioner, but he’d done it nonetheless, and it terrified him. And it terrified to know that, after doing it once, he now knew he could do it again. That couldn’t be right. That wasn’t allowed to be right.

Helsknight and Wels both moved at the same time. Helsknight, on the sudden unstoppable impulse to punish himself for what he’d done. Wels, feeling his intentions the instant they focused themselves into something actionable. Wels lunged at him, one hand a vice on his wrist, the other catching the knife before he could use it.

“Helsknight,” Wels commanded, his voice glory-gold and relentless, “your Saint doesn’t abide cruelty.”

Helsknight scowled. He wanted to say yes! Exactly! He wanted to say that’s the entire point, you idiot! He wanted, very badly, to feel the blade running across his skin. He wanted to do something quick, and painful, and immediate to alleviate his guilt. He wanted--

“Does that include being cruel to yourself?”

Helsknight managed to twist his hands free of Wels’s grasp.

“Answer me.”

Helsknight shook his head.

“Is that a no?”

“I don’t-- I’m not being--”

“You are.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does!” Wels snapped, his composure finally slipping. “A good knight abides by his tenets.”

Helsknight sprang to his feet suddenly, his panic exploding into something white hot and angry. “You don’t know my Saint! You don’t know my Saint’s will!”

Wels rose to his feet as well, and this, this was familiar. This was normalcy. This was the world set to order and correctness and--

“You’re right,” Wels said, stern and determined, but not angry. “I don’t know. But you do. So answer me. What does your Saint say about being cruel to yourself?”

Helsknight shoved him. Hard. Hard enough that Wels stumbled back over his seat and fell to the ground. Then he turned, angrier now that he’d acted, and kicked over the grindstone. Helsknight paced, full of angry, anxious energy. The rage and fury that chases fear. He wanted to run. He wanted to bite and kick and punch. He wanted to-- he wanted-- he wanted--

Wels, still laying in the grass, started counting again. Counting, and breathing. He was trying so, so hard not to spiral. To not give in to the way their emotions circled each other. Beneath the determination to try, to keep a grip on his sanity, was a depth of sympathy and compassion that was nauseating in its intensity. Someone who had witnessed atrocity, and for once, didn’t blame Helsknight for it. It hurt. It ached. It pushed its way into Helsknight’s chest, and begged him to relent, to be kinder. It was so different. It was so human. It wasn’t how the Hermits were supposed to be. He needed them not to be kind. He needed-- he wanted--

Helsknight realized he was crying again, only because he blinked and realized his world had blurred beyond recognition, turning to smears of blue and green. A sob hiccupped its way up his ribs, and he felt so stupid. There came another, thick and harsh and ugly, and then he couldn’t stop himself. He stood there in the grass like an idiot and he cried, loud uncontrollable sobs. It was the kind of cry he hadn’t had in years, maybe never. The kind that made him feel like a child, with emotions too big to keep in his body.

At some point, Wels crossed to him, and very gently, as though trying his best not to intrude, he took the knife from his hand. Then he righted the grindstone, and finished snapping the links into place on Helsknight’s armor. By the time he’d finished, Helsknight had managed to pull himself back together again, little by little.

“U-uhm. We all, uh, we all alive out here?”

Helsknight swore colorfully. He passed his hand over his face, and demanded hoarsely, “How long have you been here, Tango?”

“Who, me?” Tango asked, a nervous laugh in his voice. Something behind Helsknight shuffled -- Tango grabbing up something to take back into the house with him, maybe. “Not long. Definitely. Probably. I wasn’t-- you know. Keeping tabs on you two in case you got a little too knightly or anything. I wouldn’t do that. I trust you. Implicitly.”

Helsknight snorted.

“It’s just, uh, you know. Food’s done.” Tango continued. “And uh. Also if anything else bad happened today, I think Tanguish would break in half.”

“We’re fine,” Wels said, calm, quiet. “We’ll be inside shortly.” He paused, and then added, “Uh, knight’s honor.”

“Right.”

Tango retreated, footsteps cushioned by the greenery. Helsknight was not used to the sound of grass. Stone, basalt, netherrack, hyphae. He had the sound of footsteps on those memorized. Grass was a rushing, soothing noise, almost like water in its consistency.

“I think your armor is as clean as it’s getting, without going over it with a fine brush,” Wels said. “I have more netherite plate. Spare stuff, in case I lose sets in the End.”

“Keep it.”

“It’s not charity. I owe you a set, from when we last fought, and you fell in the End.”

“It’s not… because of the charity.” Helsknight crossed his arms. “I haven’t worn plate for awhile.”

“Hm.”

“Why.”

Wels tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“The calm. The kindness. The…” Helsknight gestured broadly. “We hate each other.”

“We do.”

“So why.”

Wels looked away from him, quietly considering the ground. At length he said, “Apparently… your Saint isn’t the only person who can’t abide cruelty.”

Wels reached a hand up to his chest and sighed. “When Tango came and got me… I didn’t want to come and help you. I could feel… something. Struggle. But you’re right. We hate each other.”

He sighed again. “And then I stepped into hels.”

Wels chuckled bitterly. “Fear. And helplessness. And desperation. And Pain.”

He looked up at Helsknight. “I thought I was going to respawn on the spot. And I wasn’t you.”

“We hate each other,” Helsknight repeated.

“We do,” Wels agreed. “But… I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

Welsknight offered Helsknight an ironic smile, “Not even you.”

The two knights watched each other. Nervous. Awkward. Worried. And underneath it all, an undercurrent of surreality and ridiculousness. Two enemies forced to admit some things could be worse than their rivalry.

“Anyway,” Welsknight said, “when you go back and storm the place, you have my sword, if you want it."

#the barking writer #rns angst prompts #rns ficlets #helsknight #tangotek #welsknight #tanguish #redstone and skulk #tw blood #tw gore #tw wounds #tw torture #tw whump #tw a lot of stuff okay

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heartshapedbubble · 5 months ago

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Hi! I hope your having a good day/night wherever you are 🫶

I was wondering if you could maybe write some friends to lovers head cannons with Ganji and Eli?

hello!! you too anon💖 (like. 5 months later but oh well :c )

this is such a cute prompt HEEHEE >W<

ganji gupta and eli clark friends to lovers hcs🏏🦉

ganji gupta🏏

he likes company but doesn't like initiating hangouts. he's a man of few words, most of them reserved for when there's really no other option other than to communicate verbally

whenever you two sit together he always gets a bit restless and fidgety. if you try to bring up the topic he'll just brush it off, saying it's nothing to worry about

he can't EVER discern if he likes somebody or if he's just anxious and it literally swallows him whole. thinking about verbalizing what he feels or physical closeness makes him feel a bit dizzy so he just pushes these thoughts to the back of his brain until they eventually resurface again

gets a tad distant, being a bit rude and brash as a defense mechanism

shows his care by being (over)protective, especially in matches. when he sees you in danger it's like he's seeing red, leaving hunters bruised from his aggressive swings. he says he's overprotective in general, that you're not special and that he treats you like he would anyone else, but it hurts to say that when he thinks the exact opposite

confess first. or, at least, hint at doing so. it's not gonna get to his head unless you say it first, directly, no buts or ifs - only then will he realize that hey, maybe i should stop denying myself romantic attraction?

your first few dates are a bit awkward. you two are a *thing* now, but he doesn't understand the new boundaries your relationship sets. is it really alright to hold your waist in front of everyone?

just give him some time until he gets comfortable, it takes time for him to drop the stoic persona

his first kisses are sloppy. he initiates them slowly and without much confidence, hands trembling as they bring you closer and he plants his warm lips against the corner of your mouth - he still doesn't dare to go lips-to-lips. they make for a good laugh afterwards, him nervously grinning at his own anxiety.

is almost shocked when you return the favor, maybe even more eagerly than him. slowly kiss his temples, rub the back of his head with care and he's paralyzed under your hands, his mind wandering away beneath your tender touches

his most cherished moments with you are spent in complete silence. the feeling of unconditional love contained within a comfortable silence is indispensable, and just the fact that he doesn't have to strain himself with small talk and expressing things he can't actually describe feels great

eli clark🦉

victory or loss, no matter his mood, whenever you call upon eli clark his head turns towards you in a second. his face is completely covered - save for his mouth and nose - but his lips are always curled into a soft smile

the cloaked seer enjoys solitude and spends most of his free time in it. he's softspoken, but always a tad gloomy and breathless

yet it doesn't take much to creep under his skin. a few kind words will quickly put him at ease and, encouraged by your own openness, he won't hesitate to be straightforward with you

spending so much time pondering and overthinking, he can't help but notice his feelings towards you. well, they might not be feelings by the traditional definition, but what other word can describe the tingles he feels when he hears your voice from behind, when you creep upon him? or the surge of heat in his abdomen while he's slowly making his way towards you, watching your expression change through brooke's eyes?

he confesses first. definetly. it'll take him a few days to devise a plan, to find the best spot and time to confess and phrase his thoughts, but it wouldn't take long during your friendship for it to happen. he's a bit of a romantic at heart and can easily get swayed by affection

most of his ways of expressing affection are through small PDA. tenderly holding your hand or your waist, rubbing your shoulders after a tense match or holding you from the back. he's a literal heat machine! has so much layers on and it feels really good to lay back against him in response. you can easily wrap the remaining fabric around yourself, too

only takes off his hood and blindfold a bit further into the relationship. he's so used to them masking his true appearance that taking them off in front of others makes him feel vulnerable

asks the WEIRDEST questions and says the most random stuff on dates. literally no filter. who knows where his mind actually goes while you talk to him?

likes when you get touchy with him :,) rub his hips (they're kinda sore and he often has to crack them like knuckles, it's hard to carry so many bags and pouches around his waist ok!!), mess with his hair, trace your fingers around his face, whisper him the dumbest things up-close into his ear, hell, even bite him if you want to! has insomnia anyways and any kind of stimulation helps him fall asleep. he just turns into a happy human blob

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cloudzoro · 3 months ago

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Hi! Love your work, you are incredibly talented! I especially liked the Shuggy piece, I think I’ve read it like 5 times lol. If you’re still taking requests, I think Jinbe with 11 and/or 39 would be pretty cool. Thanks so much for the fun reads!

Hiii!!!! I'm so so so glad that you enjoy my work.vmy shuggy x reader is also a fave of mine so I'm happy to see others enjoy it ♡. Also thanks for the jinbe request! my man doesn't receive enough love! I'm a bit in my feelings so I went with prompt 39 🤧

39 - comfort sex

cw: fem!reader, mention of jinbe having 2 cocks, size kink, husband jinbe because jinbe is so husband core, unprotected sex,

Husband Duties | Jinbe ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

you're feeling down after a fight so your husband helps you feel better

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Married life has always suited Jinbe. He thrives when he has someone to take care of. He's reading when you, his beloved wife, swing open the door and lay down on the bed next to him.

“I'm so tired”, you whine, pushing your face into the pillows. Jinbe puts his book down, turning to give you all his attention. You're exhausted from the most recent fight. You're mostly injury-free, but all your muscles are sore.

“Do you need anything, my love?” he asks, hand trailing over your back. You nod, tucking yourself against him. The fight was particularly rough; you fucked up severely, almost getting yourself killed and causing Jinbe to leave his post to save you. You're usually a solid fighter; your husband or one of your crew having to rescue you is a rare occurrence. Your pride is wounded, and you're wallowing in insecurity.

“My back hurts a little,” you say. Jinbe doesn't need you to elaborate. He helps you to undress and adjusts the way that he's sitting so that he can press his hands into your shoulders. He works hard to distress you. Your husband's strong hands drain your body of all the stress it's harbouring until there's nothing less but raw emotions. Tears fall silently down your cheeks as you release all the pent-up frustration. Despite your cries being silent, Jinbe notices immediately.

