#did you find the rotting meat smell the other day?

[glass-expanse]

Calling my potato wedges jojos cuz they are bizarre

Truly your fridge is an, er, adventurous place for food to be...

[beardedjoel]

indebted

dark!joel x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you're having a bad day. one you think is getting better once a rough around the edges man comes to your rescue. you didn't expect it would takes such a sharp turn for the worse. first person pov reader. 9.2k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! NON CONSENUAL SEXUAL ACTS, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, pervy, sleazy, and foul mouthed joel. degradation, sexual favors, forced oral and piv, virgin reader, corruption, innocence, and daddy kinks featured. biiig ol' age gap (reader's age not mentioned other than "young" but i imagine her as 18-20 as she has a relatively immature attitude, imagining joel 50-55), this is not for everyone and that's okay. i'm not responsible for the content you consume.

a/n: i had some hormonal induced insanity and came up with this. i had a great time trying out a new pov for writing fic! enjoy him as much as i did, friends 🖤 and thanks @joelstummy for the amazing freaky beta work!

I’ll be the first person to admit now that what I’ve been doing is stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. The list goes on. I can hear my father’s stern, militant voice in the back of my head, telling me as much. Except now he likely won’t get the chance to relish in it because I’m going to die here. Way out here where nobody will find my body, and I’ll be just another person that went missing in the QZ, never to be seen again. But this time, it’s not some sleazy FEDRA scheme and coverup or a smuggling deal gone wrong.

It’s utterly and completely my fault.

Sneaking out wasn’t meant to become a habit, but after the first few times, I lost the fear and adrenaline that had burned hot through my veins at those first steps of freedom. I craved it again, so I kept going further. And further. Away from civilization as I knew it, until the cluster of buildings known as the Quarantine Zone became a tiny speck in the distance. Out here was desolation, nothingness, only abandoned buildings to explore. The infected were another story, but I started to learn routes that helped me avoid encounters with them.

It helped clear my mind after a while, this newly found sense of adventure. All I’d ever known was a cage, a walled city that had become so mundane I felt my insides starting to rot from the listlessness of it all. My father was important - top in the rankings - I knew that, and it was all the more reason to keep me safely locked away while the city stirred with chatter of an uprising against FEDRA. 

He never bothered to check on me much, anyways, making my little forays quite easy. Once I’d persuaded enough people with ration cards, they’d shown me the tunnel leading to freedom. Well, that tunnel, then another, a ladder to climb back up to the surface, and only then could I go through a precarious hole in a chain link fence. That was the smuggler’s route, they said, an easy ticket to getting in and out without being noticed. 

I’d been abusing it, staying out for days at a time, never able to drink in enough of this quiet solitude that was of my own choosing, not my father’s. I couldn’t quite figure out what hole inside of me I was trying to fill, but I’d be damned if I stopped trying.

However, today seemed to be my last chance to try at all. His footsteps had been quiet - so quiet - approaching behind me. An old store, full of half decayed plushies, molded candies, and other adorable things from lives long put in the past, had called to me, distracted me. The arm around my throat, constricting, the other coming up to put a hand over my mouth. A dirty, putrid smell encompassing everything as I sputtered against him. This is it, I’d thought. What a waste.

I scream and fight against the strong hold he has on me, a nasty sneer right against my skin. “What’s some fresh meat like you doing waaaay out here, huh?” a dark voice rattles into my ear.

I scream behind his dirty palm in response, kicking my legs back at him. I should have learned more self defense, but who needs it when you’ve spent most of your life safely tucked away with your family name as your biggest protector?

“You smell good… real good…” The creep’s voice buzzes by me as he takes a deep breath in, making me shudder. One swift kick and I’m sure this is it, the one to knock him senseless and let me escape. He’s smart for how distracted he seems to be by my scent, and he’s one step ahead of me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me as I rear one back, and I fall to the ground, the man coming down with me to sit on my back, straddling my body in a fluid motion. He grips my hands behind my back, leaving me helpless in my fight, kicking and screaming. I’m ice and heat all at once, my body burning in a frozen blaze, my fight or flight quickly turning to fawn as his weight presses down on me.

“You can have anything in my backpack, anything! Please, let me go! I - I don’t want any trouble,” I choke out pathetically, hating how my voice comes out in shaky waves. This isn’t how to appeal to people like this, people who have lost their sense of humanity, evident by the way he’s now grinding himself down onto my jean clad asscheeks. 

A laugh comes out of him that would haunt me as evil incarnate for the rest of my days if I wasn’t so sure that I was going to die at the hands of this man after he was done with me. “We both know I don’t give a fuck about any damn backpack of yours. I don’t want any trouble either, sweet cheeks, I just think you’d have a lot of fun with me and my friends. But mostly me,” he replies with the hint of a wink in his voice. 

My stomach clenches, sickness rolling in that is only furthered as the man leans down, cloaking me with his large form. I can’t turn enough to see him, to even know what this violation of a man looks like, but his energy is beyond hideous as I catch a glimpse of his yellowing teeth in a grin before he pushes my head down to the cracked linoleum tiles. My hair tangled in his fingers, he holds me down hard, and I struggle to breathe as he crushes me beneath him.

“Now, are you gonna come easily, or do I need to do things the hard way? Either way is fine with me, for a fine piece of ass like this. In fact, I might prefer it the hard way, but we’d hate to ruin this pretty skin of yours, wouldn’t we?” He says slowly, pressing the cold blade of a knife to my throat.

“O-okay, okay,” I acquiesce, stopping my squirming, just needing a bit of room to breathe, my lungs heavy inside my chest. My panic only makes my chest tighter, even when the man leans back the tiniest bit. I had hoped that my sudden compliance would get that knife off my throat, but it hasn’t. “Just don’t hurt me… please…” I whimper.

He lets out a long, ragged sigh. “Afraid I can’t promise that.” 

I’ve never felt fear like this, such certainty that I was about to be ruined, my life as I know it changing without a chance to even look back. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for it, for anything he’s about to do next, finally accepting that there isn’t any appealing to scummy men in a scummy world. But nothing comes except for a muffled crack ringing through the air, and then a thud as the entire weight of my adversary falls on top of me, crushing. Something warm has splattered on my skin, my face, then starts to coat my jacket, seeping through. I shake violently, begging my body to catch a full breath under the weight of him. 

Then as suddenly as it happened, it stops, the body yanked off of me and tossed to the side with ease. The deafening thud of his entire weight onto the ground is stark. I flip over and scramble backwards, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the man’s hand in his swift, final moment. Holding up a shaky hand, I grip the knife tightly, looking up to face a brutish, tall man with overgrown hair of chestnut and gray. A trim beard with the same coloring wraps around his tightly set jaw. He’s all wide shoulders, thick arms, broad chest, and my senses go on high alert again. His gun is practically still smoking as it hangs at his side, an active threat.

“Y’alright?” he drawls, thick and deep, echoing through the abandoned shop. One step closer to me has the knife practically flailing as I struggle to calm my hands, a strained hum alongside my shaky breathing the only sound I seem capable of making.

“Put that thing down,” he says calmly, almost exasperated. His stance slackens, one knee pushed out as he sizes me up. I’m likely the most miserable looking thing he’s seen in a while, I’m sure. “You’re harmless.”

“H-how do I know you’re not with him?” I blurt out.

My gruff savior lifts his brows incredulously. “That guy?” he asks, motioning impatiently to the dead body only a foot away. “Think I’d be puttin’ a bullet right in his skull if he was my best buddy?”

My eyes dance over him as I think. He has a point, and he did just save me from whatever debauched things that stranger’s mind had been conjuring up.

“Y-yeah, you have a point,” I finally say. He steps closer, and this time, I let him, putting the knife down. He motions with an authoritarian air for me to push it away, and I obey immediately, flinging it across the room. 

“Poor fucker died with a hard on, didn’t he?” The man muses as his boots thud on the way over to the body, kicking it slightly as if to check, letting it roll back before turning his attention on me. “Now, are you usually this stupid, comin’ into hunter territory, or what?” he asks, reaching a hand down to me, presumably to help me up.

“I didn’t know…” I mumble, letting his hand hang there. He doesn’t snatch it back right away, although I can tell he wants to, that he’s already beyond exasperated by his day and the last thing he’d wanted was a damsel in distress like me. I hate that he’s proving all the things I’d been trying to disprove about myself by coming out on these solo trips into the great, big outside. I’m weak. Dependent. Needy. It makes my skin crawl with self loathing and frustration.

“Didn’t know, huh? So just clueless, then?” the man spits out, staring down at me with darkened eyes that make me turn my head away in shame. At my sullen silence, he seems to soften a little. “I’m Joel,” he says, an offering to go along with his outstretched hand.

I sigh, taking it and telling him my own name. I’m up on my feet, dusting myself off and looking at him shyly now. I don’t know what people are supposed to say when someone saves their life, so I just mumble, “Thank you.”

Joel snorts, nodding in acknowledgment as he crouches to pat down the body, seeming to come up short of anything interesting. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, standing back to his full, towering height, glancing around with sharp eyes. “We should move.”

I might be as stupid as he says, because I wordlessly start to follow him towards the door. His hand stretches out behind him, open and inviting me in as he checks outside the door with a careful peek, his gun held tightly in the other. I stare down at it in disbelief. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he sighs, that perpetual vexation in his tone again as he twitches his brows at me. “Need you close by. An’ it seems you have a tendency to go where you shouldn’t.”

My cheeks grow hot at the harsh truth of it, and I grasp his hand without any further objections, marveling for a moment at the way it envelops mine. All calloused and hard, mine soft and unused for labor of any kind. 

“I’ve got a safehouse not too far from here.”

“A safehouse?”

“It’s already gettin’ dark. There ain’t no way we’re making it back to the QZ today, princess,” he retorts quickly, the pet name mocking on his tongue.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, disappointment pressing in on my shoulders.

He chuckles out more of a snort, pulling me around a bend, slowly leaving behind the dangerous territory that I’d unknowingly encroached on. “You’re a FEDRA princess if I’ve ever seen one,” he tells me, and my heart sinks that I was so easy to read. I’d seen how capable this man Joel was, but damn was he was astute, more than I’d given him credit for. 

I chew at my lip. “Fair enough,” I mumble under my breath, letting him take his well earned win. The longer I hang onto Joel’s hand, letting him expertly weave me through the barren streets, the safer I start to feel. He knows where he’s going, a practiced route he’s taken countless times, and it hits me then that this man is a smuggler. He has to be.

“Are you a smuggler?” I ask pointedly. “I’ve heard that people like that come in and out of the QZ.”

Joel falters for just a brief second, giving me a wily grin. “Look who’s readin’ who now,” he says with a dry chuckle. “Ain’t gonna run and tell your daddy, are you?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a smile. “I can keep a secret.” In fact, I like keeping secrets from my father, hence the sneaking out, so Joel can count on me to never rat him out.

His amused grin in response lights a little flame akin to friendship inside of me. This grumpy old bastard could smile after all. “Just through here,” he says, letting the smile drop, taking a sharp left down a street just as a sprinkle of rain starts to fall on us. It’s a less urban area - more like a neighborhood - sprouted with apartment buildings and abandoned, vine covered cars. It’s my favorite thing about all the exploration I’ve been doing, seeing the way nature can reclaim anything and make it her own. 

The cracked street below us makes me tread carefully, lagging behind as Joel’s hand tugs me along urgently. We turn down an alley, Joel whipping his head left to right before dragging me behind him, finally dropping my hand to open a door that leads right into a tiny lobby and a stairwell. He runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back some - a rather handsome look for him, now that I’m thinking about it. I try to ignore that thought as his voice booms through the empty room.

“Up,” he commands, gripping my hand again and leading us up the stairs. 

My stomach sinks a little when he takes out a key, unlocking a padlock on one of the apartments numbered 405 and pushing the old, chipped door inwards. I have no reason not to trust Joel, he saved my life afterall, but I can’t shake the nerves I feel from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar man. It’s quiet here, likely nobody in the vicinity but the two of us.

“Home sweet home,” he grunts out, dropping his backpack and gun holster near the door and shrugging off his damp jacket, leaving him in a plain tee shirt that hugs his muscular frame. It’s a small, cramped apartment with a living room and kitchen directly next to it, a little window cut into the wall, peering in on the living room from above the stove. It looks as if it’s left exactly as it was years ago, full of furniture and clutter, only a vessel for Joel to use without making it his own at all. I peer past to see a small hallway I can only assume leads to a bedroom and bathroom.

“Know it ain’t the palace you’re probably used to, but we’ll be safe an’ dry here,” he say, and I roll my eyes behind his back. If Joel thinks that I live in a palace, he’s clearly misunderstood the state that the QZ is in. My father’s house is spacious, sure, but it’s just as dilapidated as the rest of the city. The only difference is the level of protection afforded to our homes.

He ambles into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets with a clatter, then comes back moments later with an open can of beans and two forks. I’m still standing in the entryway, unsure of what to do with myself.

“Hungry?” he asks gruffly, and I shake my head, wide eyed. I’d lost my appetite the minute that man had grabbed me earlier, and I couldn’t seem to get it back. Joel shrugs, digging in with a messy forkful of from the can. “Your funeral,” he says, chewing.

Joel sinks down onto the couch with a tiny groan, setting down the can on the side table next to his armrest, giving the other cushion an expectant look. “Well, you gonna sit your ass on down an’ tell me why the hell I had to save it today, or what? Why the hell you’re wanderin’ around like it’s a free for all out there?”

I flinch slightly at his harsh tone, but gingerly step my way into the room, unzipping my jacket and shedding it. For the chill outside, the temperature inside the apartment is more comfortable than I’d expect, my skin welcoming the change. Joel eyes my thin tee shirt, and I feel a flash of heat sweep my skin before I feel the prickle of goosebumps, knowing my nipples are poking through the fabric. His eyes catch there before he promptly averts them.

I sit precariously next to Joel on the loveseat, pressed as far away as I can from him, not wanting to cramp his personal space. But he seems to have no problem with that anyways, his legs spread wide open in a comfortable stance, leaned back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a moment as he awaits my answer. 

“I was… exploring,” I say simply, cringing at how ridiculous it sounds coming out of my mouth. Who leaves perfect safety to wander around in a dangerous world on purpose? For no other reason than curiosity and a sudden, rebellious sense of defiance?

His eyes snap open, head pulling up from the couch, turning my way. “Explorin’…” He mulls on the word, slowly licking his lips before pursing them. “You’re tellin’ me I had to save a FEDRA brat today ‘cause she was explorin’? You really are stupid. ‘Course you are, look how young y’are. Look how fuckin’... sheltered.” Joel throws his hands up, landing them on his thighs with a soft thud, sighing. “Can’t even blame ya.”

I pluck up every bit of courage I have, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, it was really nice of you to save me and everything, and I do thank you for it. I’m sorry if I messed up whatever… smuggling stuff you had going on today, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me… stupid.” The last word is quiet, mousy, and I turn my head down, eyes shining with unshed tears that I silently curse myself for. My father’s voice rings through my head - you stupid girl! - making me shudder.

Joel sucks at his teeth. “Hit a nerve, I see,” he says passively. “Alright, I’m sorry kiddo. I just mean, you’re puttin’ yourself at risk doin’ what you’re doin’, and it ain’t a smart idea. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, relaxing a little. “I just needed to get away.”

“From your dear old daddy?” he teases, picking up the can, shoveling several more bites into his mouth. I go silent, picking at a thread on the couch rather than answer him. “Ah, another nerve, I see. Daddy issues. Could’ve guessed that one.”

“I don’t have -”

“Sweetheart…” Joel interrupts, looking at me from under his brows, pulling his lip between his teeth, seeming to look at me in a fresh light. It sends my skin tingling, the way he eyes me, a glint in his stare. It seems to prove his point, the way a pet name from a middle aged man seems to immobilize me against my will. I want to slap the smug look off his face, but I have no grounds to do so, only grumbling quietly with my cheeks blazing in embarrassment. A prickle of something else works its way deep into my belly, something warm at how his scrutinizing eyes flick over my body, the lines in his face set, showing his age, his experience. 

“Take a piece of advice from a man probably as old as your daddy, then. Trust me when I say that outside those walls ain’t the place to find what you’re lookin’ for. The sooner you let go of that notion, the better off you’ll be.” 

Frustration blooms hot in my chest, overpowering whatever the hell that sudden, unwanted feeling was. I’m tired of people dictating what I can and can’t do, what I’m capable of. “People do it all the time - smugglers - you would know,” I retort. “I’ve been doing it for months. Never had a problem until today. It was just some bad luck.”

“Bad luck? Really? You’d be that man’s newest little cock sleeve if it weren’t for me savin’ your ass,” Joel growls, standing up off the couch. I wince at his vulgar language, the picture it paints in my mind of what life might have been like if Joel hadn’t happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“I - I know - I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling my hands start to go shaky. “Thank you, Joel, I really - I really do owe you. Everything.”

“Like I said, don’t thank me yet.” He steps over so that he’s in front of me, using his boot to part my legs, scooting them apart and standing between them. “Think I did all this out of the kindness of my heart, did you? Didn’t think that maybe I was after the same damn thing as buddy boy earlier?”