“What's wrong, my Dear?” he asks, turning you over. “What can I do to make it better?” Your heart clenches at your husband's concern for you, but there's a much more distracting ache in your body you'd rather deal with first. Despite your distress, massages were often used as foreplay for the two of you, and you can't help the way your mind has wandered.

“It's just all my stress depleting, which means you did a good job with your massage. There is something you can do for me though”

“And what's that?” he asks, already having an inkling about what you're going to say next.

“That massage got me all worked up. I want you to touch me.”

When you first started dating, your straightforwardness had flustered Jinbe, but now it just makes him hard. Your mouth is dirtier than his, and he's obsessed with it. He nods, returning to his massage. He moves his hands down to your thighs, rubbing at the skin there. He's so close to your pussy that it makes you squirm. He chuckles at your movement, causing you to groan. “please don't tease me; I'm so wet.”

Jinbe can't say no to his little wife. He moves his massage between your legs, rubbing at your clit. He pushes a finger into your soaked hole, and you moan out at the feeling. Your husband is huge. He has to work you up to his cock. It's been a few years since you married, yet you still struggle to take him. He adds another finger, curling and scissoring them inside you. You need him so badly. He eagerly fingers you open. He whispers praises as your pussy pulses around his thick fingers.

You cum on his fingers, legs clamping shut around his hand. He works you through it, keeping his fingers moving as his gaze remains locked on your face. You can feel the love in his gaze as your chest heaves in exhaustion. Your orgasm does little to quell your weary mind, and in desperate need of further distraction, you claw at his arms.

“Please, Jinbe, I need your cock”, You say. He nods, fully undressing himself to match you. You feel your mouth watering at the site of his cocks. Being a shark fishman, he has two. Though you've only been able to successfully take both twice in your relationship, one of those times being on your wedding night. He knows you wouldn't be able to take both right now, so he settles on flipping you onto your hands and knees and lining up one of his cocks with your hole. He slowly pushes in, working himself inside you with shallow thrusts. He gently covers your mouth with his hand to stop your moans from waking up the rest of the crew.

Jinbe finally bottoms out and pauses inside you, relishing in how you feel around him, also giving you time to adjust. He drapes himself over, and you whimper at the realisation of how big he really is. Your husband is so sweet to you that it's easy to forget he's a former warlord of the sea. It isn't until he's got you trapped beneath him that you remember how powerful he is. While scary to others, it makes you feel safe and secure to know you have him lingering around you at all times.

“ What happened earlier wasn't your fault, sweetheart. You don't have to be so worked up over it,” he says as he starts to move his hips. Of course, he saw through your white lie. Jinbe is both patient and observant; nothing gets past him. “You're so strong.” His voice is as sure as ever as he squashes your worries with each heavy thrust. He reaches around you to press against your lower stomach. “can you feel me in there?” he asks. The sensation of him pressing against his own cock through your tummy is weird, but it feels so good. You're all but screaming into Jinbe's hand when a well-angled thrust sends you head-first into your orgasm. It crashes over you in waves, making your whole body tremble. Jinbe can't keep himself together anymore and cums too, filling you up with his seed.

“Thank you”, you whine as he rolls off of you and grabs tissues from the bedside table to clean you up.

“Do you feel better now?” he asks, laying down beside you and pulling you on top of him to rest. You nod, too exhausted to give him a response. All fucked out and cuddled up in your husband's arms, you fall asleep in minutes. Jinbe smiles, knowing he'll be there to chase away all the nasty thoughts clouding your beautiful mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn

thank you so much for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡♡♡♡

#EVERYONE LOOK AT MY BIG BLUE HUSBAND #I LOVE HIM #one piece x reader #one piece smut #fem!reader #jinbe x reader #jinbe smut

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nightghoul381 · 7 months ago

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Sweet Delight ~ Harrison Gray (POV) x Reader

Entry number 1 in @judejazza's An Invitation to Crown Castle event!

Pairing: Harrison Gray (POV) x Reader Prompt: Rain Kisses Genre: Fluff with a lil bit of spice (and an opportunity for a potential part 2?) CW: None WC: 1.3k

You still don’t seem to be able to tell when I’m lying to you. Either that or you’ve gotten very good at acting like you don’t know.

I know it was a weak excuse when I asked you to join me in getting sweets for the upcoming party because I was ‘worried Victor would try to do something weird with the desserts’ but you seemed to be fine with it.

It had taken a while to figure out which shop we should go to for the sweets, so when you suggested we sample a lot of them and go back for the best, I couldn’t exactly refuse. I love getting to watch how your face lights up when you taste something delicious. You have such an honest face.

The first couple of shops were good, different sweets and chocolates but none seemed to be just right. I could tell you were getting a little frustrated when I kept shooting down the shops, but I can’t help but want to keep you out and all to myself.

I know when we get back to the castle, you’ll get swept away into some mission or activity and my time with you will be cut short.

The bell rang out as we entered the next shop and the expression on your face quickly morphed from disappointment to interest as the smell of freshly baked pastries hit your nose.

“It smells really good…” you whisper, leaning your head toward me conspiratorially. I chuckle and nod, approaching the clerk and inquiring about a sample.

“Oh, uh… we don’t usually give out samples, the pastries are rather small and the owner isn’t keen on handing out free portions…” The clerk murmured sheepishly.

Damn, they’re telling the truth too.

“Well, can I get one of the pastries then?” I ask, setting down some money on the counter.

Moments later, there’s a steaming pastry on a plate in your hands. I can practically see you salivating right now, you must be so excited to try it, but you merely carry it over to a table and slide into a seat.

I slowly stroll over to the table, taking my time and enjoying the way you squirm impatiently, gaze flicking between me and the treat sitting before you.

“Harrison… are you stalling for a reason?” You asked, fixing me with your pointed gaze.

“Who said I was stalling?” I laugh, nudging the plate toward you with a smirk.

“The way you’ve been unsatisfied with each shop we’ve been to when normally any sweets are good enough for you… And how you’re not taking the pastry and splitting it in half so you can devour your portion,” you state bluntly.

“Haha, busted,” I admit, flashing a grin your way. “I don’t feel like sharing you with the others today.”

Your face flushes at my straightforward admission, eyes widening as you turn your attention back to the pastry. I pick up a knife and cut the pastry in two, rich red filling steaming as it hits the cold air. I can feel my mouth watering and scoop up my half, nearly bringing it to my mouth before I had another idea.

I reach my arm across the table and hold the treat in front of your face, causing you to let out a surprised squeak.

“Harry, wha—”

I slip the pastry between your lips and chuckle as you give in and bite it. It must be good because the little moan you let out as you chew seems to slip out unintentionally. Your cheeks are so red right now and I can’t hide the smirk on my face as I watch you intently.

“What do you think? Is it good?” I ask, resting my chin on one hand, lazily toying with the other half of the pastry while I await your answer.

“I—uh yeah. They’re really good… ahem… why don’t you try it?” You mumble, trying to regain your composure.

Allowing you a moment’s reprieve, I pop the remaining portion in my mouth, savoring the surprisingly sweet and tart filling contrasting with the rich buttery pastry. A moment later I freeze as I realize that I too have unintentionally let out a satisfied moan.

Damn, there’s no taking that back… you’re going to say we should get these and that we ought to head back.

“Good,” I confirm. When you nod I take that as a sign that my assumption of you wanting to wrap things up is correct.

I stand up and head over to the counter. We take turns selecting different sweets from their display case, having the clerk pack them into two parcels for us. After paying we make our way outside, walking side by side and chatting about everything and nothing, your melodic laugh and cheery voice are like a drug to me. I can’t seem to get enough. I always want more.

“—Oh.”

You stop in your tracks, head jolting upward as another drop hits you from above.

“Oh no! If it rains the sweets will be ruined!” You fret, looking around frantically for some sort of shelter to run for. Unfortunately for you, there’s nothing but open fields on either side of the road we’re on.

“What a shame. Guess we ought to eat them. That way they won’t go to waste,” I offer, opening my parcel and drawing out a small cake, deep red with a rich white icing. I hold the sweet in front of your face and you stare at me in disbelief.

The rain has started falling more regularly and in a few moments we’ll no doubt be soaked, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I like getting you all worked up like this.

“Harrison, you can’t truly expect us to eat all of these sweets! Maybe if we run, we can ma—” I cut off your words once again by placing the treat into your mouth.

I wait impatiently as you chew and swallow, before leaning in and stealing your lips with my own. I let my tongue dart out, flicking against your lips for just a moment before you melt into me. The rich flavor of the cake and tangy taste of the icing are still dominant as I suck your tongue into my mouth.

I hear both of us letting out eager and needy groans as I continue to devour your lips. I don’t even remember the rain until I go to cradle the back of your head and my fingers meet very wet hair.

Pulling back slightly I allow our heavy breathing to be the only thing between us for a moment before chuckling and stating “…delicious.”

I notice that you’ve dropped your parcel and mine has been discarded similarly, your eyes are filled with an intense craving for something a little more satisfying than sweets. I feel your hands dig into my coat, pulling my shoulders down and giving you better access to my lips.

“Hey, what—”

“I… I don’t think you tasted it properly…” You whisper, pushing your plump lips against mine. How am I supposed to deny that?

I plunge my tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch with acute focus. So sweet… I could kiss you forever and still wish to kiss you again. When I feel the wind blow past us, causing you to shudder, I know I’m going to have to be the one to pause this.

I slip my hands over your fists, still clinging to my coat, squeezing gently to convince you to let go.

Pulling away with disappointment, you look up at me with needy eyes and I remind myself that you need to get dried off before you get sick.

“Come on. We’ll head back to the castle and get you warmed up. Then we can pick up where we left off.”

Taglist: @judejazza @aquagirl1978, @themiscarnival @abundance-pathchooser @xbalayage @maries-gallery @randonauticrap @queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys

If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!

#ikevil #ikemen villains #invitation2crowncc #ikevil harry #ikemen villains harry #ikevil harrison #ikemen villains harrison #harrison gray #ikevil harrison gray

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ghostfacesvalentine · 2 years ago

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Dealing with it - Ghostface x Fem!Reader HC

Pairing: Stu Macher x Fem!Reader / Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a toxic relationship, manipulation, mentions of love-bombing, killing, cheating etc.

Type: Blerps

Request: Can I request Stu Macher and Billy Loomis (separate!) headcanons for them falling in love with a girl that’s in a toxic relationship with someone else? Would they play the “should to cry on” role while waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and steal her? Or would they say fuck it and put on that ghostface costume to permanently get rid of the dude?👀

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Billy and Stu fall in love with reader that’s in a toxic relationship! May not be accurate to the t but I love to have my own take on characters!

Notes: I was a little bit iffy about this topic, toxic relationships are the worst, please speak to someone if you’re in one.

Stu Macher:

-Honestly he’d pick up on it much faster than expected. Stu would absolutely keep his cool though. Even if he walked in on you both arguing, he’d probably yell that there was a party at his place or something to change the subject.

-He’d let you rant about your s/o when you and him are alone. Most of the time it’s when you’re both skipping class or in a bullshit class together. You’d be spilling your guts before you could realize and though Stu’s fiddling with his pencil seemingly zoning in and out, he ate up every word you expressed.

-This little devil would do the most to keep you two apart and don’t be surprised if he became one of the biggest reasons you and your s/o would argue. Stu would have a way to weasel into your day and sometimes you’d find yourself overpromising to him... Then having to cancel dates and plans with you s/o or having to reschedule because you and Stu were in a group project that counted for 20% of your grade.

-Like I said, he’s much smarter than he leads on, so when his methods begin to really make your relationship crumble, he’d lovebomb you. Sneaking over to your house “just to make sure you’re okay.” Gift you little things you mentioned, like posters or CD’s you wanted at the store earlier after going with him. Of course he couldn’t overwhelm you yet, then maybe you’d catch on.

-Stu would absolutely not be shy about touching you, grabbing you abruptly and squeezing you into a big hug when he sees you and no one’s around. He knows you might not be getting much affection from your s/o, not any that you wanted anyway. This is something else he might use towards his advantage. Along with compliments you may not hear from your s/o often. “Wow y/n, you curled your hair today? It looks beautiful.”

-You’d find yourself craving more and more from Stu and the little breadcrumbs he left you. Then when he has you right where he wants you, he’d pull you into a kiss. He’d pull away first and apologize profusely.

- After waging your response, he’d admit how he feels about you, honestly probably pulling something out of his ass to keep you on cloud 9 about him. In all honesty it probably doesn’t take much at this point.

-If you talk about how you still love your s/o and that you’re just going through a rough patch, yeah no doubt he’s putting that ghostface mask and dealing with it himself. If you weren’t going to get rid of them, he absolutely will make the decision for you.

Billy Loomis:

-Ok, IN MY OPINION, Billy would be more straightforward. He’d listen to your rants, taking interest when he’d overhear you and your s/o arguing over the phone.

-I honestly think he has something intriguing about his eyes, especially when he doesn’t look away and kind of doesn’t break his gaze away from you, it kind of becomes hypnotizing? Then before you know it you’re spilling all the beans. Then he just becomes sort of like your girlfriend about it? He’s telling you that your s/o is doing this all wrong, but he still has that kind of sympathetic doe eyed look that makes you melt.

-Billy would absolutely sneak over to see if you’re okay after you tell him you had a big fight. Even if you didn’t want him to go over, next thing you know he’s tapping on your window. You almost have a heart attack because no one has ever done this, then when you realize it’s Billy, you tell him to go away and that you want to be alone.

-This only makes him tap on the window louder, so eventually you give in. You have to admit his persistence is charming, your s/o would never, would they?

-To Billy this is the perfect moment to kind of lay it onto you, telling you that you’re so great and that you really don’t need to be with someone like the person that you’re with. “I’ve definitely made my mistakes y/n but I know that mistreating you wouldn’t be one.”

-I would picture Billy, after giving you his whole spiel, he’d kind of try to caress your face to pull you into a kiss, but would kind of pull his hand back for “dramatic effect”. It would all depend on how you’d react about it. If you pull away, he’d apologize and just kind of pull a “I’m sorry, this is way out of line, I’ll get out of your way.” aND LEAVE, then ignore you for like a week ?? or avoid you until it’s literally eating at him. Then it only takes him seeing you make up with your s/o to have HIM throw on the ghostface mask and just really unleash on the poor guy.

-It would be on the news for months.

-However, if you don’t pull away and if anything you look a little sad that he doesn’t go for it, he just kind of stands there then tries again. He does that thing with his eyes where he looks so deeply into you, you feel like you can’t move and you just let him kiss you.

-Next thing you know, you guys are just making out, and jeez. It’s just getting out of control, but eventually, he’s just kind of standing in front of you, hand under your jaw, while the other one is behind the small part of your back, eyelids heavy and pupils dilated to hell. Breathing into each other in opposite rhythms as you bring up your s/o.

-”Don’t worry baby, I got a solution for that.” Then he just kinda, you know, grabs your face again pulling you to his and taking all the breath from you again.

Bonus points if both were trying to keep you to themselves, they’d still sneak into your room and quietly fight each other about who gets to get rid of your s/o because your parents/or siblings are in the other room.

#Ghostface #Ghostface x Reader #Billy Loomis #Stu Macher #Billy Loomis x reader #Stu Macher x Reader #Billy Loomis imagine #Billy Loomis one shot #Stu Macher one shot #Stu Macher Imagine #Ghostface one shot #Ghostface Imagine

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nogenderbee · 1 year ago

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Hihihihi requests are open omg never seen that before okay so can I please rq pjsk boys hcs x reader and like how they’d confess. You probably did this before so if u have you can make it so reader confesses first? Or just ignore it idc. Have a great day fhdjdjjd

I know it's basic prompt but I don't think I did neither of those! So I did two versions right here~

confessions with Akito, Toya, Tsukasa, Rui

TagList: @vodka-glrl @yulikesminori @kuzui5201314 @miya-akane @alicewinterway18 @indi-has-fallen @bleachtheidiot

⊱ Akito prepared for his confession for so long... and in the end, he needed someone to force him either way

⊱ he's the type that tries to act all tough and like it's really nothing to him but inside, he already died at least 3 times

⊱ he doesn't go with ant long speeches and just says everything instantly

⊱ he's SO awkward. He tries to act tough but it only adds onto it and it's noticable he's stressing even if he's trying to hide it

⊱ if you accept his feelings, he'll act like he was expecting that but small relived smile shows on his face, showing his stress just evaporated

⊱ if you reject him, he'll act like he doesn't care at all and just leave with small "okey" or so

"I kinda like you... a lot. So... how about you?"

⊱ if you're the one that's confessing, his first reaction is stand is shock just to clear his throat and act all tough again

⊱ if he doesn't feel the same, he'll try picking the most gentle words but he's still very straightforward with his answer so it has 50/50 chances of being gentle...

⊱ if he does feel the same, again he'll be just straightforward but he blurts out his answer way faster than needed which tells you how much he indeed likes you

"Yes I do. Ehem... I mean... yeah, yeah, we can try this. Why not..."

⊱ Toya's the type to go ages with his feelings just to make sure what he's feeling is real and forever, and to think of some confession that can charm you

⊱ he'll probably try to be a bit romantic but neutral at the same time, he'll most likely invite you for friendly hangout in the park just to ask you for a bit more of time when you're about to leave

⊱ he thought that it'd be the best to confess when you leave since meeting wouldn't be so awkward (Tsukasa most likely helped him with that)

⊱ if you accept him, he won't hesitate to show you how happy and relieved you just made him, and that's already obvious by big relieved sigh he let out

⊱ if you reject him, he'll give you a small smile while assuring you it's alright and asks if you can still be friends despite that, he'll try to get across his feeling for the sake of your friendship

"Y/N, since around 9 months, I've felt stronger feelings about. I stopped seeing you as just a great friend and started hoping for future with you."

⊱ if you're the one confessing, it's easy to say that you catched him off guard because of the way he suddenly stopped moving and his eyes went a bit wide

⊱ soon tho, he's back to his normal state even tho he's more shy than usual

⊱ if he doesn't feel the same, he'll pick gentle words and you may not even realize what he's trying to say at first because of the words he uses

⊱ if he does feel the same, he'll let you finish before trying to give you some speech himself but it ends with him just saying he loves you back

"I can't believe it... you're also the... most perfect... person I met... I... I mean that... I love you as well."

⊱ Tsukasa was trying his best to charm you by showing off and being really kind and nice to you but the moment of his confession had to come either way it seems...

⊱ he tried to make you confess first by giving you hints he likes you but now he's not sure if you didn't saw them or just don't like him so he prepares to make final move

⊱ he wants to make the confession a bit special so he'll most likely take you to your favorite place and then find a bit more quieter spot there where he confesses

⊱ you can literally mistake him for acting out some romance drama... but he's really just putting his heart into confession

⊱ if you accept him, he won't be able to hold back anymore and will hug you close with big smile on his face while saying how happy you've just made him

⊱ if you reject him, he stand there stunned, his speech failed... he really starts to feel awkward and is quick to start rambling to cover up for this and he ends rambling with "goodbye", not really giving you a chance to say something

"The moment our eyes met, I knew you're the one I want to share my future with... so please... let me make my dreams a reality."

⊱ if you're the one confessing, you'll be able to see his shocked and flustered expression at once!

⊱ but if he doesn't feel the same, he'll immediately spoil you with compliments and just explain that he sees you like a family

⊱ if he does feel the same, he'll go extra mode and start rambling onto how long he was waiting for this moment and of course how your feelings are returned

"That's the best day of my life! You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment... I love you too! I loved you since a long time and I'm glad we finally get the chance to be together!"

⊱ Rui was declining his feelings and to confess the moment he saw how serious he sees you...

⊱ it's not that he hated you, he was just scared of ruining your relationship

⊱ but in the end, he needs to face it and so he does... he prepares mentally for a long time so there's a lot of chances that he avoided you for some time

⊱ he wants to make it quick so one day he just invites you to school roof or to calmer part of corridor, where he tells you how he feels

⊱ he picks words carefully, to not be too blunt but to also make it end quickly

⊱ if you feel the same, he'll be so surprised and so relieved at the same time, he might even cry a bit from happiness!

⊱ but if you don't, he'll give you a small smile before explaining that he just wanted to tell you how he feels

"Y/N, I don't want a more of time, I just wanted to say that you're very dear to me and that I have serious feelings for you. I have fallen for you..."

⊱ if you're the one confessing, he's stunned... he never expected anyone to like him!

⊱ and if he likes you too, he can't believe it even more. Of course he gladly accepts, even with small tease despite his face being all red

⊱ if he doesn't feel the same, he feels bad but he knows nothing good will come out of forced relationship so he gently rejects you while reassuring you'll find someone better one day

"You love? Oh would you look at that~ I have strong feeling for you too, my dear."

❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

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electricbathsalt · 4 months ago

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(from kainagant) psst what are your extensive headcanons/thoughts on hero!overhaul au? i'd love to hear what you think he'd be like as a hero.

I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED!! Idk why I didn’t talk about this sooner—it’s like I have to be prompted on a topic before I remember “oh yeah, I actually have thoughts on this matter, that I can speak out loud!!” 💀 also, I apologize in advance for how long this is. I’m basically summarizing the entirety of this AU in my mind, and it’s like. The longest-standing AU for Chisaki I have.

Anyway, first things first—he got taken away from the Hassaikai when he was young (like, maybe eleven or twelve?) and gets plopped in a Youth Recovery & Rehabilitation Center, which he was extremely pissed about at first, but his eyes kinda opened over the years as he learned more and more about how families and such are actually supposed to function, and how abnormal his entire life actually was up to that point.

Basically; he gets a stable, safe environment and therapy!! Yay!

By the time he reaches fifteen-sixteen, him going into hero school kinda just. Happened. He initially just wanted to shadow Recovery Girl, but they ended up making him take the entrance exam, and well… he passed with flying colors and all of a sudden he was a 1-A student. Luckily, that means instead of simply shadowing Recovery Girl, he gets to work as her official assistant! Cool, right.

And oh boy, does he learn a lot under her tutelage. Namely bedside manner. I imagine Chisaki who got away from the yakuza and had therapy wouldn’t be as blatant an asshole (obviously), but he would still be a bit lost on social norms and also honest/blunt to a fault. He doesn’t understand “putting things gently”, or “softening the blow”, and so Recovery Girl works to teach him when, where, and how he can be “nicer” to people/which situations require delicacy. She grows unexpectedly fond of him and actually finds his unwavering honesty refreshing because she knows he isn’t malicious and is simply stating exactly what he thinks. You just have to get used to his straightforwardness and he becomes rather endearing.

Recovery Girl also discovers that he’s actually capable of extreme kindness. Turns out when you coax him into telling you what’s on his mind, sometimes he’ll really surprise you with how much he cares, even if he himself doesn’t realize it, either (Without Pops and with therapy, Chisaki slowly grew back into caring about others. It took a lot of work, but without anyone weaponizing kindness against him, he felt he could allow himself to slowly feel it again (this is because doesn’t canon slightly imply Chisaki used to be kind like Eri with how he’s sort of like her if she never got saved? What if the way he escaped AFO’s facility was because he finally threw away caring about others and that was the difference between her and him? The fact Eri never got pushed to that point because she was rescued?))