I’m like a fish out of water, the way my lips move with no sound coming out. “Joel…” I breathe out in warning, in questioning. I see his arms strain in his t-shirt, hands flexing open and closed.

“I can’t say the thought ain’t crossin’ my mind now. You are mighty pretty. And you do owe me a favor. One big ol’ gigantic favor, for savin’ your backside.” He brushes his fingers along his jeans, palming his crotch for a brief second before leaning forward, caging me in on the couch with hands on either side of me, pressing into the cushions. My heart hammers in my chest so loud I expect Joel can hear it, can feel the fear taking hold of me. He bares his teeth above me like a wild animal, and now I’m certain he can smell my fear too, that he thrives on it. 

“You know what? Maybe you were bound to find what you were lookin’ for outside those walls. Maybe that’s what you needed, is it? Couldn’t find any love from daddy back home, so you wanted to find someone to turn you into their own personal little play thing. Poor baby just needed some attention, did she? Sad, really.”

My hands tremble, my words lost as I can only breathe in shaky little breaths, shaking my head violently. How can this god forsaken day keep getting worse? 

“Please -” I mumble out, bringing a jittery hand up to my mouth. Joel slaps it away, gripping my chin harshly at first, inspecting me before his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. I’d think it was gentle, caring, even, if not for the nasty look spreading across his face, the grin that darkens it along with his eyes.

“Time to put this pretty thing to better use and show how grateful you are to ol’ daddy Joel,” he says, using his free hand to deftly unbuckle his belt, the jangling sound like a death knell, making my throat go dry. “Promise I’ll be much better than he would’ve been earlier. People say I’m… a generous lover.” His drawl is slow and calculated, voice deep with lust, the sly smirk turning to a triumphant grin as he chuckles, amusing himself.

He grips the top of my head, pushing me to slide down the couch cushions into a slump as I struggle, powerless against a man of his strength. He positions himself higher up to bring the giant denim bulge right in my view. I wince, trying to turn my head away as his zipper comes undone, his hand grasping deep into the fly of his jeans, yanking his cock out. When it springs free, I gasp as he lets it slap me in the face. Hot, throbbing, and massive, leaking a shiny bead of precum that had ended up somewhere on my cheek. I sit stunned and held in place by his rough hand. 

The cold hard fact hits me that this is the first time I’m ever going to experience intimacy of any kind. Hell, I’ve only had one kiss before, and it was when I was ten years old, with a boy belonging to one of my father’s friends, a name I can’t even remember now. The first penis I’m ever seeing is right here, right now, in a context I have had zero control over. It’s thicker than I’d imagined one could be, softer too as I look at the skin of it. Veins run along the sides and bottom, all leading up to an imposing, angry pink head at the tip, practically bursting as it awaits me. It’s magnificent and terrifying at the same time, nothing like what I’d expected based on the half-assed health classes provided by schooling in the QZ. Sex has always had a shroud of mystery for me, and I never imagined that all those secrets, long awaited, would be uncovered like this. A dingy bedroom, a man likely almost three times my age, and me as an unwilling participant. Desperation swiftly grips my chest as I realize I actually have no clue what goes on behind closed doors between two people, and I have a feeling I’m about to find out in the crudest of ways.

The fearful innocence I know is about to be stolen from me causes tears to sting at my eyes, fat little droplets that instantly start to roll down my cheeks, leaking onto Joel’s large fingers still gripped around my chin. I start to struggle, my body seeming to catch up with my mind, loud warning sirens of DANGER! DANGER! finally blaring out in a panic. When I squirm, Joel plants one of his knees into my body, keeping himself balanced while still being able to hold me down. 

“Don’t cry now, honey, it’ll only make him harder.” He sneers as he strokes his cock, slapping the head against my closed lips a few times. He wrenches my jaw down, forcing it open. “Nice ‘n wide for this big boy, there we go,” he says, not waiting a moment longer to barge his cock past the opening while he has it. 

He groans loudly as he shoves several inches in right from the get go, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The hand that had been holding my jaw presses in on my shoulder, holding me in place. I’d have nowhere to go, anyways, with his knee on my thighs, his entire body caging me in, the cushions giving me no leeway to the way his cock is forcefully intruding, inch by inch down my throat. The taste is all consuming - a little salty, a little ripe, tasting like days of Joel’s old sweat, but it’s not completely bad, not what I’d have expected. It’s heady in a strange way, clouding my mind as I try to cope with the fullness in my mouth. 

The next moment I sputter, my eyes popping open wide, flooded with tears as he hits the back of my throat. I try to gasp for air and I find that I can’t. This is torture of some form, it must be. Full panic follows, where I try to move, but every avenue is pinned down in some way by Joel’s massive body. I weakly flap at him with my hands but it barely even deters him from rocking his hips in and out, choking me again on the thrust inwards as the back of my throat tightens, gagging around his thick girth. 

“Open up, relax your goddamn throat,” Joel hisses at me, keeping his cock pressed fully to the back of my throat, constricting any airflow I was hoping to have. I finally breathe shakily out of my nose when he pulls back just enough, only to slide it in slowly, his eyes carefully watching me. I glance up for the first time at him from below, hoping to find any shred of humanity he might have for me, but I’m met with an icy, dark gaze clouded with lust, power. 

“Gonna fuck your face now, like the dumb little slut you are. This is what stupid girls get for wanderin’ around by themselves. This is what they ask for.” He punctuates the last words with a sharp thrust inwards, my entire body convulsing with the gag I sputter out around him, drool pooling around my stretched lips. I would whimper if I could, if I even had the air to do so. 

Joel is relentless for the next few moments, rapid thrusts in and out of my mouth, my head held conveniently in place against the couch cushions for him. He groans deeply, his pleasure evident while I’m just trying to get my next breath in. I time them expertly, learning as I go, letting him continue to take from me to gain his own pleasure. 

“That’s it, that’s right, you’re turnin’ into quite the good girl,” Joel mutters above me, rolling his hips with vigor and making me gag again. I can feel drool dribbling down my chin, my neck, landing on my chest, and it makes me feel ashamed, embarrassed, and a twinge of something else. I can’t tell as Joel grunts, pumping himself in and out of my gruesomely contorted jaw, if the fact that it’s something even remotely sexual has me feeling things I shouldn’t. My cheeks burn hot as my eyes continue to water - how much of it is crying and how much of it is just my body’s response to him hitting the back of my throat, I don’t know.

Then he surprises me by slowing down, languid strokes of his cock in and out with sloppy sounds, a soft hand landing on my head, stroking before bundling my hair in his fist tightly. “Knew you’d have such a filthy little mouth for daddy,” he coos, rolling his hips forward a little further, touching the back of my throat with his cock. 

My body spasms a little when he keeps pushing, grumbling quiet groans of approval. My eyes squeeze shut, leaking out an onslaught of tears. I don’t want to see the aftermath if it ends up that it’s one gag too many and the inevitable happens. But to my surprise, he keeps slipping down, intruding on my throat. I try to keep my trembling body still, wanting to keep my throat relaxed, terrified of what might happen if I fight this. Can a person die this way? Could I really choke to death on this man’s dick? 

“Jesus fuck. Lord have fuckin’ mercy…” Joel breathes out as he pushes even further. “Swallowin’ him down, aren’t ya? Feel me right in here, I bet.” I flinch when he touches his hand to the column of my throat, wrapping his fingers softly around the flesh. When he starts to retreat, the choking is back in a second, but Joel holds me by the throat, keeping my neck craned back, returning to the brutal way he’d been abusing my mouth. I groan and sputter and try to cough through all of it, my mouth stuffed full over and over again before I can get a breath in. 

He’s relentless, and then it stops all at once, his cock popping out from between my lips with a wet, lewd sound. A stream of drool follows, a gush that dribbles down onto my already soaked shirt, and I cough violently, my hands flailing to clutch at my chest. 

As soon as the pressure of Joel’s body lifts off of me, I’m scrambling to somewhere, anywhere else, my limbs stiff and achy, my jaw panging with a soreness I’ve never felt before. He stands in front of me, one hand shooting out to grab the collar of my shirt before I can even get fully off the couch, pulling me close.

“Does it look like you’re done showin’ your gratitude yet?” he growls out, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to look down at his cock, still standing at full attention, shiny and dripping with saliva. I swallow hard, the lump painful on the way down. Joel shakes my head for me, the burn at my scalp making me wince. He presses his hips flush with mine, forcing his erection against my thigh before slipping it between them. He leans in close, hot breath ghosting over my face before his lips brush mine.

“You do make a pretty cocksleeve, y’know. Suckin’ cock like a cheap whore, wonder if you take it the same way in your cunt.”

I whimper, shaking my head, the tears non-stop as they roll down my cheeks. “Please… don’t. You don’t have to do this…”

Joel scoffs. “If I put my hand down your pants to that pretty little snatch, tell me I wouldn’t find you wet right now.” He punctuates the words with a sharp pull on my scalp. I cry out, lip quivering, trying to shake my head. “Don’t lie t’me after I’ve been so, so generous t’you today.”

I’m spinning around, a dizzying sensation, Joel’s strong bicep brought across my chest as his other hand delves below my waistline, plunging deep, right to my cotton panties, bypassing the waistband of those, too. Without care, without any sense of boundaries, his fingers explore, slipping through my sensitive slit with ease. I yelp, squirming at the intrusion, and Joel’s deep chuckle behind me confirms what I already knew, what I was beyond confused by.

“Thought so,” he says gruffly, then he cups my entire mound, giving an almost comforting sensation, holding his hand tightly pressed to it. “Nothin’ to be upset about, we’re just havin’ a little fun, payin’ off your debt to dear ol’ Joel, okay?”

I shake my head. “I - I shouldn't be here… it shouldn’t be like this,” I whisper in a cracking voice, hanging my head low as the tears just keep coming, damn them. 

Joel’s fingers start to move slowly, just starting with one, stroking gently up my lips, spreading my slickness around. I’m surprised that it feels good, a pleasant little tingle zipping right to my core that I quickly lament, hating myself for it. “What shouldn’t be like this, hm? That you shouldn’t like my cock down your throat? It’s perfectly natural, doll,” he says, somehow soft and condescending in the same breath.

“A-all of this,” I whimper, “Please, j-just let me go. I w-won’t say anything, I won’t do anything. I just…”

Joel quietly shushes me, letting his finger do the talking for a moment. It drags up to my clit, rubbing tiny, enticing little circles. I bite my lip hard, enough to taste copper, trying to suppress the moan climbing its way up from my chest. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay that it feels good. It’s ‘sposed to. Good little sluts like you don’t know any better, don’t care what it is that’s gettin’ their panties wet. Desperate,” he growls, fingers sliding through the slick mess that’s now drooling onto the cotton. “Just relax, let it happen…” I feel his breath, hot on my ear, before he nibbles, biting down hard on the earlobe, tugging it with his teeth. It bursts out, the whimpering moan I’d been holding back, just as he pinches my clit at the same time as the bite.

He laughs. He has the nerve to laugh and it sends a shiver down my spine, my brain muddled and confused and turned on by the eroticism at play here. He soothes me by nuzzling my neck, taking a long, deep breath in. I squirm as Joel’s hand retreats, and I wonder for just a moment, a brief, all consuming moment, if maybe he’s seen reason. When his fingers find the buttons of my jeans, my heart plummets to depths previously unknown as he unbuttons them, pulling the zipper down slowly, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing right on my neck.

“Please, I gave you what you want already,” I beg once more, feeling it fall on deaf ears as Joel tugs my jeans down, revealing my pink cotton panties. They’re my favorite pair - were my favorite pair - a rare find in a world like this. Pretty pale pink with a nice lacy trim and a little bow at the front. Only now, they’d belong to Joel.

Joel clicks his tongue in approval of the sight, pulling his head back to peer at my underwear from the back before his hand grips my ass, jiggling it roughly. “Oh, you’re jus’not getting it, are you? You feel this?” he asks angrily, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressed to my ass cheeks, threatening to slip between my thighs. “This means you didn’t give me nearly half of what I want yet. He’s still achin’ for ya, princess.” 

I grit my teeth, hating the pet name, the way he’s using who I am to mock me. It’s a low blow. I hated everything to do with being associated with my father - I knew he wasn’t a good man - and I hated most that it was so obvious to a stranger which echelon of society I belonged to. If I was so important, where were they now, huh? I want to scream those words at him, but instead I just feel my legs tremble underneath me, my knees feeling like jelly as they almost give out on me.

“Please!” I struggle against his hold, but it only makes him grip my ass tighter, hard enough to bruise. “I-I’m a virgin,” I suddenly squeak out, unsure of why I say it other than some last ditch effort to deter him. My heart pounds as he stills, dead silent with his hand grasping my ass like it’s his next meal, like he owns it. 

“Well ain’t it my lucky day. Shit, that’s why you were sputterin’ all over my damn cock, ain’t it?” he says as the epiphany dawns on him, laughing. My cheeks blaze hotter and hotter, hating that I’m even embarrassed at my lack of experience and skills, like I have some sick need to impress him. He notices my tension, my head hanging low as I cry new tears, and says, “Hey, hey, nothin’ to be ashamed for. In fact…” His hand fists in my underwear, tight and unrelenting. I feel his cock press against my ass again, harder than ever before it slips between my thighs. “Makes me awful excited,” he purrs, bringing his mouth to my ear again.

I only give him a timid whimper in reply, squeezing my eyes shut as I realize there is nothing I can do to stop this man. He thinks I’m a cheap whore, and he loves it. I’m a pure virgin, and he loves it even more.

He squeezes me tighter to his chest, my back starting to sweat through my thin tee shirt. “The hell were you savin’ yourself for anyways? Marriage? A sweet pussy like this?” At my silence, he cups my pussy hard, letting the dampness of my underwear soak into his palm. “Answer me!” he barks out.

“I - I wasn’t! I don’t know!” I cry out, trembling.

“Well,” he says, fisting my panties again, starting to pull them down. “M’honored you’d let me be your first, sweetheart,” he drawls, and I nearly scream at the insinuation. I’m not letting him do anything. 

I start to put up more of a fight, useless against his thick arms holding me so tightly. Cool air touches my ass and the space between my thighs as he manages to shimmy my panties further down even in my struggle. I clamp my legs shut in defiance, roaring out a strained grunt as I keep trying to squirm out of his grasp. He huffs in anger, trying to subdue my writhing body before he pushes it towards the couch. I land hard, banging my knee on the hard edge that supports the cushion, wincing and trying to catch my breath. I’m practically in position for him already, ass pressed out towards him, on my hands and knees.

“Gonna make me do things the hard way, are you?” He scowls, his free hand fisting in my hair again, pulling me close.  His breath is hot over my shoulder, the sensation vile against the skin of my cheek, stained with tears. “Been too long since I found a pretty virgin like you. An’ ruinin’ this perfect, pure little cunt is jus’ the cherry on top of a perfect day f’me.” 

I feel his hard cock twitch against me, a reminder of what’s to come. The movements are quick for how bulky Joel’s body is, let alone his age, as he exchanges the hold across my chest for my wrists, bundling them behind my back. I cry out at the strain, the awkward angle he’d twisted them to, fighting him again until a hard smack lands on my ass. I scream through gritted teeth, not giving up the fight, but another thwap! rings out through the apartment, making me falter. My tender flesh screams at me in agony when he lands another spank, even harder this time, then another, until I’m crying unrelenting, fat tears.

With me rendered motionless, Joel presses down, bending me over, my balance tricky with my hands behind my back. My face nearly touches the couch, but I’m precariously held up by the wrists, the strain already making them ache. The warmth dripping between my thighs betrays me as my ass stings in residual little pulses, so raw and sore but spreading a pleasure through me that I’ve never known before. 

I don’t have time to dwell on it before Joel is grasping one hand on my hip, notching himself at my entrance. “Promise you’re gonna like this, that you’ll never be able to think of anyone else’s cock but daddy Joel’s,” he spews gruffly in my ear before he thrusts hard, one swift motion to bury himself inside of me. I scream out, the searing pain between my thighs making me wonder if I’m being split open for good, if it’s possible that some things are just too big to fit in certain places of the body. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Joel hisses through his teeth, making the tiniest thrusting motions to ensure he’s buried deep. Every movement pierces me with a new sting as my body desperately tries to adjust, to accommodate the horrible, overwhelming intrusion. “You were not kiddin’, sweetheart. Tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever been in.”

I sob, unable to speak, unable to move as Joel thrusts brutally from the get go, his hips snapping with force, crashing into mine hard enough to bruise. The lewd sounds we make disgust me, because I know I’m part of those sounds, my body enjoying the filthy things he’s saying, the way he’s taking me without remorse. He pulls himself out, clicking his tongue as he peers down between our bodies. “Christ, you are one sexy little bird. Poor little virgin bleedin’ on daddy’s cock.”

The thought horrifies me, making my stomach turn. “Please,” I cry out, my body rocking with the motions as he starts to fuck me again, the strain on my wrists as Joel uses them to help thrust himself inside of me starting to gnaw deeper into them. I’m like a ragdoll with the way he’s jerking me by my wrists, my body having no choice but to flail in time with the movements so that he can press himself deep on each cruel thrust inwards.