Now, about his hero training. With his quirk-training, there’s not a lot to say/do. I’d say his quirk-training would involve a lot of “make this into this, as quickly as possible”. Basically, training him to be as precise and fast with his quirk usage as they can get him. I’d like to imagine that with training, they push him into being able to manipulate matter in all sorts of different ways, on the fly. He’s trained a lot in using environment to his advantage and whatnot. And maybe also one day, he ends up gaining the ability to use his quirk in areas other than his hands. Dunno.

For physical-training, I think they would heavily concentrate on making him extremely agile. Because hear me out—imagine Toga’s quirk awakening fight scene where she turns into Uraraka and sprints through all those people and takes them out. Imagine if Chisaki was able to move like that. He’d be fucking terrifying. They’d probably also want him to be extremely agile just on the front of being able to hit his hands against surfaces from as many positions as possible.

He absolutely would carry around things like painkillers and anesthesia like you said. Also hear me out, he’d carry around small bags of scraps that he’d then Overhaul to seal people’s wounds, since if the wound is big enough, he’d need some sort of substitute material to close it without sacrificing other parts of the person’s body.

He’d also sometimes work with the support course. He knows a lot about the human body and how quirks function, not to mention his quirk itself would be very useful in creating support items.

He’d get dragged into a lot of search-and-rescue missions because he’s literally perfect for those.

Pops eventually manages to get back into contact with Chisaki—to ask him to take a look at the girl he’s recently in possession of since her quirk is a dangerous mutation, and he’s such a fancy-pants doctor/support hero and quirk expert nowadays. Chisaki goes (he’s panicking internally from the moment he hears Pops’ voice over the phone to the moment he’s standing in front of the girl herself). He asks to take Eri for a couple days to run some tests. He never brings her back. He obtained full-custody of her via spilling every damn thing he’d ever learned and been through under the Shie Hassaikai.

(Seeing her sitting so lifelessly at that table, waiting to be prodded at like some sort of science experiment, reminded him of himself so much that it had been physically painful. The decision to ask to take her for only a while and then go back on his word was a rash one. It’s also one he doesn’t regret even slightly)

Huge advocate for quirkless people, and brings lots of awareness to quirk experimentation, since he’d been a victim of it himself.

And yes, becomes one of UA’s now multiple official on-site medical professionals. (They switch out as necessary)

So basically, he’s an extremely busy guy who never gets a moment’s rest thanks to the many… energetic people in his life (all the UA students give him migraines galore. Don’t even get him started on his coworkers), he’s slightly (very) terrifying, and SURPRISE! It’s good parent!chisaki AU as well, because I’m not leaving Eri to rot in Pops’ care.

I also play around with the idea of him never getting separated from his bio parents and becoming a hero from there, which mostly impacts his personality versus the actual stream of events that happen.

If there’s any further questions or if you wanted to know about anything specific, ask me and I’ll be happy to answer!! (Goes for anyone who may or may not be reading this)

#bnha #overhaul #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #mha #mha au #pro hero chisaki #pro hero overhaul #bnha eri #bnha pops #doctor chisaki kai #good parent!chisaki #chisaki was a villain bc he’d be too powerful as a hero #ramble #like holy shit long ass ramble #like somebody shut me tf up #who let me cook

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5eraphim · 2 years ago

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You mentioned in the past that you thought yandere medic would be okay with sharing y/n with another person. How do you think that would go? maybe with heavy, since they’re so close? (If you aren’t doing request rn feel free to ignore this <3 have a good day )

anon,, my sweet beloved and treasured above all loving sentiment, if only you knew how long I've awaited this very ask....

I teased this idea way back (here, the first part obvi.). I've gone back and forth about going for it and writing out the prompt in full, as I think it would be very, very... enticing, and another one of those things I would love to read which must unfortunately start with a blank word doc. I wound up writing this to be rather light-hearted, but if anyone wants to see this scenario played out a bit darker, I'm open to the request!

But additionally, I know myself well enough as a person, and didn't really want to go through all that effort unless if was for a request, or unless I knew it would be for me and at least one other reader, because it feels only natural a multiple character x reader one shot should be long enough to give each character a decent enough feature, thus will (safe to say) always be much longer, and take much longer to write, than a regular x character oneshot. (If that makes any sense?) Anyhow, that's all to say, thank you, thank you, thank you ever so kindly for the ask, I really hope you enjoy how this came out, it was a pleasure to write. <3

Characters: The Heavy 🐻 and The Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Summary: Drunkenness and tenderness between comrades lowers inhibitions, let's hope your ambitions will rise to compensate.

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: AFAB reader, smut, three way, oral (female receiving), first time, size difference, slight intoxication, dubcon (nothing too intense, but for the sake of intoxication/slight coercion), heavymedic sandwich.

Word Count: 4.5k

MASTER POST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo: Delicate Weapon- Grimes)

"when I say eat me, I mean suck the bones clean, leave nothing for the waiting, leave nothing for the vultures, or the travelers to come." “vivisection (you’re going to break my heart)” by Marty McConnell from The Best American Poetry 2014, edited by Terrance Hayes and David Lehman.

While the mission wasn't technically over yet, the work for the day was, and thank God for that. The job was simple enough, nothing more than a little errand run, fetching some supplies to bring back to home base, not necessarily requiring the combined efforts of you, Heavy and Medic. Still, when you were requested to accompany the two, you immediately agreed. So while the work bored you, the company would make it all worth it.

While the mission wasn't technically over yet, the work for the day was, and thank God for that. The job was simple enough, nothing more than a little errand run, fetching some supplies to bring back to home base, not necessarily requiring the combined efforts of you, Heavy and Medic. Still, when you were requested to accompany the two, you immediately agreed. The work bored you, but the company made it all worth it.

The road down was straightforward enough, and collecting the supplies was just as effortless, but the trip back was less so. A sudden and severe thunderstorm forced the lot of you to find a room for the night to accommodate all three of you and your cargo. Along with a few beers picked up along the way, a little treat to celebrate a hard day's work. While typically, you knew drinking on the job wasn't professional, this was a special occasion, and you knew it would be back to work once you returned home, so you might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Finding a suitable room big enough for all of you on such short notice was a miracle, but this place suited you well.

Two double-wide beds, a radio, an armchair, a couch, and a little kitchenette with an ice box to keep the beer nice and cold while you took turns changing in the bathroom out of work clothes and washing up a little. You took the initiative to contact Homebase regarding the delay.

A part of you was so tired you wanted to crawl into bed right away, but you weren't about to deny yourself a nice cold beer with friends. To your surprise, Medic sat in the armchair beside the couch while Heavy sat on the sofa, leaving the only open space to unwind next to Heavy, which you reclined comfortably into. Considering how they were practically glued to the hip most of the time, you didn't understand why they didn't sit together now. Also, you didn't like how Medic's eyes seemed to follow you across the room as you sat down next to Heavy, doing your best to keep a respectable distance between you and Heavy.

For some time, you relaxed, talking, listening to the radio, one beer turning into two, and two into two and a half as you settled more comfortably into the couch, no longer holding yourself so austerely, relaxing a little. Your head eventually resting on Heavy's shoulder, he looked at you, "Comfortable?"

You nodded, his body mass was so burly, and you could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, making you feel a little giddy. "You're too cozy- I wanna sleep right here."

"Still cold from storm? I warm you."

It wasn't a question. And without waiting for a yes, Heavy effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, sitting you sideways on top of his legs. With one arm slung over your shoulder and one under your knees, he pulled you into his lap, the overwhelming closeness feeling sudden, but he was still so temptingly warm and comfortable you didn't want to pull away.

"Feel better?"

You giggled, nodding your head as he ruffled your hair playfully, keeping one arm around your shoulders as you settled against the arm of the couch. Your eyes were closed, your head feeling all floaty as you felt his hand move from the top of your head to the side of your cheek. His hands, no longer concealed under his gloves, felt calloused but so gentle against your cheek. He moved subtly, decisively. You didn't even realize he moved your face to meet his until you felt his lips connecting against your own.

Without warning, you pulled away sharply with the awkward rigidity of a stranger. Your actions caught Heavy by surprise, allowing you to detach yourself without restriction, though you could see his confusion through wide, frightened eyes. In a moment, you were made shockingly aware of everything the alcohol so effectively blinded you to before now. It was that awkward, sinking feeling of becoming all too aware of your own body all at once, aware of the space you were taking up, of how much of your body was pressed up against the massive Russian you shared the couch with, the clammy sweat coating your palms, the tension in your joints, yet most of all the butterflies in your belly which intensified into something less than pleasant. All of this awkwardness made you feel suddenly insecure about yourself, your form, and your relation to the men around you; how could you have been so blind to this before? For goodness sake, these were your coworkers; it was your responsibility to keep things professional between the lot of you, a task you could not more thoroughly have failed at. It was humiliating to realize you folded after just a couple of drinks, even if Heavy was playing along; it all felt so wrong and too pushy. Not to mention the fact Heavy was a taken man. The truth made all the more grievous, considering his partner was sitting right there facing the two of you. While the guilt for what you'd just done made you want to hide your face in shame, it was impossible to keep from looking at Medic. However, to your surprise, he merely sat there watching the two of you, cocking his head to the side slightly, with a confusion matching Heavy's as though you were the one acting strangely here.

"Something is wrong?" Heavy inquired, his hand on your waist tightening slightly, likely in reassurance, unfortunately having the opposite effect. It felt too awkward to look Heavy in the eye or face him at this point. So instead, you kept your gaze locked on the floor before the two of you as you nervously tried to squirm your way off the larger man's lap. All to no avail, however, as Heavy's grip on you was cast iron, and you resorted to clasping your hands together on your lap, speaking as levelly as you could, using all your willpower to keep the emotions and alcohol from causing your weak voice to crack, "I'm sorry, Heavy. I think I've, um-overstepped here; I shouldn't have, y-you know… Well, I mean, I think I'll turn in now- it's so late, already…."

Your voice trailed off, and you hated how wishy-washy you sounded, betraying your will to stay strong, to appear rational and firm as any reliable comrade should.

Heavy was not convinced. "You were fine when I pulled you on my lap. Why so tired so fast?"

Forcing a nervous laugh and uncomfortable forced smile, you tried to turn to Medic for reassurance, but he stared back, eyes squinting slightly, matching Heavy's suspicion. "Must be the alcohol's catching up with me then-'' It wasn't a total lie, as you could've sworn you could feel the alcohol churning in your gut, almost taunting you, forcing you to remember just how much you'd drunk in such a short amount of time.

"Explain." Heavy looked at you and deadpanned, waiting for you to tell the truth. You tried to swallow, but your mouth felt dry.

"I mean, aren't you two-" The awkwardness melded uncomfortably with the guilt; how were you supposed to explain yourself in a situation like this? "I mean- but you two are together, aren't you?"

"And?" Heavy spoke bluntly, putting you right back on the spot. You sighed nervously, nibbling at your lower lip and turning your head to face Medic.

"I just, I-I know it's not my business, but I mean- I can't imagine you're alright with any of this-'' You thought you knew your friends well, but you never would've imagined winding up in a situation like this with the two of them. To your surprise, a smile spread across Medic's face.

"Of course I am! This was my idea, after all!" You merely blinked at him, not at all following what he meant by that.

"Huh? What do you mean, it was your idea?"

"Well…" You could see his eyes flick from you to Heavy, silently asking for some backup. Heavy's fingers began to rub comforting little circles over your waist, his other hand covering your own hands on your lap in a reassuring gesture.

"You're pretty and kind but sp shy. We thought a little experience would help." His blunt words took you completely by surprise.

"Experience?" You managed. Heavy nodded, not at all registering the shock on your face.

"What he means is-" Medic chuckled slightly, interjecting, amused watching how flustered Heavy's words made you. "We thought if we helped you with a little, let's say, physical bonding-"

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what exactly he meant by this, but he pressed on.

"Nothing too intense now- just a little intimacy to get you more accustomed."

You hated how vague he was being, but also, you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought of being in a situation like this before. Only in your wildest, most unrealistic dreams, or so you thought. The two men were handsome in their own ways, you'd known before you got to know them, but you never liked to dwell on such lewd thoughts. You always felt so guilty afterward; they were your friends after all, even if just in your thoughts, you knew it was wrong to think so lustfully of friends.

Sure, there was always a little lighthearted play-flirting occasionally, but you would never have tried anything serious with either of them. Your friendship meant too much to risk losing like that.

You felt Heavy kiss the side of your head, murmuring in a low, uncharacteristically quiet voice into your ear, "You're shy but not sneaky. I see how you look at Doctor behind his back. He says you stare at me also. Is this true?"

Your breath hitched when he began to trail his beautiful, massive hand from over your hands, snaking it up your belly until it cupped the side of your face, forcing you to focus on him and meet his eye. Heavy drank in every detail of your face before settling his eyes on your lips, waiting for you to answer, and with a trembling exhale, you spoke, "It is." Before he could wait no longer, closing the space between your mouths once again, his lips curling into a smirk just seconds before his parted lips connected with yours.

While you were still awestruck at the surrealness of the situation, you felt your reservations evaporating by the second. Finally kissing back, you allowed Heavy to deepen the kiss as he used his hand to push your head closer against his. His thumb brushed over your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin as you felt almost uncomfortably overheated. He moved slowly but so lovingly, using his tongue to dip into your mouth and taste you, sucking against your lips as you broke the kiss with hesitation, asking,

"Are you sure you want to go through with all this?" He nodded with a mellow smile as you continued, still feeling traces of nervousness clinging to you stubbornly. "I'd never forgive myself if I ruined our friendship, and I, uh-" Despite your awkwardness and hesitation, Heavy smiled at you so resolutely, so affectionately. Watching you as though you were the most beautiful person he'd ever beheld.

"I don't want to let you down here. You guys were right; I've got no real experience here… I don't know if I'll be any good at this." It was almost shameful to say out loud, but Heavy didn't even blink, playfully kissing your cheek.

"Don't think of that. It's your time to learn, not lead."

He nuzzled his nose against your cheek, the feeling almost ticklish, making you stifle a giggle. "Just lay back and look pretty. You'll do perfect." He pulled away a little, his hand on your waist, tugging at your shirt a little; only then did you see how blown out his pupils were, "Will you come to bed now?"

It was time to be decisive. The abruptness of the question caught you off-guard, but you had no idea if you would ever get a chance like this again. This was your moment; it was time to act or wish you had. You swallowed your uncertainty and nodded, finally removing your hands from your lap to help Heavy pull off your shirt before reaching out to touch his own top and about to do the same. But he gave you a look that made you pause.

"This one off too? It's not too much? We only go as far as you want." As praising as he was moments ago, his firmness and evident respect for your boundaries made you feel all the more loved. You took this as your chance to try and charm him, as he did so effortlessly to you.

"The shirt off is better; I mean, I've always wanted to get a look under these clothes." The sound of Medic chuckling beside you made you realize you'd almost forgotten he was there in the first place. It felt odd knowing he was so close, though if this was all his idea all along, you wondered where he factored into all this. Pushing that thought aside, you helped Heavy remove his shirt as you curled a little closer, your head resting against his chest, your hand on his shoulder as you softly kissed his skin, nuzzling to feel the delightful feeling of skin-to-skin contact as much as you could. "Heavy, your body is so warm. You feel amazing." Your words were mumbled, quiet, and practically smothered as you spoke without moving your head much from his chest. You could feel his chest rumbling with a low laugh, and when you felt his hips gently press a little closer against your body, but you didn't shy away. You could feel he was aroused and didn't doubt he knew you were too. You felt the warmth between your legs intensifying the longer you felt Heavy's bare skin against yours, your thighs squeezing tighter and tighter, and you swore you could feel a bit of wetness from the kiss alone.

"Will you take me to bed now? Please?" The neediness gave you a bit of confidence as you looked up at Heavy, who needed no further incentive. You leaned against him for support as you both rose, your hand finding his as you two walked to the bed, laying down. At the same time, Heavy lingered for a moment overhead, distracted by the curves of your body now spread out like a banquet before him, eyes looking everywhere but your face. Then, for a second, you felt a twinge of insecurity, "I won't lie; I'm still a little scared this is gonna hurt."

Instantly, this snapped Heavy's attention back to your face as he sat beside you on the side of the bed, his hand finding yours again as he spoke, "We only go as far as you want… We can stop now if-" You didn't talk, just shook your head no, moving Heavy's hand with your own to the waist of your pants. He looked at you one last time for assurance. However, you could practically feel his hand trembling in yours with anticipation before you guided him to unbutton your pants, helping pull them off you. At the same time, you slinked out of them and your underwear, kicking them to the floor.

Even against your thigh, his hand loomed intimidatingly, the size difference so beautiful, making you shudder, wanting this man more than ever. You were so distracted by his hands you didn't even hear Medic sneaking up behind Heavy until you heard him speak. "How precious you two look~" You jolted a little in surprise, seeing Medic peering down at you from behind Heavy with narrowed eyes glazed over with lust, shamelessly checking out your nude figure, now stripped perfectly naked in front of him.

"You didn't forget about me so soon, did you?" He asked in a faux-hurt voice, "You're doing so well. Are you ready to go a little further now?"

"I am." You spoke without hesitation, the burning between your legs intensifying almost painfully as you shyly parted your thighs, feeling cool air ticking your sweaty skin as Medic walked to the foot of the bed to get a better view before you sat up a little, pushing away from the headboard as Heavy got into bed behind you.

"Heavy is here, right behind. You will be safe."

Before now, you remembered how painfully tense you felt, but at this moment, you were put at ease, comforted at last by the presence behind you, no longer so overwhelmed. How foolish you were to think your relationship with the two men had to be strictly business, how blind you were to the pleasure the two men had to offer.

"We will stop at any time-"

You cut him off with a kiss as he settled at the head of the bed, "I know I'm no good at showing it, but. I want this. I've wanted this for so long. You two mean so much to me, and I trust you."

You were about to say, 'I love you,' but you held back. You didn't have the guts to say something so bold. But you hoped Heavy, as well as Medic, understood, despite your shy quietness. There was a minute or two of moving around, Heavy moving from his spot at your bedside to get behind you; he spread his thick legs to give you space to settle between. Finally, you were lying down, your upper back and head resting on his belly, noticing the bulge in his pants as it pressed not-so-subtly into your back. Despite the lewdness of it all, you let your head fall back a little; Heavy's body felt so solid and warm behind you, it almost made you want to skip everything and just cuddle up and fall asleep already, but you knew Medic wouldn't allow such a thing.

"I'll start nice and slow, just for you." Medic's words were deceptively sweet, almost enough to hide his lustful intent. Your throat felt too dry to speak, so you merely nodded, feeling the heat in the pit of your stomach intensify at this new position. He was condescending to you, and yet you didn't even have the inner strength left to respond. Medic moved over you, his hands resting on Heavy's thighs around your head to keep you nice and caged, right where he wanted you. He could see it written all across your face; you were getting turned on being obedient like this, submitting and letting them take the lead. He leaned his body down further, enough for you to feel the rub of his pants over your naked flesh, the odd sensation making you wince as he slotted his knee between your legs, the gentle contact alone enough to make you jolt a little, startled.

"Aww, I'm sorry. Did I scare you? You must be pretty needy down there, aren't you? Did Heavy do a good job getting you warmed up?" Medic could feel your chest rising and falling rapidly as you breathe deeper. He continued, "You've masturbated before, haven't you?" The question caught you off guard. You looked at Medic with wide eyes, feeling another throb of arousal, seeing his predatory grin, one you'd seen countless times in battle but appearing like never before, given the current position. He pressed his knee a little harder against you.

"Y-yeah, I've- a lot, I guess…."

"Did you ever think of it like this? Your pussy leaking all over me while you grind against me as hard as you can?" You keened, your hips rolling against his clothed thigh, the muscle bulging distractingly beneath the thin covering. It was humiliating to have him mocking you while you were powerless to defend yourself, yet still, you wanted even more. He laughed, amused by your lack of a response, as though your brain was already succumbing so quickly to your own lust you forgot how to form whole sentences.

"Does it turn you on when I dirty-talk you like this? I bet behind that pretty face, you're even more perverted than either of us." You grit your teeth, biting back a moan.

"Medic, w-why are you keeping your pants on?" He paused momentarily at the abrupt question, looking at you with an eyebrow raised as you rushed to explain yourself. "I mean, doesn't it feel- like, weird?"

"You want to see me undressed that bad, huh?" Medic responded. Of course, he wasn't wrong, but the self-satisfied look on his face stopped you from admitting he was right.

You shook your head, "W-well, I mean, aren't you uncomfortable under all that?" He grinned, seeing right through your bluff. But, even though he knew you were lying, Medic wasn't about to press you too hard on the matter.

"You'll understand once you get more experience. But, you know, it can be just as rewarding to stay dressed, to keep control-" He paused to trail a finger from between your breasts down, just below your navel, the light sensation causing you to throb with want against his thigh. Continuing in a low, almost antagonistic tone, "While your partner is a wet, needy, naked little mess beneath you." He could not more clearly be mocking you, but something about it had quite the effect on you. Medic knew just how to push your buttons, and it was driving you crazy.

He was about to say something when Heavy's voice from behind interrupted.

"Medic, be nice. This is first time. You're embarrassing her. Don't overdo it." Thank God there was a literal angel over your shoulder to watch over you and reign in his partner.

"Perhaps, but it looks like someone's enjoying it." He was about to move his hand lower when you interrupted,

"Medic?"

He stopped his hand immediately, eyes meeting yours as you continued, "Can I get a kiss first?" You felt awkward, making such a bashful request compared to how confidently he spoke. His face softened at this, nodding before leaning closer, your hands cupping his cheeks. It felt good to be the first to deepen the kiss, your tongue flicking over his lip as his mouth parted, allowing you to get a better taste. Then, without breaking the kiss, his hand began to move down again, his thumb finding your clit quickly, causing you to moan into the kiss.

Your mind went blank with pleasure at the stimulation, his thumb rolling softly over your clit as his other fingers deftly traced the exterior of your sex, collecting the abundant moisture and spreading it over the entrance while you throbbed beneath his fingertips. You felt an almost painful burning feeling as his fingers moved faster, lips working in rhythm against your mouth; far better than any fantasy you'd felt before.

Medic broke the kiss, "Do you want me to use my mouth? Are you ready for that?"

Without waiting, you nodded, "Please! It feels so good- please, please don't stop!"

"Just wait another moment- need to make sure you're ready," Medic spoke in a sweet, gentle voice, so sickeningly sweet you could practically feel your heartthrob. He pushed two fingers inside, and you couldn't help but buck forwards at the contact. Making Medic hum in satisfaction at your reaction. You could vaguely hear him chiding you for your impatience, but you were beyond caring at this point, and when you felt him tracing painfully slow little circles around your entrance, you whined out loud in annoyance.

"Will you stop teasing already and get on with it- Fuck!"

Medic looked genuinely shocked momentarily at how bold you were, but it didn't deter him. Instead, without waiting for another moment, he dove his face between your legs as you unconsciously spread your legs further for him, leaning back against Heavy for support, arching your back, feeling his hands on your shoulders to keep you steady; it wasn't long until you felt Medic's hands just above your knees, his breath fanning against your pussy.

But far be it from Medic to let you off so quickly, and you groaned out loud as you felt his tongue moving, intentionally moving up and around your clit, but refusing to make contact. You were dangerously close to digging your fingernails directly into Heavy's thighs. But you forced yourself to move one hand to the top of Medic's head, your fingers clutching his hair, trying to guide him into place while you ground against his face. When you finally felt his lips connecting with your clit you were practically sobbing with bliss, the feeling intensifying as he began to suckle against the swollen bundle of nerves.