“You want more? You beggin’ already?” Joel grunts between his heavy breaths, sounding so cocky it makes me want to spin around and punch him. I settle for gritting my teeth instead, feeling my body slowly but surely melding into his. When Joel presses me down further, forcing an arch in my back, I whimper when his cock hits something sensitive, deep, primal. Fuck, is it something. 

“Oh, that’s it. We got her now, don’t we?” he says from above, continuing to stroke his cock along that spot repeatedly. I feel myself losing my will to fight, hating the pleasure but feeling myself lean into it slightly, my hips pressing back to meet his nearly against my will. “You ever come before, sweetheart?” He leans in a little closer to ask the question, the pistoning of his hips slowing the slightest bit.

I refuse to answer, tears pooling in my eyes. I don’t want him to take this from me, I don’t want him to know anything about me. He jerks my wrists at the same time he slams his hips into me, and I whimper loudly, feeling the way he’s surely bruising my insides. 

“If you ain’t figured it out yet, the rules are that you answer me when I’m askin’ you a question if you know what’s good for ya,” he spits out, and I shake my head, letting it hang limply.

“Use your words. Say ‘no, daddy’,”  he says with sinister condescension, stroking his own ego.

“N-no… daddy…” I say, my tongue revolting against the words, bile climbing up my throat.

He moves his hand to my head, stroking carefully and softly. “Oh, that’s a shame. That’s a daaaamn shame. All pent up, y’are. But daddy will make it all better.” He sounds deranged, sick, like he truly believes that I’m thankful to him for what he’s doing to me. I can’t answer, my mouth gaping open just as he releases my wrists, letting me fall to the couch with a thud. My open mouth gets a mouthful of the cushions, making me sick over the fact that it’s probably full of god knows what due to its age and whatever things Joel seems to get up to in this apartment of his.

I blink as Joel grips tightly at my hips, wondering why he suddenly trusts my hands to be free, when it happens. He thrusts into that spot again, harsh and unforgiving, and I nearly see stars behind my eyes as the head of his cock punches against things I didn’t even know were there. That’s why. I’m incapacitated at this angle, brutally forced to enjoy the pleasure washing over my body as Joel takes from me, actually giving in return this time.

I bite my tongue hard, not wanting to give him any satisfaction for the tiny moans that are growing louder in my throat, desperate to be let out.

“Let me hear you, princess. Daddy doesn’t do with quiet girls. I can feel you clampin’ down on my cock, know you’re lovin’ how I use you up like you were meant for it.”

I shake my head in protest, but a strangled sound escapes past my tight lips when Joel slams into me harder than he has yet, puffing hard as he fucks me like a greedy animal. He chuckles through heavy breaths, little whispers of that’s it, come on, take it, flow freely from his nasty mouth. 

I feel myself slip away, further gone from reality as the warmth spreads from my pelvis into my belly, coiling tight. Everything tingles, set on fire, the spot where Joel handles my hips with his fat fingers practically burning with a constant mix of pleasure and pain. I cry out when Joel’s cock pulls that feeling out from deep inside of me again, half a sob and half a moan as it crescendos, waves of pleasure crashing over me.

Joel’s grunts of approval, so brutish and debauched, sends a new wave of arousal through me. I tremble, eyes squeezed shut with my body completely out of my control, taken over by this boundless bliss. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before: heavenly warmth worlds above any of the pleasures I’ve known. This had to be what Joel was referring to, urging me towards, telling me he wanted to make me come. This had to be what I was missing out on all these years, hiding myself away. Was this the reason sex was so coveted, so sought after? Was this feeling… the reason he’s doing what he is to me right now?  

It feels like it’s never ending, my body so rigid as it spasms yet pliant as he fucks into me harder and harder. I loathe the noises I’m making that intermingle with his as I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying it.

“Fuck, fuck - that’s it - f-fuck knew you’d love it. Come on my cock, baby, that’s right.” Joel’s string of praises reach my ears as I come down from my high, limp and yielding to whatever it is he wants to do to me now. I have no fight - my bones turned to jelly, my body sore all over, my throat scratchy from the way he’d assaulted it earlier. I only have it in me to give the rest of myself over, whether I like it or not. 

“S-so fuckin’ tight, lettin’ me take your virginity like a good little whore,” he punches out, pounding into my sensitive cunt like it’s saving his soul, like it’s the only thing he could ever care about. I’m on the precipice of coming again, my nerves still frayed and on edge from the last one. A smaller but still powerful climax takes over, my body shuddering and tight, milking every last second of the pleasure. 

“Gonna blow my load into this pure little pussy, make it mine - fuck - gonna fill you up like the cocksleeve you are. P-probably never want to be without my fuckin’ load drippin’ out of you again. I-I’m close, fuck -” Joel rambles as he ruts his hips deep, one final thrust and a grunt, and I feel him stall, pulsing into me. 

It’s all suddenly very still, an eerie quiet settling over the room. My entire body burns hot, the only thing keeping me from collapsing is Joel’s hands still anchored on my hips as he leaves his cock inside of me, plugging me up. I want to cry again at the sudden, overwhelming shame I feel, but I can’t give him the satisfaction. I can’t.

Joel pats my ass a few times, pulling out. I tremble hard, falling forward onto the couch without his hold, instantly curling in on myself. I resent the way I’d noticed how empty I felt the second he was gone, how cold my body was without his warmth pressed into it. I dare to peer up at the sick man who stands above me, catching his breath, watching just as the last bit of his softening cock gets tucked back into his jeans. He swipes a hand across his forehead, gathering sweat, staring down at me with a darkened expression, grinning cockily.

When he plops down on the couch next to me, picking up the can of beans he’d been eating before, my mouth hangs open in surprise at how casual he’s acting. I watch his face shine with sweat, his breathing still labored, but everything else about his attitude would indicate he didn’t just force himself on me. 

I try to keep my expression neutral for my own safety as I feel something leak out of me, not even wanting to give him the smug satisfaction of having to confirm my suspicions about what it is. I do my best to position my body so he can’t see between my legs as I try to pull my underwear up from where they sit near my knees, my jeans following. Joel only gives me a knowing glance as he takes a bite, conscious of the fact that a part of him sits inside my now soiled underwear, and a part of me now sits inside of his soul. 

He shoves the can my way and I shrink back at his sudden motion, not taking it from him. “Eat. I ain’t havin’ you all weak and despondent for the next time.”

I feel my heart sink down past my ass, my stomach plummeting along with it as nausea overtakes me, a dizzying sensation clouding my vision. He couldn’t have said what I think he did. I - I’d paid my debt, whatever it was he thought I owed him for saving me when I didn’t even ask him to. For saving me and then doing exactly what that man had planned to do anyways under the guise of a caring, noble rescuer.

“N-next time…?” I manage to make my mouth move, my throat to produce a sound, pushing the question out in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own.

“Know you said not to call you stupid but my house, my rules, an’ sweetheart…” He looks at me under his raised, expectant brows. “My stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think that would be enough? That I’d get an opportunity every man dreams of - an untouched, perfect pussy like yours, to keep all for m’self, and throw it all away?” He’s creeping closer as he speaks, shrouding me on the couch with his huge frame, caging in where I lay, my body wound as tightly as it can to itself to block whatever he’s thinking of doing next. “Now you don’t think daddy is that dumb to let you go knowin’ all that, do you?”

I sit stunned silent underneath him, wide eyes fixed in a tortured gaze on his rugged face, but his hand squeezing my thigh is warning enough for me to shake my head, stuttering out an answer. “N-no. No…” I whisper. 

Two approving pats on my cheek send Joel slinking back slightly, his dark, unhinged eyes staring holes into me as they roam over my body. Despite nothing even visible - my chest hidden underneath my arms and legs clamped tightly - I feel violated, objectified. 

Terror rips through my chest as reality settles in slowly but surely. I look at the man I’d trusted once, who’d shown himself to be a friend, or at the least an ally, currently feasting his eyes on me like I’m a product. Which now, I suppose I am. A whore. His whore.

“Now,” he says, licking his lips, that hungry gaze already returning, a bulge appearing in his jeans and stretching the fabric. “All I’ve got to do is decide just how long I’ll keep ya for.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

[lab1rynth]

Yan!Zombie

Yan!Zombie who you met, alive, a few years after the Apololypse started. You both had became friends and protected each other, you had stayed in his base and ate food he found for the both of you. It felt safe, that all changed when you left for a few weeks to find more survivors. You came home to him chained up and turned, a chunk of his wrist was bitten off.

Yan!Zombie who had left you a note before he turned, telling you that he had chained himself up, how it felt as he was turning, how if you wanted to kill him you had full permission to. He just did not want to leave you without answers, so to keep you safe he chained himself up to a wall.

Yan!Zombie who immediately tried going after you when you made noise, being yanked back by the chain. His eyes were locked on yours as drool ran down his chin. It was quite weird to see a zombie that wasn't rotting like most of the others, since zombies are mostly docile unless set off my loud sounds or hungry. He may have run into a hord while scavenging.

Yan!Zombie who, after a while, calmed down and stopped trying to get out of his chains, as even in this animalistic state he could understand that no matter how much he struggled he wasn't going to get out. His eyes stayed pinned on you though, it honestly freaked you out.

Yan!Zombie who you start talking to, of course he doesn't respond, but it feels nice to pretend like he is, to pretend that your only pillar is still alive. You tell him about how he use to act when he was alive, stuff you both did together, sometimes you just told him about your day.

Yan!Zombie who you started feeding raw meat you found, you weren't just going to go out and kill survivors just to keep your zombie friend satiated, that's just wrong. You train him to not try to bite you, waving your hand in front of his face (with protective gear) and not feeding him every time he bit into the gear. It only took a few months until every time you waved your hand in front of his face he just sniffed it a few times and stared up into your eyes.

Yan!Zombie who after a while, you unchained, you had trusted him. The only thing he really did was stumble around behind you, just following you and staring at you confused when you stopped and looked back at him. Sometimes he would go missing for a few minutes then come back with a dead animal, trash, or something shiny. He'd place them in front of you and hope you'd take his gift.

Yan!Zombie who gets touchy after a while, who pokes you or rests his head on your shoulder. He pouts every time you don't pat him on the head when he gets you gifts. If you dont pay attention to him he growls at you or goes limp in the corner of the room, laying and sniffling on the floor until he gets affection.

Yan!Zombie who eats any survivors you bring to the base while your back is turned, causing you to chain him up for a few days for timeout. He whimpers and whines every time you put him in timeout, sometimes convincing you to unchain him earlier than you originally planned.

Yan!Zombie who chases off other Zombies that try to get at you, afterwards bringing you back to the base and cuddling against you, chirping and coo'ing as he lays in your arms and bathes in your scent.

Yan!Zombie who finds a box of his old clothes, sniffing it and wondering why it smelt like him. He dug through the box before finding a comfy shirt and bringing it to you so you could wear it. He would slowly give you more and more of his clothes, loving smelling his scent mixed with yours.

Yan!Zombie who is sensitive to sound, but would absolutely love to hear you talk and talk for days, you're voice reminds him of music, or of what he remembers of music. He would argue that your voice is better if he could talk!!

Yan!Zombie who will honestly die again, and again, and again for you to just be happy. He loves your smile, it makes his unbeating heart feel all tingly. With all the gifts you've accepted from him he assumes you already know he's laid claim on you! You're his and you wearing his clothes and walking with his little trinkets only proves that even more!

[alliskit]

The Grand Design.

CH.6: The Truth Won't Set You Free.

On AO3.

- The testing dummy - Owlbears are terrifying and yet so cute - Gods and Goblins - Swamp people

Setting up camp in the forest felt more familiar. It reminded me of my camping trips during university. Though my previous trips didn't include coming across dead bodies. When we came onto the scene, I asked Wyll if this was a normal thing to find in Faerun. Apparently, it was more common in the wilds than closer to regular society. When I asked if we should bury them, since it felt wrong leaving them to rot, I was rejected by all my campmates. The dead probably had families or friends waiting for them and they were just lying bloated and alone on the side of a dirt road. I would have thought Wyll, the hero of the wilds, would have at least tried to convince the rest, but he had just shrugged.

Astarion's words sealed the decision, "They're dead, my friend. No use standing around staring at them." The group continued on our way. 

I didn't speak to any of them for a while after that.

Durge found a large boar, which we carved up to save. It was another odd interaction as Wyll insisted he saw two bite marks and that the pig should have had more blood when they cut it open. Both Durge and Astarion fought him on it, saying it could have been caused by anything, but Wyll was pretty convinced it was from a vampire. (I chose not to take the time to school them on gut parasites that cause anemia in animals, I just hoped they didn't exist here.) When asked if he had ever even seen, let alone hunted, a vampire, he puttered around until finally admitting he hadn't. The matter dropped. Later, he was asked what he would do if he were to try to catch and kill one. His answer was, evidently, wrong or very naive.

"I'd lure it out into the sun, then drive a stake through its heart."

Even Gale snickered, while the others out right laughed. Wyll decided he was done contributing to the group and hung toward the back from then on. 

Now, he was assisting Gale in setting up our camp dinner. It smelled delicious. Then again, having camp rations and some kind of bacon gruel the last few days set the bar low, so a true meal was going to be delicious.

When I finished setting up my tent, I joined them at the campfire. "That smells great, Gale. What kind of rub did you use?"

He smiled, "I found a little wild onion and honey. Rath packed us some salt, so..." He signed to the spit roast with his open palm. 

"I've got most of the root vegetables cut, Gale. Would you want to put them to boil or just keep them raw?" asked Wyll, crossed-legged in front of a flat stone covered in slices of what looked like carrots and turnips. 

"Let's roast them under the meat. The drippings will sauté them perfectly."

I made a face of approval. 

He beamed as he leaned over the coals, making space for a pan below the pig meat. "Do you cook?"

I nodded. "I love cooking, though I prefer it over a stove."

"I wholeheartedly agree." He turned back to Wyll, taking the basket of slices, dumping them on the new pan. 

I sat on a log and watched as he tossed the slices around. A body came into my peripheral and took a seat next to me. I grinned at Shadowheart as she gave her own compliments to the chef. Then she turned to me, "I hear you are magic-adverse. Gale mentioned you can ‘turn it off' in others when touching their skin."

I sighed, chuckling awkwardly, "Yeah, and I nullify magic items. But, I can use them if they're not directly touching skin."

"You need to find a way to secure your pouch. It would be a dastardly occasion indeed if you were to lose such a valuable. We need your direction with the maps. And communication is the key to any equitable relationship," Gale said as he continued to cook.

"You could have just said, 'Don't lose it,'" Shadowheart teased, shaking her head.

"You could lull your enemies to sleep with your tongue," Lae'zel quipped as she took a seat across the fire. 

Gale lifted his brows, smirking, "That could be quite useful, in theory. Also, I think that is what the 'sleep' spell was created for. So, you could say I already do."

I snorted. Lae'zel just stared back at him blankly. Clearly, she didn't think their exchange was funny. 

I focused on Shadowheart, "I... have a theory I want to test." I looked over at Gale, "This is for you, too. When I was on the Nautiloid, one of the mind flayers threw a wave of some kind at me. It knocked me over a little, but it was like standing in front of a strong gust. It seemed spooked that I hadn't been affected by it. I think"

"Magic can't be cast on you," Gale finished.

I was irritated by his interruption, but I tried to stuff it, since he was right. "Yeah, I'd like to see if I'm, essentially, immune to magic. Or, rather, test the limits of my immunity."

Gale eyed me curiously.

"Ignis."

A collection of angry and surprised shouts sounded around me as a fire bolt soared in my direction. Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll dove out of the way. As I was the intended target, I didn't have enough time to react. I took the heat to my back and left side, as I turned to see Astarion standing a few feet back with a smug look on his face. 

"What in the hells were you thinking?!" Gale yelled, standing up flailing his hands. 

Astarion shrugged. 

I felt Shadowheart frantically patting me down. My shirt and jeans bore burns and holes. I held my breasts in place, as the back side of my bra had been singed and snapped. I glared up at the elf, who was watching me with amusement. 

"I don't see the problem. Why flirt with danger when she needs to know if she will hold up under true threat? Now you've got your answer." He stood one leg out, arms crossed. A picture of hubris. His face twisted to disgust with his next words, "And she smells atrocious. Those clothes needed to be burned."

Shadowheart helped me up to standing, making sure none of my clothes fell off. I snapped to the elf, "How can you be so casual about this? You could have burned me to death."

He rolled his eyes, "Don't be so dramatic. Not even a hair was singed. And if it were, that's what a cleric is for. You'd be good as new."

Shadowheart scoffed, "You idiot. You have no idea if she would be. She could be immune to certain kinds of magic, one being healing."

He shrugged again, holding out his hand indicating to me, "As you can see, she is clearly immune to elemental magic. And I can guess the mind flayer used psychic. There's two off the list."

My brows scrunched, "How did you hear that? We're you standing behind us?"

"Elves are eavesdroppers. He was loitering around his tent," Lae'zel answered for him. 

Elven hearing. The mythology back home said as much. Most mythology was assumed to be based on early truths rewritten with time or for the listeners to understand. The theory of Toril and Earth being connected was becoming more and more likely.

"Are we done whining? Can we move on?" Astarion complained.

I looked around, Durge had come over now. He eyed my burnt clothes and winked at me, smirking. I felt my face heat. Was I attracted to that? I took a deep breath and forced myself to look away from the dragonborn and back to Shadowheart. "Can you help me with my clothes? They really are trash now."

She nodded, wrapping an arm around me, attempting to uphold my modesty. 

As I took a step over the log, my heart dropped as I heard the rip, air brushing past my bare leg and ass. My jeans were more destroyed than I realized, the left leg splitting open and falling back to reveal my very small underwear. (I'm glad thongs exist on Toril or else it would have been so much more embarrassing trying to explain one)

Astarion didn't hold back his harsh laughter. Durge was smirking, shaking his head. Shadowheart looked like she was holding back, the corners of her mouth lifting. Wyll was hiding his face. Lae'zel was smiling, amused. 

I heard Gale's breathless whispered, "Oh gods." Then felt a robe come around my shoulders. I turned my rose colored face to thank him. He seemed to also be holding back his own laughter. 

I shook my head, tipped back and burst out laughing. This whole situation was a mess. Gale relented and laughed too. Wyll seemed to be the only one genuinely concerned and embarrassed for me.

"I guess this is my sign to find somewhere to take a bath."

"Gods, please," Astarion whined.

I rolled my eyes and let Shadowheart lead me away, everyone else gathering around the fire behind us for dinner.

Astarion had inspired the idea of having me stand in the middle of camp as Gale, Shadowheart, Durge, and Wyll tested different magic spells. Shadowheart let me borrow her under armor which was resistant to most elements or was supposed to limit the damage. She wasn't sure if it was because they were enchanted or it was the material. There was only one way to find out. Either nothing would happen or I would be naked by the end of this experiment. I jumped foot to foot, shaking out the nerves and testing the security of the pouch I had tucked into the waistband of my pants. 

"Let's retest," Gale's hand shot up as Astarion pointed at me again, "Not you! We will do this in an organized and studied fashion with practiced wielders."

Astarion glared at him.

"Want to see me undressed again, darling?" I drawled, mocking a smarmy smile in his direction.

"You could strip tease and I would still be flacid, darling."

I raised a brow, "Not your type then, noted."

He didn't respond, turning to Gale instead, "I don't appreciate your ignorant assessment of my magical talents. I could be a wild magic sorcerer."

Gale paused, regarding him doubtfully, "Are you a wild magic sorcerer? Because the last one I met, I could sense a mile away. They're not subtle."

Astarion held up his hands, "Fine, I'm no sorcerer, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable."

"Noted," Gale mocked, then faced me again. "First up: wizarding spells, then we'll do clerical, sorcerer, and warlock. By the time we get to Wyll, I imagine most will have already been tested. I will record our findings." He flashed his hands and a quill and journal appeared. Then he set them down.

Wyll looked at Gale oddly, "Do you have something against warlocks, Gale?"

Gale shook his head, "Oh, no, no. I've known a few warlocks in my time. Talented, of course, though they can be too eager to please the devil's on their shoulders, so to speak."

Wyll sighed, exasperated, "Wizards."

I waved at them, "Okay, let's just focus, please. I'd like to figure out what I can and can't do before tomorrow." I watched the two men watch each other for a moment more before facing me.

The next hours were long. Gale was thorough. I was tested on all the basic and some intermediate spells they all still had access to. A few times I thought I found my limits. Ice Knife made me feel like I had fallen while ice skating, my ass definitely bruised, and Ray of Frost felt like falling into a frozen pond. I was seeing spots after Guiding Bolt and Witch Bolt made me itch all over. But, I couldn't be blinded. I couldn't be inflicted or cursed. I couldn't be held, charmed, commanded, or set aflame. I could be knocked over but not tossed. I could feel the heat, cold, stink, or static of the elements, but they didn't harm me. 

Lae'zel walked over to me, pulled out my hand, and swiftly sliced the palm. Pain seared through me. I gasped as she stood stalwart, as if waiting for something. "Why?" I whined. 

She nodded at Shadowheart, who came up and held her hands above and below my burning, bleeding one. "Te curo." A blue light flashed around our floating palms, then faded out. She moved her hands away, confused. "Oh no."

"You just tried to heal me."

Worry watched me. "Yes. This is..." She looked back down at my hand.

"Here," Gale said as he passed her a rag. 

She handed it to me and I pressed down on the cut. "That will need time to heal." Her eyes rose to mine. "Hold on," she flashed to Gale, "Go get a healing potion. We tried casting on her, but she hasn't tried potions or poisons."

He nodded, taking off to his tent to grab one. He was back a few minutes later, a bottle of a red liquid in his hand.

She took the bottle and uncorked it. "Drink the whole thing. It should be a little sweet."

I took it from her gingerly, then looked out at the small group, "Bottoms up."

I shot it back. Three swallows later it was empty. It tasted a little like fresh strawberries with a hint of something herbal. It was tasty. So many 'healing potions' of my world tasted like drinking sour syrup. I felt a small tingle start in my palm. I pulled the rag back to watch the skin of my hand mold together. A small pink line the only indication that I had been cut at all. 

"Oh thank the gods," Shadowheart breathed. "I was worried you wouldn't be able to be healed at all. That would be a disaster."

Gale tapped a finger on his mouth, eyeing the journal in his hand, "Alright, the conclusions are that Abigail can use items as long as she is not touching them directly, but they are on her person. She can take some impact from force, but overall spells have no effect. She can ingest magic. Wait..." He snapped the book shut and took off across camp to his tent, then came running back with his pack. "She can be healed through potions, but what of elixirs? I can't cast Feather Fall on her, but what if she drinks it? Or potion of mind reading? Oh! The potion of speed."

"Maybe one at a time, Gale," Durge chided.

"Yes, yes. I just," he shook his head, his enthusiasm potent. "I need to get this all down." He picked up the quill and journal, swiftly adding to the content.

Durge dug through the bag and pulled out a pink bottle, then tossed it over. "Drink it."

I palmed it. "It glows. What is it?" I watched Shadowheart regard him, then a smirk grew on her face. "Guys?" I asked watching them, carefully.

She turned to me, "Just drink it."

I glanced around camp. Shadowheart and Durge stood with me. Gale was writing down our findings at his tent. Wyll and Lae'zel had gone to bed. Astarion lounged near the fire with a book.

I looked at the ones near me again. They were clearly up to something and I wasn't particularly fond of being the butt of a joke I didn't understand, but I also was very curious. Clearly it did something interesting. I popped the cap and started sipping, then stopped, watching my companions' reactions. They were still watching, waiting.

"Go on..." Durge insisted.

I tossed the rest back. I felt the world around me go quiet. The crackling of the fire, the crickets chirping, the sound of the wind and even my own breathing were near silent. I felt still, like floating under water. Then like a reverberation through me, I heard Durge.

Focus on me.

I watched his flame eyes. 

Nod if you can hear me.

I nodded and smiled like an idiot. I can hear you. 

Good. Close your eyes, but focus your mind on me.

I closed my eyes. I pictured him standing before me, the firelight flickering off of his white luminescent scales. His bright eyes burning. His strong shoulders, arms, and waist, bare. A vision filled my mind. He came into view, but so did I. We were sitting before the fire, much like the night he asked me to lay on his chest. I felt his mind focus mine.

I felt the grip of a hand, a smooth, but firm one, rubbing his thumb in my palm. I think he meant it for comfort, but the gesture broke my concentration. 

I heard him in my head again, Stay focused.

I thought of the image of us, of Durge. I felt peace. The kind of peace I don't think I've ever had. I felt as if, had I tried, I could fall asleep standing up. I focused more. I felt... desire. The kind you feel when you are anticipating a kiss or dreaming of a lover. The vision fixed. Instead of us as we had been the night before, partially dressed and lounging, I saw our clothing cast around us, his face nuzzled into my neck. Our bare skin glowing in the firelight. 

I sucked a breath. My mirror image did as well, then it gasped as a claw brushed the bottom of a breast, my head lolling back against his chest. His other hand snaked down my bare stomach, slowly teasing. I was enraptured by how soft his lips felt as they laid small kisses along the column of my neck. How gentle he was as his hands circled my nipple and bud. I felt my body clench in response. My legs were held up and open over his own. I could feel echoes of the vision within my own body. The soft pressure of his finger tips as they rubbed me delicately, pressure growing within me. A nip at my ear, a warm breath. A soft grip of my breast, a light pinch of my nipple. 

I trembled. I hadn't been touched like this in years. My pleasure was his own. Is this what I did to him? I could feel the longing growing. I could barely tell if it were mine or his.

I watched two strong fingers slip down my folds, sliding through the slick. I gasped audibly in the image. Had I gasped in reality? What was this? I felt like I was watching someone else and yet, I felt like I was there myself. 

"I can smell her. What are you showing her?"

Astarion's words punched through the vision and feelings. I pulled my hand out of Durge's, my eyes focusing on the actual him in the dim light, not the naked Durge trying to finger fuck me. 

I felt my face heat again. My eyes glanced between both of his, confusion and embarrassment burning into them. I barely knew him. What was he doing? What was I doing? A feeling rose from the deep of my core. The nausea.

I looked around. Everyone else had gone back to their tents. Only Durge, Astarion, and I were still standing at the camp fire. How long had we been in each others' minds? Could others see what we saw? I looked up at him again. 

"I'm, ah," I stammered. "I'm going to bed." I turned to head back toward my tent. 

"Darling?" Astarion called after me. I turned back partially to look at him. He trailed his eyes up my body, "Do wipe up. You're positively dripping." His voice was teasing, but his eyes were filled with threat. I didn't know what to make of it. Was he, jealous? 

I shook my head. I knew full well that Shadowheart's pants were probably soaked. My small underwear definitely was. Humiliation painted my face as I swiftly turned in for the night.

[Flynn note: I don't regret a thing.]

The next morning was awkward. It might have been all in my head, but I felt like everyone had been witness to what I had last night. Shadowheart and Lae'zel must have sensed some inkling at what I went through because the cleric winked at me and the gith rolled her eyes when Durge joined us for breakfast. Gale and Wyll seemed ignorant, talking to me like everything was normal. Astarion was the last to join, watching me with knives for eyes as he took a seat next to Durge. 

So he was jealous.

I didn't know what to feel about Durge. Part of me was a little excited by it. I'd never been propositioned via mind link. It's nice to know when someone is direct about their feelings and attentions. It was an enticing image, for sure. The other part of me was disturbed and ashamed. I had known Durge for the equivalent of three days. Yes, I will admit the attraction was there, but I wasn't gunning for a sexual encounter with anyone, especially not with a random stranger. Who knew how long I would actually be traveling with them? Halsin could have a way to portal back to Earth and my adventures in Toril would be over in just a few days. They could get their tadpoles removed and go back to their regular lives while I'm left to figure out what the hell to do next on a new planet. 

I didn't need distractions. An image of me trudging through wilderness with a dragon baby popped into my head. I swallowed the rising nausea again. I needed to keep to myself. Literally, my hands only, which were definitely not as satisfying as I had been hoping last night. 

After breakfast, I pulled on the leather armor I had been given from Lia, cinching the laces up the sides. It was pleasantly snug, holding down all the right bits. There were laces up the sides of the legs to help with the fit. I pulled on new socks, but I kept my boots. I imagined I looked a little odd pairing them with my new gear. But, who knew what we would be trekking through today. My shoes were definitely more durable than the leather lace ups most of the others wore.

I made sure to tell Shadowheart I planned to wash what I'd borrowed since I had spent most of the night sweating in it from our magic exercises. Hopefully, she couldn't smell what else. Elves and their heightened senses. 

Gale, Durge, Lae'zel, and I poured over the map as the rest packed up. We were ready and on the road faster than I was expecting. I, also, wasn't expecting to come onto other people so soon.

We heard the screaming from across the stream. 

"Oh no, we don't," Astarion fought as Gale demanded we go help.

"We couldn't save the last group, but we could save these. Have a little heart, Astarion," Wyll scolded.

Durge shrugged, "Best case scenario we get to enjoy a little violence."

Astarion rolled his eyes, "Fine. Let's go hurt someone."

The men led the group down toward the voices. They were coming out of a large cave. 

"Oh, I don't like this," Shadowheart whispered.

I eyed her. "What's up?"

She pointed to the ground, "Owlbear tracks."

"What's an Owlbear?"

She watched me, fear in her eyes. 

Lae'zel pulled up next to us, "A monstrous cross between giant owl and cave bear. Known for its advantages with its beak and claws. Ferocious beasts. A worthy kill."

I felt my stomach drop. I really didn't want to find out for myself. As I taught Sylas about all woodland predators: "You're pretty neat, but I'll respect your distance." 

"Be my guest," Shadowheart said to Lae'zel. "It's all yours."

Gale popped out of the cave mouth, "Hurry! Before there's no one left to help."

We jogged deeper into the cave to find three individuals in combat with the very large Owlbear. One person was downed, while the Owlbear was up on its back paws, swatting at the two below who were shooting off arrows and spells. 

"Oh, hell no," I said under my breath, pulling up next to Astarion who stood watching with his arms crossed, a sour look on his face.

"If you're stupid enough to rile up a beast like that, you deserve to be eaten," he said beside me as we watched the scene. 

"Well, if it isn't the consequences of my actions," I sang.

We both giggled at the same time. We glanced at one another, our eyes holding at the oddity of our shared moment. Another scream let out, the moment broken. 

"Hey, remember when you said that if I tell you what you want to hear, you'll protect me?" I teased.

He watched me curiously, "Yes. It doesn't mean I meant it."

I pulled my gun, snapping the safety, "You're funny and I'm pretty sure my gun won't do a damn thing against the Owlbear. So, could you, since you can shoot twice as far as I can and with more accuracy, please help me?"

He tipped his head back and forth on his neck as if he were cracking it. Then turned it to me, "Fine. The last thing we need is a weak link. And if something happened to you, Gale would incinerate me."

I smiled broadly, teasing, "Oh, thank you, darling. I'm so glad we could come to an agreement." I chuckled at his dripping irritation.

"What's so funny?" he snapped.

"You are," I winked. "Ready?" I signaled with my gun. 

He rolled his eyes, pulling out in front of me. 

The fight didn't last very long. It was a little anxiety inducing, but I wasn't very involved. Nine on one wasn't a fair fight. It hurt a little to watch the baby Owlbear cub take off when the fight was over. Looking at the dead mother felt a little like an omen. It didn't help that one of the people we had tried to save died right in front of us from his wounds. Durge leaned over him as he breathed his last, begging his siblings to listen to the True Soul. We found out a few moments later, True Souls were the highest order of some new religion that believed they would inherit the world and the dead guy thought we were some of them. The two others were getting suspicious having to tell us about all of it, since we were supposed to know. Turns out, they were out looking for survivors of the Nautiloid crash to be taken back dead or alive. 

All of a sudden, I watched my companions all focus on Durge as if entranced. Then the two strangers straightened up, nodding and agreeing to head on their way, hypnotized. 

All hell broke loose between my camp mates. 

"We can't trust these things!" Lae'zel shouted.

"We need to use whatever we can to our advantage," Astarion argued.

"There's no rush, we need not throw caution to the wind. We have no idea what this means," Gale assuaged. 

"I don't like this," Wyll whined. 

I glanced around at everyone. "What the hell is going on?"

It was as if they all forgot I existed for a moment. All of them looked at me. 

"Our parasites have the ability to control others. We cannot trust it. We cannot give into their power or it will consume us," Lae'zel added.

Astarion rolled his eyes. "Even Nettie conceded that these were different than your regular ghaik tadpoles. What's the harm in using them back?"

"Be my guest. Don't come to me when you start your transition. I will not pity you." She stormed off deeper into the cave.

The rest slowly followed along chatting more about the mind control ability as I listened. I was intrigued by the new revelations, but thankful for not getting tadpoled. Who knows if the tadpoles would have worked the same way in my body? Whatever was causing them to be dormant in my companions could have been nullified in me, making me immediately transition. Or it would have died in my head. Though, that sounded like a recipe for constant migraines. 

As if he had been in my mind again, "I don't need that thing to do anything more in my head, I already have enough pain up there," said Durge from behind me. 

"But how did it feel?" Astarion asked quietly. His voice was kind, inquisitive. A tone I had yet to hear myself.

Durge huffed. "Powerful. Focused. Invigorating."

"That doesn't sound like a problem to me," Astarion added.

"I just have enough going on, I don't need to add to it. I'm with Gale on this one. I'm not taking using them off the table, but I don't want to turn in to a mind flayer overnight because I pushed the limit."

Astarion hummed, "You're right. Let's not be too hasty. I promise to stop your pretty little heart if it comes to it."

"I promise to do the same," Durge said low. That was a tone I had heard before.

"I'd like to see you try," Astarion teased. 

What was I witness to? Was Durge like this with everyone? Astarion had to know I could hear them. As if on cue, he passed me, glancing down at me with a snarky look on his face. Oh, he knew.

We came around a corner and Shadowheart scoffed. "A statue to Selune?"

Gale eyed her oddly. Then noticed the chest. "Oh, what do we have here?" 