"More, more- Oh God, please- More!" You were getting louder than you intended, but fortunately, the radio likely kept anyone from overhearing any of this, but you only got louder as he began to suck harder. His tongue lapped upwards, swirling against your clit, as he moaned into you, swallowing as much as he could. You felt feral. Like you were burning hot on the inside, but Medic kept tempo without issue. Finally, you could feel your climax coming on, rolling your hips even harder, unintentionally pulling his hair just as fiercely. Still, if he was bothered by this, he didn't say anything, slurping contently as you finally felt the end coming on. And you trembled, feeling your body awash in ecstasy as you succumbed to the blinding pleasure between your legs.

It was an embarrassingly long time until you managed to catch your breath, the gap in experience between you and them becoming painfully obvious once again. Your throat felt so dry and scratchy from your heavy breathing and moaning, much like a scorched throat from pushing yourself in physical training. Though other than that, you were in a situation unlike any you'd known before. Naked, slick with your own sweat, your mind still tipsy and unstable from your orgasm.

You could feel Heavy's hand petting at your hair from behind, and you couldn't help but swoon, feeling so supported and intimate with him after such a perverse moment. "You look so pretty when you come." There was an edge in his voice, and you thought he was indirectly asking if you wanted to go again, but you were too tired, too used up to think about doing this all over again. You didn't know how to respond; thankfully, Medic spoke first.

"It would be a shame if we kept this a 'one-time-thing,' wouldn't you agree?" And you felt your headrush, this evening felt too good to be true, nothing less than a dream come to life, but the promise of more was all the better. Nodding, you focused your gaze on Medic as he moved from between your legs; you responded, "So long as it's ok with you, I'd never want to come between things-"

You felt like a rag doll, limp and being pulled lifelessly by the other two, Medic facing you, arms around your back, pulling you into his chest. "Don't worry about it; you're the one with much more to learn here." You felt Heavy's enormous arm pull the both of you tighter into his chest. And at this moment, sandwiched between the warm bodies of two men you cared more about than anyone else in the world, you prayed the night would never end.

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rattycattyfanfic · 5 months ago

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haircut

for @mirroredmemoriez 's prompt!

7.) Lynn helping Amanda cut her hair. Be it a wholesome or angst thing up to you. As they say, hair holds memories.

743 words, mentions of mandy mental illness??? and suggestion of sh. if anyone would like to submit short simple prompts that i can deal with in less than 800 words, my inbox is open!!

It’s a bad day for her today, and it looks like blunt kitchen scissors and dull hair at the bottom of the sink. She’s been thinking about it for a while, tugging at limp hair whenever she glances too long in the mirror and glorifying the freedom of those first few weeks of her shitty DIY haircut that she’d done after her first test. She’s been thinking about it for a while, and it is so like her to run towards a sharp object at the first sign of trauma flooding back.

Amanda stares deep into the mirror, stares at the gaunt shadows beneath her eyes and the odd chop of her hair, and then her stomach twists unpleasantly and she attacks another long strand of hair. Her mind is full of faces recently, John’s and Adam’s and even Lynn’s, sweaty and nervous in her shotgun collar. She can’t stand to look at her own face. The scissors cut dully through another chunk of lank hair and she imagines she is shedding not just her hair but her own skin, her own self.

“Mandy?”

Lynn’s voice through the bathroom door, muffled and concerned, but never distrustful, never scared. It makes her feel worse, somehow. She’s just cutting her hair, and yet she feels like she’s been caught red-handed, bloody-handed, caught in old habits. It’s just a haircut, and she feels like a guilty dog. “What,” she calls out, the scissors shaking in her hand.

A pause, a thoughtful silence, and then a blunt, “You’ve been in there a while. Everything ok?” Lynn is like that, now. Thoughtful, yet clinical in a way. Mandy likes it, likes it straightforward. Lynn doesn’t mince words, doesn’t talk through stupid metaphors or half-truths that she has to work to understand. She likes that about her. She’s not stupid, but she likes that about her.

“Fine,” she grunts, and it sounds too loud to her. She chops another section of hair, and then chops at the same chunk again, unsatisfied, unsettled, and again, and again. She throws the scissors down into the sink with a frustrated clink of metal against porcelain.

“I’m coming in, ok?” Lynn says through wood after another long pause. She’s coming in. Amanda could stop her, has the strength to hold the door shut, has the slight physical edge, even knows Lynn would listen if she contested. She stands still and stares into the mirror instead.

The door squeaks open, and Lynn furrows her brow, probably. Takes in her shitty haircut, probably, and immediately recognises it for the sign of turmoil that it is. “Oh,” Lynn murmurs, and stays there for a second with one hand on the door knob and the other worrying the edge of her camisole. And then she’s moving, and Amanda doesn’t even feel the need to flee. She stays very still and quiet until Lynn is at her shoulder, brushing a few stray cut hairs away from her cheek. “Short hair suits you,” is all she says, low and soft, and meets Amanda’s eyes in the mirror.

Amanda trembles, and then scoffs. “It looks shit.”

“It’s a bit rough, sure,” Lynn murmurs, and fingers a chunk of hair sticking out sideways ever so tenderly. “I like it,” she says, and her thumb trails slowly down the newly exposed curve of her jaw, back up to the round of her cheek. “Can I help?” Her other hand edges slowly towards the sink, palm up, offering, tentative.

Wordless, Amanda nods jerkily, and scrambles for the scissors abandoned in the hairy sink. She deposits them in Lynn’s open palm and it feels heavy, meaningful. “Sure. Thanks.”

Lynn nods, and offers a small quirk of her mouth in the mirror, and Amanda watches as she gently goes about neatening up what she’d already cut short. She takes her time, stops, pauses to look and think and then trims some more, careful and slow. Amanda tries to stay very still even though her knees feel like jelly, and after a quiet eternity, Lynn sets the scissors down on the edge of the sink. She runs her finger tips through the short spiky hairs at the nape of Amanda’s neck, scratches gently. “Looks good,” she whispers. “Do you feel better?”

Amanda shivers. She nods. She stares into the mirror and the hair does look better, and Lynn is at her back pressing a gentle kiss against the shell of her ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

#amanda young #lynn denlon #saw #lynnmanda #rated t #2024 #drabble #prompt #angst #comfort

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ardentkurashk · 1 month ago

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BG3 Tav Backstory Bash

This is a challenge to help people flesh out their Tav’s backstory by exploring their past. It is organized into four sections with seven prompts. You can treat this as a monthly challenge or a general project. You can write headcanons, fics, or share art based on the prompts! You can interpret the prompts however you want. If you want to share use the tag #bg3backstorybash

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Baby

Parents: So, Ka'zalii has no knowledge of who laid his egg and he's not really interested at this point in his life. His parent is still alive, raiding on the other side of the astral, a sorcerer who got entangled with abberant magic years ago.

He is the spitting image of Ka'zalii, if they did ever meet, they'd know instantly they were related. Birth: Straightforward egg hatching, on time, chomped and clawed his way out with no problems. First word: Knowing githyanki, probably a swear or a battlecry. Overheard from a raider arguing with the varsh or something probably. It's a marker of strength in your alien toddlers when they start swearing. When they first walked: I get the impression with githyanki that they're getting around by themselves pretty quickly. With how big those eggs are when they're about to hatch, they're strong enough to get moving straight away. So, his first little wobble around was under the encouragement of the varsh to throw themselves at each other and get clawing. Tantrum: I'm using my own toddler as a gauge for this because I picture Ka'zalii being similar. Chill as fuck most of the time, but explosive when a tantrum happens. Thankfully, this is before any magic manifests but still, tiny ball of frog rage over something so trivial. First sickness: It's more likely an injury than a sickness I think and probably a bite from a clutchmate. Thunderstorm: Immediately loves them, absolutely mesmerized by them. Not that his creche experienced them on its asteroid, but they can see them on the planet below and feel the atmosphere of them.

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Childhood:

Friends: There were two clutchmates he got close to early on, but the sa'varsh put a stop to that very quickly. Sabotaged their friendship quite expertly and encouraged them to fight each other often. Ka'zalii ended up in a fight to the death with one of them not long after. One of them still lives as a m'lar in Tu'narath. Siblings: He has one sibling from the same parent, but neither of them know they're related. They're called Vel, a psionic warrior. Currently off on their own insane adventure. If they ever reunite, they'll both have endless stories to tell. Getting into trouble: Frequently. When his wild magic manifests, he's causing chaos accidentally quite a lot. Undisciplined and volatile magic that his sa'varsh takes as a personal slight.

There's a few instances of sneaking around the creche and getting into rooms he's not supposed to be in too. This ends up being how he finds out he's fated for the next culling. Games: He learns card games and dice games from the older gith when he's a bit older. When he's small, games mostly consist of wrestling and fighting with clutch mates. Learning something new: Swordsmanship, his magic manifesting and learning to combine the two in battle. He took to his magic much faster than a blade, but while swordplay could be controlled and disciplined, his magic was definitely not. Trauma: The events that are the most vivid in his memory involve his magic. His magic being wild meant it was out of control often and undisciplined. His sa'varsh treated this as deliberate defiance and punished him for it. The scars on his back are the only scars he'd be rid of if he could. Obviously, this did nothing to help him learn to direct the surges, it just taught him to anxiously avoid using spells as much as possible.

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Teenager:

First love: Aside from a bit of experimenting and post battle relief, the first real connection he had to anyone was to Zeth. A ranger around his age, met after leaving his creche. They're still inseparable and when Ka'zalii becomes kith'rak, Zeth serves under him (huhuhu) as sarth and skilled assassin. Rebellion: Goes without saying really. Small acts of defiance throughout his teenage years unfortunately got him noticed as a problem. Such as sneaking into rooms with various records and going through them. His name ended up on the list for the next culling, leading to his departure. He was recruited to the Sha'sal Khou not long after leaving his creche. Running away: Ran away from his creche at around 17. His name was recommended for the next culling, the final push needed to persuade him to leave. He spent a few years assuming he was being pursued and didn't stay put for long. It led to his recruitment and meeting people who would become extremely important connections over the years. Reckless behaviour: So much so. Whether it's a side effect of his wild magic, or simply his nature, he never could quite decide. But he gave into the impulses often and with wild abandon. (He still does, much to the dismay of everyone around him, except Dahlia.) The time away from his creche, on the planet it orbited, were treated as opportunities to just unleash all that pent up stress and fling spells without fear of consequences. For the most part. Anything dangerous, with small odds of success, he was drawn towards. Peer pressure: There was a lot of pressure from his instructors, from the older warriors and from his clutch mates to gain control of his magic. It had the opposite effect if anything, you can't beat the wild magic out of someone, despite his sa'varsh's efforts. Growing pains: He ended up being 6'1" by the time he stopped growing, so he had plenty of this. Not that it was really acknowledged, endure and bear it like any good githyanki should. You take growing pains to a ghustil, you get laughed out the door. Taking responsibility: From an outside perspective, he took responsibility for his own life fairly early on, after leaving his creche. But from his point of view, he ran away from his responsibility to follow the path chosen for him. Instead of forcing his magic into cooperation, he failed and chose to evade his own death. Eventually, he views his departure as something he had to do to survive, but it takes him years to get to that point.