Astarion stepped up next to him, "I think this is my expertise, wizard."

Gale looked at him oddly, then down at the chest. A look of amusement taking its place. "Go ahead."

Astarion squatted down, examining the small chest, then reached for the lock. We didn't have time to react as he was tossed across the space and into a small pool of water at the bottom of a cave waterfall. 

"Wizard!"

The sight of him flailing through the air, ending up drenched and angry sent me over the edge. I was on my knees, tears stopping up my nose as my laughter tightened my chest. Karma really was a bitch. The best bitch around. I wasn't the only one laughing and Gale stood smirking, sanctimonious. He had sensed the magic that Astarion hadn't. 

"First off, Astarion, why would you be an expert at picking a lock?" Gale asked curiously as Astarion stumbled out of the water, soaked like a wet cat.

He huffed, shaking water off of his hands, running them through is wet hair, "I'm the head of the Guild in Baldur's Gate. What do you want me to say?"

Wyll cocked his head, "Wait, are you really?"

"No!"

Wyll watched Astarion suspiciously, "That's what the head of the Guild would say..."

Astarion tipped his head back, "Ugh, I'll be whoever you want me to be if it fits your fantasy, Blade."

Wyll's brows pinched, "I don't really like the sound of that."

Gale coughed, interrupting, focused back on the chest. "Well, I can probably break one of the runes and get into it. Give me a moment," he turned to examine it again.

"I don't know why you care, it's probably an offering to the moon witch, Selune. Probably a bunch of junk," Shadowheart complained.

I tilted my head, "Why does it matter so much? We need all the supplies we can find."

She sighed, "Whatever. Take it, sell it. It probably doesn't amount to much."

"Ah, it seems to be locked with a verbal spell. Which means, we need a pass phrase." Gale looked around, then cast a spell that must have helped him to find something hidden. "Ah ha!" Gale jumped across the small crevasse, up next to the statue, holding up a piece of paper. He hopped back over, standing before the chest. He held up the page and read it aloud. 

Shadowheart's hand lit up. She hissed. Everyone looked at her as the lock clicked open. 

"What was that?" Gale asked. 

"It's nothing to be concerned about," Shadowheart bit back.

"Seemed like it hurt," Wyll added. 

She flashed around at the group. "It's not connected to the tadpoles if that's what you're thinking."

I stepped up next to her, "I don't think that's what we're concerned about. Are you okay?"

She seemed to be at odds with herself. She softened at my care, but was still defensive. "It's nothing. It's just a wound that hurts me from time to time."

"That so called wound looked quite magical in nature. It seems much more like a curse or enchantment. Who would inflict such a thing on you?"

She eyed Gale, considering something. Then she huffed, "Fine. I'll tell you. But, it's not like I want to. You will all just keep asking questions if I don't. I'm a follower of Shar, the Mistress of the Night. The Lady of Loss."

A small hush fell on the group. 

"She and my Mystra aren't exactly friends," Gale whispered harshly. 

"If you have a problem with it, I will go."

"Isn't she the mistress of secrets?" Astarion asked, squeezing water out of the ends of his sleeves. 

"Yes, which is why I don't want to elaborate."

"Not very good at keeping them, are we?" he said under his breath, but loud enough for us to hear.

She shot daggers with her eyes. 

I glanced around at everyone, "Okay, how does this affect us all trying to get to Halsin?"

No one seemed to have an answer. I continued, turning to Shadowheart, "I don't know anything about any of your gods. I don't give a shit about them either. Are you planning on turning on all of us or killing us?"

She looked taken back, "No. I'm just as much in this mess as you are. Well, unlike you, but like everyone else."

I faced the rest of them, "Does anyone have a problem with a Shar worshipper? Gale?"

Gale sighed, "No, but Shar did help kill Mystra at one point. But, that's not my fight. Mystra's alive and well now."

"Okay," I held my hands out, "I guess that means we can move on?"

"Please," Shadowheart said. 

I looked around, "Is there anything else any of you want to share? If so, this is a great time."

Once again, they all just stood around not looking at one another. Lae'zel seemed to be the only other one who was watching the rest as they tried to look elsewhere. Apparently, everyone had a secret and no one wanted to share.

Shadowheart took the initiative to break the awkward silence and headed out of the cave first. 

Today was turning out to be an interesting one. We found a dog next to, yet, another dead body. (I missed my dog so much) Shadowheart seemed to have a natural gift with animals and tied a strip of one of her blankets around the collar to give the dog a scent to follow if he needed to find safety. While some of us were a little excited at the possibility of having a pet join us, Astarion was less than enthusiastic, claiming we didn't need any more mouths to feed. Wyll reminded him that a dog might make it easier to scent goblins for protection or hunt small prey for dinners. He lightened up a little. 

The goblin problem came sooner than anticipated. We squatted down among a copse of trees outside of an ancient village which had been recently inhabited by a tribe of goblins, or so it seemed. 

Gale pointed to the map, "This is Moonhaven, if the map is correct. We have to pass through if we are to follow the main road to the temple. I think we might be able to pass around it and avoid the goblins, though."

I looked down to where he was pointing. We would have to follow a trail that seemed to pass through what was titled a swamp, but it seemed to follow up to a temple access point. Something looked familiar. I pulled out the map from the apothecary merchant. Her house was located in the same direction. We could hit two birds with one stone, stopping to see her about my issue, then following on to find Halsin. Maybe, I could send my companions ahead and meet them back in the grove when they had secured the druid. 

"Are you sure about this?" Durge asked.

I nodded. "She said she had connections to others who had 'great magic'. She didn't say she could help me get home, but rather just get me started."

He hummed. 

"I don't see the harm, but we can't dilly dally," added Gale.

"Did you just say 'dilly dally' unironically?" asked Wyll.

Gale eyed him, confused. Clearly, he didn't think he had said anything weird. 

Shadowheart snorted. Astarion licked his teeth behind his lips, stifling a smirk.

I shook my head, holding back my own laughter. "Well, if it turns out to be something that will take longer, I can always meet you guys or you can grab me on your way back to the grove."

Gale tipped his head, considering. "Not entirely a bad idea. Though, having your weapon on hand would be an asset. I'll leave the choice up to you."

I grinned at the wizard, "Thank you."

Gale swiveled to the rest of the group, "Is that alright with everyone? We take a slight detour around Moonhaven to avoid unnecessary conflict, maybe even gaining an ally?"

The rest agreed. It wasn't as if there were any better options. 

"I will remind you of our need to find the creche. It holds the zaith'isk. It will cure us of the parasites. We may choose to head there instead," Lae'zel blurted.

Shadowheart made an audible huff. 

Gale smiled at her patiently, "I appreciate the reminder, Lae'zel. Let's consider all the options available to us. I am aware the Githyanki are more prepared to deal with these parasites, but your people are less than acquiescent to those outside the Githyanki race. If we can procure a solution before begging leniency from your people, it would be a far more favorable outcome."

This time Lae'zel huffed.

I felt bad for her, she knew better than to run off alone with the goblin threat to a creche she didn't have an exact location for, but she also had a cure waiting for her, possibly everyone. They were ticking time bombs. I could understand her impatience in wanting to go there instead.

"You could always go on alone, Lae'zel," Shadowheart scoffed.

Lae'zel rolled her eyes, "Shka'keth."

Shadowheart glared at her. I really wished my tongues enchantment let me understand gith. 

We perked up and headed toward the swamp. It was easy to find, it smelled like rotten animal carcass and sewage waste.

Oddly, no one else seemed to think so. I pulled my pack tighter on my shoulders as we passed through ankle deep sitting water. No one else seemed to notice the random bear traps and nets of spikes beneath the reflection of the pools.

We stopped short of a small person in a large pointy red hat as it mewled like a sheep. 

"Oh how adorable. Free range animals!" Shadowheart cooed.

I shot over at her with wild confusion. What the hell was happening? Was I going crazy? I pulled Gale to the side. 

"I don't understand what you're so nervous about," Gale chided. "It's just a bog with some farm animals."

"That's just it, Gale. It's not. How can you not feel the magic here? It's suffocating." I watched him, concerned. 

He flashed around at the bog and our companions who were standing around impatiently. It was my idea to go this way. Now, I was changing my mind.

"I do feel magic, but it's wild magic. It's fey magic. It's neither good nor bad. I can empathize with your concern. You've never felt anything like it before. When the Feywilds, where elves are originally from, split from the material plane, it left residual magic. Some wielders are able to attune themselves to that magic, which reminds me..." He looked around again, "Maybe we are in for an appointment with a wild magic sorcerer. Maybe, that's the kind of magic the old woman was referring to."

I glanced around at the muck. If this was wild magic, I didn't want to deal any more of it. I faced Gale. He watched me curiously. I gripped his bare hand with my own.

He gasped. His head swished around at the 'bog' we were in. Reality now exposed. "Oh," he said quietly, a flash of horror in his eyes.

"Yeah," I replied, dropping his hand. "Now do you see?"

He nodded. "I don't think I can cast true sight on anyone in my current state. You'll have to wake everyone up by touch."

Shadowheart gasped when I touched her. She pulled her hand out as quickly as she could. "Please wear gloves. I... I don't want to ever feel that kind of disconnection again."

Wyll hissed when I touched him, but he met my grip with his own as he took in reality. "Oh, this is no good. I know exactly what kind of swamp this is." He turned and caught Gale's eyes. Gale nodded in agreement. 

Lae'zel sighed heavily. "I see sun lit pools with flowers. The breeze smells fresh and is warm on my face. But, if you say it is not so, I will believe it. I have no magic you can extinguish to right my sight. But, you may try." Lae'zel held out her hand and I grasped it. Her reaction was small, but she must have felt something when I touched her. I watched her look around quickly, then nod at me as she shook my hand, letting go. It had worked on her. 

"Does that mean you can do magic, Lae'zel?" I asked.

Gale's eyes lit up a little. Wyll and Shadowheart turned to us. Lae'zel flashed between the companions watching her. "I see no reason to get excited. It is likely dormant or very limited. It is of no concern."

Durge walked up and slipped both hands in my hands, looking directly at me. Then, his head turned on a swivel, taking it all in. "Shit. Hag magic."

"What?" I asked.

Gale nodded, solemnly. "Do you know about hags?"

I nodded, "In Earth folklore, they are crazy petty and disturbed witches who look old for eternity. They are more likely to curse you than help you. They're tricksters."

"Then you know hags," Astarion quipped. "They are almost unmatched in magic and power. Having a hag as an ally would be lucky indeed. You may save us yet."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Wyll dismissed. "Hags come with hefty price tags."

"Are you not willing to pay near anything to keep your skin, Blade?" Astarion contested.

Wyll didn't honor him with a reply, just a dark stare.

He turned to me, "Don't touch me. I can see things plainly. I have since we walked in. I'm not so easily tricked. Or disturbed by the uncanny."

I held up my hands in surrender, "Fine. No thanks back there for letting me look like a lunatic."

Astarion smirked, leaning slightly towards me, "I thought it was funny. You're just so funny." He straightened up. "Well, are we going to see the hag or not?"

[Wyll Note: Gods I hate hags. I would take a fiend of any kind over one of those again. But, I did love that Mizora lost her magic when you touched me. Legendary.]

IRL Author's Note: Posting this a few days early! Have a hot date Saturday for Valentine's. And I want to get ahead on the Bite Night chapter. ;)

[anghraine]

I've been scraping 500+ words a day out every day for the last week, and while I've written a bit more of Éowyn/f!Faramir queen-lionheart maximally self indulgent fantasyland, I'm usually so tired by the time that I get around to it that I started having trouble even with that. So instead, I spent the last couple of days writing fic not for the challenging P&P/ME fusion AU, but just pure Mass Effect fic about the terrifyingly relentless but ideologically driven version of Shepard in my current playthrough. CW for a canonical massacre that can be Shepard's backstory:

Afterwards, the raiders abandoned the dead, dragging off a few screaming humans without realizing they’d missed a living witness, one motionless girl among all those they’d killed and left to rot. But Alexandra kept still, kept waiting, long after the sounds of shouting and crying and ships had receded into the distance, after she’d stopped hearing anything at all. Her grandfather’s urgent whisper after he knocked her down and half-buried her in rubble kept cycling through her mind. Stay here, Alex, stay still. Don’t move a muscle, you understand? You can’t let them know you’re here. The smell stayed, too. It reminded her a bit of Armistice Day, the way her parents always overcooked the meat before the celebrations, but more acrid and bitter. It filled her nose while she lay motionless, her heart thumping, proof that she still lived. Not only before but after. The Alliance found her at least an hour later, maybe more. It could easily have been much more, she came to understand later, after she got a decent sense of how much time it might take the Alliance to pick up a local garrison’s distress signal, send reinforcements and leadership, and coordinate the specialized strike forces and search teams, avoiding probable traps. More likely she had waited three or four hours at the shortest. At the time, it felt like days, dragging on long enough that her pulse had slowed and stomach started grumbling before the Alliance showed up to carry off the remains and move wreckage. She couldn’t remember exactly when they’d arrived, or what she’d first thought or felt when she heard them. It would have made sense to panic at the sounds of more unfamiliar ships, but Alexandra didn’t know if she had. She only remembered the slow, frozen horror of lying among the dead for so long, and then mutters from human soldiers as they talked about how difficult it would be to identify everyone. Did you see the spaceport? God, it’s a bloodbath. Nearly threw up my entire lunch. Did you find any of our men? Not yet. There weren’t many posted here, and so far it looks like the colonists were the only targets. Poor bastards never had a chance.

Light danced over Alexandra’s lids as they worked, as the weight of something—someone—lying against her arm got carried off with some of the rocks and chunks of wood. She wasn’t sure how long playing dead would work, or where she’d go even if they just left.

One of the soldiers exclaimed something she didn’t catch. Maybe in an unfamiliar language, before he switched to her own.

“Wait, wait—sir, I’m picking something up. Somebody here is alive! They didn’t get them all!”

He sounded thrilled, far more than Alexandra was. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, peering through the rocks, though she dreaded what she might see. Some grass, but none of the scattered buildings she’d grown used to. The grass was still bent down, and smeared with enough that she knew it had to be where people had fallen to the batarians’ guns, the bodies moved later. A man was crouched not far away, his face drawn as he studied something. Maybe her.

Other people in familiar Alliance uniforms strode all around the shattered remains of Mindoir, shouting out to each other, bringing out equipment she didn’t know the names or purposes of. She wasn’t frightened of them, exactly, but she stayed immobile, nevertheless. The daylight was so bright it illuminated everything, more than she would ever want to see, and she’d kept her eyes shut for so long that the sun dazzled her eyes.

“Hey, there,” the crouching man said softly. “You don’t need to be afraid. I’m Major Rai of the Systems Alliance. We came as soon as we heard. Would you like help sitting up?”

She thought about doing nothing at all. But these people obviously knew she was there, and they were human. Alliance soldiers, not murderers. Slowly, she pushed the rubble off herself, and multiple sets of footsteps rushed over to help, hurrying to free her.

As she sat up, more and more soldiers turned her way, though they kept their distance when Major Rai held up his hand. She could still hear them whispering shit, she’s just a kid and how long do you think she—? and we’ve got to make these fuckers pay. Alexandra wrapped her arms about her waist, shivering. She could hardly feel her own skin, but at the same time, she was cold. She couldn’t imagine being warm again.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “What are you going to do to me?”

Major Rai’s lips pressed together.

“We’re not going to do anything to you,” he said. “Now, what we’re going to do with you ... well, that depends on who you are. If you’ve got family—”

“I don’t,” she said, her eyes darting around the pathways that led up the nearest hill to the grain silo she’d briefly thought to hide inside. It was the only building still standing, if scorched, but she’d never reached it. “My family was all here. My parents, and my grandfather, and all the rest of us. But the raiders—they shot something at Paul. My brother. He’s younger than me, he just—screamed and—and melted, I—I—”

She could hardly breathe, and was only vaguely aware of a younger soldier, a woman, who cautiously approached her with a blanket, then wrapped it around Alexandra’s shoulders. Major Rai nodded at the woman.

“You don’t need to think about that just now,” he said. “But could you tell us your name?”

Alexandra peered up at the woman with the blanket, and then at Major Rai, still crouched on his bent knees, yards away from her. He’d never moved nearer, just looked right at her, his dark eyes mild. Kind, maybe. If you could tell that from someone’s eyes.

“Alexandra,” she whispered. “I’m Alexandra Shepard.”

[patataatomica5]

Fear and hunger headcanons and possible plot for a future fanfic part 2 :p

AGAIN TW JUST IN CASE GORE, SA, VIOLENCE OR DEATH IS MENTIONED

Life outside the dungeon yayyy :D

If you can't remember or didn't read the last part the people in the group are Ragnvaldr, Cahara, The Girl and Moonless.

(Go on and read PART 1 if you didn't)

+The way our group ran at the speed of light outside

+At first the sun hurt their eyes, their vision had to assimilate again that there is not just darkness and light coming from a torch.

+The way back to Rondon was a bit long, maybe stopping and properly resting was 2-3 days walking. (It was an old prison, so I guess it had to be away from the population, and also look at all the things hidden beneath)

+ One of the first things they did was finding a river and trying to get rid of the horrible smell that the dungeon left on them, not only sweat, but rotting blood and dirt and all kinds of strange liquids the monsters might have stained them with.