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Adulthood: Their "first time": Some time after leaving his creche, he ends up with an astral pirate crew and stays with them for a while. He ends up in a bit of a thing with the captain, who likely takes advantage of his desperate situation a bit. It isn't long before he finds a better place among a mercenary crew of kin. Serious relationships: I went into this a bit before, but Zeth is his first 'serious' relationship, as serious as gith get. Then it's an open relationship with each other and others as flings and post battle relief, until he meets Lae'zel. They start out as a fling, until not long after the second time they sleep together, he looks at her and has an oh fuck moment. He is catching feelings and that's bad. Keeps it as quiet as possible, but is not subtle at all, the others notice immediately. Cue relentless innuendos from Astarion and Shadowheart and endless encouragement from Karlach. Then the act 2 romance scene happens, dramatic duel where he gets absolutely flattened and loves every damn second of it. He worships the ground she walks on, he'd follow her anywhere. Work: There are some short lived piracy and mercenary jobs while he finds his feet. Then he gets recruited by the Sha'sal Khou and dedicates himself to it completely. Spy work, sabotage, the odd bit of assassination, disguises, eventually awarded the title of kith'rak and has his own little outpost and circle of kin he trusts utterly. Leaving home: He left his creche while he was still a teen, but it affected him for many years after. He doesn't really start confronting it until his time on Faerun and the whole netherbrain ordeal. Wyll is the one to break through the githyanki exterior and get some stories out of him and when Shadowheart shares her wolf memory, he shares one of his own memories in return. Aging: Age is a weird one for him. He's spent a lot of time on the astral plane, so he only counts the time he spends on the material. By the time the netherbrain is defeated, that amounts to around 28/29 years. But it has been 248 years since his hatching on the asteroid his creche exists on. Finding your place: The Sha'sal Khou was the first real purpose he felt he belonged to, but he refuses to think about how much of that was recruitment tactics. They got him when he was young, vulnerable, essentially homeless, easy target. He starts to question his place and the goals of his organization after becoming aware of the teachings of Orpheus and especially after actually meeting him. Lae'zel's conviction helps him analyse things a bit more closely, I imagine they had many a late night discussion in camp about it all. He confides in her often in the end. Eventually, he does defect to Orpheus' rebels, envisioning a civil war coming after Vlaakith's demise. There's also the couple of AUs for this version of events with Dahlia (@corvitine) being a catalyst in one timeline and Vanquish (@des-no9) being the catalyst in another. Starting a family/found family: Found family first of all. He doesn't realize this, but he has a lot of people around him that he should rely on. His inner circle that follow him to the rebels when he leaves: Zeth, Ka'a'dith, Ralith. The friends he makes in Faerun, all of the companions, they all keep in touch with each other I like to think. I also hc he goes back to Y'llek to get Varrl out of there, whether they have a sibling relationship or not, I haven't explored yet. He and Lae raise Xan and he has two eggs himself afterwards. In the Dahlia timeline, he ends up with a huge extended family from her, they end up with a sibling relationship and are absolute menaces together. They are the perfect reckless jigsaw pieces to each other. In Vanquish's timeline, he ends up with Lae a bit later, but he clicks with Van so quickly. They are also a nightmare together for anyone around them and it's great. ───────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.─────────────────

#my ocs: ka'zalii #oh my god i did a ramble #bg3backstorybash

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devereauxsdisease · 2 days ago

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Passin' by to say your works are some of my fav fanfics ever, especially the Spacedogs ones <3 you're a wonderful writer, I'm so glad you're still around this fandom

One question: how did you discover Spacedogs and why do you like them so much? :3c

Thank you so much! I am always gobsmacked when anyone responds to my work, I always kinda feel like I'm yelling nonsense into the void, so this makes my day.

I got into Spacedogs via @llewcie, who wrote the first Spacedogs fic I ever read - Craigslist. I still love it to death. Then @disraeligearsgoestumblin prompted me to write a 500 word oneshot that turned into Space Invader and I was kinda hooked after that.

As far as why I love Spacedogs, I guess the answer is twofold.

1. They are the opposite of Hannigram. I mean that because essentially, Hannigram is about forcing a change in a romantic prospect (ie: Will needs to embrace his darkness for Hannibal to be satisfied), while Spacedogs (typically) is about WANTING to change to be worthy of someone.

2. I think there's an interesting dynamic between Adam, who is constantly bombarded with abelist views of the worlds, and Nigel, who is constantly judged for his past/appearances. Both need a bit of understanding, both have little time for "niceties" that have no meaning, and both prefer straightforward communication. It's just kind of a fun dynamic to splash around in. Either way, I've got a new Spacedogs story coming up Wednesday, so I hope you enjoy that!

#Dev answers questions #Spacedogs #My babies

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yourantag · 1 year ago

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New Beginnings (Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: Honestly not the proudest of this one, but I'm happy enough with it that I deem it as good as done. This is part of a collaboration of sorts with a few people from the Ithaqua discord server with a prompt focusing on a modern AU where Ithaqua has a healthy family relationship and takes you to prom. Hope you enjoy my take on this! On another note, I think I should probably try to make an introduction post and a masterlist. Problem is, I am simply too lazy and probably won't do it until like,,, 5 months later. Someone send help. Word count: 4.0k words Summary: Anxiety consumes him alive, to the point he's paralyzed in fear. Ithaqua doesn't want to lose you, but it seems no matter what he does, he will. Unbeknownst to him, you feel much the same. Senior year really does smack people in the face, doesn't it?

The Norwell twins are odd, though not in a way that is truly unusual for most siblings. The two are complete opposites, constantly bickering, yet also very close. Since they were separated at birth, many expected that there would be a rift between them. That didn't end up the case, for better or for worse.

Nathaniel was the heir to the notorious Norwell Conglomerate, treated like a prince since birth. Ithaqua was their long lost brother, raised by a kind woman in a rural area. No matter how anyone looked at it, Nathaniel would either have a sense of superiority or feel threatened by his brother returning. Ithaqua, in turn, would feel inferior to his brother who had been perfectly raised to be a leader.

Yet, none of those speculations and expectations became a reality.

Ithaqua quite literally denounced his right to be heir the moment he met his birth parents. He claimed he was perfectly content living life as he was, and didn't need anything the Norwell family may feel inclined to give him. While it was a bit blunt, it was honest. It put many people at ease, including his brother. Nathaniel immediately took a liking to his twin after that, which no one could really understand. When asked, he simply shrugged and said "I like straightforward people who know what they want."

Nathaniel is all sly words and cunning, charming in a way that is alluring like the gentle call of the depths of a ravine. He's used to the deceptive nature of business and people of the upper class. Honestly, he's so used to it that it sickens him. To finally meet the brother he'd always wanted to get to know, and find that he is everything that he'd ever want him to be? Well, Nathaniel couldn't be any more pleased.

Ithaqua is blunt and straightforward, but not unkind. He's someone who does what is right and is considerate of people, even if he doesn't seem like it. With a loving adoptive mother who taught him well, it was impossible for him to ever lust for more than he needed. All Ithaqua wants is a nice job and a house big enough for him, his mom, and maybe a caretaker for his mom when he isn't able to take care of her.

With how pure he is morally, it's expected that Ithaqua didn't particularly like his brother, or his whole biological family really, at first. Still, he gave them the benefit of the doubt and found that they weren't nearly as bad as he had thought they'd be. They were rather normal for a family, just... rich. He could ignore that if he squinted enough.

Not as much changed as he'd anticipated. It was merely requested that Ithaqua and his adoptive mother moved into the Norwell mansion, and that Ithaqua went to the same high school as his brother. It wasn't strictly required, and the Norwell's claimed that regardless of their choice, they'd respect it and send the two money to take care of themselves.

They agreed to live with the Norwell's in the end.

Two years had passed since then, and it was shocking to see how the twins acted now. Nathaniel would lightly poke fun at Ithaqua, and he in turn would poke back. The two had their differences, but ultimately ended up quite good friends. It was almost surreal to some students to watch the proud, arrogant heir suddenly become a teasing older brother of sorts. It made him feel less unreachable, more human.

With senior year rapidly coming to an end, many were either panicking or celebrating. Soon, they'd be going to college, trade school, or the like, becoming "real adults" and having more freedom than they'd know what to do with. It was nerve-wracking, it was exhilarating.

With the desire to have no regrets, many asked Nathaniel to prom. He rejected everyone, practically the whole school, while clinging to Ithaqua and claiming he wouldn't go with anyone in fear that his poor little brother would be lonely.

If Ithaqua's deadpan expression didn't show how much of a lie that was, Nathaniel's shit eating grin sure did.

The truth of the matter was, Nathaniel couldn't go with anyone in fear of either tainting their family reputation or giving someone false hope of a relationship he had no interest in. Even if he was sly, cunning, or as other people put it, a bastard, he still had his morals. Needlessly breaking hearts or hurting his family was not something he wanted to do. Ithaqua knew this, which was why he let his brother use him as an excuse. Not a good excuse, but an excuse nonetheless.

"Ah, I wish someone would go with my poor, unfortunate brother. So lonely, with zero friends and a personality that repels literally everyone! I sincerely wish my brother could have a partner, but alas, he has no rizz." Nathaniel dramatically proclaimed, draping himself over his twin. Ithaqua looked like he had half the mind to push him off, and after a moment of thought, he did. The older teen yelped, barely stabilizing himself before he could fall. "Hey! That was mean."

While the childish actions of his brother were mildly annoying, Ithaqua was too preoccupied to truly get mad at him. After all, he had more important matters to attend to. Specifically, thinking about how to ask you out to prom.

You were Ithaqua's first friend when he transferred into Oletus High School. With most either trying to butter him up or ignoring him, he thought he wouldn't be able to make a friend at all. Then you came, in all your fumbling glory.

You were in all of his classes, sometimes sitting right besides him. The class he first really noticed you in was drama. Ithaqua can't help but laugh remembering how you completely butchered your role as Mercutio.

Everyone was given a role from Romeo and Juliet at random, Ithaqua being Romeo and you being Mercutio. Technically, you could say anything as the whole purpose of this project was to modernize the script. It was entertaining, to say the least, to give teenagers complete free reign over a play that was pretty much made with the memes of the time in mind.

"Romeo, my guy, you were in love with Rosaline literally a day ago. Now, you're saying you love this- this Juliet you just met. I know we're hormonal teenagers but really?"

"She's attractive though."

"Yeah, well you're attractive too and you don't see me simping over you all the time."

"You simp over me half the time?"

"..."

"Mercurio?"

"Bye."

Honestly, most of the improved scenes were pure gold, but Ithaqua only remembered the ones with you. After all, to him, those were the funniest ones. It was what got him to reach out and interact with you.

He was pleasantly surprised to see you had no clue who the Norwell's were. Ithaqua expected you to know who he was, or who Nathaniel was at least, but you did not know and did not care. It was a miracle considering the Norwell Conglomerate was in charge of a lot of major brands, but he wasn't going to complain.

You treated him normally, making lighthearted jabs at him, casually joking with him, and offering him comfort when school and life became too much. In a new environment where most didn't want to interact with him for good reasons, you were like a shining beacon of light.

Being able to be himself without any judgment was nice. It was why he treasured your friendship more than anything else. Sure, many can claim his life is overall better than before, but you were the one who truly made it that way. Without you, Ithaqua is sure he would've grown to hate it all.

It's why he hesitated asking you to prom at all. It's not necessarily all that suggestive, perhaps, but prom is a place many go to with their romantic interests. There's an inherent sense of intimacy in asking someone to go with you. So, for Ithaqua to ask you to prom, it'd be tantamount to confessing his feelings without really doing so.

He couldn't bring himself to do that considering he didn't know if you returned his feelings. What if you didn't like him back? What if you stopped being friends with him? Would your friendship become more and more strained until your bond became nothing more than a fleeting memory?

Ithaqua, for all his honesty and straightforward nature, was truly not all that bold. But he could at least admit one thing.

He was scared.

He was scared of losing you.

Perhaps he's being a bit dramatic- asking someone to prom isn't always something romantic. But when it concerns you, Ithaqua's brain simply stops working. He can't help but fret over everything, drowning in a lake of anxiety that he created.

"Just ask them. Worst case scenario, they realize you like them, but your feelings aren't returned. After that, you'll be heartbroken, but at the very least you won't experience the awkwardness of being around your crush who doesn't reciprocate your feelings. We'll be graduating in a few weeks, so is there really anything to lose? Do you have any time for regrets?"

Sometimes, Ithaqua wanted to throw his brother out the window. He's being completely logical, yes, but matters of the heart aren't so simple. Ithaqua has been swallowing his feelings for so long because he didn't want you to leave his life. Sure, you guys may never meet again after high school, or maybe you will, but he wanted the last of his memories with you to be happy regardless. Ones he will yearn for, smile over, laugh with melancholy at, not cry and despair over.

Nathaniel shook his head as he watched his younger brother scowl at him, still deep in thought. It was painfully obvious to him that you returned Ithaqua's feelings, but neither of you were willing to try and confess. At this point, he should just do it for you guys!

...or so he feels, but he knows this is something for Ithaqua to deal with. Nathaniel wants to protect Ithaqua and make sure he's happy, but he can't do that for his whole life. A helicopter parent (brother?) is not what Ithaqua needs, so he remains silent.

Above all else, Ithaqua's feelings on this matter, along with yours, matter the most. Whether he gains the courage to ask you or not is up to him, not Nathaniel. It was honestly torturous to watch, but this is not something he should overly involve himself in. Nathaniel knew better than anyone else what it felt like to have your privacy violated, and he'd never want to subject either of you through such a thing.

Nathaniel can only pray that whatever happens, he gets a chance to shove Ithaqua into you so you'll finally kiss and stop going around each other in circles.

Days turned into weeks, each moment passing by faster and faster until finally, it was the day for prom. Ithaqua failed to muster up the courage to ask you to go with him.

It wasn't that big a deal, sure, since you were planning on going with him and his brother anyway. You three were a trio, a close-knit friend group, so it wasn't weird by any means. Still, he'd at least wanted to try. It was pathetic that he'd simply given up before he even could.

Regardless, what's done was done. Ithaqua had done nothing, so he'd face the consequences that came with that. At the least, he could be glad he'd be going with you.

...and his brother.

Pulling up to the venue, Ithaqua maintained a frosty exterior. He picked at the smooth fabric of his vest, muttering complaints as he threw his suit jacket over his shoulder. Nathaniel smiled brightly as he whistled, dragging his brother into the building.

Ithaqua was dressed in a white dress shirt, black vest, and blue trousers. Though his jacket was supposed to be worn and matching with his pants, he'd all but hissed at Nathaniel that he'd rather die than wear it properly. It wasn't like he hated the jacket, but it was too stuffy and thick considering the weather. Even with his hair pulled into a ponytail, his neck was getting sweaty just standing in the sun.

Nathaniel didn't seem to have that problem, wearing a crimson red suit in its entirety and not seeming bothered in the least. Ithaqua wondered if it was because he'd lived in the city for so long, or was just used to wearing stuffy clothes for business meetings. Probably both.

"C'mon Itha, you should wear the jacket once we get inside! They have air conditioning so it won't be that bad." Nathaniel whined, pressing the button to the 5th floor in the elevator. Ithaqua huffed, rolling his eyes as he scrolled through his phone quickly.

"I'd really rather not. Besides, you shouldn't worry about how I look considering the fact that you look like a red envelope given during Chinese New Year." Ithaqua responded, shoving his phone into his pocket as the elevator doors opened.

"Hey! I do not! I'm not wearing gold!" Nathaniel exclaimed, pouting as he followed Ithaqua. He was pretty much ignored, however, as Ithaqua was too busy checking in with the staff before entering the ballroom.

The ballroom was considerably large, enough for the hundred or so teens that were bound to show up. With the theme of "new beginnings," Ithaqua had expected weird decorations or the sort. (Seriously, why did the school choose such a vague theme?) Regardless, the venue was rather nicely decorated with butterflies and flowers.

"Well, I guess that works." Ithaqua muttered before turning around. He sighed, watching as his brother completely ditched him for his other friends. Unsurprised, yet nonetheless disappointed, he shook his head. Looking around, Ithaqua chose to sit at the table farthest from the dance floor. Being close to the overwhelming music and mass of bodies that would follow it later on would be undesirable.

In the next few minutes, the room filled quite quickly. The chatter of friends and constant movement was followed by colorful fabrics and extravagant outfits, the wearers sometimes needing assistance walking due to that. Although his eyes continuously scored over the crowd, Ithaqua couldn't find you.

Frustrated, he stood up to search for you. Pushing past people while apologizing the whole time, Ithaqua nearly tripped as he tried to step over Vera's dress. Stumbling, he bumped into someone. He quickly grasped their shoulders to prevent either of them from falling, stabilizing both of them.

"Ah! Sorry!"

He blinked in surprise as he finally saw who he bumped into. There, with the lights of the hallway framing their figure like dew hugging the petals of a flower, was you. With the dim lights of the ballroom, you seemingly glowed. His hold on your shoulders tightened as his breath hitched, face flushing as his heart beat out of his chest.

You looked like what love would be if it became a person. The incarnation of perfection, everything he could want and more, yet something he could only have in a dream. Ithaqua could only wonder if this is what Persephone felt like when she first saw pomegranates. A temptation like no other, beckoning with a siren's call to ensnare one's heart and mind. Divine, yet the sure reason for the descent of an angel into hell.

Well, he was never an angel in the first place, Ithaqua thought. But if he was, and it was for you, he'd gladly scrape his knees falling from grace.

You weren't just attractive, no, in this moment, you looked absolutely ethereal.

"Ithaqua? Are you alright?" You asked, concern clear upon your face. He cleared his throat awkwardly, removing his hands from your shoulders and stepping back. Quickly recovering, he nodded. Still, his eyes were stuck to you, completely enamored.

"Yeah, perfectly fine. Just, er, surprised. You look, you look good." He stuttered. You looked like you were going to ask questions, so Ithaqua dragged you to the table he'd claimed for the three of you. He pulled out a seat for you before sitting in his own, desperately trying to prevent himself from looking at you.

It was completely and utterly unfair that you, who already was the definition of perfection, just became even more... well, perfect. He was left to scramble for composure while you didn't even look vaguely affected by his appearance. To be fair, he was just wearing a plain old suit, but still.

Ithaqua didn't know if he'd be able to survive the night, and he couldn't decide if this was heaven or hell with how things were going.

You didn't understand why Ithaqua was avoiding looking at you, but it stung quite a bit. Admittedly, you'd hoped dressing up would, you know, do the opposite, but that didn't seem to be the case. Maybe he didn't like the colors? Or maybe he thought you looked ugly but didn't want to say it?

Regardless, your mood was worse than before, though you tried to remain cheerful. No matter what, today had to be the day. You had to confess your feelings to Ithaqua once and for all, or else you'd never do it.

Truth be told, you had originally intended to ask him to prom before, but you chickened out. You felt like you were going to die every time you tried, so you ran away each time with the excuse of doing something else.

You're positive Nathaniel laughed at you every time, that traitor.

With senior year coming to an end, you were left with a sense of dread as the future came rushing at you. Jobs, taxes, education, whatever, you were honestly terrified to face it all. Sure, you'd have people to help you when you stumble, but it's so hard to ask for it. In the first place, this fear isn't necessarily the fear of the future, but the fear of the unknown.

You didn't want to face anything, but you knew you had to. Still, you tried to ignore it.

However, one thing you had to acknowledge was that with the end of your high school year, you'd probably not be able to meet Ithaqua quite as much. You wouldn't be able to go to the arcade with him, laugh as he failed to get the plushie he wanted for the millionth time, or walk in the park while eating ice cream with him.

It left you feeling hollow and cold, the thought of losing him to time and distance devastating. He'd surely be able to make friends with his new classmates, live a good life, and even get a partner. He wouldn't need you.

The thought of him forgetting you made you want to cry.

You know he isn't the sort to abandon people, and surely he'd never do that to you, but time changes people. It brings new winds, ending things and creating new beginnings. You couldn't help but feel like you'd be left behind as his past, just that one friend he had in high school.

You didn't want this friendship of yours to end, or at the very least, for you to have never admitted you'd felt more for him than that.

He held you when you cried, laughed at you when you fell, picked you up when you needed help, and remained a constant comfort by your side. It was impossible not to fall in love with him.

You never confessed since you always felt like your love would never be returned. Like Mercutio who loved his best friend, who went as far as to die for him, yet would never be able to be with him, a tragic romance of his own.

At the least, you wanted to confess your feelings instead of leaving them unsaid forever. If fate decided to bring him to you, it'll be Ithaqua himself who will decide if he'll bend destiny to his will to stay by your side.

So, when you heard the gentle notes of a slow song start, you took Ithaqua to the dance floor. He seemed surprised, but allowed it as you held his hands. With careful steps, the two of you moved along with the crowd, swaying to the music.

He held you close so you didn't get pulled away, firm yet gentle in his touch. You wanted to tell him now, but with how quiet things were, excluding the music playing in the background, it felt awkward to do so. Another problem was that with Ithaqua so close, you could barely think straight.

By the end of the song, you hadn't accomplished your goal, though you felt considerably better than before. Nervous and shaky, yes, but happier.

You clasped your hands together to try and get them to stop shaking, though it didn't work too well. You purse your lips in displeasure, a frown quickly forming.

"Let's go out to the balcony. It's too stuffy here."

You stared at Ithaqua for a moment before immediately taking his outstretched hand. It was, as one would expect, getting quite stifling with so many people in one room. It didn't help that the floor shook whenever the DJ played a popular song as the crowd jumped up and down. Which was basically 95% of the time.

Stepping out onto the balcony, you take a deep breath. The calm evening wind cools you off considerably, bringing you back to life. Ithaqua seems more at ease, too. You can't help but smile softly as you lean on the ledge, staring at him.

Ithaqua's eyes are closed as he faces the sky, embracing the fresh air and the freedom of the outdoors. The moon seems to shine on him especially, making him look ethereal. His smile seems gentler, as though he were truly at peace now.

Your heart hammers against your chest as you take another deep breath in, closing your eyes as you try to gather all the courage you can. It all goes down the drain, however, when he opens his eyes.

With him smiling softly, his eyes half-lidded and illuminated by the moonlight, Ithaqua is unfairly attractive, stealing the breath you'd only just taken. You're sure that if anyone were to show you what you looked like right now, you'd look completely love struck.

"I love you."

You can't tell who said it first, but both of you said it for sure. It has your eyes widening in surprise, watching as he does the same. At that moment, it hits you that this whole time, the two of you have been pining for the other.

No wonder Nathaniel was laughing at you.

Regardless, as you stare at each other, finally understanding the other completely, the two of you draw closer. Softly, sweetly, your lips meet, and you know, then and there, that everything will be alright. Even if the inescapable future is marching towards you, you'll have Ithaqua by your side.

That's all you need.

So, you kiss goodbye what feels like the last of your youth, ready to greet the new beginnings of another chapter of your life. After all, it can't be that bad when it also is the start of your new relationship.

BONUS SCENE:

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the new voice, whipping around to see Nathaniel with a smug smile. Ithaqua glares at him, a look of pure exasperation and annoyance upon his face. However, the two of you could see the underlying notes of embarrassment as well, his ears tinged a light pink.

“Did you really come out here to tell the equivalent of “I told you so,” Nathaniel?”

“No, actually. I came here to say I am sooooo telling mom and dad.”

“...”

“...so what flowers should I bring to his grave?”

“Don’t even bother, I’m dumping his body into the river.”

“Oh come on I wasn’t being seriou- ITHA WHA- STOP- I’M SORRY! OW!”

“GET BACK HERE NATHANIEL BABEL NORWELL!”

“Ah good old brotherly love!”

“HELP ME!”

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

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