+ After that Rag hunted a deer and fed them fresh roasted meat that didn't make them question how long that food has been sitting there or if it was going to make them nauseous.

+ Moonless chewed on the leftover bones and was given raw meat too.

+ On the way they discarded all the items that weren't useful anymore. Why would they want a dirty rag? They can get clean ones in the city now.

+ Once they arrived they rented a couple of rooms in an inn with whatever money they had left and proceeded to find merchants, colleccionists and rich people who would pay a lot of money for all those weird coins, jewelry and amulets.

+ Cahara didn't keep any of the treasures he found, just gave Ragnvaldr the Cube of the Depths as "it was stolen from your homeland", but he declined for the moment, just until he had somewhere stable to stay.

+ When Cahara had the money he needed, he went straight to the Red Light District, to the familiar brothel her wife was trapped in. As usual, some girls from other brothels tried to take him inside to "just rest and drink something".

+ Before entering he remebered all the times he snuck through her window just to spend time with her. One time he had to hide in the closet because the Madame made a surprise visit to talk to Celeste.

+ With his hart pounding on his chest, he entered inside, and demanded to talk with the Madame.

+ He just dropped the bag full of silver and golden coins to her feet and just said "I want to buy the freedom of Celeste".

+All the girls present backed away and started murmuring while a couple of them ran upstairs to ssearch for her. The elder lady that owned the place was in shock, as Celeste was one of the most expensive girls she owned.

+ After counting the money, she could only let her free, and gave her a couple of hours to pick up her things before going.

+ Cahara told her to only take what meant something to her and was necessary, as he would buy her all the expensive dresses she wanted.

+ The mercenary left the dungeon without looking back, and so did Celeste with the brothel.

+ After that he introduced her to the Girl, Rag and Moonless. She was shocked at what the story they lived in the dungeons, but it was too much and too long to explain, some things she will find out with time.

+ In Cahara's absence, Rag tried to brush the little girl's hair, but it was too matted, it looked like a bird's nest. Maybe it was never brushed before.

+ Celeste cut her hair quite short, sadly it was too tangled :(

+ The girl was a bit sad, but the woman promised it would grow back in no time and even prettier than before. She also cut Cahara's hair so "it would grow back healthier" and gave Rag a trim too.

+ It's also a way of ending that short but hard era and the begining of their new lives outside misery ;)

+ The (old) mercenary started constructing a mansion not too far from Rondon and, gave his bestie Ragnvaldr a house (with at least 5 giant bedrooms) nearby his mansion-to-be.

+ The three of them came to the conclusion that the girl would stay with Celeste and Cahara, as Rag wanted to become a monster hunter and kind of a mercenary to help other people live better, with the condition that he will drop by and visit them every few days.

+ Moonless came along Rag and he began to train more people to beat the darkness and what hid behind the shadows forming a group and later a clan. (also some of them are survivors from Oldegard's dissaster)

+ The Girl has a colorful bedroom full of plushies and toys and dolls. She became a bit spoiled (Celeste and the baby too), because Cahara gave his new family everything they wanted on the spot.

+ And the most important, she had the warmth and the love of a father and a mother and a baby brother :")

+ Also a great teacher that taught her how to read, history, math... And how to speak too! Both husband and wife had to be patient with that. She grew up to be a beautyful and clever woman.

+ Sadly not everything is good, the (old) mercenary often had nightmares with the dungeon or with Nilvan telling him that he lied, he tricked her, and he will pay for it. He will pay the price of not having a good night sleep in probably for ever. (Not being able to sleep was kind of beneficial in a way, because he could let Celeste sleep and he would take care of the baby)

Part 3?????

Also don't be afraid to tell me if something it's wrong, English is not my first language.

[0phiana0]

I thought of something interesting…

Could you do the Ericson kids or TWDG S2 Characters interacting with Saiki K and stuff like that?!

I think it would be cool to see Sarita or Carlos React to Saikis powers because Carlos is a doctor and thinks logically and stuff like that.

this is gonna be fun heheheheh😈

Saiki k. X TWDG S2

so I kinda wrote this w bullet points but dw it’s still a story

also this story kinda cooked me but yeah😔

It was an irregular day for Saiki, not exactly like any other

Unlike most days where he had to spend the priority of his time fighting off Nendo, Kaido and all his other nuisances, Saiki was free

No mom or dad to bother him either, both busy attending a wedding in South America for some foreign friend they had

Today he was going to eat as much coffee as jelly as he wanted and watch any television program that would be airing

He sat down comfortably on his bed as his tv flashed several different channels that he could view

He tried to find a tv show that wouldn’t be as predictable as every other and would maybe, for once, peek his interest

That was until he heard it..

Saiki had several abilities; psychokinesis, teleportation, mind control although his ability of heightened senses was used most daily

He looked down slowly peeking his head underneath his bed

There it was.

The cockroach.

Just like Nendo, he couldn’t read this tiny beasts mind, leading him to have a strong dislike of any bug

What a disgusting creature..

So he did exactly what he did when he saw Nendo, he teleported

His body shifted from his bed to a new random location

The place he had teleported, however was very different than any other U. S state or country he had visited

The smell of rotting meat and flesh flooded Saikis nose

He was placed in a seemingly so barren forest

The trees and vines had taken over the forests grounds

Nature filled the vicinity of his vision

Saiki heard the grass shake beneath him, making him look to his right to find a decaying corpse trembling over the ground

His eyes widened slightly, he wasn’t exactly scared but more confused then anything

What the hell was going on? And what is that thing walking towards him?

The decaying figure could only tremble a couple of feet closer before it was eradicated by Saiki, who had used his psychic powers to explode this creatures brain

Again Saiki teleported, not wanting to experience any strange creatures anymore

Instead of meeting his room, he was met by the front of a cabin. Several people ranging in age stood in front of him.

“What the hell..” mumbled a heavily pregnant African woman who had glared daggers into Saiki’s eyes

She looked very intimidating, although nothing intimidated Saiki excluding cockroach’s and bugs

A man who looked to be around his mid twenties spoke up soon after the woman

“Pete are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?” He wore a hat that had covered his forehead. He was also quite tall.

Saiki looked around, addressing the people who stood frightened in front of him

‘Meh’, Saiki thought. ‘Who’d care if these randos find out I’m psychic? They’re obviously not the brightest considering I teleported in front of them and they haven’t had heart attacks yet.’

‘I’m psychic.’ Were the first words he spoke. This was the first time Saiki openly admitted to being Saiki to anyone. The feeling felt off. The psychics words drifted to everyone’s ears.

“Uhh..excuse me?” The country man’s head looked like it was gonna explode, his fingers gripping onto the pockets of his linen shirt.

‘I teleported. I’m psychic.’

“What. The. Fuck…” the man with the hat muttered. He was more star struck than the country man.

Everyone stood quiet, addressing what the pink haired teenage boy had said.

“You’re a what?” Asked the younger tan girl, wearing a hat lettered with “d” on her head. Her eyes darted to Saiki. She was incredibly confused.

“Who the hell is this lunatic?” Yelled the man with the hat, already ready to shoot a gun at the teen

Saiki listened to the several people who started to talk over each other, not quite understanding who he was

“A psychic my ass this guys fucking crazy!”

“Oh god we’re all gonna die..he must be a fucking mutation or something..”

“Use your brain idiot this guys obviously messing with us, he’s a fucking kid.”

Another girl who looked to be a few years younger then the psychic teemed closer.

Everyone went quiet yet again, slowly watching her footsteps.

“Sarah get back here.” Scolded an elder man, with a Spanish accent. His tone was firm and he looked relatively like the teen girl.

“Y-you..you have pink hair..” she stuttered, finger pointing to the psychics hair.

Before Saiki could answer the teen the Spanish man spoke up.

“Listen we’re all obviously confused about..him..but crowding him won’t give us answers. Everyone head inside for the night. I’ll deal with him.” The crowd of unknown people began to slowly drift inside, some muttering prayers for the Spanish man’s safety.

However the young Spanish girl stayed in place, eyes not looking away from the unknown boy.

“Dad..please..can I stay?..” she pleaded to her father.

“Sarah I can’t risk you getting hurt..please head-”

“Please. I’m not a little girl anymore..” her tone matched her father’s previous one. Carlos was suprised at his daughter’s sudden interest in the stranger.

He nodded and tilted his head, ushering she stand behind him. With a small smile the girl did as told.

The man faced Saiki yet again.

“What’s your name?”

‘Saiki. Kusuo Saiki.’ The psychic was always stoic when talking to people he deemed inferior. This man didn’t scare him. Nobody did.

“And about you being..psychic..” the man’s face contorted into a small frown.

‘I am.’ He voiced.

“Okay.” Carlos said sarcastically, not believing a word from the teen “psychic” boy.

‘I am.’ Saiki looked around the ground for anything durable. His eyes shifted towards a black rock. He gripped the rock in his hand before clenching his fingers down. The rock shattered in his hand.

Carlos and Sarahs eyes widened. Carlos immediately pushed his daughter slightly back not wanting the pieces of the rock to hit her.

“That’s..so cool.” Sarah smiled having never seen such strength.

“Not exactly enough to prove you’re..psychic..” Carlos snarled.

Saiki let out a huff. ‘Good grief.’ Why must he have to prove anything to these nuisances?

He pressed his hands together. His eyes lit up for a split second. Slowly yet shortly a fire brewed in his palms.

Yet again both strangers were impressed by the strange boy.

What an interesting boy indeed.

Maybe just maybe this “psychic” was the answer to the worlds problems.

And with such strength maybe the walkers wouldn’t be an issue.

This boy could be the answer.

The answer to everyone’s problems.

The end of there suffering.

And they both said “oh wow” bcs I wrote this and it’s a canon event😼

[crying-fantasies]

Killing me Softly with his song (4)

Masterlist

Part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4: Bite and cry | part 5

CW: blood, consumption of food (as in meat, insects, human, etc), body horror, depiction of bodies and corpses, vomiting, slight impression of starving.

The first time it happened Soundwave was worried, being as gentle as he could when he took the little larvae from Mayhem's servos, looking directly with a frowning visor to the rangers and you, giving one another food, eating these creatures.

Since a long time ago Soundwave accepted the fact of your need to consume other living beings in order to survive, he did it when your presence in his life was almost a must and didn't mind it when you finally touched his spark, but seeing his sparkling putting the carcass of a processed creature in his intake is where he paints the red line, taking a little cube of energon and putting it in his child's intake instead, getting a little of struggling against his actions when Mayhem tried to escape it but accepting anyway like the good sparkling he was and drinking all.

"It's just good ol' boiled weevil larvae" one man tells him while eating the little thing in amusement, you doing the same, trying to inform him and prevent any fear from it doing any harm to the sparkling, "tastes like deep fried pork-"

Soundwave's "Do not feed Mayhem unnecessary materials" was his way of informing and making your newfound friends almost jump by the fear of finally hearing Soundwave speak after so many years of knowing him.

The second time it happened Mayhem was with the cassettes, Rumble and Frenzy, maybe it wasn't the best idea but it was indeed funny, going around any little human settlement and spend time there, if the settlement was far and secluded then they would go with their holoforms and see around, when they go to the cities they just go along with it, but now they had a sparkling with them, bound to attract attention and that's what Mayhem did when he escaped their watch, a kind woman in a street food stall gave him warm food when she noticed he was alone and hungry, not caring that Mayhem was a bot when she noticed how desperate he was for some food, not even sure if he could eat it but pleased when the little guy started to eat like a starved man.

The twins found the sparkling when he was already finishing his chichinga, saying thanks and paying what he eat with shanix, maybe giving more than it really was needed but in a hurry to take the kid to any clinic, blessing the allspark for finding Soundwave's child in one piece, not uttering a word to him about what happened or the fact that Mayhem could eat human food when the sparkling was as good as new days after it.

The third time it happened Mayhem was what you called "maybe 10 or 11?", when Soundwave was with his son and Laserbeak while on patrol in a sector where the dry season got harder, Mayhem looked at the horizon, where a little body of water was being infected by the rotting corpse of a hyena, an animal that perished by the hard environment of the year, Soundwave looked how his son took the body of the animal and put it in another place, maybe then others could consume what little water was there, then Laserbeak shouted "Stop!", scared, Soundwave froze, almost terrified, when Mayhem put a piece of the rotting meat on his intake before he could do something, the casette impacted his whole body with the sparkling's faceplate to stop him but it was already too late, Mayhem swallowed the thing before making a face, Laserbeak taking his helm in his wings only to notice the strange expression on Mayhem.

"Bleh, it's horrible"

"Why did you do it then?!"

"It smelled funny!"

Mayhem puked the meat and all the energon he had all night long in some weird rainbow colored goo.

"How come that this didn't happen before?"

"Before?"

"Frenzy, you fragging idiot!"

"Explain: Before"

"Boss, it was an accident, wait, no, no, don't look at me like that!"

At that point Soundwave was worried, finally getting the information from the twins on what happened years ago.

"It can't be that bad" you told him, when Mayhem finally stopped his bizarre display, "he is supposed to have organic traits too"

As it's normal, you could feel the desperation behind your husband's visor, his worry going deep on the protected optics underneath, "any one, even a bot, can get a stomachache when eating something rotted, 'Wave" you took his index and middle in your hands, making him feel secure in your words and own understanding of organics being one, "He will grow out of this soon"

And Mayhem did, not wanting to eat anything that was organic for a while, taking his fill of energon at his hours much to Soundwave's delight, staying away from human's settlements and cities, also showing that he did go behind yours and Soundwave's back to eat organic food in every city on every country when you moved for Soundwave's work, now almost running away when the smell of organic food was near.

From time to time Mayhem acted a little more slow, almost dizzy, zoning out occasionally, but no medic found out what it was, only taking it for stress and telling him to take more energon.

It was all good, Mayhem had what you called "maybe sweet fifteen" and he was with Soundwave again in a patrol that took a turn to the worst when Ratbat found what they were searching for.

Humanity can be good or bad, sometimes both, just like his people, Soundwave learned that a long time ago, and he thought so again hearing the profanities said and cries of the staff in charge of the stolen buffalos of a national reserve when he got them where he found the headless bodies of some animals.

They still had hope the rest were alive.

It took a little moment, one when Soundwave was more concerned with searching for the poachers than centring on his son, more focused in his thirst for vengeance over other things, letting himself be dragged by his feelings, that has always been his downfall.

When he found the poachers camping zone, he found the skulls of the animals, he found many others and also some alive, cowering away, scared by something, he didn't find any human around and if he looked with more detail he could've realized that he wasn't the only cybertronian there, only noticing a track of blood that was dragged to the forest.

Nothing could've prepared Soundwave for the fourth time he found his son eating organic matter, or the fact that, what Mayhem had in his intake at that moment was the torso of a human, many other human bodies scattered around with missing parts, blood painting his armor and derma.

Mayhem, in his starving state, could only stop ingesting the meat in the ribs when Soundwave stopped him with all his might while shouting his name, stopping his son from continue such deviant act.

No one said a word, returning home when he could clean the mess, leaving the matter as closed when you greeted them, saying how sorry you were that things didn't go as planned while putting a hand on the side of your son's helm in an affectionate display.

Mayhem cried while hugging you, and Soundwave didn't say a word, if only he flinched a little while his EM field displayed how uneasy he felt by his son actions, you would never know, for sure, but Buzzsaw made a strange sound at your side, you just took it like they had a really bad day.

You weren't wrong.

[mthollowell-writes]

31 Days of Horror Day 8: Missing

I have no idea where I am. Brielle glared out into the inky darkness of the night. The parking lot of the diner was cracked, nature forcing itself between the concrete. The harsh light of the dining area threw back her reflection. Beyond was the woods where she emerged, achy and shivering. She followed the diner’s light when she first spotted it through the trees. Before that, she was sinking—into confusion, into anger, into despair. She still was, but now she could stomach it a little better in the light. She pulled on her sleeves to hide her hands. Both her palms had deep purple gashes. Despite their ugliness, they didn’t sting. But she couldn’t recall how she got them.

Brielle tried to think back. She woke up freezing in the middle of the woods over a pile of bones. They glowed powder white under the moon above. They cracked under her as she struggled to find her footing amidst the fog. She examined the bones more closely and realized they were picked clean. There was no meat. No rot. The only thing of value left was the marrow within. She cracked them open and sucked down her fill. She didn’t know when she’d have the chance to eat again.

But before? There was no before. There was just a name and no more. Every time she searched for more, poking at the missing cotton edges of the past, their fibers melted away at her touch. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know why I’m here. The waitress eyed her as she bussed the table ahead. Brielle shrank into her seat. She took the booth in the very back, away from the other diners. There were three of them, all older men savoring pie by the counter. The waitress came back around and set down a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. Brielle blinked at her. “I don’t have money.” “On the house,” the older woman said with a dismissive wave. “I’ll be back around to check on you.” She then left. Brielle gave the drink a tentative sniff. It smelled of sharp spice and warm earth. Her stomach turned at its richness. Why did this smell…wrong? Brielle’s nerves sparked electric beneath her skin. The turning in her stomach twisted around a sharp dagger. Her mouth pooled with water. She clutched her gut, suddenly ravenous. She needed to eat. “You alright, sweetheart?” Brielle’s head snapped up to the waitress whose eyes quickly shifted from concern to fear. The musk of adrenaline seeping through her pores made Brielle’s teeth hum. She was so hungry. She wouldn’t remember what happened next.

[mommybookwyrm]

WIP Wednesday

I actually finished chapter 2 of Heartstrings!!! Now I just need to edit and revise a little and it should be ready to post by the end of this week.

Anyways, enjoy a snippet from Wyll's POV below the cut.

The lower level of the ruins were now quiet, the undead protectors once again lay in the dust at the feet of the forgotten god of the temple. All but one of them that was.

Wyll watched as the silent skeleton walked along the edge of the large chamber, more or less avoiding the small group as they made camp among the bones of the place. It was more than a little surprising when they had risen from the sarcophagus, asking them for the value of a mortal life.

They had taken a long look at all of them but had stopped and looked almost perplexed when their gaze had reached Astarion, a gaze that had made the pale elf obviously uncomfortable.

Wyll started at the sound of tin plates clattering to the floor and the sound of Shadowheart and Lae'zel once again throwing strings of insults at one another. Wyll sighed, wondering how bringing the githyanki into their group was going to end in anything other than blood, especially after her attack on Astarion earlier that day.

A stern word from Felyn'da and some placating gestures from Gale soothed over the disagreement for the moment and the latter announced that dinner was ready.

Wyll had to admit that it smelled worlds better then the meal from the night before did. Gale had made some kind of stew with the provisions they had found which had included meat and spices.

He took the bowl that was offered to him and dug in immediately, flinching only a bit at the still hot meal.

"Any idea where Astarion went," Gale asked, holding another bowl most likely for the aforementioned elf.

Wyll quickly scanned the large chamber and found that he did not see him. "I'll go see if I can find him," Wyll said, shoving more food into his mouth before he placed his bowl down and stood.

It wasn't hard to find the other man. Across from were they had set up, one of the walls had half caved in at some point in the centuries and opened up to a small underground stream.

Astarion stood at the edge, staring up at the ceiling. Looking himself Wyll could see a wooden hatch that no doubt lead to the surface, the rotted remains of a ladder lay on the ground underneath.

"Planing on trying your hand at some fishing again?" Wyll teased.

Astarion only answered him with an annoyed grunt. Okay, Wyll supposed he deserved that.

"Gale is finished with dinner," Wyll said. "It's actually quite good this time."

"I'm not hungry," Astarion said simply. Wyll wanted to call him out on that lie. He knew that the other hadn't eaten anything during breakfast that morning nor could he remember seeing Astarion eat anything through out their search of the ruins.

"I'm sure it's not the sort of fare that you're used to," Wyll started, "but it does you no good to go without. You'll need your strength for our journey tomorrow."

Wyll couldn't read Astarion's expression as the other turned to look at him then. He couldn't read much of Astarion to be honest, except for earlier that day when the elf had been absolutely terrified.

He was a good actor though and Wyll could see when he made the transition. His body, almost always tense since Wyll had pulled him out of that pod the day before, rearranging into a casual fluid walk as he approached. He placed his hand lightly on Wyll's arm as he passed, smiling and Wyll could feel his face flush at the contact.

"Of course darling you're ever so right," he drawled. "Wouldn't want me to waste away now would we?"

Before Wyll could get his tongue to work to voice an answer Astarion passed and released him from the strange spell. He turned to watch the other walk away, forcing his eyes to stay focused on the other's white curls and refusing to let them linger further down.

He looked away and back to the water, which he now had a sudden urge to plunge himself wholly down into. Well, that was something.

Distantly he could hear mocking laughter that he chose to ignore.

[i-am-still-bb]

No. 28

“We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.” | Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

Pairing: Fili/Kili Rating: T Universe: Book Words: 2066

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A/N: I haven't read The Hobbit in quite a while, so the sequence of events and the timing between them, etc. may not be accurate to the book.

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The tunnel smelled strongly of dragon. Kili had not been expecting the smell. Fire? Yes. Claws? Yes. The smell? Absolutely not. It was like rotting meat and overturned earth. There was also the smell of smoke, but he had been expecting that smell. And it was not the main thing that you could smell. 

Everyone had laid out their bedrolls along the passage way. They were uncomfortable being too far from the hidden door and the crack of light that let in fresh air and a little bit of day light, but the exposure of it made them uncomfortable as well. And if they went deeper into the tunnel then they were closer to the opening that lead them into the throne room where Smaug lay curled on his hoard of gold while brooding and plotting. So they were situated nearly half way to between the two ends. 

They had to be quiet because any sound they made echoed down the tunnel. A kicked stone, a hissed curse made them all freeze. Waiting. Listening. To see if Smaug had heard them, if they were moments from discovery. When there was no rumbling or glow of fire they would relax enough to lay down or return to whatever hushed conversation they were having. 

Desiring some privacy there was some distance between different groups of them. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur all sat together, talking, and sleeping as a group, while Oin and Gloin were bunked down with Ori, Nori, and Dori. 

Fili and Kili had set up their bedrolls some distance away from the others. Bombur snored and neither Fili nor Kili could sleep well if they were still awake when Bombur fell asleep.

Right now they were all waiting for Bilbo to come back with word about what he had seen and heard in the throne room. Some were sleeping, but Fili was slowly but steadily sharpening his swords, knives, and axes. They all started on his right side. And, when sharpened, he would set them down on his left. He was nearly done with the small pile by this point. 

“What do you think is going to happen?” Kili asked. 

Fili’s hand paused its continuous motion. “I don’t know, Kili.” He started running the whetstone down the length of the sword again. “There’s still a dragon to kill, so I imagine there will be fighting at some point. 

Kili sat down and scooted so that his back was against the smooth stone wall. He was impressed with the care that his ancestors had taken with crafting even this small hallway that was not meant to be used by many. They could have easily left rough edges, and an uneven floor, but Kili had looked and had been unable to find anything that could cause you to trip in the dark, or a chip in the wall that could slice open a finger as you felt your way along. He could not help but compare it to the halls of Ered Luin. He missed those halls. He had longed for their rough warmth more than once in the past months. But Erebor was something else entirely. If they were successful. If they reclaimed the mountain then things would not be the same. And there were bound to be good ways, but also bad ways. 

He probably would not get to see those halls again. Amad would travel with the rest of their kin to Erebor to take up residence in the halls of their fathers. 

“Do you think that there are enough of us?” Kili asked hesitantly. “We’ve never fought in a battle. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin did, but that was a long time ago.”

“Gandalf seemed to think that fourteen was the right number.”

Kili hummed.

“What do you think it will be like if we do manage to evict Smaug the Terrible?”

“I think there will be a lot of work at first,” Fili replied.

Kili nodded and watched Fili’s hands continue their work while he spoke. 

“Obviously there will be a lot of cleaning to do, repairs to be carried out, furnishings, dealing with the hoard of treasure won’t be the least of all those tasks. I imagine Thorin is going to want the Arkenstone found as quickly as possible.”

“The Right to Rule.”

Fili nodded. “Then there will be dealing with the land around the mountain. Sorting out what to do with the ruins of Dale. Then there will be the political aspects of it all, Lake Town, the Elves of Mirkwood, and anyone else who lives nearby.”

“What about us?”

“I imagine we’ll be busy.”

“Yeah…” Kili trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. What about them? What about their futures? Clearly living here was going to be very different from living in Ered Luin. There would be a great deal more pressure, a lot more expectations, more people watching and commenting on their actions. 

What about marriage?

Kili had never really thought about that before and, therefore, had not been bothered by the prospect of either of them marrying. But now, with Erebor, nearly within their grasp, the thought bothered him. Fili had been just his for so long. And the prospect of having to share Fili with another, much less multiple others of Fili had children with whomever he married, was… discomforting. 

“That’s not really what I—” Kili started to say.

He was distracted by Bilbo running down the corridor at full sprint, his cheeks pink, and he was breathing heavily. Everyone took notice, some standing up, others remaining seated, but their attention was clearly fixed on Kili.

“What’s happened?” Thorin demanded.

Bilbo was bent nearly double, hands on his knees while he fought to catch his breath.

“Smaug…” he gasped.

“Figured that much,” Dwalin growled. 

Bilbo saw the sliver of light at the end of the tunnel where the door was still propped open. “We should close the door.”

“What! Why?” Many of them exclaimed at once. 

Then they all heard the rumble and rush of wind as Smaug took flight via the main gate. They all looked at one another, their eyes wide with fear and surprise. Smaug had not left the mountain in nearly 60 years, or so they had heard. 

“Please shut the door,” Bilbo pleaded. “I fear that he will see it and know where we are.”

“But then we will be trapped in the mountain!” 

“With no way out!” 

“We’ll be stuck in here with Smaug until we either starve or he eats us.”

“Please!” Bilbo repeated. “You were not there—”

“Shut the door,” Thorin ordered. 

“But,” Nori started to protest. 

“Now,” Thorin barked. 

Dwalin and a few others went to the door and managed to heave it back into place. It closed with a sharp crack. And they were left in complete darkness. Kili had thought the air had been close, thick, and stuffy before, but without the fresh air and light from the outside it quickly became worse. 

They all stood in silence in the pitch black. Kili had never been comfortable with this level of darkness. He knew his eyes would eventually adjust and he would be able to see a little, but it had nothing to do with sunlight, starlight, or moonlight. And Bilbo’s eyes would not adjust to the same level, he would be left in the pitch black darkness of the pungent tunnel. 

The roar was closer.

Then the earth shook. 

Kili grabbed for Fili’s shoulder. 

“Kili?”

“I’m okay,” but Kili’s voice shook. There was the distinctive sound of metal on metal while Fili quickly returned all of his weapons to their sheaths. Fili knew each weapon by touch and worked quickly. 

The earth shook again. This time knocking some of them from their feet. Kili caught himself on the smooth wall. 

“Away from the door!” Thorin shouted.

There was the unmistakable sound of stone cracking. 

The plink of small stones that preceded a landslide. 

Fili dragged Kili down the tunnel by the placket of his borrowed jerkin. There was the metallic sound of at least one of Fili’s weapons being left behind on the floor of the tunnel as they ran. Kili was nearly jerked from his feet by Fili’s speed even before the next earthquake hit. The earth shook so violently that none of them were able to remain standing. 

“Keep moving!” Fili’s voice came from behind Kili, though how he had ended up there was a mystery.

“I’m trying,” Kili said before the moving earth pitched him sideways and then forward on to his face. Fili’s hands were on him, checking. “I’m not hurt,” Kili assured him, answering the silent question. 

Then it stopped. As quickly as the earthquakes began they ended. 

“Is everyone accounted for?” Thorin shouted from the front.

“More or less,” Bofur grumbled.

“Yes.”

“But we lost any of the supplies that we had brought inside.”

Everyone was present and accounted for and other than bumps and bruises, and a bloodied nose everyone was uninjured. 

“What exactly happened with Smaug?” someone demanded of Bilbo

And Bilbo told them.

… Smaug sticking his head in the hole

… the fire he had unleashed that had singged the back of Bilbo’s calves. 

A few of the dwarves went to check on the tunnel’s entrance. But it was thoroughly gone. Everything had been smashed and there was the scent of smoke even though there had been nothing to burn anywhere near the door. 

Kili wondered if dragon fire could melt solid rock. And he wished Gandalf was there, because he would probably know the answer. 

“That’s just great,” Nori grumbled. “We’re trapped between a cave in and a pissed off dragon who is interested in what Hobbit tastes like and is still willing to eat Dwarf even though he’s tired of it.”

“We’ll stay here and wait,” Thorin said authoritatively, interrupting any discontented grumbling. “Smaug might not come back. If he does not then we will find our way out through the treasure chamber.”

“And if he does come back?”

Thorin did not answer. 

They all settled down in the dark, overly warm tunnel to wait. 

“What were you going to say before?” Fili whispered. The tunnel echoed at this point, and the sound of the others’ breathing filled their ears along with the rumble of Bombur’s snoring, and Bofur’s cursing when he woke his brother every few minutes only for him to fall back to sleep shortly after waking. And then shortly after falling asleep he would start snoring again. 

Kili shook his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.” 

Kili swallowed hard. Then he reached for Fili in the dark. He could now see the outlines of Fili’s face, the broad gestures of his features in the dark. And the longer they were underground without any light, the more detailed his sight would become. 

“I just… I…” Kili struggled to find the words. 

Fili did not say anything. He listened and waited.

“I…” 

Fili squeezed Kili’s knee. Kili covered Fili’s hand with his own. 

“I love you,” Kili said so quietly that he could barely hear his own words over the sound of his own heart beating.

“I love you, too.” Fili replied. 

“Not like that—” Kili started to explain.

“I know.”

“You do?”

Kili could see the line of Fili’s jaw and his quick smile, and the glint of his eyes when he looked past Kili for a second. 

Fili kissed him then. 

Kili made a small surprised sound before he could stop himself. Fili’s lips were warm and soft, but there was a pressure to the kiss, and urgency. Fili’s beard rasped against Kili’s skin. Kili moved his hands to keep Fili close. He had stopped thinking full sentences or even anything coherent the moment that Fili’s tongue touched his lower lip. His fingers caught Fili's braids, tugging and tangling them. 

“Like that?” Fili asked on an exhale when they parted.

Kili nodded and took a deep breath. “Like that.”

Fili dropped his head forward so their foreheads were touching. 

Fili started to speak then, his fingers dancing on the neckline of Kili’s shirt. But his words were interrupted by Thorin starting to rouse the company. It had been a night and most of a day. It was time to move.

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Taglist

Everything: @silvermoon-scrolls @metztlilua @i-am-pinkie

Fili/Kili @dubhlachen

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[blackjackkent]

🥳🎁 your turn friend :D

(Fanfic Writer Ask Game)

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

I've gone through a couple fanfic "phases" and it always kicks off when I get really hyperfixated on something and start thinking about the scenes we don't see and want to make them happen in some fashion. And then when I get comments/feedback, it just feeds the hyperfixation and I come up with more ideas and keep writing and it becomes a habit. XD

(Also shoutout to @springagainafter who is primarily responsible for my long-standing liveblogging habit which I guess also qualifies as fanfic and which I've been doing longer than any other systematic writing really. I started doing that all the way back in my Mass Effect fandom days and got very addicted to the feeling of tracking a character very closely all the way through a story and feeling out how they grow and develop. c: )

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Spent some time today working on Chapter 4 of Open Your Eyes purely so that I could have a response for this question. XD Who says ask memes aren't productive?

(This has been edited very little so apologies for rough edges. XD )

"Where are we, exactly?" Jaheira asks, looking around with narrowed eyes. Of course, she can tell the general answer at a glance, though it doesn't fill her with particular joy. Rasaad has led them to the sewers.  The ladder has dropped them off in an enormous stone tunnel, a good thirty feet wide. Flickering torches are set into the wall at regular intervals, little dots of orange stretching in a long line into the darkness.  Down the center of the tunnel flows a thick river of dark brown sludge. She gasps deep lungfuls of the blessedly cool air as they all catch their breath from their panicked run through the alleys above, and in the process gets flooded with the all-too-familiar smell - a mixture of rotting meat, offal, and garbage, intense enough to make her eyes water. Caden grins crookedly. "Hitting all the old favorites today, aren't we?" he quips. "Fog cloud escapes, angry guards, sewer run. Next thing you know, we'll be sleeping in a shitty inn and having Minsc carry fifteen broken swords to trade for a healing potion." Imoen snorts. "Hey, it's already beating out the Gate sewers. Look - they adventurer-proofed the place. Walkways and everything." She indicates the long causeways that line the sewer tunnel on either side; they're nearly five feet wide and constructed of high-quality cobblestone. "Treating us right." Rasaad doesn't laugh; he barely seems to hear them. He squints down the long dim tunnel with a preoccupied air. "We are at the edge of the Shackles Ward," he answers Jaheira tersely. "One of the poorest districts of the city. It was the first place I could find an entrance not guarded by amlakkar. They have stepped up their attention to the Muzad since I lived here." Jaheira frowns, leaning against the wall. She feels the damp condensation soak through her shirt, mixing with the lingering sweat from the desert heat above. "You didn't know that the city had put out a watch for you?" she asks quietly. He shakes his head. "No," he mutters. "The Sun Soul has a history of handling its own affairs. You have seen this - they sent the Tears of Selune after me." He scowls bitterly. "But that was many years ago. It appears their concern regarding me has escalated." He is doing a creditable job hiding his agitation, but Jaheira knows him too well. There’s an anxious crease in his forehead at the place where his eyebrows come together, and his black eyes glitter in the flickering torchlight. He is standing very still as he always does, no fidgeting, no wasted movement - but there is a vibrating tension to the set of his shoulders that tells her his inward thoughts are a maelstrom.  Impulsively she reaches out, rests the tips of her fingers against his arm. He releases a sharp outward breath and for a moment she sees a flash of regret twist across his face. Then he jerks his arm away and his expression hoods over, unreadable again. “This changes nothing,” he says, suddenly brisk. “The Muzad - the Undercity - stretches to every corner of Calimport. We will find our way to the monastery by this route, and then I shall be able to speak to my brothers without the interference of the amlakkar.” “Of course,” Caden says, with the faintest flicker of dry humor. “Very simple.”

[lyra-betelgeuse]

Villager encounters Makarov's safe house:

Yes, he had seen houses but never anything like this. The lights they had were different. He approached like insects approach the lamp. There were many uniformed men. I saw them more often in winter and on exchange days, but never this degree of concentration was Some They looked very different from the ones he always saw. He was surprised that they hadn't seen him. He always knew how to be stealthy. He didn't know where he was know how he managed to find something so hidden from his village, but if he knew something, it shouldn't be there after standing still. Next to a tree he decided to go as fast as he could under a couple of paths until he saw a black figure further down. He hadn't seen him while he was going down, he knew it wasn't just anyone. He just stared under the little light of the moon. It was his end.

Makarov: name and village

It was one of those... a few years ago they took this area and separated the villages by order of work that most of them did to survive. Theirs was the goat cheese and red fruit harvest. It was a cold place. There was almost no meat, but I gave them Their work to them as payment to get them fresh meat was the only thing they could do since the entire septor was "watched and protected" by them, no one left or entered, they could only walk around the other villages except the septor, who they did not know, only It never occurred to him to ask the other villagers where not to go, he knew he screwed up where he shouldn't, he just had to pray and accept that he was an idiot.

V: pabel, red well

Makarov:cheese and fruits, why here?

He took a few steps back, making the one below him take a couple of steps higher. He never knew who was behind all this now it wasn't easy He could see that what was in front of him was not a simple soldier. He didn't look like a sergeant or An officer, this was a higher level, the fear he felt only made it worse, causing him to stumble suddenly. His consciousness was clouded. He wondered if he had weapons. He didn't see others soldier He could fight and save himself. He still didn't know where the fear he still felt about everything came from. His body, something inside him screamed at him to run away I remembered his voice... the older ones said that it sounded like the soft sound of snakes crawling on the dry ground, silent, fine and soft. Don't talk to him because you're not at his level. Don't see him because you don't have the courage. Better not even cross him on bad days because he will take you as an offense to peace. Happiness has been lost since he is here, everything is for him and he doesn't know what fault they had for living in hiding for so many years, what's to be afraid of? He couldn't believe that he had it right in front of him. He just wanted a small pine tree for Christmas that would shine with the blue of the sky and the green of nature.Under the light of the moon he saw the colors he wanted, he did not accept how he found them, he only knew their name, he no longer thought about pine trees.

V: makarov

He remembers him in his youth years ago, he only remembered the blood of those who opposed him, dead everywhere, never buried, rotting, filled with smells for months, a reminder that that place was not theirs anymore, nothing was, some soldiers. Others called him king, lord, others only the rider does not know what he is, he has no name. He will never forget how he cut up the leaders who opposed him. He only enjoyed hanging their heads on trees. The years passed and the memory was still fresh, so much so that it felt Like the teenager who was like the desire for the revolution died at the first shot of a shotgun at his brother, he was right, all that was left was to pray.

Makarov just looked at him, his unequal eyes did not say a verdict on his fate, he looked at the moon, forgetting that he was lying there on the ground like a scared dog, he breathed heavily and closed his eyes, he felt the tears burning his cheeks, they said that everyone there was fighting men. But he was never like that, he knew from the "abolition" that he felt the courage to fight and then know that he never saw the war up close, not like these guys, not like the black monster that guided them with its headlights of noble colors that hid the cruelest nature. man always thought he was brave but that day and today they always reminded him that he was wrong he just wants to go home to his dogs

A kind of soft alarm sounded in unison, he held his breath he could hear the wind, the air had no taste or smell, but for him now they had all the meanings in the world He continued breathing between pauses, his cheek wet, the breaking leaves told him that he was going up. Along the path he was grateful that I didn't step on his head.

He felt a relief like he had never been a fool He didn't see that it was getting dark He just wanted to finish his tasks today he couldn't wait to see the time pass He was confident He thought that this place of birth belonged to him, but it wasn't like that. It hurts but that's what he touched. He thanks God that he was lucky today He opened his eyes, looking up. The moon was clear Well, tomorrow it won't rain He leans on one arm to get up Something cold He touches his head He turns around and sees black He thinks about his brother.

the birds fly scared from the trees

stops to turn

x: I'm sorry sir I saw you on the ground and I thought I was going to jump towards you

Makarov: I said without shotguns at night it doesn't allow you to think.

x: sorry sir , I won't do it again

Makarov: I'll shoot you with it if I see this again.

Makarov: You get lost.

run away from him

look at the corpse

A: sir, are you okay!!? I heard a gunshot... I see , i take him to the nearest town?

Makarov: It has no value, leave it there.

[flowersinfos]

Flowers are one of nature's most beautiful creations. They add color, fragrance, and life to our world. But beyond their beauty, flowers have some amazing and interesting facts that many people may not know. In this article, we'll explore some fascinating facts about flowers that will make you appreciate them even more.

1. Flowers Are Older Than Dinosaurs

Did you know that flowers have been around for a very long time? In fact, the first flowering plants appeared on Earth over 140 million years ago, during the time of the dinosaurs. However, flowers evolved much later than other plants like ferns and conifers. Today, there are more than 400,000 species of flowering plants on Earth.

For more detailed information on different types of flowers, including their names and meanings, be sure to check out flowers names. Whether you're a flower enthusiast or just curious about these beautiful plants, you'll find plenty of fascinating information to explore.

2. Some Flowers Bloom Only at Night

Most people are familiar with flowers that bloom during the day, but did you know that some flowers bloom only at night? These flowers, like the Moonflower and the Evening Primrose, open their petals after the sun goes down. They often have strong fragrances to attract nocturnal pollinators like moths.

3. The Largest Flower in the World

The largest flower in the world is the Rafflesia arnoldii, also known as the "corpse flower." This gigantic flower can grow up to three feet in diameter and weigh up to 15 pounds! Despite its beauty, the corpse flower has a strong odor similar to that of rotting meat. This smell attracts flies and beetles, which help pollinate the flower.

4. Flowers Can Change Colors

Some flowers have the ability to change color depending on their environment or stage of life. For example, the Hydrangea can change color based on the pH level of the soil it’s planted in. In acidic soil, the flowers turn blue, while in alkaline soil, they turn pink. This unique feature makes Hydrangeas popular in gardens.

5. Flowers and Their Meanings

Flowers have long been associated with specific meanings and emotions. For example, red roses symbolize love and passion, while white lilies represent purity and innocence. This practice, known as floriography, was especially popular during the Victorian era when people used flowers to send secret messages.

6. Some Flowers Are Edible

Not all flowers are just for looking at; some are also edible! Flowers like pansies, nasturtiums, and marigolds can be used to add color and flavor to salads, desserts, and other dishes. However, it’s important to make sure that the flowers you eat are safe and free from pesticides.

7. The World’s Oldest Flower

The fossil of the oldest known flower is of a plant called Montsechia vidalii. This ancient flowering plant lived around 130 million years ago and was discovered in Spain. The discovery of this fossil helped scientists learn more about the early evolution of flowering plants.

8. The Scent of Flowers

The scent of a flower is one of its most delightful features. But did you know that the fragrance of a flower is a way for it to communicate? Flowers produce different scents to attract pollinators like bees, butterflies, and birds. Some flowers have sweet, pleasant smells, while others have strong, pungent odors to attract specific types of pollinators.

9. Flowers and Bees

Bees play a crucial role in the life of flowers. They help with pollination, which is the process that allows flowers to produce seeds and reproduce. Bees are attracted to the bright colors and sweet scents of flowers. As they collect nectar, they transfer pollen from one flower to another, helping plants grow and thrive.

10. Flowers and Health Benefits

Flowers are not just beautiful to look at; they also have health benefits. Some flowers, like lavender and chamomile, are known for their calming and soothing properties. Lavender oil is often used in aromatherapy to reduce stress and promote relaxation, while chamomile tea is a popular remedy for insomnia and anxiety.

11. The World's Most Expensive Flower

The most expensive flower in the world is the Kadupul flower, also known as the “Queen of the Night.” This rare and delicate flower blooms only once a year, at night, and wilts before dawn. Because it is so rare and cannot be harvested without damaging it, the Kadupul flower has no market price.

12. Flowers and Cultural Significance

Flowers hold significant cultural importance in many parts of the world. For example, in Japan, the cherry blossom is a symbol of renewal and the fleeting nature of life. In India, marigolds are used in religious ceremonies and celebrations. Different cultures around the world have their own unique traditions and meanings associated with flowers.

13. Flowers That Attract Hummingbirds

Hummingbirds are attracted to flowers that are brightly colored, especially red, orange, and pink. Flowers like trumpet vine, salvia, and petunias are particularly popular with these tiny birds. The shape of these flowers makes it easy for hummingbirds to reach the nectar with their long beaks.

14. The Healing Power of Flowers

Flowers have been used for their healing properties for centuries. For example, the calendula flower is known for its anti-inflammatory properties and is often used in creams and ointments to soothe skin irritations. The echinacea flower is believed to boost the immune system and is commonly used in herbal remedies to fight off colds and infections.

15. Flowers in Space

Flowers are not just limited to Earth; they have also made their way to space! In 2016, astronauts on the International Space Station successfully grew a zinnia flower in space. This was an important step in learning how to grow food in space, which will be crucial for future long-term space missions.

16. Flowers and Art

Flowers have inspired artists for centuries. From Van Gogh's famous sunflower paintings to Georgia O'Keeffe's close-up flower portraits, flowers have been a popular subject in art. Their vibrant colors, delicate shapes, and natural beauty make them a favorite among artists and art lovers alike.

17. Flowers in Literature

Flowers are often used as symbols in literature. For example, in Shakespeare’s play “Hamlet,” the character Ophelia uses flowers to symbolize her emotions and relationships. In modern literature, flowers are still used to convey themes of love, beauty, and the passage of time.

18. Flowers as Gifts

Giving flowers as gifts is a universal gesture of love, appreciation, and celebration. Whether it’s a bouquet of roses on Valentine’s Day, a bunch of daisies for a friend, or lilies for a wedding, flowers are a timeless way to express our feelings.

Flowers are truly remarkable, with so many interesting facts and qualities that make them special. From their ancient origins to their cultural significance, flowers have played an important role in our world for millions of years. They bring beauty, joy, and a touch of nature into our lives, making the world a more vibrant and colorful place.

[brandthefish]

(Anyway, lil snippet from my transmasc SOC OC I wrote a while back)

Auran sat curled in a ball in the hull of the Kerch whaling ship. It reeked of rotting fish. The Kerch didn't want the meat of the whale, but the skin, the bones, everything except the nutrients. He hadn't been able to sleep for days, trying to keep as quiet as possible. He knew that Grisha in Ketterdam were bought and sold like cattle as 'indentures' ; he didn't need anybody owning him.

He'd considered going to Ravka once in Ketterdam, changing his name and face, but he didn’t speak Ravkan and would be forced to serve in the Ravkan army. Auran was a small, frail boy, ill-equipped for fighting.

Novyi Zem could be another possibility, on a completely different landmass from his old home, Grisha living normal, mundane lives, being called blessed rather than something unnatural or used for their gifts. But he didn’t know Zemini, and with his skin still light, he'd stick out like a sore thumb. 

He didn't know how to change a color with tailoring, only shapes. He'd been able to give his sandy blond hair a small wave, but other than that it was still that ugly blond, the blond of his father, if he could even be called that anymore.

He held the small kitchen knife in his hands, his father’s blood removed, but Auran could still smell it, it was a weird feeling. The gears in his head turned as he very carefully sectioned off a piece of his hair, held up the knife, and began sawing. The cut was jagged, and the ends were frayed, but he had a lock of hair in his hand to practice with.

Off next to him, there was a small barrel of coffee beans. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, so he guessed. He did the same thing like when altering texture, reaching out, and pulling the color directly from the bean, and letting it seep into the hairs. 

Almost giddily, he began sawing off the rest of his hair, promising himself he'd make it look better once he acquired a pair of scissors. And a few hours later, as he heard the bells of a harbor, he was left with a pile of snow-white coffee beans, a pile of sawed off blond hair, and a head of beautiful dark brown locks, and eyes that looked like deep wells of chocolate. 

Very carefully, he looked out one of the portholes of the ship, unlocked the window, hauled his bag over his shoulders and crawled out, landing very ungracefully on the wooden deck. "Kid!" One of the sailors shouted. "I'm speaking to you, boy."

Auran had to stifle a smile, his disguise was convincing! "Yes sir?" He asked. Trying his best to mimic the accent of the man who'd spoken to him.

"You think you're gonna stow away on my ship?" He asked.

"No sir." Auran replied. The man looked Auran up and down, eyeing his Fjerdan clothes suspiciously. 

"You've already been on my ship." He realized. Auran could see the gears turning in the man’s head, and he could hear his heart accelerate. "Ghezen would find it offensive to not pay for passage, little one." This is how indentures happen. Fearing for his freedom, Auran rifled through his pockets, and produced a handful of Fjerdan coins; he didn't know how much it would be worth to the Kerch man, but before that interaction could go any further, Auran bolted. Sprinting through alleyways, taking sharp turns, never stopping. He didn't know for sure if he was being chased, but that was a risk he didn't want to take.

Eventually, the city started to look less grimy and touristy, and Auran found himself in the upper-class parts. He found somewhere with an overhead covering, and curled up for the night. He'd figure out what to do in the morning, but he really was Auran now. And Auran was a small… scared little boy with nothing to his name and no one to call family.

(I absolutely ADORE this funky little man, here's a link to his Ao3 collection Auran - Six of Crows OC - BrandFishBeloved - Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo [Archive of Our Own] )

Do you think Leigh Bardugo ever thinks about how many trans people want to be tailors? I just can't stop thinking about it. Imagine being able to mold your body like clay. Painstakingly re-shaping yourself, sculpting your body until what you see in your head is exactly what you see in the mirror.

It's just something I cannot stop thinking about.

[suffering-in-c]

You left the city. You left the safety of the walls, the guards claim that the walls are there to keep you safe. To keep them out. Yet you have never seen any of them, though the stories of their dark nature were ever present, dark stories, of bone and blood, of iron and death, of shifting creatures in dark, that came to our world so long ago, or maybe, they were always there. In your folly you sneaked through The Stacks, climbed over the walls of Guards Repose, crawled through the pipes, bringing you beyond the wall. Your backpack heavy on your shoulders, filled with supplies. Before you, right outside the walls was a verdant expanse, an old forest, heavy with wines and shrubbery, covered in shadow, cast from the fifty meter fortifications behind you. So you ran in, not once looking back. And then you walked, further in, climbing over rock and tree. Sometimes stopping, to let the automated defenses pass you, they weren’t made to find human sized things, or to look for things looking to leave. Soon, day turned to dusk, the shadows elongating, red light slipping through the heavy canopy in patches of color, the moist air turning colder. You came upon a ruined building, nothing more than four concrete walls, hugging what remained of a roof, half collapsed, yet still standing, bearing the scars of its apparent age. The walls had odd symbols painted upon them, drawings of an odd eye, in red paint, with text below, in a language you could not read. So you went in, the door was half off its hinges, the building perfect for seeking shelter. As moldy and wet as it was, the building kept warmth well enough, sheltering you from the elements. You laid your sleeping bag down, started a small fire, and after a quick dinner of canned meat, went to sleep. Ignoring the metal stairway that went down, still remembering the tales of dark things that sleep underneath the ground. Call it superstition, but few people would go underground willingly, fewer still would sleep there. So you slept, so you dreamt. You dreamt of a dark expanse, cavern, realm, the walls shifting and undefined. The smell of iron penetrating the air with a vibrant clarity. Before you, rising from the ground, rot and rust, bearing the color of ancient iron left to the elements, a spiral of tendrils, never stopping, always shifting, glowing. In the middle of it, a sphere of darkness, darker than any other, colder than the coldest nights. You took a step closer. From nothing, a red orb appeared within that sphere, and you knew, with absolute certainty, that it saw you. The air turned cold, biting into your exposed skin, somehow gnawing at you from within as much from without. a singular tendril reached towards you, swimming through the air, ignoring physics and reason. So you...reached out, grabbing it? “When did I do that?” You thought. With that realization, you jolted awake. Merely a bad dream, surely, odd as it was. Then you opened your eyes. You were not in your sleeping bag. You were not near the safety and warmth of your fire. Instead, you stood in front of a door. At the bottom of metal stairs. Your hand resting upon a lever, pulled down. The door started opening, its creaking, rusted hinges protesting. Ice cold air rolling from the inside. The smell of iron permeating the air. You let go, took a step back. The door flew open, tendrils of darkness and light pouring out, grabbing you, covering you, smothering you, BURROWING, TWISTING, tearing with wild abandon, drinking deep of your blood and IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HUR- ------------ The creature lets go of the fleshlings body. It knows what it needs to do. The walls of its accursed cell will not hold it now. The forest, the patrols, the large walls to keep them out. And the pipes that lead within. The smell of fresh blood leading it towards the city.